By Misty Flores – mistyjox@hotmail.com
Teaser: Lorne has his hands full when three men who love three brunettes reveal three stories that meld surprisingly – and the three brunettes go missing.
Genre: Angel: The Series, Comedy/Romance/Action
Pairing: Angel/Cordelia, Gunn/Fred, Wesley/Faith
Rating: R for sexual situations
Special Thanks to: Vanessa, and her beautiful beta reading abilities.
Additional Notes on previous chapters.
--
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
--
The Present – Kate Lockley's Apartment
Cordelia's headache finally forced her to take a short nap on Kate's bed. Kate was in the bathroom, taking a hell of a long time. And here she was, sitting cross legged on a chair, next to what had to be the weirdest girl she had ever met, and just coming from the pen, that had to say something. Faith was quiet as she studied Fred. The long brown hair, tumbling in waves. The skinny frame that she was almost sure she could break in two. Defined features, chiseled cheeks, luminous dark eyes.
This girl had survived a hell dimension for five years. Huh.
"You knew Justine, right?"
Even her tone was frail. Faith cocked an eyebrow, shifting to get a more comfortable position on the couch as she shrugged at Fred. "So?"
The young physicist was the type of girl Faith never trusted. Young, sweet… innocent. They seemed untouchable, and she always wanted to torment those types, for their patronizing way of looking down at people like her. Thinking they were better and shit… and it turned out they weren't so different after all. Both had been screwed over by a man, with a red-headed chick. Sorta.
"I just… do you think she could?"
"Could what?"
"Change."
"Oh." Faith sighed, leaning her head back against the couch. "Shit, Fred. I don't know why you're asking me. Yeah, sure I knew her. For all of five visits, and for four of them, all I wanted to do was rip through that damned glass and kill her, for the stuff she was saying to do to Angel's kid."
"Oh. So that's a no?"
"That's a 'I think you should ask your boyfriend'." Faith responded, eyes closed.
"He's not my boyfriend." The snap was unexpected, firm and sharp. Faith found herself pulled from her one second of restless silence by the small shift of weight, signifying Fred pushing off the sofa, retreating to the darker corner of the living room. Damn. This chick really dug sitting on the floors. Denial is a bitter demon, Faith thought, marveling the way Fred seemed so locked in her own stubborn truths.
"So the 'fucking'-"
"We weren't f- doing that." Fred was insistent. "Doesn't even matter what we did, 'cause it's not like he cared."
"Not like he cared," Faith repeated dully, eyes narrowing against the physicist. "Okay, so… question. You're like, super smart, right? Some sort of genius?"
Fred blinked, and rubbed at her arms uncomfortably. "I wouldn't say that -"
"So, how is it that you're so damned stupid about stuff? Did your parents ever talk to you about sex?"
Fred's mouth fell wide open. The look Faith got was blank, and it finally forced her to take pity on the innocent crazy taco chick. Finally settling down on her haunches, pulling bangs away from her face, hooking them over her ear, Faith stared at her frankly. "Okay, Fred. I'm gonna say something here. And it's the truth."
Fred gave her a curious look. "Okay…"
"You don't exactly look the type to really handle the whole 'fuck buddy' business very well."
"Fu- what?" Fred blushed, shifting away from the intimidating Slayer.
Faith rolled her eyes, and clamped her hand on her shoulder, holding her still. "Fuck. Buddy," she enunciated. "A Fuck Buddy. A pair of friends who spend their off hours screwing each other until Tuesday -"
"'Kay Faith, I got it," Fred said hastily, rising to her knees as the heat spread on her face, shifting her glance away from the Slayer.
Faith watched her with a dark gaze. "Why are you so afraid to think you might actually really like this guy?" she asked frankly. "Fred, he never said he didn't love you… but you gotta admit, where this guy's coming from… not that hard to see…"
"For you, maybe," Fred blurted suddenly, and immediately slapped her hand against mouth, inwardly cursing at her rambling words, and the look of anger that slid across Faith's face.
"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Faith asked, tone low, dangerous even.
"Fred didn't mean that," Cordelia said, coming in and rescuing Fred from the flashing dark eyes, when Faith turned to study her. The Seer ran a hand through her disheveled hair, sighing. "You'd think you weirdoes could keep it quiet when a girl's trying to sleep, but … whatever. So, yeah. Fred didn't meant it. Well, she did, but, only because she's being defensive and angry. You can understand that, can't you, Faith?" she asked pointedly.
Faith flicked her middle finger at Cordelia, turning away and sitting on the floor like a sulking cat.
Well… this was pretty. Placing her hands on her hips, Cordelia's tired body rebelled against what she would have to do. She knew that eventually, she was going to have to sit there and work through issues. But at this point, staring at the two brunettes who were doing anything but looking at each other, Cordelia felt absolutely no patience for this whole little stupid game.
"Where's Kate?" she asked, and received two glum shrugs in return. "Geez," she commented. "You two make Oscar the Grouch look chipper."
"Bite me, Cordelia," Fred commented.
"Fuck you," was Faith's snarkier comment.
Cordelia rolled her eyes, about to retort, when she caught the phone line sneaking its way suspiciously into the bathroom. Pursing her lips, she carefully placed her hand on the knob, and jerked the door open. Kate fell out in a heap, her phone tumbling out of her hand.
