Bad Timing

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: Ats, Btvs, and their respective characters do not belong to me.

Content: C/A, B/S, small amount of B/A (I wanted to give fair warning)

Spoilers: None. This set in Season 3 of "Angel" and Season 6 of "Buffy."

Summary:  Unable to deal with her growing feelings for Spike, Buffy drags the gang along to for an LA vacation.  Chaos and mayhem ensues.

Note: This story is set a little after Cordelia comes back from vacation with Groo, except in my AU world, there was no bad father-devouring-son prophecy and no babies growing up in hell dimensions.

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Prologue

"Buffy, now, I don't want to question you, or, uh, your decision making abilities, but is this, um, a 'good' idea? Cause to me, you know, as a concerned—not concerned but, uh, interested, as an interested friend, this idea seems, well…bad," Willow rambled as she paced around her best friend's bedroom.  She was looking at the ceiling for most of her speech so it came as no surprise when she tripped over Xander, who was sitting on the floor near the door.  When Xander lifted his head to complain, Willow lifted her eyebrows at him and nodded toward their blond friend, silently urging him to back her up on this one.  Xander made a sigh of the oppressed and stood.

"Buffy, you have really thought about this, right?  I mean, this isn't some whim, a whole I-came-back-from-the-dead-now-lets-create-chaos sort of deal, is it," Xander inquired to Buffy's back.

There was almost a full moment of silence before Buffy answered, not bothering to look up to face her friends as she put more clothes in her black duffel.  "Look, I know both of you are a little worried, which is why, if you remember, I told you that you didn't HAVE to come—"

"Of course we're gonna come with you, we're your friends, you have our full support," Willow interrupted.

Buffy finally turned away from her packing and smiled at her friends.  "Thanks Will.  Look you two, this may sound strange, but it just feels like something I—we—need to do.  I've been having dreams about it for almost a week now.  Plus, the timing is right.  Xan, you and Anya have been half crazy with wedding plans, you know you could use a little distraction. And Willow, you've been doing great job avoiding magic, but moping around the house also means you've been avoiding life.  And believe me, I understand just how much that statement was pot calling kettle black.  Which only proves that we all need to get away."  I need to get away from anything remotely involving being shoved up against the wall by Spike.

Her speech seemed to convince her two closest friends that she hadn't lost her mind entirely, and they left to finish their own packing, thereby leaving Buffy alone with more of her thoughts.  Sure, I could use some time away from the grease vats at work and Dawn does have a three day weekend for President's Day and Willow has been really obsessing over Tara ever since my "party" and Xander and Anya REALLY need to call a time out over seating arrangement clashes.  But who am I kidding.  I need something to make me understand what I'm doing with Spike.  I do believe Tara that nothing is physically different with me than before I died.  I mean, it took a couple days, but it really is sinking in.  Now, though, I have no excuse.  All I do is alternate between hating myself and hating him.  I haven't actually talked to him in a week, but I can sense him, sometimes, at night when I patrol.  I know he has been following me and a sick part of me is thrilled with that.  I'm getting off on punishing the two of us, knowing it's killing him to not have me, not smell me, not hold me.  What's even sicker, an even greater indication of just how screwed up I am, is how it feels like it is slowly killing me too. Like during the past couple months of what I like to call my madness, I somehow became addicted to Spike and what he does for me…and to me. Oh, god, I can't even stand to be inside my head right now, let alone this house or this town.  I need to get away. That's why this idea really is so good.  Because it's killing two birds with one stone.  It gets me out of Sunnydale, and it SHOULD help me stop feeling like this.  Make me remember what I really want..

Buffy's reverie was broken when her younger sister walked in the room.  Dawn had taken news of the trip rather well, seemingly up for anything.  The only point of conflict with her was why they couldn't invite Spike along too, but it seemed as if she had gotten over that sticking point.

"So I mean, what are you bringing? Cause I have like comfortable clothes, and then clothes that that are more cute than comfortable, and then dress up clothes, and I haven't even started on shoes. My shoes are all Sunnydale shoes, I don't have shoes for where we are going.  Should I run out and buy some new shoes before we leave? Wait, then I would just have MORE Sunnydale shoes, which would still make me look like a jerk but would be uncomfortable as well.  Of course, I could—"

"Dawnie, calm down.  You've been there before.  Your shoes will be fine, your shoes are fine, and even if they weren't, there is only one person that would notice and we all stopped caring about her opinion years ago," Buffy tried to calm her sister down while she rooted through her trunk for some traveling weapons.  This WAS a vacation, but she was the Slayer no matter where she went.

