Waking Up From The Past
Chapter 7: Realizations and Misunderstandings
by Hollywood Phoenix
Want to post this story? Please email me at: hollywoodphoenix@yahoo.com for permission. Thanks.
Special request: I'm back! I'm so glad to be returning to the world of fanficdom. I really appreciate the feedback so far, and I'll take any of course. :) But, please please please if you have the extra time to review and let me know what's good/could be better about this story so far, could you? For everyone who has been that so far, thanks! I really am trying to improve my writing, and I'm looking for some constructive feedback.
Spoilers: 3rd season Angel ep 'Provider' and 3rd season Buffy up to 'Lover's Walk'
So far: Present!Cordy switches with her Past!Cordy consciousness. Present!Angel finds himself caught between Past!Buffy and Past!Cordy. Afterwards, he walks Past!Cordy home and for the first time in Buffyverse, bonds with her. Ohmygosh! Can it be that he's talking to someone other than Buffy!?!
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Angel had no idea how it all happened.
He had been about to pacify Buffy with a ready lie and risk Cordelia's wrath. He had reasoned that preserving the timeline and the bones of the two glaring girls before him had to be the best option. Recalling the pain of walking away from Buffy, he realized that he couldn't hurt her like that again, in person. In his mind, he had also reminded himself that he would get the opportunity to make up for lying to Cordelia in the next few years, and possibly for eternity. As he had briefly entertained that thought, he fought the amused smile playing on his lips.
At that moment, Buffy had turned and started running out of the park. Before he could understand why Buffy had just left without waiting for his explanation, Cordelia had loudly complained that she now had to walk home alone. Angel had refrained from pointing out that she had been walking by herself earlier, and offered to walk her home. Eagerly, she had accepted. Surprised, he had wondered over why she had trusted him so easily. The brunette Sunnydale High cheerleader that he remembered would have likely run screaming her head off in the opposite direction. Then again, the blonde slayer that he remembered would never have run off without waiting for him to explain his actions. He had thought she would stick with him to her dying breath.
Maybe he was losing his touch. Maybe he never knew either of them that well.
Musing over why she had been walking without Xander or her entourage, and hadn't been picked up by her family car, he casually started conversing with her. He was curious to comprehend what was going on inside that head of the brunette beauty haughtily walking alongside him.
He had been pleasantly astonished with how foreign, yet familiar this woman was to him. She was young, being still an idealistic teenager, but there was a hidden and unmistakeable confidence, poise, and maturity that made her appear well beyond her teenage years. He remembered the Cordelia Chase he ran into in L.A. and when she had pointed out that he never talked to her before, wondered why he had never bothered to get to know her when they were in Sunnydale. He conceded to her explanation of how he had only been obsessed with Buffy.
Talking with her, she had demonstrated her trademark quick wit and sharp tongue. However, traces of real feeling and self-conscious perceptiveness cropped up, first when she had alleged him of hugging her and argued with Buffy, and later, when she had admitted that she couldn't count on her friends, while Xander always put her second to Buffy and Willow. Stunned, yet marveling at her daring and unsuccessful attempt to seduce him in order to numb the hurt she was feeling, he had immediately called her on it. After all, she had always been straight-forward, if brutally honest, with him, and she deserved the same from him.
It was at this moment that it hit him how much he knew and understood the woman who would become his closest and perhaps, most important, friend. He sadly indulged her naive fantasy of attending her choice school in Paris and living the glamorous life she dreamed of.
One moment, he was reaching out to her and letting her believe in what would be an unrealized future. The next, he found himself brushing her hair out of her face and mesmerized by the new perspective he had gained about his best friend.
In shocking realization, he saw that she was responding to him in an unexpected way. He watched as she froze at the brief contact his fingers made with her face. Her breathing became more ragged as she opened her lips slightly.
'She's my friend,' he thought, 'Or at least she will be. Now, she's young and hurting. I can't take advantage of her like this. I can't ruin my chances with her, our friendship.' The moment slowed to a cruel crawl as he watched her close her eyes and lean towards him. Panicking, he tried to control his breathing. 'I'm not having these thoughts. If I let this happen, I'll be ruining our future together. I won't do that.'
Suddenly, Cordelia stopped in midair and opened her eyes, as if waken from a trance. Noticing the hand glued to her cheek, she peered up at him in slight confusion and asked the dreaded question he had been asking himself, "Angel, what are you doing?"
~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~
The park on Baker Street, January 23, 2002
Cordelia Chase stared at the English man in disdain, desperately trying to hide her immense confusion over her new predicament. Looking around, she found herself in a park, surrounded by three very unfamiliar people who seemed to know her. She drew herself to full height, but stumbled onto the ground, as a wave of nausea hit her. Instinctively, the three people in front of her moved forward to steady her.
"I'm fine." she protested, swatting a dark hand on her elbow. Looking up at the person that the hand belonged to, she saw a knowing smirk spread on a good-looking face.