"Hey, Kate," she said cheerily, crossing her arms as her eyes narrowed. Fred and Faith both stood, looking down at the sprawled out blonde quizzically. "Whatcha doing?"
Kate pushed herself to her feet, flashing the three brunettes what she hoped, was a winning smile. "Flossing?"
"Who the fuck did you call?" Faith asked shrewdly, panic making her tone more dangerous and less controlled.
"Oh, God. You didn't call Gunn, did you? Because, if you did then he's going to think that-"
"Woah, wait!" Cordelia struggled to hold both girls back, pushing them away and thanking the Higher Powers that they at least attempted to listen to her, no matter how subconsciously. "I'm sure Kate has a very good reason to be hiding in the bathroom with her phone." An eyebrow rose as a possibility came to her. "Faith, I'd check for that vibrator now."
"What? NO!" Kate looked close to disgust as she shook the phone at them. "It's that Host guy! Lorne! Look, I'll -" She put the phone to her ear. "Lorne! Lorne! Hello?!" There was nothing but a dial tone. Slamming the phone back into its cradle with a muffled curse, she dreaded looking up to catch the expressions on their faces. Waiting until the last possible minute, she took a breath, and glanced, immediately wincing and looking away. "I swear it was him."
"Right…" Faith gave her a big Cheshire cat grin, flaunting back to the sofa, Kate's embarrassment enough to melt away her anger. Fred only sighed in relief, also moving back to the couch.
Kate locked eyes with the still standing Cordelia. "I swear!" Cordelia smirked, giving her that icy glare that she had always hated.
Leaning down, Cordelia helped her up, whispering in her ear, "Saved YOUR ass."
Kate closed her eyes and wished for blondes.
Anything would have been easier to handle than these three idiots.
--
Saturday Afternoon – The Beverly Hills Country Club
It was utterly, tremendously, ludicrously, and 'end of all evil' sad that she was actually bored. Cordelia kept the same bright smile on her face as she clapped, giggled and nudged with the best of the screeching, hormonal harpies, as one of them continued to explain why Pylex Tupperware was the best for all your household needs. Her eyes were slightly glazed over from the neon plastics, and her fingers had long since crushed the little mints to powder.
Her headache was quickly bordering on monstrous, and it had been a while, but Cordelia knew to have to keep repeating inwardly that you were having a good time, was probably not a good thing. Her eyes closed for a scant second, and suddenly her entire body jerked, making her gasp as she looked up and found the other woman at her table staring at her strangely.
Cheeks burning red with apologetic embarrassment, Cordelia offered a wry grin. "Chairs… slippery." Thankfully, they returned to their Tupperware 'ooh'ing and 'aww'ing, and Cordelia was left alone to rub at her eyes as carefully as she could, looking longingly toward the bartender for another margarita that might ease the pain from this horrific pre-bachelorette party.
Could we just GET the stripper here, already?
"All right, ladies! Now we're going to play a game!"
Cordelia fought the inward groan, keeping the smile on her face nice and wide as they pushed the chairs to the outskirts of the room. The dull throbbing flared up again, and she stumbled a bit, gasping.
"Cordelia?" Victoria appeared at her side, a worried frown on her friend's face as she steadied her with a hand to her elbow. "You okay, hon? You seem kinda outta it."
"Migraine," Cordelia lied fluidly, straightening and squeezing back reassuringly. "I'll be fine. Is there a bathroom…"
"Oh, sure! Just out into the lobby and to your right." Victoria smiled brightly. "Hurry up and come back okay? We're going to do that egg game."
Cordelia narrowed her eyes, and fought the urge to respond with, 'What are you, an absolute nimrod?'
Instead, she smiled politely. "Wouldn't want to miss that."
Yes, Mr. Giles. I have learned the art of tact. Even if I still think it sucks.
Cordelia found the bathroom quickly enough, thanks to a few rapid stumblings and a more than helpful resort worker who would have probably followed her in, if she had asked. Closing the door behind her, she finally allowed herself a minute to sink against the doorway, taking a breath of relief.
"Geez…." Her hand rose shakily to her forehead, attempting to cool the splitting headache. These visions… Oh, god… even the aftermath was getting worse. Moving toward the sink, she scrambled for a hand hold, steadying herself before straightening up. Sifting through her purse, finding the pills that made these days slightly bearable, Cordelia took a breath. Placing one on her tongue, she swallowed down, a soft sight lilting from her lips as the strong medicine absorbed its way into her system.
Hazel eyes blinked back from the scratched mirror, and she ignored what the glazed gaze was telling her. Instead, Cordelia redeposited the pills into her purse, straightened her shoulders, and turned back toward the 'wild' party of the Tupperware fanatics.
When she entered the room, her hair was perfect, her make up was… passable, and her stance was confident, but she nearly stumbled with shock when she caught a figure in white khakis and a polo shirt, smiling and talking in the middle of the room, surrounded by the Tupperware groupies.
"Angel?!" she gasped, frozen into stillness.
At the mention of his name, Angel turned, waved gallantly at her, and excused himself, moving around the girls, looking downright … chipper as he came to her.
"Hey."
Her mouth was open for five full seconds, before anything meaningful came out. "How… what… why? What ARE YOU WEARING?!"
