Disclaimer: I don't own Angel the Series or Buffy the Vampire Slayer.
This picks up with Episode 2x05, "Dear Boy"
Thanks to Lilykep for beta-reading
Next Year's Girl
By Kylia
Chapter 5: Dear Dead Boy
October 24th, 2000
Hyperion Hotel, Los Angeles
There were a lot of things she liked about the new space, the hotel they'd turned into their offices.
For one, there were showers, and pretty nice ones, in every room. So when she got covered in demon gunk, or sewer gunk, or gunk of unidentified origin, she didn't have to go home covered in it to get washed off. Angel had been annoyingly protective of the shower at his place, as if it wasn't usually his fault the demon's blood and guts or... whatever else ended up all over her clothes.
It's a good thing my rent is so low or I'd never be able to dry clean anything!
For another, the wide-open space of the lobby was less cramped, and more nicely decorated than Angel's office. If she pretended really hard, Cordelia almost felt like she was on vacation somewhere with her parents, or at least, that she had money again.
Cleaning it- even after she finally managed to bully Wesley and Angel into chipping in - was one of the things she didn't like, but she'd take it.
But the biggest part she hated, at least from her standpoint of liking having food in her refrigerator, or at least in her cupboards, was how expensive the place was. Even with David Nabbit's advice on how best to keep the mortgage as low as possible and getting some other financial help for 'preserving a historic building'.
She heard a groan as Angel finally made his way down the stairs, moving like a zombie. Sleep, sleep, sleep. Does he do anything else? Angel's new sleep schedule was making it even harder for them to have paying customers.
"Made you some tea," Wesley commented as Angel walked the table closest to the front desk, gesturing to the still steaming mug. Does caffeine actually work on vampires? Angel drank coffee too, but did it actually do anything?
"Great," Angel flopped down into the chair, even slouching like a teenage boy. He made no move to actually drink the tea.
"It's on the table?" Cordelia prompted. A slightly more awake Angel - if the tea did that - sounded like a good thing. "Right there in front of you."
"Table seems far," Angel said in a detached, exhausted voice, like he was the one trying to balance the books of this place.
"Oh, you must be all worn out from sleeping for the last three days!" Cordelia tried to keep her tone level, but more than a bit of the old, sarcastic high school Cordelia slipped through. She looked away from the accounts book and over at Wesley, "It's like living with the world's oldest teenager." The sleep, the slouch, the unwillingness to do even the slightest amount of effort, apparently.
"He can't be having a growth spurt at 248, could he?"
"247!" Angel protested, or tried to. The attempt to sound indignant was ruined by the lack of heat or effort behind his words.
"Is that the age of Vampire puberty then?" Cordelia added, looking over at Angel. She looked back at the accounts book, since Wesley refused to answer her questions. "According to my figures, if we're frugal and garner some paying clientele soon, we're financially sound through last Wednesday."
At this point, it was about triaging what bills to pay late and which ones to pay later. The water bill was essential, the electricity bill could be put off longer than the mortgage because it would take longer for them to shut off the power than for the bank to come after them for late mortgage payments.
And the mortgage was more.
247 years old and Angel never thought to make a single stock purchase or buy bonds or even open a real savings account. What was the point of immortality if you weren't going to take advantage of the power of compound interest?
"Where's it all going?" Wesley did that British thing where he clearly wanted to raise his voice and shout the question, but was too polite to actually do something so rude as shout.
"Well, there's the fixed costs: The mortgage on the giant hotel," she gestured to the lobby. Very nice, but still, "my salary, there's lots of other-"
"Well, what about my salary?" Wesley interrupted, grabbing the accounts book, turning it around on the table. "That's fixed too."
It doesn't have to be. "Well, what if every time you identified a demon in one of your big old books, we gave you ten bucks? Or a chicken pot pie?" Identifying demons was his thing, no need to pay him just to sit around, right?
"Wait. I have another idea. No." Wesley shot back. "Get a vision."
As if Angel would be willing to charge someone I got a vision of. Plus, even if she wanted one of those brain-splitting surround-sound visions, she couldn't make them happen on command. "It doesn't work that way! You can't just hit me in the head and wham it happens!"
Cordelia regretted putting it like that even before Wesley picked up one of his books - she'd left herself wide open for that one.
"What if we test that theory with one of my big old books, hm?"
"Children, stop bickering," Angel flopped around in the chair, sitting his legs on the table, arm behind his head.
World's oldest teenage boy. He really, really was.
"Something will come up. Something always does."
Cordelia started to roll her eyes, Angel's blithe indifference to things like her having enough money to buy food and -
The whole room started to shake, and Cordelia felt the familiar pain exploding behind her eyes - the flashes ran through her head, almost too fast to glimpse. Something - underground. Pillars. People in robes, swords, axes - a demon
Oh gross! Some sort of giant mold, growing out of a pillar, huge, toothy maw laughing as the people fought or -
She came back to reality, still upright, Angel's hand on her shoulder, holding her up. Taking a shuddering breath, Cordelia tried to parse the vision through, the memory of it, what she saw, what she felt still in her memory.
Popping three aspirin after Wesley handed the bottle to her, and downing water, Cordelia described the scene, the demon, Wesley already taking notes. Faster than she'd have expected, Wesley had grabbed a bunch of books and spread them over the desk, looking through them, Cordelia pressing her hands to her temples.
