I've got a hotline to the freaking Powers, buster. I could've gotten a vision, or-or something to warn us. Oh, plus, I've got demon in me now. So, maybe - maybe there is some untapped power that could have help find Connor before, you know, before... -- Cordelia, The Price
--
The city of Los Angeles was known for its diversity. Called the Mecca of the good ole' American melting pot, it was not unusual to walk through a half a block and encounter more than a dozen different cultures.
And that wasn't even counting the demon ones.
Nestled among the obvious niches of Latino, Indian, Asian, and other races of the human variety, were the hidden cultures, demonic societies who sprung up like wells throughout Los Angeles, some drawn by the chaos, others by the glitz and the gold.
In many ways, they were no different than the human, a few, mixed breeds mostly, walking among the living humans, disguised as one of them, others, more extreme in their appearance, some TRUE illegal aliens, keeping to the shadows, part of a darker nightlife, a city that most inhabitants had no idea even existed.
Underneath a random Los Angeles Post Office was a sacred area, once trespassed, broken. Previously reserved for higher beings, the extermination of the Oracles had brought about a curious change.
Dubbed 'the Pressroom' by those who frequented it, the sacred area was now a congregation, a focal point in the battle for lost souls, where lives were lost and traded, and higher beings previously untouchable, were now brought down from their heavens to interact with lower beings.
It was the only commune in Los Angeles, and among the champions of the various dimensions, it held a very vital role: It was a damned good place for gossip.
Jared Miller had three horns on his right ear, through no fault of his own. The third horn came from his mother's side, and truth be told, he found them to be quite an inconvenience at times, because grappling favoring his right ear had caused more than a few occasions of whiplash.
Gathering here at the pressroom was a welcome break from his random bouts of campaigning. Although he knew a few of the Champions (you learned to get around, knew more than a few of them by name) took the ongoings of the Pressroom seriously, he honestly was bored of it. The Powers kept them around to keep them informed, to keep the peace. Heated debates around souls, especially in THIS dimension, had been known to get somewhat riotous, and they weren't taking any chances.
That still didn't change the fact that Mr. Miller was overdue for some serious family time. Champions were little more than glorified foot soldiers.
Sure, he was bitter. It helped to be bitter. Sighing, he lifted his scaly feet over his chair, and turned a bored eye towards the other regulars.
Marjiousithsouemthat - Marj for short - led the rest of the group in a rousing game of 'Pass the Shiftuflsut'. Unfortunately, they were fresh out of Shiftuflsut, and had decided to use a small mouse instead.
The little grey earth animal was being less than cooperative.
As was Al, who kept trying to eat it.
Mr. Miller sighed heavily, an overly dramatic sigh.
He was big on over-dramatics.
Marksy walked into the room, sidestepping the game and settling down next to him.
"What's the word?"
"Wolfram and Hart are keeping the case."
A chorus of groans resounded, Miller's one of the loudest. "There goes my afternoon. Well?"
"Lilah Morgan and Skip are going to do one more double interview."
"Geez. How many has she had now, ten?"
"Tell you what, if that girl wasn't evil, she will by the time those two get through with her. 'Cruel and Unusual Punishment', indeed."
"Well, either way, we've gotta look alive!" Marksy wiped at his brown, golden eyes gleaming silver as he dusted off his Sheeva Saber. "Things are getting more and more heated by the moment. We may be called in."
"There he goes again, Mr. 'Never Fails the Mission'."
"Will you two shut up over there?" Marj hissed, raising one of his heads to growl, keeping the second trained on the mouse. "HA! How does that look?"
"Looks good from here."
The foreign voice, interjected softly and with amusing familiarity, brought an almost immediate reaction from the gathered Champions. Miller damn near impaled himself on his own horn as he gave himself another bout of whiplash, a smile lighting up on his face.
"Chase!"
"Hey! It's the Light Bright!"
Cordelia Chase leaned against the doorway, a piercing glow in her hazel eyes and a wonderful smirk caressing her sun kissed features. Miller had to admit, he wasn't a big fan of the human species in general. As a whole they were big complainers, small, skinny, too easy to eat, and just plain ugly.
But Chase here, their little Light Bright, she had always somehow made them look good.