"Oh." He looked down at his clothes, and shuffled a little uncomfortably, pulling at the shirt. "The guys at the front wouldn't let me in. So I found this."
"You're wearing khakis." Cordelia was still having trouble getting past the fact, staring dumbly at the lovely white creased pants. "Angel, you're scaring me."
Angel shot her an intense look, opened his mouth to speak, when Victoria appeared, sliding her arm into his elbow. "Cordelia! I can't believe you kept him away from us for this long! Angel is just… charming."
"Charming?" Cordelia responded, shock numbing into irritation as she realized Angel was once again reverting into 'stalking' mode. "Him?"
"Yes, charming! And handsome!" Vicki grinned, squeezing Angel's arm. Cordelia ignored the sappy, and completely superficial, grin Angel flashed back.
Hazel eyes flashed with anger, as she crossed her arms, orbs locked with his with a definite 'if looks could kill' glare. "He's just full of surprises."
And again, the damned vampire seemed to play along, flashing his big old stupid 'Kool-Aid' grin and shrugging his broad shoulders. Big Dork. "Well, I just came off the golf course and wanted to stop in and see my girl, is all."
"Your girl?" Another groupie, Penelope, Cordelia thought was her name, damned near shoved Cordelia out of the way in an effort to get to Angel. "So you're like, together?"
"Like two peas and a pod, that's me and Cordy." He shot her a look, that stupid grin wide and idiotic and WHAT WAS HE DOING?! "Isn't that right, sweetie? Couldn't find a more normal couple if you tried."
"Normal," she repeated.
"Normal," he said again, a tinge of ice in his voice as he stared at her for a beat longer than necessary, before smiling again for the benefit of his growing audience. "Me and Cordy, we do the golf thing, country clubs… just a day in the park. With the sunlight. Real L.A. aficionados!"
At the second sigh of the bitch next to her, Cordelia lost control. "Angel, HONEY," she bit through gritted teeth. "Can I talk to you ALONE?!" Grabbing his arm, she didn't give him a chance to respond, as she pulled him away from the girls, ignoring his little wave back to them. Her head was still pounding, her heart was going ten miles a minute, and this was SO not what she needed.
"Okay," she said finally, hissing underneath her breath, dragging him into a secluded corner of the room. "Drop the yuppie act, ass wipe. And tell me what the hell is going on."
"I'm here to bring you home."
The words were so final, tinged with firm, no-nonsense simplicity she hadn't heard since the old days when he was still 'the boss'. Despite the quivering in her voice that came so easily, she squared her shoulders, lifted one eyebrow in a trademark icy glare that had worked so well in the past.
"Oh?" she asked, the annotation behind the tone signifying danger.
The eyebrow only arched higher when the broody face came back, angry and furious, remnants of the vampire within coming forth as Angel replied in an equally dangerous tone, "Yes, home, Cordelia. You don't belong here, and you know it. I've had enough of this, I'm taking you home."
"Oh, really?" she almost purred, tossing her short hair behind her shoulder and sending him a scathing gaze. "Sure, Angel. Why don't you just swing me over your shoulder, or better yet! Take your little caveman club and beat me over the head with it! You know, don't want me kicking and screaming! You might dirty your nice new polo shirt!"
"Don't tempt me," he responded tersely. His hand reached for her elbow, but she pulled back. "Cordelia," he warned. "We're going to talk about this- no," he amended. "We're not going to talk, I'm going to talk, and you're going to listen, but not here."
"I like it here," she responded, taking another step backward, daring him to follow her. "Look, Angel! Sunlight!" She gave another sweep of the room. "Actors, and lunches. This is normal! This is where I belong. I'm only helping you."
He stood stock still, hands closed into furious fists as he glared at her, not moving from his dark corner. "Cordelia, don't do this. Don't make me ruin this for you."
She paused, the threat suddenly valid as she looked at the calm, collected, murderous look in his eyes. It was at times like these, that she realized just how dangerous Angel really was. He was a killer, he had killed for her, and he looked capable of anything now.
What the hell was he trying to prove?
"I'm through with the games, Cordy," he continued, when she said nothing. "I'm through with trying to 'fix' things, because we can't. We can't go back, and we can't go forward, but you're not going to solve this by ignoring me."
"I like your plan, Angel." Her words were spoken with startling clarity, every word a lie, anger filling her with such deep emotion, she no longer cared that she never lied to him about anything but the visions. He was right. He was right. The visions were killing her, and she didn't want to die. She didn't want to see his face when he realized he was fighting for borrowed property. She didn't belong anywhere, but she sure as hell wasn't going to tell him that.
"Get it through your head, Angel. This is what I want. I want NORMAL. That's what I am, right? Mall girl? Shop girl?"
"You're Vision Girl," he responded tersely. "You're MY vision girl."
"I'm no one's, Angel. I belong to no one. I decide who the hell I want to be with, and for how long, and your time is OVER."
She didn't expect him to take no for an answer, she knew him too well for that. But she was still completely surprised when he strode forward, grabbed her so forcefully by the elbow she winced, and pushed her forward into the crowd.
"You want normal?" he purred, pulling her tightly against him with a sing song, dangerous lilt that reminded her slightly of Angelus. "I'll give you normal."