Is the pain really necessary?! She -
The visions let her help save people. That... she didn't want to lose that. But did she have to have the pain to go with it? All of it?
As Wesley did his thing, she paced, the images in her head refusing to go away. Every vision was just a little different, and this one had her feeling almost carsick.
"Are you alright?" Angel at least sounded awake now. So nice that he cares enough to make an effort. Okay, actually that was nice, but - "Do you need to sit?"
"If I stop moving I'll throw up in my head," Cordelia turned, running her hand over her forehead roughly.
"Did it look like this?" Wesley held out a book, and Cordelia shook her head after a glance at the demon. "No... it was... more... mushy. Moldy. Like something growing out of the stone." She shook her head again, coming around to Wesley's other side. "I think - I don't think the demon's the important thing. He's not going anywhere. It's the place we need to find."
She ran it through her head, not just the sight, but that feeling. Of... violation? The place was - it felt... unholy?
"The people in the robes, the disciples - they were human, fighting over how to worship it?" Demon worshippers. Of all the things that Cordelia hated about this job, they might be the worst. And to fight over how to worship... that?
At least if the demon was pretty or handsome, I'd almost understand, but that?
"This is why personally I rarely go to church," Angel offered, in what he probably thought was a funny joke. Cordelia ignored him, Wesley going over the notes he'd taken again. "Thought it was funny."
"You just said 'underground' and 'pillars'," Wesley shook his head. "Do you remember anything else about where it was? What did the place look like?"
Angel let out a freaked-out startled sound, like someone had done to him that thing where he came up behind someone. Still need to look into giving him that bell to wear.
"Didn't doze off. Here I am. Where were we?" Angel lied.
Wesley, unsurprisingly, didn't challenge Angel on that at all. He was her friend, but he could be - as Wesley might say of someone else - obsequious to their boss.
"Trying to ascertain the location in Cordelia's vision."
"Right, ascertaining, here we go," Angel said quickly, walking around to the other side of the desk.
Being tired is one thing but... Angel was hiding something?! That's sure what it sounded like.
"What is up with you, Angel?" She rolled her eyes, uninterrupted this time, and turned back to Wesley. "It felt... sacred. In a twisted, demonic, violated sort of way. It was underground. With water. The whole place felt... wet." She grimaced.
"Like a water tank?"
Cordelia thought back to the pillars, then nodded. "Could be?"
"Saint Bridget's, in Fremont," Angel said confidently. He went on, no doubt reacting to the fact that they clearly had no idea what he was talking about. "It's a convent, built on native burial grounds... the land's cursed. Eight murders in two years, then the whole place burned to the ground." He shook his head, "Which is nothing compared to what happened to our Lady of Lochenbe."
Cordelia raised an eyebrow - just for a moment - and Angel cleared his throat.
"I've got a thing for convents."
Cordelia frowned, then, Oh right. Irish. 1750s. Catholic. Explains the guilt too. Well, apart from the parts the whole 'a hundred and fifty years of evil' explained.
"Anyway," Angel went on, "The state bought the site and built a water tank there." Makes sense. Violated burial ground, but it was sacred, underground, wet... yeah, that tracked. "We're gonna need some muscle. Call Gunn. He's on the payroll now."
"Yes, but not in a fixed way like me," Wesley suggested, Cordelia's comment about his salary clearly still bounding around his head.
Angel was right, they did need some more muscle, but Gunn wasn't the only muscle they had on hand. And...
"I'll call Gunn." Cordelia cut in. Then she inhaled slowly, "Wes, you can call Xander." Angel stopped, halfway through pulling something out of a drawer, staring at her. Wesley was giving her a similar blank stare, and Cordelia groaned. "Look, you said we need muscle, and Xander is a Slayer now, so - muscle! Plus, it's not like we have to pay him." She looked at Wesley. "I think I remember you telling Buffy, one time, that," she put on a terrible English accent, enjoying the way he flinched at it, "'being a slayer is a calling, not a profession!'"
"Yes, but it's you suggesting Xander." Wesley pointed out.
"We don't need him - this can't be what the Host was talking about," Angel added firmly. Angel had not been happy when she'd first told him about that part, but he'd at least accepted the principle that if they needed help, they should call him. Angel would do anything to save a life, after all.
"No, probably not, but if he's supposed to be helping you at some point, you should probably get used to calling him in. Besides, muscle is muscle, no?" Cordelia rolled her eyes and pointed at herself, with both hands. "Look, I'm the last person to want him around, but I don't think the big evil is gonna wear a sign that says 'I'm the big evil, call in a Slayer to help fight me!' We still don't know what Wolfram and Hart brought up in that box, and you may not recognize it when you see it."
It would be wrong to say that Xander - and whatever he was here in L.A. to help them with - had been the only thing in her thoughts. Far, far from it, thank god, now that her curiosity had been satisfied after that brief meeting in Caritas. But, despite her best efforts, she had thought about him, his situation, and the reason he was here. She'd wondered what could possibly be such a big deal that the PTB would really subject her - and Angel, for that matter - to having Xander around.
She had no idea, but she did know that Xander wouldn't turn down the ask for help, and -
There was every chance they wouldn't recognize the big evil. So...
Probably a good idea to keep Xander around, or at least call him in from time to time. And muscle was muscle. Her vision - it had looked like those cultists had them outnumbered. By a lot.
Angel frowned, but Wesley nodded. "She does make a good point," Wesley conceded, and after a moment, Angel let out an exasperated groan.