It was in her smile, a small grin that slipped across perfectly formed lips, affectionate and happy and - damn. It had been too long.
"Hey, guys."
He stood, form heavy and hard as he pushed between the now standing group of Champions, coming forward, to rest hands on the fragile shoulders of the previously departed Seer.
"Cordelia Chase!"
He sounded breathless, but he was genuinely happy, but not as happy as Al was. The big guy forgot completely about trying to eat the mouse as he came forward to try to wrap his arms around Cordeila..
The girl would have none of it. Never intimidated by size, she shook her head in a fervent 'no' and stepped back, hand out to ward off his descent. "No way, Al- You took a bite out of me the last time."
Al almost looked put out. "Love bite between Champions, Glow Bug."
"Right, and how many people have actually fallen for that?"
"Chase, glad to see you." Marj, with his scruffy blonde hair and sallow skin, ruffled at her bangs affectionately.
"Glad to see you too, Marj."
"What's with the hair?"
"Hey!" Slapping at the errant yellow finger with the two inch long nail, Cordelia half glared at Marsky. "I paid eighty bucks for this haircut."
"Shoulda kept the blonde."
"You're the only person who ever believed that, Marksy," Miller responded. He shoved his way to the front again, almost doubled over to look her in the eyes. "What's the occasion, Light Bright?"
And it was an occasion. The Light Bright had been gone for months, without a word or an explanation. It had gotten around she had even gone so far as to divorce the vampire she loved so much, and Miller, never sentimental in a job where life and death were common, had given her up for dead.
More than once, in this circuit, she had tried to kill him. More than once, he had tried to kill her.
But it was never personal. A job was a job, even when they were fighting on opposite sides for the good of the Powers.
She was professional and friendly enough to still get it. Cordelia let a manicured palm drift down to settle on a curvy hip, glancing over the assembled group of champions. Her smile was infectious, but she seemed almost surprised, gaze honestly startled as she roved over each and every familiar face, almost deliberately ignoring his question. "Didn't expect to see all of you here."
"You know us, Light Bright. When it's a soul, we come running."
"Biggest currency, no matter what dimension, is a soul."
Her smile faltered at that, and Miller almost found himself giving a slight nod of approval. One thing a person never forgot was the price of a soul.
When it all came down to it, that was all there really was.
"So, you back among the Higher Champions, Chase?" Marksy crossed his arms, leaning against the table as he towered over the little Champion with the big bright light. "A little birdie told us Glow Worm was out of the business."
"Just a farewell appearance." Cordelia winked, curiously carefree, walking daintily in stiletto heels, distracted tone mimicked by her movements, as her free hand trailed delicately over the chairs, the tables. "I'm getting married tomorrow."
Woah. That was unexpected. Miller froze, hand pausing in mid air as he blinked, focusing on the genuine smile that seemed to light up on Chase's face, faint excitement coloring her cheeks pink as she shrugged slightly.
The news must have shocked his compatriots, because suddenly he was pushed back only to claw his way to the front of the pack, again when she was nearly swallowed again by big hulking demons.
"What?!"
"Again!?"
"You betcha." Still, she held her ground, always graceful as she weaved around the forest of demon Champions. Turning, she gave a saucy wink, settling into Marksy's favorite chair, crossing her legs at the ankle as she leaned back.
"So, we invited then?" He couldn't help but ask. Work partners or no, he and Chase, they worked well together, and she had always deserved better than the vampire bastard. Better than Skip.
Better than this. Chase wasn't a Champion. She had a mind. An independent mind- and she made choices.
This thing - whatever it was they were all doing - it wasn't her.
She chuckled. "Might use you for a coat rack, Miller." A smaller demon, who looked almost human, small and gentle except for when his head split open to reveal the split personality inside, finally got her attention, and her voice softened, hand reaching out for a handshake. "Hey, Gypsy."
"Glow Bug."
"Whatcha getting' married for, Light Bright?" Sure, Miller may have sounded suspicious, but this just didn't make sense. Leave one shackle to get another? That didn't sound like Light Bright. She tilted her head slightly, caught his glare that hardened her own gaze, and a stiffening of her features made him frown.
"None of your business, Miller," she responded, an oversaturated sweetness in her tone.