Her body was pressed back against his rock hard one, and she felt her breath go slightly unsteady when his hands slipped possessively around her waist, keeping her butt firmly against his groin, and she felt the vibration of his windpipe when he turned to Vicki, and spoke in that stupid yuppie voice. It took everything she had to keep from crying, as she realized exactly what Angel was going to do. He was going to prove she didn't belong here, anymore. He was going to become a part of the world she hated. And if only for a little while, she knew she would hate him for it.
She always hated him when he was right.
--
Saturday Afternoon – The Hyperion Hotel
When Wesley awoke, he found his cramped position on the desk had afforded him a rather sore back, neck, and shoulders. Groaning, he reached for his glasses, slipping them on, blinking at the empty room, attempting to regain his senses.
The hotel was eerily quiet, and it seemed odd to him, to find the hotel as quiet as it was now. Six days ago, it had been full of life. There had been peace in the air, even in his own heart, things hadn't been perfect, not by a long shot.
But he had smiled.
His eye throbbed, and he touched it gingerly, suddenly remembering the
last night in vivid detail.
Faith.
His heart pounded in his chest painfully, and he shoved himself to his feet, eyes on the stairwell.
Angel and her…
Had she done it to spite him? Had Angel allowed it?
He swallowed down a sudden welt of irrational anger, marveled at the way the his breath became pants, the way his mind was suddenly picturing Angel's heavy body over Faith, rubbing against her, Faith's moans in Angel's ears as she scratched down his back-
Bloody hell. A woman who tortured him, who tied him to a chair, sat for hours, skimming blades and shards of grass across his face, eyes lighting up in pleasure as he grunted in pain. Blood seeping through his clothes, and hours in the shower, unable to get clean… never able to get clean.
Shuddering, he headed to the office door, picking up his now rumpled tuxedo jacket and slipping it on, the hotel suddenly dropping to a sudden chill. He should have known. The repression had worked wonders, twisting his soul, but he remembered now, the reasons he had come to believe he hated her, the reasons the nightmares still sometime came.
In the lobby, he wondered if they were still there now, asleep in each other's arms, wondered if Angel would wake, remember Cordelia, would feel guilt.
Would Faith care at all?
The sound of dull pounding distracted him, and he turned toward the sound with no hesitation, moving to the basement stairs, unsure who he would find.
The door creaked open, and walking down, finally, the person came into view.
He froze, the floor board creaking as he witnessed his Slayer, dressed in skin tight spandex, executing a perfect side kick into Angel's punching bag. The noise gave him away, her head jerked to the door, and then he was stuck, as her gaze locked with his. There was two terrible seconds, before she nodded stiffly, smiled grimly, and turned away, punching hard.
"Get out, Wesley."
It was a clipped tone, without emotion, and it disturbed him, making it hard for him to breathe as he slowly turned back up the stairs. There no caring in that tone, and it was so easy to believe this was who she was: cold, unfeeling, calculating. Did she have any idea how much she hurt him? Did she even give a damn? The anger was building, the hurt and the jealousy which he desperately didn't want to admit to, was bottling up inside of him, and it nearly made him explode.
"I saw you," he said suddenly.
She paused again, sweat forming a soft sheen over her lithe, powerful body, staring up at him with dark, luminous orbs, gleaming with indifference. "What?"
"I saw you in bed with Angel."
He turned, catching her expression, not sure what he was expecting to find. Guilt, at the very least, was too much to hope for, because she only stared blankly for a second, hands on her hips, breathing hard from her exercises, before the startling realization made her widen her eyes, take a step back. There was a long moment, a beat, and suddenly she turned away, shrugging uncaringly.
"So?"
He swallowed, hands gripping the wooden railing until he was sure splinters were digging into his palm.
"Why did you do it, Faith?" he asked. "You took a risk, you took a bloody stupid risk, and for what? Revenge?"
"You're giving yourself a lot of fucking credit, you know that?" she asked flatly, turning away from him and twisting suddenly, jerking a leg into the bag and sending the heavy thing flying back, nearly tearing it off it's hanging swivel. "Get the hell out," she said again.
"That's how it is, Faith? Eye for an eye? I hurt you, so you hurt me? With bloody Angel? And Cordelia-"
"Don't you DARE bring fucking Cordelia into this." She whirled, eyes flashing as she stomped to the stairs, eyes suddenly wild with fear. "You tell her, I'll kill you, Wesley. I swear to God I'll-"
"Kill me?" he responded flatly, crossing his arms. "Will you, Faith? Need I remind you nearly did once already?"
She swallowed down, hard, staring at him, only a foot away, looking down at her with that fucking patronizing look, and she never wanted so badly to smack the bastard.
Would he tell Cordelia? Fuck -
"Fine," she finally said evenly, eyes locked with his, flashing angrily. "Nothing happened with Angel, all right? Nothing. What happened with him was innocent and between friends. I don't fuck my friends, Wesley."
"No, apparently the only person you enjoy screwing is me," he snapped, and she winced, nearly stumbling down the stairs.
That hurt, to see the pain in her face. It jarred his world, as his ideas and beliefs about the colder murderess shifted again, remembering a scared girl who had sobbed in his arms. Agony, torture for what she had done, was there, raw and open.