"Fine. Call him, call Gunn, let's just get moving."
October 24th, 2000
Water Tank Los Angeles
"You're lucky I just got off shift when Wesley called," Xander grumbled as he met up with them outside the entrance to the water tank. He had an axe in one hand, looking like a full on medieval one at that.
Probably got it from Giles, so it likely was a real medieval weapon from the Mother country.
"Lucky? Xander, nothing about you being in L.A. is lucky for us," Cordelia countered. "I'm surprised you actually found a job. Were they hiring at Hot Dog on a Stick?"
"I know that you two know each other, but I'm getting the idea there's real history between you two?" Gunn asked, walking up. "Xander, right? I've been hearing about some chick slaying vamps solo a couple neighborhoods over from mine. That you?"
"Probably," Xander nodded. "And yeah, I'm Xander, and you're Gunn. And as for Cordelia and me..." Xander looked at her, and Cordelia scoffed. There was no time or reason - right now - to go into the whole stupid drama of exactly how Xander was a guy, so she just went with the simple answer:
"We used to date," Cordelia explained. "It ended badly."
"Wait, really?" Gunn looked from her to Xander, and back again. "Damn. All the hot girls really are lesbians, aren't they?" He didn't say it like he was actually upset, laughing slightly at what he seemed to think was a joke.
"Technically I'm bi," Cordelia countered. She wasn't about to get mislabeled, thank you very much.
"I'm very much in the 'I don't like men' category, myself," Xander added. "No offense."
Gunn shrugged, "None taken." He laughed, looking Xander over. "If you're ever interested in a date, there's a girl on my crew who'd probably say you're just her type."
Wait, really? Okay, that was just unfair!
Xander immediately flushed, his mind probably going straight to the gutter. He looked at the ground for a second, clearing his throat. "I'll uhm- I'll keep that in mind." He gestured over at the entrance of the water tank. "What - what exactly do we have to deal with down there?"
"Thrall Demon, probably," Angel said. "We've got a cult of humans, so nonlethal."
"Pretty sure you've killed a lot more people than me, Deadboy," Xander countered.
"In theory, if we kill the demon itself, that should free the cult, but I doubt they'll make it simple for us to get to the master." Wesley explained, as they started for the entrance.
"In theory? How 'in theory' are we talking, English?" Gunn demanded.
"Thrall Demons can be tricky... sometimes their effects last a bit after death." Wesley admitted. "Not for that long, but we may have to fight some even after the demon's taken care of."
Angel ripped the door open, no key necessary, heading down first, then Wes, then Gunn, then Xander, and Cordelia took up the rear. With the door gone, the sound of fighting drifted up even before they entered, and it only got louder as they drew close.
Twenty-odd people, red robes and black, fighting each other while the demon watched. Cordelia couldn't get a good look through the throne, but she could guess it was smiling and laughing at the sight, or the closest equivalent.
The five of them formed up at the base of the stairs, and Gunn shook his head, "Man, you are not paying me enough for this."
"You're getting paid?" Xander let out a breath. "I should have asked for that."
"The fact that you wouldn't have thought of asking for money is the whole reason we called you," Cordelia countered. She looked at Gunn. "They're just humans, not demons or vamps. You're used to fighting stronger enemies."
"Yeah, and I'm used to swinging to kill. Can't do that with people controlled by some thrall demon. Besides, if they're all in the same cult, and fighting each other... My Uncle Theo always said: never buy a dull plow, and never get in the middle of a religious war."
Very specific advice. Somehow, she had trouble imagining Gunn as having an uncle who would be giving advice about plows, though. Not to stereotype, but...
"You really have an Uncle Theo?"
"No, but it's still good advice," Gunn countered, and Cordelia had to give him that. She may not have liked her history classes, but she at least made sure to pay enough attention to get good grades, and she did remember something about how wars that were about religion did tend to get pretty bloody.
They moved closer, trying to avoid attention.
"Well, at least right now they're killing each other." Cordelia murmured. The cultists were so busy with that that they hadn't noticed five new arrivals - they were almost close enough that Angel just might be able to lunge at the demon and stab him in one go. Just a little bit more. "And not-"
The two fighting in front of the demon's face broke apart, clearing the way, and then a deep, echoey voice:
"INTRUDERS!"
The ensuing fight was short, and chaotic. Cordelia didn't have much attention to spare for anyone else fighting - outnumbered as they were, it was all Cordelia could do to keep the cultists attacking her from doing more than landing kicks and punches.
Hitting one with the back end of her own small hand-axe, Cordelia ducked under a swing of a sword from another, then a kick hit her on the shins and she staggered back, gritting her teeth.
She'd gotten better at fighting since leaving Sunnydale, but she could tell that the only thing helping her here was that these mind-controlled cultists were even less skilled with swords and axes than her.
Dodge, swing - Cordelia took a punch on her shoulder, spinning back, nearly falling over, barely managing to avoid the follow-up stab from a sword, and then she managed to knock that sword out of one cultist's hands, sending it spinning away.
The others were fighting, but she only registered that barely - Xander and Gunn were both making for the demon, but before she could follow their movements more, her view was blocked by a black-robed cultist and she ducked again -
An arm went around her neck, pulling her against someone - Cordelia kicked, trying to get at their legs, knees, flailing and missing with the axe.
Just need to-
Then the cultist's grip on her neck slacked and he fell to the ground - Cordelia turned, Wesley behind her, the one who'd grabbed her lying on his side, hands on his head.