"She's jokin'," Al announced, narrowing his eyes. "You're foolin' us, aren't you?"
"Sweetie, you may be big, strong and stupid, but a soothsayer, you never were." Patting at his shoulder as if he were a small child, despite the fact he was nearly twice her height, Cordelia once again rose. Digging into the pocket of her leather jacket, her face transformed into a mischievous expression, a naughty twinkle in her eye and a chuckle at the edge of her voice when she turned and faced them all. "Check it out, fellas, three tickets to Maine, on the six o'clock flight from LAX." The evidence was damning, three small pieces of papers in her hand. "One of me, one for my hottie fiancé, and hold on to those horns, boys, one for his dear old mother."
His mother?! Miller burst out laughing. He couldn't help it. "Well, that's sweet as hell."
"Isn't it though?" Cordelia grinned, placing the tickets back into her pocket. "It's my out, guys. I'm through with the Powers, through with the Champions, and yes, as much as I love you guys, through with you."
"Well, don't get all sentimental on us, Light Bright," Al said morosely.
"Mouse is under the table, Al," she remarked, settling a hand on Marj's shoulder.
"Ooh!"
"I can't do it," Marj, strangely quiet until now, burst out loud, slamming his blue hands on the table. "I can't picture our little Light Bright pumping out babies and hanging diapers."
Marksy snorted. "Singing lullabies and beating targs."
"Targs?"
"Word for it in English is rugs, Marksy." Miller sighed, shaking his head, crossing reluctantly around the table. Damned men - there used to be a time when an education was actually REQUIRED to get to this level of security.
"Right." A beat. "You know what I meant."
"Lost the punchline." Cordelia said, leaning over his shoulder as the game resumed, the Champions settling down around the table. "Went downhill in the translat-"
The loud boom and rattle startled even him. He froze, mimicking Cordelia completely as they both swiveled heads to the side. The previously closed portal in the side of the room crashed open, loud and raunchy in its intrusion.
"That's not the hell dimension 'firing squad', is it?" Her breathing was almost uneven, gaze riveted to the sight of the portal, hot and moist, breathing into The Pressroom.
Way too excited for a retiree.
"What do you care? You quit." Miller's tone was flat, skeptical. The look she gave him was a startled one, and he held it firm. Cordelia looked away first, a hot flush caressing her cheeks as she rolled her eyes.
He frowned. She was slipping.
"Please. Don't tell me you guys don't care about the noise." Miller followed as she turned, moving toward the portal, glancing at the murky figures, black shadows barely made out from beyond it.
"Setting up for the trial for the Telekinetic."
"Gonna miss a great trial, Light Bright," Mari called from the table, eyes still on the mouse.
"Not interested," she responded, almost too quickly, focus now completely on the figures in the portal, fire and flame dancing around them, spilling into Press Room with malicious licks.
Another roar came from the dimension, Miller jumped back instinctively. Damned loud idiots. Third horn ringing, he pushed past Light Bright and glared. "Hey! Keep it down, you hell beasts! Can't you see there's Champions at work in here?!"
"Fuck you!"
He blinked, mouth falling open as the beast flicked him off. "Woah."
Beside him, Cordelia chuckled, beguiling grin floating on her face as she tapped him good-naturedly on the elbow. "Not big on respect for the Champions in there, are they?"
He was too interested in grumbling to really care when she pulled out that damned cellphone her and every other person in this dimension lived by.
"You think Sprint will give me service in here?"
"I saw that guy from Verizon try to get in."
Cordelia rolled her eyes, fighting a chuckle when Al started mimicking with, "Can you hear me now?"
"You guys need to leave this dimension. And soon."
"That's what I keep telling these guys, but... ya know how it is."
Miller turned, once again caught by the glinting of the ring on her finger.
He clucked his tongue as a thought filtered through his mind.
"So... Light Bright... Angel, know you're getting married?"
Sinking into his chair, almost swallowing himself up in the cushions, Miller grinned as the Champion froze, dark brown hair flipped out of her face when she gave him yet another customized 'Cordelia Chase Death Glare'.
Damn. This had to be a record.
"Yes. He knows." Her voice was resigned, slightly careless, FORCED. "Had lunch with him this afternoon."