"I didn't, Faith -"
"No, you're right," she said flatly. "I don't fuck my friends, Wesley. And you're obviously not in that camp, GET OUT!" Her voice shot into a scream, and he jumped from it, as she blinked at him behind unshed tears, throwing her towel at him with perfect aim. "GET OUT, Wesley!"
The door creaked open, and Wesley and Faith both stared, to see Fred looking at them both, wide-eyed.
"What… what's going on?" she asked timidly. She paused, fingers tangling nervously, until she caught Wesley's face, his clothes. "Wesley? What happened?"
Faith ignored her, eyes still locked on Wesley as she stepped back, grabbing her water bottle. "Get out," she said again, this time softer, and turned her back on them both.
Wesley stood hesitantly for another minute. He didn't want to leave. He couldn't leave her like this…
"Let me try and fix that." Fred grabbed his hand, pulling him up the stairs, and numbly, Wesley followed, craning his neck in hopes Faith would look back, he could find some indication as to what he could do, how he could-
But she never looked back, and he didn't see her trembling fingers, or the way she collapsed into sobs as soon as the door closed.
--
Saturday Evening – The Beverly Hills Country Club
The glass windows of the Country Club, with the setting sun in it's horizon, made Cordelia well aware of the risk Angel was taking in his quest to prove to her the stupidity of what she wanted, what she needed. With a trembling heart and a choked up throat, Cordelia remained, with her gaze fixed on the setting sunset, counting down with fingers tapping nervously on her skin, as she waited for the sun to go down. As soon as it was down, she could leave, into the night, and he would follow, and he would leave her crumpled dreams and hopes in his wake.
Oh, get over yourself, Cor, Cordelia through morosely, re-crossing her legs and shifting on the slippery seat, the fabric of her dress cool against her naked thigh. Crumpled dreams, and shattered hopes. How melodramatic could you get? Those weren't her dreams, those were held onto fantasies about a life she had given up a long time ago, in favor of now. In favor of waking up with Connor in her arms, and Angel by her side. In favor of a vampire, and agonizing visions, and impending death.
Her eyes closed, reopened a second later as she smiled grimly, acknowledging that at this point, she was voluntarily a wallflower, and Angel, who only two years before had stood out like a sore thumb at her party, now smiled and charmed, looking absolutely ridiculous in his white khakis and polo shirt, and twisting her heart with every word. It was funny, how to the passing eye, Angel looked so incredibly human. His hair, dark brown, rose in tufts, his eyes shone with human warmth, and his posture, relaxed and comfortable, was easily deceiving.
She saw her vampire, in the clues he gave her. The way the eyes narrowed, the nostrils flared every once in a while, testing the air for her scent, making sure she was watching, making sure she was being aptly punished for her decision to ignore him. Dammit, she GOT it. She GOT it. She couldn't be away from him, she couldn't be with him, and they couldn't be together, but what the hell did it matter if she was dying, or if her next CAT scan that he didn't know about was next week?
He wanted her with him, because she made him happy, and she made him sad. She slept in his arms, and he breathed her in when he thought she wasn't looking, trying to catch the scent of her shampoo, because he loved her. And she hated him for it. She hadn't asked for this. She hadn't asked for this life, and she had never expected anything so deep and meaningful and painful, that even just LOOKING at him would choke her up and make her ache.He made her ache, now. Her best friend, and her fantasy and this wasn't supposed to happen with ANGEL.
She had wanted to make him laugh. That was all she wanted.
Hazel eyes drifted back toward the windows, and she saw the sun had set, bringing a gratifying sigh to her lips. Immediately, she stood, grabbed her purse and her shawl and walked out of the room as quickly as she could, the anger building with every step.
By the time she reached the car she knew would be parked next to the shaded, entrance of the club, near a sewer, she was seething. Her eyes caught the black clothes strewn haphazardly in the back seat, the leather coat, and she ignored them, settling against the car.
She waited with barely restrained anger, until she saw him step out into the darkness, and then she pushed off the car, waited until he opened the door, and slipped inside. Her arms were crossed, her eyes were glittering, and she was visibly shaking, but she would not give him the satisfaction of seeing her cry.
Not yet.
--
The Present – The Hyperion Hotel
"Man." Charles Gunn let out a long breathe, head hanging for a second, before he looked up, meeting Angel's questioning look with a glare. "You can be a bastard, Angel."
"I was making a point," Angel said crisply, shifting Connor in his hands, being careful not to raise his voice. "And I'd do it again."
"Lovely." Wesley sank down onto the stool with a hiss, taking a shaky hand to touch his tender nose. "Bully for you, Angel. Breaking Cordelia's spirit, in order to give her a point."
"And not even the right kind of point, sugar lips," Lorne said. The Host was angry, it was visible in his tight stance, the way his lips were pursed, the strong hands knit together. "You still don't get it, do you? Crushing Cordelia's dream, making it seem ridiculous. That wasn't her point, Angel. It never was."
Angel. Not Angelcakes or Sugarlips or even Big, Bad Vamp Daddy. The word made the vampire listen, dark eyes intense in his stare.
"All of you…" Lorne paused, unsure how to proceed. "No one knows how to date a beautiful woman. No one knows how to keep their heart from breaking, or how to shelter them. But it appears you DO know how to crush their hearts. Break it down, bit by bit, until they cry and weep - and these are strong woman, folks. It proves one thing."