"I don't know why I am so nervous.  Wait, it's coming to me, it's cause I know for a fact you were lying when you said we were invited.  You know no one called here asking for us.  Did you happen to mention to your friends that all of us are going to be dropping in unannounced?"

"I might have glossed over that fact.  Look, considering all that's happened, I would consider our invitation pretty open.  This is really not something for you to worry about.  Even if our little surprise does backfire, I'M the only one who will look bad or feel stupid.  And I'm not too worried about that.  So you definitely shouldn't worry."  Dawn nodded somewhat convincingly and turned to leave the room.  "Oh and Dawn, I know I've been a little paranoid about this, but you didn't tell Spike where we're going when he was over last night, did you?"

"No, but I don't like lying to him.  I don't understand why it's okay to tell him we're going to visit Dad but it's not okay to tell him that we're going to—"

"Look, I told you, I just would rather him not know. I don't want him tagging along, I don't want him talking to me about it (or out of it) and I don't want to have to even think about him for the next three days. Okay?"  Dawn nodded and walked out, clearly puzzled and unhappy about keeping Spike out of the loop. How the hell did they ever become so attached? I mean, I think he's good for her, he was great for her this summer, but still…she can't come to rely on him.  I can't let myself rely on him.  Because he's evil and a vampire and…he'll leave. They all seem to leave eventually. My dad, my mother, Giles, Riley, Angel.  Angel leaving almost broke me.  Funny now, how even though some part of me still resents him for leaving, he's the one I am running to now.

"L.A.," she murmured softly, grabbing her duffel, "here we come."

Chapter One- Can't Stand the Heat

Cordelia often was faced with situations that made her really stop and wonder how far off track her life had veered. When she had spotted Xander and Willow swapping spit and fallen on a rebar. When she had inherited visions from "The Powers that Be" by kissing a half-demon. When she had voluntarily gone all half-demony herself in order to continue helping people. But standing in the kitchen of the Hyperion on Friday night, Cordy was dumbstruck at how unexpected her life really was.

She was standing in the kitchen with pots and pans strewn everywhere, chopping vegetables. The steam from the pot on top of the oven wasn't doing pretty things to her hair (which was three weeks overdue for some highlights) and a glimpse at the door of the microwave oven told her that her face was more than a little shiny. Add that to the fact that she was bouncing a 7-month old baby on her hip and the picture was complete. Somewhere on the road to international superstardom, she had come to look a whole heck of a lot like a housewife.

Cordelia shook off the mutual feelings of disgust and pleasure that thought sent through her and tried to concentrate on what Fred was saying.

"It's not that I want to pry, it's just that you came back from vacation so early and Groo's nowhere to be seen and it's been two weeks and I just, oh come on, you've got to tell me what happened," Fred whined, popping a piece of green pepper in her mouth.

"Fred, I told you, I just, you know, had an epiphany."

"Ohhhhhh, like Angel did? After sex? So you did com-shuck the Groosalog!"

"I didn't say that."

"So you didn't. You kept the potion?"

"I didn't say-dammit, Angel said he would be right back. This whole give-Cordy-a-cooking-lesson thing was HIS idea and he just disappears. ANGELLLL."

"Hey sorry, I couldn't find his pacifier," Angel said as he walked back into the kitchen.

"That's odd, seeing as there's at least twenty stashed all over the hotel," Cordy said, passing the baby off to Fred and joining Angel at the stove.

"They do keep turning up in the strangest places," Fred noted. "I mean, yesterday, I found one in Gunn's pants."

Both Cordelia and Angel immediately whipped around to stare at the girl, Angel scowling while Cordy's eyebrows reached unprecedented heights.

Fred bit her lip. That had not come out right. "No, uh, laundry, I was doing laundry and some of Gunn's things were in there, and there was a pacifier jammed in a pocket. And I reached in and got it. So, um, I was technically IN Gunn's pants, um, but not in the sense that he was in them at the same time, and I think Connor and I are gonna go see what's happening in the other room." With that, Fred fled.

Cordy and Angel both turned back to the stove, standing for several seconds in silence. They both glanced over at the other person and then quickly glanced away. Cordy heard a squeak and than realized it was her, trying to hold a laugh in. She looked over at Angel. He was silent and his lips looked clamped together. Than she noticed the shaking. She let out another squeak and then her laughter came spilling out, followed immediately by Angel's. They laughed until their stomachs' hurt. Cordelia slid onto the floor trying to catch her breath. Angel didn't need to breath so he made himself useful taking the pasta off the stove and putting it in a strainer.