"He know you're quitting?"
"YES," she said, shoulders drooping as she smacked Mari on the head, ignoring his jump. "I told him. Any more questions guys? Want to know where I did it? How he took it?"
"What do we look like, a bunch of gossips?" Al remarked, once again trying to sneak a hand toward the mouse before someone slapped it away.
"Oww." Mumbling around the stinging fingers in his mouth, Al barked, "Want in, Light Bright?"
"As much fun as you know I think playing "Pass the whatever-you-call-it IS, I don't have time. I'm just doing another testimonial for character of witness of Bethany."
"Ah." Miller knew it sounded kinda triumphant, and her suspicious glance did nothing to soothe that, but dangit- there had to be a reason this was all happening.
It didn't sound like the Light Bright at ALL.
"For pay, don't get excited, Miller," she answered.
"Wasn't gonna say a word, Glow Bug."
"Did she know who she was doing when she almost killed those guys?" she asked, flashing a 'thankyou' smile to Marksy as he pushed a seat into her direction.
"Depends on who you ask," Al said, focused now on trying to flick the mouse's tail. "If you ask Skip, he says 'Yes', if you ask Wolfram and Hart, they say 'No'."
Cordelia sighed, lost in thought as she rubbed at the tabletop, tapping it with her fingertips.
"You know the story, right, Light Bright?"
"From the horse's mouth. And no one's stepped up for character of witness?"
"Earth is Angel's domain."
"But if Skip-"
"Not touching that bastard," Al muttered. "If you ask me, that kid's just headin' for trouble anyway. Better if we put her away now."
"You think you can really save that kid?" Miller asked. "Cause, honestly? She's screwed either way."
"Not if she gets a pardon," Cordelia shot back.
Marj snorted. "Good luck. Last time the Powers pardoned a soul-"
"Three years, six months, two days. My character of witness," she reminded them, nonchalant as she buffed her nails, crossed leg waving a heel distractedly.
Yeah... Chase was good at that. Damned humans and their sympathy points. They were damned weak sometimes. They were big on thinking everyone was capable of being saved, when it was their dimension that seemed to cause the most trouble.
With freedom came chaos, and Miller hated this place for it.
"Light Bright has a point," Miller conceded.
"Skip had a black eye for a week after that." Al grinned. "Serves the arrogant bastard right."
The silence descended, interest turning back to the game. Miller kept his gaze on Chase. The demoness seemed edgy, glancing at her watching before she pulled out her cellphone, gazed at it a full minute, frowned, and put it back.
Once again, her focus returned to the portal.
He could practically see the wheels turning in that small head. The edges of his mouth pulled into an almost pout, when without another world, the Seer pulled out a lap top from under the desk, and flicked the switch.
Light Bright was good. Small, almost human, but good.
He had wanted a quick trial, quick judgment, time to go home and rest before his own hell dimension called him back.
But now Light Bright was on the case. And she was good.
Crap.
They were going to be here all day.
--
It was surprisingly easy, almost too easy, to worm his way into a medical examination. Angel's charms were hardly needed, Lorne's doctor did the work himself, talking in short whispers with the other medic, while Douglas stood there, looking slightly confused, and only for a moment, slightly suspicious.
The human heart was telltale, beating from inside the human body, and Angel could smell the first seeds of doubt, that had begun to permeate in Douglas' body. It was clear, sleeves rolled up and glasses now on his head, that Douglas was a man of brains, as well as brawn. His eyes were narrowed and earnest, the pencil bobbing up and down in his mouth from where he held it was clearly chewed on and worn, and his eyes were noticeably bright. Angel studied him, a quick glance of his features, a small study, reminiscent of a past where a vampire stood fearlessly in alleys, dark, in even darker shadows, and waited for a man of good intentions.
An itch in the back of his fangs, small and piercing, haunted Angel's soul, with a pang he had almost forgotten, and in a hard swallow, he almost lost the resolve that came with the hunter.
It faded at the sight of the ring on Douglas' finger, and the plastic smile, easy and simple and yes, reminiscent of Angelus, was effortlessly placed on the handsome face.
He stood now, patiently, shirt unbuttoned with practiced ease, mouth open. God, he probably looked like a moron, but Douglas was now scribbling diligently, fingers spotted with black ink.