"That we're asses?" Gunn suggested.
Lorne paused, "Two things," he amended. "These women love you." With that, he stood, slapping his hands down on the counter. "Think about it."
With that, he turned, his words burning an impression into the group of men as they stood.
Angel looked up, surprised as the Host began to walk up the stairs. "Where are you going?"
"I'm done. I'm sleepy, I'll get the real story from the girls, later. You guys are just driving me crazy."
--
Saturday Evening – The Hyperion Lobby
Fred had hardly expected to enter a warzone. At this point, with her head already pounding, and her chest constricting every time she thought of Gunn, and what he was doing, she didn't want, or need, anymore conflict. She had expected to find Wesley, hoped to sit down, talk to him, explain her situation, hope he understood, and find someway to fix it. She hadn't thought that he would be lost, too.
They were all so lost.
She stared at the various first aid supplies, swallowing down hard as she picked various bottles, and then turned back hesitantly to the former watcher, now seated on a chair in his office, head in his hands.
He looked sad.
Her body was numb, but her brain continued to work, sorting through possibilities, and various scenarios that would have ended with that Slayer looking ready to cry, and Wesley so…torn. She hadn't seen him this guilty, this close to tears since… Billy.
Even as her mind flashed with Gunn's words, she sank into the chair opposite him, breathing in slightly and offering him an unsure smile, tilting him his chin up lovingly and placing a soft gauze on his eye.
"Didja get into a fight?" she asked softly.
He stared at her for a while, the glasses gone, making his eyes peculiarly blue. "Something like that," he said, and then fell silent.
Fred was comfortable with that. For some reason, discussing Gunn and Justine, just didn't seem appropriate anymore, because Wesley looked far worse than she did. His palm reached over, picked up the hem of her skirt gently. "Is that blood?" he asked suddenly.
She looked down, caught the droplets that were splattered against it, and gave a shaky smile. "Yes. I had… an accident. But I'm okay… physically." Another smile, and she looked away, grabbing the peroxide.
"Fred?" She turned to find him staring at her curiously, and if she didn't know better, she would have thought he appeared all kinds of drunk.
"Hmm?"
"I need to ask you something."
She waited expectantly, offering a haphazard shrug. "Okay."
"If someone you… cared about… a friend… if they did something to you, hurt you, would you… consider it valid, to go to someone else?"
She blinked. "Huh?"
Wesley was still, dragging his eyes from the open office door, resisting the urge to go back to where he knew Faith was still in her basement, punching away. Turning back, he saw Fred's soft brown eyes, and felt a sad smile drift onto his face. "I just… Faith became a friend, and I hurt her."
"Didn't she torture you?" Fred stared at him blankly, but it didn't seem to matter, as he gathered her small palms in his, stroked them distractingly. He just needed to get the words out.
"I just… I hurt her, Fred…" he said softly, looking into his friend's eyes imploringly. "But does that give her a right to… go to someone else?"
"Someone else?" Fred was uncharacteristically quiet, watching him with dark, searching eyes. "What do you mean? What happened…" At his dark face, her eyes opened wide, and she took a full step back, putting down the icepack. "Wesley did you two… you had… sex?" The last word was whispered.
"I… well not… yes." He sounded so ashamed, at little Fred's stunned face, he was forced to continue, because she stood, immobile, and her reaction was impossible to read. "I just… she was… Fred, what can I do? There's rage… and -"
She was still sorting out the facts in her mind, and finally came back with one fact. "You're wearing the same clothes that you were wearing yesterday. The tuxedo… because you went out… Gunn 'n Angel said you were out with Virginia-" She closed her mouth, gulped, suddenly horrified. "Your red-head ex-girlfriend."
Wesley sighed, putting his head into his hands, a testament to his weary state. "Yes. Bloody hell, she wasn't supposed to find-"
"You just… used her for sex, called her a friend, and used her for sex, and then you… you went and slept with another redhead instead? She found her with another redhead and you didn't care, you let her go? Didn't even follow her to see if she was alright? If maybe she was crying, maybe if she wanted you to follow, no, you were there with the stupid REDHEAD?!"
Wesley blinked, stunned at Fred's rant. "I… uh… Fre-"
He didn't have time to respond, before a small fist crashed into his nose, sending him toppling over the couch, making him land with an 'oomph' on the floor.
--
Saturday Evening – Angel's car
The night was still, dark. For Los Angeles, it was strange, to have a Saturday night this still. She probably would have pondered the reasons, different social events that were taking place, and why there was no traffic on the 101 headed Southbound.
Instead, her body was shaking with complete, irrational anger.
HOW DARE HE?! HOW. DARE. HE!?
She was literally taking deep, gasping breaths, in an effort to gain control. Her hands had closed into trembling fists, and she couldn't speak, for fear that certain razor sharp words would come out of her mouth that she wouldn't be able to take back.
That thought only served to infuriate her more, as she crossed her arms almost violently, whipping her head to his and opening her mouth to begin her rant.
"Shut up."
The words made her pause in shock. "Excuse me?"
"Before you say another word, before you get on your incredible high horse about tonight, you're going to hear a few things, you hear me?" His voice was incredibly cool, and she knew him well enough to know, that that signified he was beyond furious with her.
HE was furious? What?!