Before she could do more then nod at Wesley, there was a growl from the demon, and then a gross, ugly squelching sound, like boots in mud -
Everything stopped, the cultists all lowering their weapons, slowly, in a dazed confusion. Angel was still beating up on one-
"Angel, it's over!" Wesley called out, grabbing the vampire by the shoulder and pulling him off the guy.
Cordelia looked around, some of the cultists dropping their weapons, others still holding, all of them muttering 'what-?' and 'where am I?' and so on.
"Does everyone remember their names, where they live and all that?" Cordelia called out, not sure just how much the after effects of the mind control would linger. Pretty much all the still conscious cultists said yes, slowly and hesitantly as they came back to reality.
"Very good. The good news is that the effects you were all experiencing are gone now." Wesley gestured to the uncious or otherwise immobile cultists. "Could some of you help your fellow victims out of here, at least up to the surface?"
Cordelia looked over to where the thrall demon had been while Wesley kept directing the cultists to the surface, spinning a story about a chemical spill and hallucinations. The demon had been killed by Xander, it looked like, his axe covered in the demon's blood and guts.
But it wasn't just the axe. The demon's head - and it was mostly all head - looked completely caved in, and it looked like Xander had hit it so hard, blood and guts and viscera - demon gunk, in other words - that it had squirted all over him. His hair, his face, his clothes. Cordelia grimaced, flinching despite herself at the thought of how hard it would be for Xander to clean those. Which sucked, because that T-shirt was actually-
Cordelia, stop it!
Standing near Xander was Gunn, who got a splash of demon gunk too, though not as much, all over his shirt and face. He'd wiped off of his face as best he could, just as Xander had, but-
"Did you really have to hit him that hard?" Gunn complained, crouching down to grab his own weapon, dropped. "I am not looking forward to how much it'll take to clean this all off. Or actually walking down streets smelling like demon guts."
"I didn't expect his head to explode like that!" Xander protested as Xander walked by Gunn, trying to shake some of the slimy, greasy-looking crap off his arms. "And at least you're bald. I'm gonna have to get all this out of my hair. Assuming the water at my apartment even works today."
A job and an apartment. Xander was expecting to be stuck in L.A. for a while. Did he get another Slayer Dream? Or was Xander just in need of money and a place to sleep that wasn't his car?
Probably that.
"It's Angel's fault." Gunn complained. "I told him to watch my back while I went for the demon, he just kept beating up on one guy."
"I'm all for blaming Deadboy for things, but I was still gonna get to the demon before you," Xander countered. "Upsides of being a Slayer."
"Are there any downsides?"
"Demons and vamps who want the glory of killing a Slayer always coming for you, and a life expectancy of like, seventeen. Sure, beat the odds, but," Xander scoffed. "I'll probably be dead in a year."
Cordelia didn't like the way her throat felt tight for a moment at Xander's words. She...
She hadn't actually thought about that. That being a Slayer - Buffy had beaten the odds time and again, and so had Faith, but there was Kendra... how long had she been a Slayer? Less than a year... before Drusilla had...
When she'd thought about all the things Xander would have to deal with now that he was stuck in a woman's body, in the immediate aftermath of Faith's death. Sure, she'd found it a bit funny Xander would have to deal with sitting down to pee, a period, yada yada... but...
I didn't even think about how his days were probably numbered if he didn't stop being a Slayer...
Sure, Xander was a dumbass and a dork at the best of times, but she didn't - anymore - want him dead!
"So really, Angel, that whole teamwork thing? Ya'll just decided to throw that away?" Gunn asked as they emerged out onto the surface. She'd missed more conversation between him and Xander as she'd contemplated Xander's death - and...
Sure, I don't want him dead, but - Cordelia shook her head. Nope, not thinking about that right now.
"Job got done," Angel said, flatly, back to sounding tired. He tossed the keys to his car at Wesley, who caught them. "Take the car, I have to..." Angel didn't finish, wandering off, away from everyone else.
"Okay, I can't even mock that. What the hell's wrong with Angel?"
"Good question," Gunn echoed.
"He's just... he hasn't been sleeping well, of late." Wesley defended Angel weakly. Cordelia rolled her eyes.
"That's not much of an excuse, Wesley. If he keeps this up, we're going to go bankrupt and people we could have helped are going to start dying." Cordelia could hardly save everyone in her visions all by herself, or even with Wesley there too.
Maybe that's the big evil Xander's supposed to help us with? Angel's second puberty? Cordelia laughed at the thought, rolling her eyes.
"It's not as if we haven't all had times in our life where things are -" Wesley started, then trailed off. "...I can't say you're wrong."
"I never am," Cordelia agreed, smiling. She turned, looking at Xander and Gunn, then wrinkled her nose. Somehow the gunk smelled even worse when she could see it. "Well, if it's Angel's fault you're all covered in... that... come on, there's plenty of showers at the Hyperion."
Gunn shrugged, but nodded. Xander stared blankly at her.
"Hyperion?"
"Right, no one told you: Our old headquarters blew up. So we moved into this really nice Art Deco hotel, after exorcising a demon." Cordelia explained.
Xander pulled up short. "Blew up? Like... kaboom?"
"Yep," Cordelia nodded. "Remember Wolfram and Hart? Yeah, they did that." She'd already been hit by the never ending stream of visions by then - she'd seen Wesley see the bomb, along with everything else, all at once...