"Okay," Dr. Folster had a grim smile on his face, almost seeming bored when he turned away, began folding away his stethoscope.
Angel smiled, the very picture of innocence. "Everything okay?"
"You've got nothing to worry about," came the response from the old doctor, eyebrow arching in droll humor, "For a very, very long time."
"Great. Good..." In the corner of his vision, Conner huffed and mumbled something that was too old and too harsh for a boy of his age. Angel ignored it, clapping fingers together in a mock self-congratulation. Douglas, his mountain of paperwork fanned out over the desk he borrowed, looked intense, serious. Just a little too serious.
"And how are YOU doing, Doug?" Angel asked pointedly, fingers idle as they buttoned up the open shirt.
"Just one more thing," he said after a moment, half rising out of his seat to politely thank both doctors. "Two, actually." The fiancé was hesitant, fingers rolling the pen through out them, weaving in and out in distraction as he attempted to frame his words. When they began, they sounded firm, doubtful, "As a vampire-"
"Now, Douglas," Angel's response was immediate. The vampire knew intimidation, and he fell into the role effortlessly, hands on Douglas' shoulders to keep the taller man from rising, eyes dark and hard and voice as smooth as silk, edged with hard steel. "You heard my doctor. I'm great. I'm good, I got a lot of years left, and after all, isn't that what counts?"
"But... you're dea-"
"Just because my heart isn't physically beating, doesn't mean I don't have a life. Are you arguing that I don't have a life? Look around you, Douglas, look at my past. I've been married. I have a child. I run a business. Isn't that considered that somewhat as a life?"
Douglas' eyes nearly crossed, as Angel now glared, inches from the upturned face.
"Are you suggesting I don't have a life worth insuring?"
"Well, I... uh... what I mean is-"
"Douglas, I'm hurt. I'm hurt. That is just... Dr. Folster?" The doctor paused, black bag under one arm. "Have you ever heard such a specieist remark?"
Douglas paled slightly, and Angel had to bury the smirk behind his first, turning away as the Docter slowly peeled off his glasses, wiping them slowly. "With my full medical expertise, I can personally guarantee that Mr. Angel here, has lived a life, and will continue to live such a life, some humans can only hope to compare."
With that, he bowed, exiting as quietly as he had made it.
Clapping his hands together, the vampire turned, not enough of a better man to not feel a slight thrill at the sheepish guilt now creeping up Douglas' face. "You see?"
"I... I'm sorry, Angel. I didn't think- You're right, I just... it's unusual, but I can do it. I can!" he declared resolutely, hands now once again scribbling over the paper work. "And all that leaves is... your beneficiary."
"What?"
"Beneficiary. In case of your death." Douglas stammered slightly at the word, as if even just the annotation of it made him uncomfortable. It was an interesting realization. A man who dealt in the business of selling lives, insuring them, unable to cope with the ramnifcations. Interesting card to hold. "Who do we contact to pay off... you know..."
"Cordelia." There was no hesitation behind the word, not pause in his answer, coming directly after the sentence left Douglas' mouth.
The finance's reaction was immediate. Blonde strands tumbled wildly as Douglas jerked his head up, and ever a truthful man, Douglas blinked once, shifting uneasily in his chair. "I don't think... that's -" Planting his pen down, his shoulders squared, as the young man stared the vampire in the eyes. "I don't think so, Angel."
"What? Why not? There shouldn't be any problem with making Cordelia my... whatever-it-was-"
"Beneficiary," Douglas supplied flatly.
"Right! That- wait..." Angel paused. "It's not because she's part demon, is it? Because if you're going to be all speciest about -"
"No! No, no, no—that's not what I meant all!" Douglas said hurriedly, shrinking away, now back in his seat. "I don't even think of Cordelia that way- I mean... as a... I mean... you know- what I mean is-"
"What?" Angel pressed, imposing and damned well aware of it.
"I... I'm going to marry her. I feel I should be the one to take care of her."
Right. Little Mr. Insurance Man take care of one of the Greatest Champions the world had ever known. That was believable.
Angel sighed, loud and unneeded, pure theatrics, as he gently slipped an arm around Douglas' shoulder. "I know. And you will, Douglas. You're a good man. A great man, with integrity, and honor and... you're a Champion, Doug."