"You're already lost." He began to rap at the steering wheel furiously, eyes dark and on the road as he continued to drive, voice dripping with distain and furious anger. "You've gone away already, and you need to come home."
"Come home?" she repeated, completely flabbergasted poetic stupid ramblings.
"Home," he answered again flatly. "I want you home, where you belong. You want a normal life, well tough. It's not going to happen now. You know that." Her mouth fell open in exasperated surprise, as she glared at him, too stunned to say a word. Angel, apparently, didn't seem to have a problem with that, as he continued his low, dangerous, flat out statements, never bothering to look at her as he continued to drive. "You don't belong in that world, do you hear me? You don't. You belong in mine. You're in my world. With the demons and the visions – you love the light Cordelia, but you dwell in darkness. Beside me. Because you belong there."
The words were so matter-of-fact they stung. A painful lump began to develop in the back of her throat, and once again she tried to speak, but found herself hampered yet again, this time by that lump.
"I-"
"I'm not letting you. I can't let you go. It's not chivalrous and it doesn't make me a damned hero, but you know what? I don't care." She reached over to turn up the volume on the radio, in an effort to do SOMETHING, but he snatched it away, snapping angrily, "No. You're going to LISTEN. For ONCE you're going to listen to me."
The anger was slowly seeping in, flooding her deadening heart, and the headache was ringing inside her head, and all she could see was Angel, glaring at her with anger and resolve. And he was telling her all this NOW?
"You belong with me. Those visions are your clue, Cordelia. You can try to deny this all you want, but there's a reason you have them. And this denial, and anger isn't going to change things."
The rant was over with a rush of breath, and then there was silence. In the seconds that ticked by, it occurred to Cordelia that he was waiting for her to speak, to say something in regards to his words, his ultimatum. It didn't matter if what he said was true, what mattered, what truly bit into her very soul, was his lack of joy for it. The sorrow and anger weren't the joy she had prided herself for bringing into his life. There was no laughter or joy in this car. There was bitter, angry resignation. There was simple grief, acceptance over something they could not change.
And it wasn't happy.
She expected tears, but there weren't any. Her eyes were dry, her gaze stony as the car slowed to a stop. The Hyperion stood before them, and more than anything she wanted to be anywhere else. But her arms remained crossed, her voice was flat, when she finally turned to gaze into his face, and with an icy tone that would have made Queen C of Sunnydale proud, she said simply, "I don't want it."
Her hand fumbled with the door, and she stepped out, fully expecting to leave him there. But there he was with his damn reflexes again, and his body stood in front of her, in the chilly night air, eyes dark with anger. "You don't want what? Cordelia?"
She swallowed around the painful lump, but her voice remained surprisingly even as she responded, "I don't want you." A soft, half hearted shrug. "That counts for something, doesn't it?"
Moving around him, she knew he would give a fight, and she just wanted this over with. She wanted so badly to crawl into her apartment with her ghost and her pills and drown herself in her visions and nightmares. Because honestly, the agony would be almost better than the searing of her own soul at this very second.
"Cordelia."
It was sad, broken, and it made her pause, against her better judgment, look back to find him staring at her, lost and hurt, and broken.
"Have I already lost you?" he asked quietly, eyes dark and somber as they drank into her own orbs, searching hungrily. There was such fear in his tone, and it went straight through her, forcing her to gasp out and close her eyes in frustration. "Or did I never have you in the first place, Cordelia?" he demanded, more angry. His hand closed around her wrist, and she flinched away, eyes opening to catch his dark, sad expression.
"Angel, no…" she swallowed hard, stepping back, eyes suddenly on the Hyperion. "Don't talk about things that we -"
"What? Cordy? Stuff we can't have? WHY NOT!?"
"Because you're killing me, you know that?" Her voice broke into an uneven rasp, shaking her head and turning away in an effort to control her tears. "I'm not ready for this. I'm not ready to die completely, because of you." Her eyes were bright with tears, grateful that for once, he shut up, as she continued her confession, torn out of her bleeding heart. "And it doesn't matter, because every time I look at you, every time I see you, every time I touch you, you're already there. In me, and I can see it, and I can feel it, and I'm already dead, Angel." She shook her head emphatically, voice hiccupping now. "I'm already dead."
"Cordelia-"
But she was already moving, almost tripping up the stairs in her heels, moving toward the door. Angel was stuck to the cement walkway for only a second, before he jerked away and began to run after her.
--
Saturday Evening – The Hyperion
She had taken the bastard by the hand and led him up. And now, they were probably sitting, and he was probably milking all her maternal instincts, and letting her touch him, and pet him and -
FUCK.
Faith pounded another fist into the bag, feeling the jolt of power from her body, but it wasn't enough. With a gulp, she stared at the bag, panting hard, pretending it was Wesley, and that God-damned Fred, and kicked it hard, sending it careening back, swinging smoothly out of the way before it came back and plowed her. This was too much. What the hell was she thinking, coming here? Hell, JAIL was less complicated. Sitting in a little cell, sure a month felt like a year, but at least she knew her place, she knew where she stood.
At least there, she wasn't mentally crazed, a sobbing wreck, and obsessed with a stupid ENGLISH BASTARD. The loud bang and crash knocked Faith out of her jealous brooding. Wesley's voice drifted in a piercing yell, and without another thought, the Slayer raced up the stairs, turning into the lobby, and sliding into the office.