All of them were still lurking in her nightmares. Along with every other vision she's had so far.
We all have trouble sleeping, Angel!
"They..." Xander's mouth hung open for several seconds. "Okay. I mean, vamps with guns I knew about after that drug dealer, but now it's demon lawyers with bombs?" Xander laughed, sounding a little hysterical. "What's next, ghosts with attack helicopters?"
"...If it turns out you just jinxed us with that, I'm going to hit you," Cordelia said slowly. "But look, like I said, the Hyperion has a ton of rooms, and the water's working in like, half of them, so you can take a shower there." She laughed. "If Angel wants to complain, he should have stuck around." Or at least try a little harder to be useful. Angel was being annoying right now, so she could annoy him right back. Sure, Angel didn't hate Xander the way Xander did him, but... Xander annoyed Angel. So she could use that.
Xander sighed. "Given that the pay by the week shithole I could afford doesn't have working water half the time, I can't say no. Where is this Hyperion anyway?"
"Address on the card," Cordelia handed him one of their new and improved business cards, with the new phone number and address included. Xander took the card.
"...thanks." He said, after a moment. He paused, opened his mouth, then closed it, shaking his head. "I'll uh... I'll see you at the Hyperion then." he turned, starting to walk away, then looked back at her. "Any chance the Hyperion has working washers and dryers? I mean, I have a spare outfit in the car, but-"
"There's a couple, yeah." Cordelia confirmed. Angel would probably be even more annoyed if she let Xander use those, but she really didn't care. Not today, anyway.
October 24th, 2000
Hyperion Hotel, Los Angeles
Angel still wasn't back, but he could be out all night, so that wasn't too much to worry about. Gunn had been in and out with the shower, ten minutes tops. Xander had arrived later than the rest of them, apparently getting lost on the way here - typical Xander - but even after like, forty minutes, he wasn't done and gone.
I'm all for scrubbing the hard to get gunk out of my hair, but this is getting ridiculous.
"...damnit!" She heard Xander shout from the room as she approached it. Without even thinking, Cordelia's hand was on the doorknob and pushing the door open.
Xander was there, in the room, skin still a bit wet, his face and arms red, from scrubbing hard, hair still damp as well.
None of that was the first thing Cordelia noticed, because the first thing she noticed was that Xander was topless. Not even wearing a bra!
Stop staring! Cordelia berated herself, but she couldn't help it. Yes, she'd known Faith was hot, and it wasn't like Faith had been shy about showing off her breasts, but Cordelia had never actually gotten a whole eyeful, and now she was and...
Cordelia swallowed, licking lips that suddenly felt dry. Everything felt still for a moment - Xander, standing next to the hotel room's bed, an open duffle bag on the ground next to him, a few clothes scattered out of the bag and across the bed-
And Xander. Topless. With really nice breasts, and - her eyes trailed down his stomach, looking at his waist, the way his pants hugged at his hips - and the few errant bits of wetness on his skin only-
Cordelia! Stop it! That's Xander you're drooling over! She slapped herself mentally, and was just about to slap herself physically if she kept staring when Xander suddenly registered that she'd barged in and let out a half-shriek of surprise, crossing his arms in front of his chest.
"Cordy! What the hell!" Xander demanded.
Cordelia shook her head, finally able to stop herself from staring. "I heard you shout-" and that doesn't explain why you opened without even knocking. It wasn't a scream of terror! "-why didn't you lock the door!?"
"I didn't think someone would just - barge in!" Xander shot back. "Turn around, so I can finish getting dressed!" He added, and Cordelia complied, part of her not wanting to, but the rest of her managing to keep her sudden surge of libido in check.
Okay, so it's been like, two months since I've actually gotten any, and Faith's body is hot and - Cordelia started rationalizing as she faced the door. Yes, Faith was hot, but it was Xander in that body now, and she was not -
She was not going to start thinking that Xander was attractive. Not again!
"Why did you even shout?" Cordelia demanded. This was all Xander's fault, because he shouted, and didn't lock the door, right?
"Because I realized I didn't pack a spare bra last time I packed my bag," Xander grumbled. "You can turn around now." Cordelia did so, watching Xander button a flannel shirt up over a dark red v-neck. She could see the outline of his nipples through the t-shirt before Xander finished buttoning the flannel.
"How much do you hate bra shopping?" Cordelia raised an eyebrow, teasing him. She could just imagine it - she'd dragged Xander into the Victoria's Secret at the Sunnydale Mall once. Xander had the most hilarious combination of embarrassed, mortified and interested expressions on his face while he watched her shop. The whole reason she'd done it was in case Xander ever decided to buy her something nice for her birthday, or valentines day or something. That way he'd know her size.
Not that that had ever happened.
And yes, fine, it's good the dead-end relationship ended but still. The flash of anger at Xander for screwing up what had at the time been a good thing - Cordelia took a breath.
I thought I was done being mad at Xander over that!
"It's... annoying. I mean, yeah, I half-tuned out a bunch of your complaints about bra shopping," Figures, Cordelia rolled her eyes as Xander went on, "but I kinda remembered parts of it, and then I had to get fitted because it wasn't like we actually knew Faith's chest size and boy wasn't that fun explaining how I had no idea of my size." Xander started putting the other clean clothes back in the bag.
"I hope you're not wearing sports bras all the time," she gestured to the sports bra atop the pile of gunk-covered clothes that Xander had been wearing when he arrived.