"Oh, god, I can't breath. That was just so funny," Cordy panted.

"I know. When she said that, all I could think…I mean, the idea of Gunn and Fred," Angel shook his head and inspected Cordy's progress on the vegetables.

Cordy bit her lip and slowly stood up. Her sweet utterly clueless vampire. You had to love him. Oops, no shake that thought off Cordy. Ever since the ballet, all the signs had been there-the idea of Gunn and Fred was one Angel was going to have to accept. Fred had been pretty tight lipped about what had happened at the ballet, but Cordy knew the signs of smooching. She would have to remember to hit Fred up for details sometime soon. Girls were supposed to tell each other stuff like that. Of course its not like I've told her anything about what me and Angel were up to in the dressing room. Oh, geez Cordy, don't think about that now, not here, in the kitchen, the hot kitchen, with him standing right next to me. You know the rules-no thinking about my little epiphany when I am at work. Maybe she should tell Angel, so he wouldn't spaz in front of the rest of the group.

"Angel, the idea of Fred and Gunn together isn't such a bad idea, you know."

"Cordy, what are you talking about," Angel said without looking up. "Fred she's like a physicist and Gunn's, I mean, he's a street fighter from the hood."

Cordy bit her lip to keep from laughing. Angel had said 'hood.' Was anything this man did not cute? Ahhh, stop! "So what, they come from different places. That's the basis for, like, some of the best love stories ever. People can fall in love with people who are nothing like them. Is this cause he's black?" Cordy asked, teasing.

Angel turned to her, horrified. "I'm not racist!" When he saw she was joking, he relaxed and leaned across her to stir the sauce. "Hello, I'm a bloodsucking vampire, it doesn't leave a lot of room to be judgmental."

Cordelia smiled and tried not to think of how little sparks of electricity had shot across her when Angel's arm had brushed her. God, and he smelled so…mmmmm. Great, now I sound like one of those goddamn Furies. "Anyway, my POINT is that I think Fred and Gunn might have some crushy feelings and I just wanted you to be aware of that. SO you don't say anything stupid. Which you will anyway."

"Hey," Angel said, wounded.

"Kidding. Just kidding." She had better change the subject. "So how did you know when to take the pasta off the burner?"

"Well, you need to wait until the noodle achieves a certain amount of malleability while still retaining a desired level of firmness."

"Huh?"

"You throw it at the wall," Fred said as she walked back into the kitchen with Connor. "Throw a piece of pasta at the wall and if it sticks, it's done." She grabbed a bottle of juice for the baby and headed back to the television.

"Hmmm," Cordy said as she reached to grab a noodle from the bowl. "Why do I like Fred's explanation so much better than yours?" She chucked a noodle at the wall behind Angel. It hit right near the clock and stuck. Then, five seconds later, it fell. Onto Angel's hair. Angel immediately started shaking his head violently, trying to get it off. Cordy simply buried her face in her hands and exploded in laughter.

"Cordy. Cordelia. Stop laughing. It wasn't that funny dammit," Angel growled.

Would Cordy ever stop laughing, Angel wondered. Of course it was hard not to appreciate the sound, even if it was at his own expense. Cordelia laughing was hard not to like. When she just let her self go and threw everything she had into laughing, it was like being hit by a truck, but in a good way. It was a lot like when she gave that one smile, that real, deliciously huge smile that made you just stop and wonder if anything on earth could be more rewarding than making Cordelia smile.

"Cordy." More laughter. "Cordelia." What the hell was so damn funny about a noodle in his hair. This was getting a little ridiculous. And she really didn't appear to be stopping with the laughing anytime soon. He wished he could make her stop laughing. I wish I could grab her and push her against the refrigerator and smother those giggles with my mouth.. Angel shook his head violently from side to side to clear the image from his mind. These, well fantasies if he was being honest, they had been bothering him at the oddest times.for almost a month now. Ever since the ballet and Groo and Cordy's returning early from vacation. Don't go there Angel. Come on, this is why you suggested this cooking lesson in the first place. To keep your mind off less.wholesome things.

Cordelia was still laughing so Angel did the only thing he could think to do (besides the up-against-the-fridge action). He reached into the bowl of noodles and chucked a handful at her.

It was beautiful really. Several landed in her hair, one tangled around her ear. Three lucky strands now rested in the v-neck of her shirt. And that perfect, outraged wail of indignation. It was like music. And of course, the laughter had stopped.