"Good to know that some things never change." the tall dark man quipped. "Or maybe I should say, she's the Cordy we know and love?"
Cordelia let the wave of fear at the man's familiar referral to her turn into anger, "Don't think you can pass yourself off as a friend of mine by calling me by that horrible name. I do not have a nickname. Even if I did, I'd never pick anything sounding like a passe fabric. My name is Cordelia." she said bitingly. She glared at the long-haired slender brunette hovering over her, "Got it?"
Suddenly, she felt herself hauled onto her feet. "Quit complaining and get over yourself." The brusque voice seemed to come out of the shadows, and the figure that it belonged to quickly shuffled back into the darkness. She saw the looks of surprise the dark man and the other brunette woman exchanged with each other. Only the English man remained passive in calm acceptance.
Cordelia squinted into the shadows at the person who had so rudely interrupted her tirade. His ease with fading into the darkness of the night, and his low brusque manner seemed so familiar to her. Who was he? How dare he sound annoyed with her? Didn't he realize that she was the most popular girl in Sunnydale High? True, she hadn't won her bid for Homecoming Queen, but that was all Buffy's fault. Thoughts flying about in her mind, she decided that this had to be some weirdness to do with the Hellmouth. And since everyone connected to the Hellmouth was Buffy's responsibility, she attributed that her current situation must be Buffy's fault too.
Pouting slightly, she crossed her arms. She kept silent, but knew who was to blame for everything wrong in her life.
Sighing audibly, the English man pushed up his glasses and gently massaged his temples. "I know you're ... getting adjusted to all this. Why don't we just sit down calmly to explain everything." As Cordelia looked prepared to start another tirade, he quickly interjected, "I promise we won't hurt you. We just want to talk. If you don't like what we say, well, you're free to go. Besides, Angel is in the same situation as you are."
Cordelia looked at the figure shrouded in darkness in astonishment. It seemed strange how a few hours of what, she had to admit to herself, could only be called easy bonding with the cursed vampire could make her reevaluate his character. Attempting to cool her rapidly reddening face, she angrily told herself that he was the same jerk obsessed with the fashion faux pas slayer that he always was. How could she have thought for a moment that she could confide in him? That he understood her? How could she have let her guard down for a moment?
She had forgotten that she couldn't truly rely on anyone but herself.
Focusing sharply on the man in front of her, she noticed his stunning likeness to Giles. She knew that she assessed people's characters well, especially shady ones. Looking at this slightly bookish man, and the innocent faces of the black man and brown-haired girl, she decided to trust them, at least for the moment.
But she wouldn't make it easy for them. "I'm your prisoner?"
She thought she saw a smile tug at the corners of the English man's mouth. "I'd rather you consider yourself our guest."
Immediately, her mind conjured up movies that forebode trouble after bad guys uttered those infamous words. Pushing those frightening thoughts away, she cautiously followed the trio out of the park, as the broody vampire tailed them, remaining in the shadows.
~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~
Summers' residence, November 18, 1998
Buffy opened the door to the house she had called home the past two and a half years, and forlornly entered the dimly lit foyer. As she quickly headed for the stairs and dark comfort of her bedroom, a voice stopped her.
"Oh, hi Buffy! Willow just called to see how you were doing." Sensing her daughter's dejected mood, Joyce Summers got up from the living room couch and made her way towards her. "How was your day?" she asked, trying to keep the anxiousness out of her voice.
Buffy fought the urge to brush her mother aside. "A little tiring. Not really in the best of moods right now."
The blonde wavy-haired woman gave her daughter a comforting smile. "I'm so sorry to hear that. Want to talk about it? I'm about to get a mug of cocoa."
Buffy stared up into her mother's face, the care written plainly on it. Part of her wanted to tell her everything, but she knew that her mother would never understand, much less accept her daughter's life. "Not really." Seeing the slight hurt on her mother's that was quickly replaced by a patient but tight smile, she blurted out, "It's just guy problems, that's all."
Joyce assessed her daughter's large eyes and tear-stained cheeks. Sitting back down on the couch, she gently prodded her, "I know you think I don't remember what it's like to be in high school and in love, but I do recall falling in love with your father. Not to mention, being so infatuated with him and I couldn't stop seeing him through rose-coloured glasses until I found out that he had betrayed me. I might be able to help you." Seeing the torn look on Buffy's face, she said softly, "I promise, I'm here to listen."
In part a tad guilty, and largely because she needed to talk to someone, Buffy opened up to her mother, "Remember that guy, Angel?"
Joyce knotted her brows together, "You mean the guy who was stalking you?"