"No, Buffy, Willow and Anya, even Mrs. Summers all gave me all the lectures on how to wear bras safely. It was the kind of fun that isn't." Xander let out a long breath. "But I did have to know it."
"Let me guess, Buffy picked your bras too?" Cordelia rolled her eyes. Buffy picked out his clothes, so of course she'd-
"A few, but she kept wanting me to get some that were sexy, and I wasn't - hell, I'm not - ready for that." Xander groaned. "Look, Cordy - do you guys have like, a garbage bag I can throw these in? I'll just take them down to the laundromat or something." He gestured to his hair, "Getting all the gunk and the smell out of my hair took longer than I wanted." Xander zipped the duffle bag up. "It's not even that long!"
"If you think that's bad, try having my hair," Cordelia countered. "You know it doesn't look this nice naturally." It takes work to look good, especially with hair as long as hers. "And yeah, I'll show you where we keep the garbage bags." She gestured for him to follow her downstairs.
Xander followed her, "So... really, what's wrong with Angel? I mean, I'm all for mocking him and stuff but - that wasn't normal. He doesn't usually just... I mean, getting distracted beating up one guy was Faith's whole thing, from what Buffy used to say."
Cordelia shrugged, "It's like Wesley said. He hasn't been sleeping well. Tired all the time, like he's going through a growth spurt."
"So we're not talking about any danger of Angelus coming back then."
"He's tired, not happy." Cordelia dismissed. "Just make sure Buffy never comes to visit."
"Over my rotting corpse," Xander agreed cheerily.
October 26th, 2000
Hyperion Hotel, Los Angeles
I am going to tie him up and leave him out to greet the sunrise, I swear to god!
First Angel screws up an easy case with a client that had money - actual, real, honest to god money - and then he went absolutely insane over that woman that looked like his ex before Buffy. Blonde again. And there's the Detective that almost had something with him. Angel has a type, clearly.
And that had led to all sorts of public humiliation as they ran from hotel security, she lost a shoe, and of course, the countless convention goers that saw her outfit as an invitation. All the best kinds of fun, all thanks to Angel.
And now he was off to accost that same, random innocent woman - in her own home no less!
At least he won't be able to go inside, but then what?!
Cordelia had tried to not give him the address, but -
He was hard to argue with when he got like this! And if he really was actually going insane, she didn't want to get put on his list of people to bite, thank you very much!
"You really stood up to him," Wesley drawled. Cordelia inhaled, as Wesley went on, imitating her badly. "The next time I talk to him, I won't weenie out like you Wesley." It was a nasally attempt at the most horribly stereotypical valley girl accent she'd ever heard.
"Don't start with me." Cordelia snapped. "And I don't sound like that. If I ever start talking like that, shoot me." Then she held up her hands a little as Wesley pulled a tranq gun from under the desk. "Just a joke!"
"It's not for you." Wesley countered. "I don't know what's going on with Angel, but I can only assume his dreams of Darla and seeing this woman are causing him to lose... some grip on reality."
"Not just some grip, he's lost every grip!" Cordelia countered.
"This could be the result of some malign influence. We can't dust him, even if we actually could," Wesley countered. "Angel or Angelus, he's one of the most formidable vampires of the age." Wesley frowned even as he said that. "I'd better call Gunn."
"Call Gunn but - you know Angel's history, right?" Wesley nodded. "Who has ever beat Angelus?" I hate this plan I hate this plan but if there's anyone to call in -
"...there was a vampire hunter in the 18th century, Daniel Holtz. But he had a whole militia backing him, and still never actually managed to kill them in the nine years he hunted." Wesley ticked off. "There was the Kalderash Clan, with their ensoulment curse and there was... Buffy." Wesley's eyes went wide, shaking his head. "You can't-"
"I'm not!" Cordelia interrupted. "God, no, the last thing we need when Angel's already lost it is Buffy. She'll absolutely make him more stable!" She shook her head, "No, no, but I am suggesting we call the only other Slayer. You know, so that between Gunn and Xander and you with the tranq dart we might actually have a chance at stopping him."
"...you're right. But are you sure you want to be the one to call him?"
"Unlike you, Wes, Xander and I have both actually met Angelus, so yeah, if there's even a tiny chance Angel's lost it, even if he's still got his soul, yeah, I should be the one to tell Xander." She held out her hand, "His phone number?"
"Right, uhm-" Wesley ran back to the desk, opened a drawer, then another, the dial tone droning in Cordelia's ear until Wesley put a piece of paper into her hand. She looked at it and dialed the number. It rang. And rang.
Xander, so help me if you don't pick up I'll -
"Look, I'm still on shift, I get off in an hour, can this wait?" Xander asked from the other end, after the fifth ring. "If my manager realizes I ducked into the bathroom-"
"No, Xander, this can't wait an hour. Remember when you asked if there was any risk of Angelus coming back?" She couldn't help it, the awkward, nervous half-hysterical laugh that escaped her as she asked it. There was nothing for a long moment. "Xander?"
"I'm just praying to any god that's listening that you're about to say 'sike!'" Xander finally said. "What - Buffy's still in Sunnydale, right?"
"No, it's not Buffy, it's his ex from before her. Darla, his sire. He thinks she's come back from the dead and he's gone absolutely crazy about it! And at this point I -" Cordelia cut herself off and took a breath. "Look, Xander - if Angel - It's either call you or call Buffy at this point, and I'm not calling her in, so it's you, or nobody!"