Douglas blinked, mouth parting open slightly in awe. "I'm not a-"
"Sure, you are, and because you are, you'll understand something. Man to ... well... vampire." Angel grinned slightly. "Okay," His voice was firmer, apologetic. "No icing here, but the truth. It's a debt of honor, Douglas. One champion to another. I was a terrible husband to Cordelia. She could have taken everything, the hotel, the business. But she didn't-"
"I thought she left because-"
"She could have taken everything, but she didn't." he clucked his tongue, shaking his head slightly. "Too independent."
"Well," Douglas was almost indignant. "I'm independent too, you know-"
"Sure, sure! You are! A champion, just like I said!" Douglas had a spine - sure, it was practically jelly, but it was still there. "And a champion, he knows what it means to take care of people. Look... Cordy looks great now. I mean, she's beautiful, and I've got a lot of years left. I'm eternal, remember?"
"Well, Cordelia did mention something about a Shansh-"
"And just think, in about twenty, thirty years, up in that good ole' insurance town - that money won't even mean anything to you!"
"Well, I mean, sure, but-"
"But what if you suck?"
Douglas blinked. "Huh?"
It was a change that the fiancé wasn't expecting, a small slip in the shell that cracked just slightly, just enough for a vampire to slip in. "Suppose things don't go well? Suppose, things just... suck for you? And you don't make anything? And you end up living, in your mother's house, for years, and years, and year-"
"Well, I don't really think-"
"Can you picture that?" Angel remained lost in his own world, building his picture of shame and degradation. "Cordelia, old and feeble, poor... Can you see her, Doug?"
"Yeah...." The word came out dazed, breathless.
"You wouldn't want that for her, now would you?" It took a well-timed smack on the back to bring Douglas back, and when he did, the pencil fumbled out of his hands and rolled to the end of the desk, landing with a clatter on the marble floor.
He swallowed. "Well... when you put it that way..."
Angel paused, eyes narrowing slightly.
Softening his tone, the vampire took in a sigh, focus on his cuffs.
"I know what you're thinking, Douglas. You don't trust me. You shouldn't. Everything you've read about vampires is true. We're animals. We feed. We kill. We mate-"
"Now, Angel, I don't think you're a -"
"It's true." Angel closed his eyes, and suddenly let his heart bleed. Just for a minute. That was all. "I just... sometimes, I feel like a man, too. And Cordelia... she was the one that made me feel that way. An old friend... years before anything ever... it seems like a whole new life... he told me... she was my humanizing influence." Something dangerously close to a heartbeat itched in Angel's chest, and there was dead sincerity in his voice when he turned, and spoke truthfully, rigid with almost anger. "What I'm saying is, I love her, too."
The fiancé sat, almost dumbfounded as he stared up at Angel. It took a moment to shake himself away from the power of the words, as he peeled off his glasses. "Yes. I'm beginning to realize that."
"It doesn't matter..." Angel paused, back into the role, almost enjoying it now, as the tears began to well in Douglas' eyes, "that she'll never know just how much..." He blinked, eyes cast heavenward as he slid into his leather jacket, voice dark, heavy, "she hates me, Douglas. But maybe... when she does know... she won't. Just a little."
It was angst over load, and Douglas, with his big, naïve heart, bought into it, hook, line and sinker.
"Damn, Angel. I just..." he tapped at the table nervously. "I'm not gonna apologize for meeting her, cause... I love her, but... Damn. I just... I feel kinda like it's my fault that it's-"
"Douglas, it wasn't you." His posture was slumped, eyes dark and clouded as he looked at some dark abyss of pain only he could see. "It was over before you. It just wasn't... kyrumption, I guess."
"Huh?"
Distraction was always a main weapon, the key to any real fight was to keep the balance uneven. Keep moving the line, never let the enemy focus.
The check was pulled out at just that moment, stuck into Douglas' face so fast the man had to blink before he registered what it was.
"Here."
"Oh... right." With a rueful grin painting the handsome features, Douglas reached up and took the check, folding it neatly, fingering the creases with care. "I... Cordy, she'll feel ashamed, I know, for not trusting you." He took in a breath and offered a comforting pat on Angel's shoulder. "But she'll know someday, Angel. I promise."