Wesley was lying helplessly on the floor, holding hands to his nose, a stunned expression on his features, and Fred sure as hell didn't look motherly, standing over him with that clenched fist.
"What the hell happened?" Faith demanded, instinct betraying her as she knelt down in front of Wesley, gently cupping his cheek to study the blood streaming from his nose. Fred looked absolutely horrified, as she blinked back tears and stepped back, shrinking slightly when Faith turned angry brown eyes on her. "What the fuck did you hit him for?" she demanded, getting up and turning toward Fred.
"He pissed me off," Fred said, and then swallowed, straightening up before shrinking back down. "Sorry?"
Charles Gunn burst into the office, took in the state of the room in one broad sweep, and suddenly turned on Faith. "Why the hell did you hit Wesley!?"
"Hey!" Faith pushed back, nearly sending Gunn sprawling against the wall. "I didn't TOUCH the fuck, okay? That little chick did."
Gunn paused, heaving slightly, whipping his head back to Fred. "You hit him?" Fred stepped back, blushing profusely. But Gunn didn't see it, instead moving forward, seriously invading Wesley's personal space, nearly knocking him back down as he tried to get up. "What'd you do to her, man?"
"What did *I* do?!" Wesley repeated, holding a hand to his bloody noise, voice coming out tinny. "She hit me!"
"You had to have done something, man. Fred just wouldn't up and hit someone!"
"Well, maybe I would?!" Fred blurted out, suddenly pushing Gunn back, once again sending him to the wall.
Faith's eyes widened, keeping quiet when Fred continued to push at the large guy. "I would have hit you, GUNN! You big, unstable…. Bastard!" Wesley gasped, and Gunn's eyes went wide.
"Fred-"
"Yes, that's right! I said 'bastard', and I'll say it, again. Because you're just… mean. How DARE you think I couldn't understand! How DARE you think I was just jealous, and blind, when all I cared about was YOU?!" Her finger jabbed into his chest, and Gunn gulped, looking at Faith, who shrugged, settling down on the desk.
While Fred continued her tirade, Faith looked back at Wesley, found him also staring at the scene, and was free to view the blood running freely down his nose. Godammit, it hurt her to see him like that. Shuddering, she swallowed, tried desperately to remember every single reason he deserved a broken nose, and when his head swiveled and their gazes locked, she promptly forgot all of them. His eyes were dark blue now, intense, as he raised himself slowly to his knees, never tearing his gaze away.
"Faith," he began, in a slow whisper.
"BASTARD!" Faith blinked, torn away by Fred, who was still jabbing at Gunn's chest. "Inconsiderate, and you made me CRY! Friends don't make each other cry-"
By this time, Charles Gunn was completely speechless, trying in vain to placate the girl. He had come back after an hour of walking the streets, trying to sort things through his mind, think things through, make sense out of his complicated world. He was no less sure of anything, when he stepped into the Hyperion Lobby, but all that was on his mind, was making things right with Fred. Apparently, that part of the plan was going to require some serious strategy.
"Fred-"
"And friends don't sleep in the same bed, and do stuff-"
"You WHAT?!" Faith blurted, flicking glances between the two of them, and was subsequently completely ignored. Fred had the interruption to study Gunn's shirt, and found it hanging from his chest in rags.
"What happened to your shirt? She didn't tear it off, did she?" she managed to ask, right before she ran out of breath.
"No, she - vamps nest, on the way back. Are you - Fred, why can't we talk about this somewhere else?" he suggested, when Wesley and Faith both continued to stare blankly.
"I don't WANT to talk to you right now, Gunn, and if you keep looking at me with that puppy dog look, I swear, this fist is going to -"
"Okay." Faith immediately strode forward, grabbing the girl's arm, pulling her to the door. "Let's go."
"Faith-"
"You need a drink, you need to calm down, and as on board as I am with you beating the shit out of both of them, I really don't want to be here, and neither should you."
Fred's mouth was agape, but at the moment, going with the Slayer she barely knew seemed a far sight better than staying here with the Red-Head Loving Bastards. She could really get used to that word.
"Cordy!" A brunette flew into the lobby, the two woman very nearly collided with Cordelia, who blinked as she paused. "CORDY!" Angel said again, coming behind her, grabbing her by the elbow.
"Don't TOUCH me!" Cordelia hissed, shouldering her purse and looking back to the girls. "Where are you going?"
Faith glanced at the aggravated Angel, and the seriously distressed Cordelia.
So… Angel was in the shit, too, huh?
Glancing flippantly at Fred, she nodded toward the door. "We're going to get drunk. Wanna come?"
Cordelia blinked, looked down the lobby, and found a tattered Gunn, and a bleeding Wesley. Hazel eyes were thoughtful, but her tone was even as she shrugged. "Sure."
"Cordelia, you're not leaving-"
"Oh, STUFF it, Angel!" Cordelia said, as Faith and Fred began to walk toward the door. Digging in her purse, she pulled out something metal, slapping it into his hand. "Here. You'll get more out of THAT right now, than you will out of me."
With that, she swiveled, turning on her heel, and followed the two women out the door, leaving three brooding, bewildered, and bothered men in their wake.
--
end chapter