She heard Xander start to say something, then he cut himself off, and then, "I'll be there as fast as I can." Then he hung up.
"He's on his way," Cordelia handed the phone to Wesley. "Call Gunn."
October 26th, 2000
Hyperion Hotel, Los Angeles
Explaining that Angel had lost it without -
Gunn didn't know Angel. Sure, Angel had helped him, and Gunn had mostly wrapped his head around the idea that Angel was one of the good guys, but actually explaining the nuances of Angel, Angelus, the soul thing... that technically Angel could go evil at the snap of fingers, technically?
When you explained it, it... it sounded a lot worse than it was.
"So you've got tranqs, chains, crosses and holy water just for the hell of it then?" Gunn asked, looking at them like they were stupid. "I can feel the trust here." Gunn looked at the tranq gun, then set it down.
"It's more complicated than that," Wesley protested. "We trust Angel, but... Angel is a Vampire. Caution is always warranted. It's as they said during the cold war: Trust, but verify."
"Angel's gone nuts, but he hasn't gone evil this time," Cordelia explained. This obsession with 'DeEtta Kramer' was...
Darla was dust, and even if she'd come back, like Angel came back from Hell, she'd have come back as a vampire. She was an innocent person, but even with her looking like Darla, and 'smelling' like her apparently, Angel shouldn't be this insane.
But with the lack of sleep... Cordelia had to admit that Wesley's 'malign influence' thing at least made sense. Or Angel could have just lost it. Guilt, old age, bad batch of blood. The trick now was stopping Angel.
"This time? He has before?" Gunn latched on, staring at her.
Crap. Cordelia looked at Wesley, helplessly. Where did you even start?
"Well," Wesley started. "There - there are forces that are capable of making Angel revert back to Angelus, the vampire he was before he got his soul."
"And as evil blood-sucking vampires go, how would you rate Angelus?"
"A nightmare, that's how." Xander's voice said from the door, walking and closing it behind him. "Sociopathic monster, or psychopathic or - one of those big words they use to describe killers on crime shows." Cordelia couldn't argue with Xander about that.
"...Xander is correct. Historically, Angelus was as bad as they come. He earned the nickname the Scourge of Europe for his rampage." Wesley nodded. "And when he was with Darla, his brutality was especially so."
"And ya'll are just telling me this part now?" Gunn demanded. "That this guy I've been happy to work with could just go evil at any time?"
"No, not 'any time," Cordelia protested, standing up to walk over to the other side of the front desk from Gunn.
"Just as long as he doesn't have sex," Xander added. "Angel's on a strict no-nookie rule." Xander came closer to the front desk, and looked at the chains. "...it was Angel's idea to have these, right?"
"As much as you may not like Angel, he's certainly no more fond of the idea of hurting innocent people again as Angelus," Wesley defended.
"Again with the talking about 'stuff I don't know' thing. Having sex makes Angel go evil?" Gunn shook his head, laughing. "I mean, I knew the guy was repressed, but damn." Gunn set the tranq gun down.
Huh.
Gunn with a Gun.
He's probably heard that one a thousand times.
"It's more complicated than that," Wesley protested - again. "I do - I do appreciate that I just said that, but it's true again. Angel's soul is the result of a curse, from the Kalderash Clan, a particular group of Romani. Gypsies, in the common parlance," Wesley explained, gesticulating a bit as he spoke.
"And because it's a curse, it has to have an 'out clause', essentially." Xander explained. "Apparently it's just how magic works." Cordelia looked at Wesley, who was staring at Xander in surprise. "What? Sometimes I actually pay attention when Willow talks magic. And she was looking into ways to use a curse constructively to... you know. Fix the whole thing." He gestured to himself, apparently not wanting to derail the conversation to explain the whole 'stolen body' thing.
"And the out clause is sex?"
"The 'out clause' is experiencing a moment of perfect happiness, to be precise." Wesley corrected.
"And it just so happens that the one time he had a 'moment of perfect happiness," Cordelia used air quotes, "was when he last had sex, with the apparent love of his life." Xander snorted, and Cordelia pointed at him. "Don't start ranting about that now, again, Xander. Not the time." Xander had shared his thoughts on the idea that Angel actually loved Buffy all that much. Often. But Cordelia didn't want to hear them this time.
I know Angel better than you, Xander. And Xander was just... Xander was a dumbass most of the time, but he especially was on the subject of Angel.
"So it could just be sex, or it could be the love of his life thing. Either way, I don't want to risk it. But that's not the point - right now, it's Angel's first ex, the one who made him into a vampire and was the Bonnie to his Clyde."
"This Darla." Gunn nodded. "And Angel thinks she's back."
"Which is impossible, as far as I can tell. There's no indication she has any sort of resurrective immortality." Wesley explained.
"Or that she just has nine lives, like a cat." Cordelia agreed. "Either way, Angel's obsessed with this human woman who looks like her, and... appears to just be some random human."
"So what's the plan? Knock Angel out when he gets back and chain him up? Shouldn't we be going out to get him before he hurts this random person?" Xander demanded.
"As long as DeEtta Kramer stays in her house, she'll be safe, provided she doesn't invite him in."
"Wes, that doesn't save anybody in Sunnydale, and that town has more vampires than a Dracula Family Reunion," Xander snapped. "Where is this woman's house?" Xander grabbed the tranq gun, hefting the gun a little, getting a feel for it.