One second her eyes were blank with shock. Then they narrowed, in that sexy, dangerous, Queen C way of hers and Angel gulped. Before he could blink, Cordy's two hands were grabbing for the bowl of pasta. She wouldn 't. I mean, that was her dinner. She wouldn't-

Warm, wet noodles were everywhere. On his shoes. On his clothes. Nestled in the perfectly gelled spikes of his hair. He stood silent, unmoving.

Cordelia's smile faded as she saw the expression on his face. Tossing the bowl of pasta had seemed like such a good idea. And he did look funny. But also, maybe just a little bit ANGRY. Now, Cordelia knew that Angel would never actually HURT her, but hundreds of years doing evil vampy things had taught him lots and lots about revenge. And there were just way too many weapons lying around the.

What, what had he just dumped in her hair? Cordelia ran a hand thru her hair and there was a rainfall of.cheese. While she had been in her haze, imagining all sorts of vengeful atrocities, Angel had dumped the thing of Parmesan cheese in her hair.

At that point, Cordy saw his laughing form leaning on the counter and she would have joined him, would have laughed the whole silly thing off and called it a draw. But then she realized that this wasn't a tiny generic can of Parmesan cheese. This was the gourmet stuff, the kind Wolfgang Puck had recommended, the kind SHE had bought. This, oh this wasn't to be taken lightly.

She smiled, making him think that they were even now, that the little food fight had ended before it really began. She shrugged her shoulders in what she hoped was an endearing "I-give-up" kind of way. She reached for her glass of Diet Coke. She raised her hand and took a sip. Then she tossed the contents in his face.

Angel realized he should have known better, realized that he shouldn't be surprised there was Diet Coke dripping down his forehead and into his eyes. His Cordelia would never let something end without getting off a parting shot. Okay so she's not "my Cordelia" but still, I mean, after three years, I shoulda known there would be some sort of counter-attack.

"Very funny Cordy. Say, is that a new shirt you're wearing?" Angel asked while grabbing a spoon and stirring the pot of spaghetti sauce.

"Yes actually, haven't figured out how I am going to pay for it b-." Wait a second. He was up to something. Changing the subject, trying to look all innocent there stirring the sauce. The very red sauce. Sauce that would be very stainy if it got on a certain person's new shirt. "Angel, don't." Angel had raised a spoonful of the sauce up and made like he was going to taste it. "Angel, I know what you are about to do, but don't even think-" .

It was too late of course. Cordelia stared down at the spattering of red across her shirt. As she thought about dry cleaning bills, she became enraged. She reached for the bowl of salad and started lobbing croutons at him, followed by some of the larger slices of tomatoes. When she ran out of ammunition, Angel stopped ducking and just flung two more spoonfuls of sauce.

Cordy frantically searched for something else to use as a weapon while trying unsuccessfully to evade the pasta sauce he kept hurling her way. At a loss, she grabbed the only thing nearby…a bottle of her Kraft Fat Free Italian Salad Dressing. She popped open the top and gripped the bottle firmly with two hands. Ready, Aim, Fire. And she hosed him down. Aww, poor baby didn't seem to like that much. And Italian dressing, that could sometimes taste awful garlicy. Cordy let a snort of laughter slip out. Angel growled. He stepped closer and grabbed her forearms, yanking her towards him. Oh dear God, it's like something out of a trashy romance novel.

"Cordelia, I've always secretly wanted to do this to you." Oh sweet Jesus, he is going to kiss me. He shouldn't, we shouldn't, and if he doesn' t do it soon I'm going to have to do it for him. She closed her eyes. Her heart was racing. She took a deep breath.and smelled something sweet. Angel, he smelled like…blueberries. At that last second , warning alarms went off in her head, but it was too late. Before she could open her eyes, everything got very…gooey. She wiped at her eyes and face. It was pie. The pie she and Fred had pulled out of the oven over an hour ago. The pie she had helped make with her very own hands…the pie she had slaved over, dammit!

Angel stood back and looked at his handy work. Not all that much had stayed on her face and most of that was the whipped cream. Still, she did seem very, well, blue. Half of the pie seemed to have stuck to her right arm. And gobs of blue covered her shoes. It was funny, but not as funny as when it happened to people on television. Maybe cause the people on TV didn't have to face Cordelia's icy glare. Listen to the slow meticulous beating of her heart as she planned how she would retaliate. Angel realized the irony of the situation. He had once been a feared creature of the night, who terrorized helpless girls that looked like Cordy. He would have once made her cower in terror. Hell, he once had. And now, now the former "Scourge of Europe", well he wasn't cowering, but it was pretty damn close. She reached for the long loaf of French bread and Angel ran.

TBC….