"Right, sure. Hey- you promised to make the phone call, remember?"
--
She was so on edge that when the cellphone began to vibrate from her inner coat, Cordelia gave a yelp, almost like a Chihuahua.
Scrambling for the phone, she gave the group a small wave, turning away from the nosy bastards.
"Hello!?"
"Cordelia."
The soft voice brought a sigh of relief through her body, and a beautiful smile on her face. "Hi, Doug." The argument around her rose to a dull roar. "Hey- keep it down, nimrods!"
"Take the call outside, Cordelia-"
"Can't believe she actually got service here."
She moved to the corner of the room, free hand over her free ear in an attempt to discern what her boyfriend was saying. "What? Did you get the check?"
"Certified and everything." Douglas sounded happy. She could almost picture the big Kool-Aid smile stretched out on the golden skin. "It's in my wallet."
Oh, thank God. She let herself breathe. So Angel was behaving. "Great, good. In your wallet-" Cordelia blinked. In his wallet. In Douglas' back pocket. In Los Angeles- with a vampire, and Faith, and Wes- "Wait. Not good. Where are you?"
"I'm at the Hyperion."
"What about Mr. Bumpy Face? Where's he?"
"In his office."
Okay. Good... She squinted, mistrust forcing her check to tighten as her voice lowered. "Look, Douglas. Take it out of your wallet. I don't trust it in there."
"What? Why?"
"Well, because- it's Los Angeles! And it's... evil! And-"
"Cordelia, I know you think I'm innocent and all, but I can certainly hold my own in a city like Los Angeles."
"I know, Doug, but-"
"I may not be a Champion, like Angel, but-"
"Oh, who said you were?" she snapped. The line on the other end grew silent, and Cordelia blinked, dread settling into her when she suddenly realized the venom that had unintentionally entered her voice. Oops. "Sorry. I just... you really are, sweetie, in your own way."
"That's what Angel said, too."
"Oh he did, did he?" The suspicious began to mount. Angel. The bastard. "Look, Douglas... there's an old superstition, it's a thing we Champions do, when... um... when we actually get paid-"
"Powers know THAT never happens!" shouted Miller from the table.
She rolled her eyes and turned further away from the group. "The BIG checks, we umm... put them ... in our socks."
Everything got awfully quiet.
"Where?" he asked.
"In your socks," she reaffirmed. "It... brings good luck."
"I don't wear socks," Marj said, poking his head under the table.
"I've been a Champion for over seventy years," Al groused suspiciously. "I never heard that before."
"Yeah, neither did I," She muttered, turning to the staring group only to wave them to keep quiet, taking her hand off the phone, "Shut up."
"Cordelia, I really don't-"
"Douglas?" Fine. If she had to resort to feminine wiles, she would. "Do it for me? Please?"
"Now?"
"Yes, right NOW."
He was laughing at her, or with her, or something. Almost amused, a chuckle in the back of his throat. "Allright, baby, hold on." She waited, teeth gnawing at her lower lip. "Okay," he came back on the line. "I did it."
She closed her eyes, taking a moment to finally breathe. "Good," she said, allowing herself to smile again. "Great. Then tell Broody Pants that I'll get his character of witness done in an hour. Then we're outta here."
"Great. Cool. And Cordy?"
"HA! I win!"
"HEY! You can't EAT HIM!? CORDELIA!"
"Cordy?"
She paused, caught in the act of turning back to the table of Champions. "Hmm?"
"Can't wait!" Douglas whispered.
"TELL this dodo he can't EAT the mouse-"
"You guys! Stop with the- sure, Bruce, me too," she cut in quickly, clicking the cellphone shut. "Learn to play nice, or don't play at all-" Digging the cellphone into her pocket, her glare was an icy one as she rested both hands on her hips. Al nearly seemed to shrink from her glare. "Let the mouse go, Al."
"Mphhmphf."
"Let him go!"
Miller slammed Al on the head, and the poor little mouse fell out, landing with a splotch of spit on the table, shivering and screeching to an exit.
The argument started up again, and this time, Cordelia's voice was heard, yelling with the loudest of them.
--
End chapter.