"Xander, this is not the time to-"
"I'm not gonna pretend I'm guaranteed to beat Angel in a fight." Xander admitted, voice quiet. Then he spoke up, normal volume again: "But I'm the best chance out of the four of us. If you're so sure he's lost his marbles, you should want him back here, not out there."
"Girl's got a point," Gunn countered, and Cordelia watched Xander's expression. It barely flickered. "What's the plan if Angel's gone bad, or he's too damn crazy to tell the difference?"
"We can't - right now, we can't be sure that Angel's condition isn't the result of some sort of external influence." Wesley countered, raising his voice a little - so practically yelling, for an Englishman.
"Nothing I respect more than loyalty," Gunn told them, and Cordelia could hear the 'but' coming. "But if it's killing Angel or innocent people die, I will kill him in two seconds flat."
Cordelia opened her mouth, to say... what exactly? If it came down to it - she wouldn't let Angelus kill people. She wouldn't let a crazy Angel kill DeEtta Kramer. Not that she'd have much chance to stop him, but if the chance arose -
She'd told Angel she'd kill him if he went evil again, and she meant it then. And...
Yeah, if I couldn't stop him? Couldn't save him?
But - she had to try. After all that Angel had done for her, for Wesley. For everyone? He'd saved a lot of lives, the man deserved a chance to... have a chance to come back from whatever happened.
"After everything-" Cordelia started, but she was cut off by the sound of the front door opening. She watched Gunn grab a stake from his belt, and Xander started to lift the tranq gun - but before she could turn to see who was coming in, Xander had already put that back down on the counter, while Gunn was putting his stake back.
"Where is he?" A familiar voice demanded. No. She's -
"Detective Lockley." Cordelia stood and turned. "Angel's not here." As she saw the detective's face, she realized the woman wasn't alone - a whole SWAT team, body armor, guns, all the fancy gear you saw in the TV shows and action movies. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Gunn stiffen.
Dear god I hope Xander remembers that the LAPD aren't as useless as the cops in Sunnyhell.
Lockley rolled her eyes and turned to the SWAT guys. "Basement. Attic. Every room. He's extremely dangerous, and likely wearing armor of some kind. Bullets won't necessarily do the trick." She explained. Well, I guess she can't come out and say he's a vampire, use a wooden stake! "Everyone's on channel 2, you see him, you call me."
The SWAT team spread out in twos, some going up the stairs, some heading into the other halls on the ground floor, or into the basement.
"I don't suppose you have a warrant to go along with this little search?" Wesley asked cooly.
"Seeing as how he just murdered Stephen Kramer and kidnapped his wife, I think I've probable cause." Lockley snapped.
Cordelia didn't think that was how it worked, but she also didn't know for sure. And Lockley clearly didn't care anyway, given her 'I think'.
But the 'murder' and 'kidnap' part was what Cordelia grabbed onto.
I'm not going to trust you on that one, Detective.
"You want to prove it?" Cordelia demanded. "That's not like Angel." That much was true. Angel wasn't being like himself. Maybe Wesley really has been right. Someone is messing with his head. Literally.
"He wouldn't do it. He's not the sort of person to," Wesley agreed.
"In fact, he's not a person at all, is he?" Lockley demanded. "You guys wanna help yourselves out here, or go down with the boss?"
Cordelia crossed her arms in front of her chest, raising an eyebrow at the detective, Wesley doing pretty much the same thing.
"Angel's not my boss, and if he was in the building, I'd be happy to let you know where he was." Xander chimed in. "Watching you guys shoot him would be funny any day of the week."
Xander... Cordelia inhaled sharply and turned, glaring at him, but Xander met her gaze, unfazed. Shut up, Xander. Lockley was - she wasn't sane on the subject of Angel. Not since her dad died. Not since she blamed him for it.
"If he's not your boss, then why are you here?" Lockley demanded. "And who are you? And you? New players?" She gestured to Gunn, then to both Gunn and Xander.
"Favor to Cordy," Xander said after a moment. "Alexandra Turner." He added.
"What about him?" Lockley gestured at Gunn.
"He's a friend," Cordelia cut in.
"And what's your friend's name?"
"Charles Gunn," Gunn said flatly. There was no overt hostility, but... that was about all she could say for Gunn's tone and behavior.
"Let's see some ID, Charles. You too," she added, pointing at Xander. Gunn made an exasperated expression, but then pulled out an ID as the Detective approached, handing it to her. "You got any priors?"
"I forget."
Xander handed an ID to Lockley as well. Lockley held them both out to another cop, calling him over from his position by the door. "Montgomery, run them."
"Figures you don't ask me if I have any priors," Xander muttered. Lockley rolled her eyes at him.
"Well, do you?"
"No, but that's not the point." Xander shrugged.
"Look, I'm sure this is a misunderstanding. Whatever you think Angel did-"
"Who's Darla?" Lockely demanded, turning to face Wesley.
Okay. That's... not a great sign. Cordelia didn't let that show on her face. If she knew the name, then Angel must have said it, called DeEtta Kramer Darla...
Yes, Angel was capable of killing someone, and... yes, he seemed to be losing it, but -
To just... jump straight to murder?
Did her husband come out of the house to confront him? Maybe there was a fight? She could see a crazy Angel killing him in a fight, not meaning to, but even that seemed-
And all this was assuming Detective Lockley had it right, which Cordelia really, really doubted.