"No! I mean, I said he sort of was. But he's okay again." Buffy automatically defended him. Seeing the confused look on her mother's face, she tried to explain, "It was all a big... misunderstanding. We sorted it out." At the concern evident on the elder woman's face, she continued nervously, "We didn't get back together or anything. It's just that he had a really rough time and needed my help with getting back on his feet. I never realized before how much he depended on me, on our ... relationship." She was stumbling over her words now. "I started learning more about him, as sort of a ... friend, and got close to him again."
"Obviously, he means a lot to you." Joyce responded slowly, uncertain how to handle this. She delicately patted the seat next to her on the sofa.
The blonde slayer's shoulders slumped as she flopped onto the couch. "I wish he didn't." A pained look crossed the teenager's face. Her mother's eyes lit up with understanding.
"He hurt you tonight." Joyce stated calmly. Inside, her mind was whirling with thoughts of how to hunt down the boy who had caused her only daughter pain and give him a good tongue lashing. Joyce peered into Buffy's face as she carefully said, "You were secretly hoping to reconcile with him."
Stricken, Buffy hung her head. "He doesn't want me anymore."
With the acquired patience and knowledge of her years, Joyce held her tongue and refrained from telling her daughter that this man who continually hurt her couldn't be right for her.
"I've been fighting this so much!" the young slayer exclaimed. She jumped up and started pacing the room in frustration, "I keep telling myself that he's wrong for me. It's just that when I'm with him, the world around us disappears. When I kiss him, I feel all tingly inside and when he holds me in his arms, I -". Suddenly remembering who she was confessing to, she stopped and her voice broke as she finished softly, "When I'm apart from him, the world is so bleak and empty. When I can't be with him, I feel so alone. I've never felt this way about anyone else before. I don't think I'll ever feel this way about anyone else again."
Joyce Summers gathered her daughter in her arms and whispered to her tenderly, "I understand, Buffy." As tears streamed down the blonde girl's face, the mother hugged her tighter, "You might think that this is the worse thing that could ever happen, but you're strong. You'll get past this. Don't ever think that you're alone." As a sob racked through her daughter's body, she fiercely looked into her daughter's eyes. "Love is never a sure thing, with anyone. Except when it comes to mothers and daughters, especially you and I. Believe me when I say that I'll always love you." As she embraced her daughter again, she started to cry with her, "I promise that I'll always be here for you."
~~ * ~~ * ~~ * ~~
Wolfram & Hart, January 23, 2002
Lilah Morgan sat at her desk, pensively going over the contract in front of her. It was well into the early morning hours, but she wasn't adverse to working all-nighters a few times a week. After a few minutes, she looked up into the cold emptiness of her large office. She knew that in everyone's eyes, she was a no-nonsense, take-charge woman. Whispers along the Wolfram and Hart grapevine travelled quickly, and being the queen of ferreting out gossip, especially when it concerned her, she heard all that was said about her. Beautiful, intelligent, sharp, and extremely ruthless. She didn't mind being stereotyped like that. After all, she had always been a competitive sort of woman.
Her attention returned to the new unsigned contract she had been reading. The cold black ink stared back at her, as her mind registered the words "mother", "home", and "liability". A sigh started to escape from her. Not wanting to dwell on the matter any more, she hastily scrawled her signature on the last line. At that moment, a loud knock on her closed door sounded.
"Come." she commanded, in her dispassionate voice. The door opened to reveal a large man wearing large sunglasses in an impeccably uncreased black suit.
"What?" she demanded. She hated not having the upper hand, and not being able to see a man's eyes, or gauge his emotions from his eyes unnerved her a bit. She glared at him to assert her power, something she had learned to do very well in Wolfram and Hart world. The man paused for a moment, as if to collect his thoughts.
"Someone has been snooping into the Project T files." the man reported to her.
"Find the perpetrator. Flush him out." she replied, with a note of hostility.
"We have found and detained him already. He's one of our own." A folder slid under her nose and fell onto her desk.
The brunette attorney glanced down at the file that now covered her hastily signed contract. Fighting to suppress her surprise at the quick response and her annoyance at the man's unwavering wooden expression, she pursed her lips slightly. Opening the folder and focusing on the name in the file, she felt her stomach churn in growing dismay. Getting up quickly, she strode over to the man.
"Are you sure about this?" she questioned him fiercely. Her heart was pounding too quickly to control the emotion in her voice. She imagined a smirk sliding onto the large man's face.
"Without a doubt. We caught him in the act."
"Question him - see if he has leaked out anything to that traitor yet. Extract everything he knows from him tonight." Lilah composed herself again and continued her orders calmly, "You have my permission to use any means necessary."
"Done." the man swiftly left her office.
As the door closed, Lilah turned towards her window. Below her, lights along the street twinkled as cars whizzed by.
"I'm the one who'll win, you son of a bitch." she vowed to the world. "This time around, Lindsey McDonald, I'll be the only one on top."
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Disclaimers: I'm only writing for amusement and because I'm such a fan! Angel and co. aren't mine.
(c) April 29, 2002