[Disclaimer: I do not own anything created by Joss Whedon. Mmmhmm. You think he'd loan me Spike?]
Author's Note:
Oh my god, I haven't updated this in forever! Well, I was just reading over it, and felt inspired. Umm, yeah, sorry about this story being so damn short…
Soulful Eyes
Chapter Four: Something Beautiful
By Adele Elisabeth
Spike waited patiently for someone to pick up the phone, while Cordelia had her nightly bath. "Buffy?" he asked, hesitantly, when finally it did.
"Spike?"
He let out a whoosh of unneeded breath when he heard the familiar voice on the other end of the line. "Uh, hi."
"What do you want?" her voice was harsh -- unusually so, he felt, considering she'd been the one who seemed to want him to call…
"You left a message…so…I called back…" He paused, thoughtful. "I was thinking of coming down to Sunnydale for a couple of days to, you know, see how things are…check up on the 'bit…" He sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. "Maybe, ah, have a bit of a chat? I know there's no chance of an us--" And I'm not sure I even want that anymore… "-- but we should clear the air, as it were…"
Her long silence was not promising. At length, she responded, quietly, "Yeah. That'd be fine."
Cordelia was in turmoil.
Spike was Buffy's -- like Angel -- there was this great big invisible sign over his head that said PROPERTY OF BUFFY SUMMERS. People didn't seem to really pay much attention to whether or not Buffy deserved all these great guys queuing up to get kicked around by the Hellmouth's personal bitca. Cordelia certainly didn't think she did -- Buffy was an ungrateful cow and an idiot if she couldn't see how great Spike was -- but she was forced to admit that, well…they did.
Belong to Buffy.
Not that she cared; she hastened to assure herself. She didn't give a crap if Spike was head over heels for the smallest biggest bitch in the world.
Nope.
Not at all.
So not her problem.
Oh, the hell with it.
She did care and she was pissed and Spike deserved better than Buffy. Like…her. He deserved somebody who cared about him (like her). Somebody who understood him (her again). Somebody who could accept him for who he was (still her)…He deserved better than Buffy goddamn Summers.
Because no matter how much she wanted to believe that she could have any man she wanted -- like Spike -- there were some she just…couldn't. Xander. Angel. Spike.
Dammit. And she thought she was a bitch.
Well, Cordelia Chase had nothing on life.
Spike hesitated, and then knocked on Cordelia's bedroom door. She'd been sulking in there after her bath; he wasn't sure what the problem was--
Okay, that was a lie. He had a fair idea.
He just…
Well.
Damn it, were women always this confusing or was it just him? He had a sneaking suspicion that it wasn't just him.
Cordelia was…amazing. She was beautiful, she was smart, she was witty, she made him laugh, she made him smile…Buffy had made him want to be a better man. Cordelia made him feel alive. For the first time in over a century, he felt as though he belonged somewhere. Here.
With her.
Small problem, though…of the tall, dark and over-hanging caveman brow kind. Angel's dark, jealous eyes had told him clearly that the older vampire would quite happily string him up by his balls if he even thought of touching Cordelia Chase in any way other than friendly.
Oh, he'd be plenty friendly…
He winced. Now was not that time for that kind of thought…
Finally, her door opened. "Yeah?"
"I, ah, packed my overnight bag…gonna get goin' soon…thought you might like me to tell the Slayerettes something from you…?"
"You're going? Now?" she sounded almost panicked.
"Well, soon…"
He didn't get a chance to say anything else, because suddenly there was this warm, soft body against his and Cordelia…Cordelia Chase; Angel's Cordelia…was kissing him. Desperately. As if her life depended on it. There was so much emotion. He was knocked for six.
She pulled back, seeming awfully shy -- a word he would not normally associate with the leggy brunette. "Yeah…just thought…ummm…wanted you to know…how I…y'know…felt…okay…say hi to the Scoobies for me!"
Her door slammed shut in his face.
He blinked, confused.
OHMYGOD. What the hell did I just do? Cordelia was panicking, seriously panicking. She had just…well; she'd just kissed Spike. And then slammed the door in his face. Oh, great move, Chase, she berated herself.
He was hammering on her door, now. If he knocked any harder it was going to break.
"What?" she called.
"What do you think?!" he shouted back. "Let me in!"
"If you don't stop knocking, my door's going to break and then you're going to be in anyway!"
"Looking like an attractive option right now, Cordy!"
She sighed, and opened the door. He half-walked, half-fell into the room.
"Want to tell me what that was about?" he asked, his expression softening.
She backed up a little. "If I say no, will you go?"
"No."
"It was worth a shot."
"You're stalling, Cordy."
"Yeah…yeah I am…"
"Cordelia. Please."
She shook her head, then gave a little, defeated sigh and sank down onto her bed. "I, kinda…well…it's like this…I sort of…have feelings…for you…and I wanted you to know. Before you ran off to be Buffy's bitch again. Thought you might like to know. Say hi to Dawn for me!" she added, brightly, then gave him a pointed look. "I've said my piece, you can go now."
"Cordelia…" he breathed (well…).
"That's my name."
"You think you can just tell me that and I'll just leave?" he demanded.
"You're in love with Buffy, remember? Most people are. I'm starting to think I should leave the country just to get a lovelife."
He chuckled at that, and then gave her a stern look. "I'm not leaving until…well, until we're all sorted out."
Gazing down at Cordelia later -- much, much later -- as the moonlight played across her bare shoulders, her breath evened out in sleep, Spike smiled. She was so beautiful.
They'd talked. Among other things. He'd heard of 'whirlwind romances' -- pfft -- before, and from what he'd heard, they didn't last. He decided that even if it didn't, it would've been worth it. She was something, all right. Something beautiful.
He was entering into a relationship. With Cordelia Chase…of all people, Cordelia…
Hell, even her name was beautiful.
This had all happened so fast it seemed absurd -- but in his unlife, he'd learned to take happiness where he found it. If he happened to find it being in her life and in her bed…who was he to argue? He grinned at the thought. "Beautiful," he murmured, then chuckled. "Effulgent. Good word for you, love, effulgent…brilliant, radiant, glowing, luminous, dazzling…you sure as hell dazzle me," he grinned again at her sleeping form, and leaned over to kiss her forehead, before settling down to sleep.
When Cordelia woke up, there was a nagging feeling in the pit of her stomach. Something bad was going to happen…she didn't know what, but something…
"Spike, I know it sounds stupid, but I don't want you to go. Just in case, you know?" she wouldn't have said she was begging -- a Chase did not beg -- but she was pretty close to pleading.
"Nothing's going to happen to me," he assured her. "Just a quick visit, check on the nibblet, see demon-girl, taunt the whelp, and I'll be back before you know it."
She gave him a sulky look. He kissed her pouty lower lip. "Trust me, love."
She sighed and let him kiss her, before he left.
It would be the last time he saw her alive.
Spike swore under his breath. He'd been held up -- he was going to be a whole day late, and he couldn't get a hold of Cordelia. She was going to be pissed as hell when he got back, and a pissed off Cordelia was a force to be reckoned with. She wasn't answering her phone, or any of the numerous messages he left.
What the hell was going on?
Giving up, he retreated to the living room where Dawn was watching a Monty Python movie -- The Meaning Of Life -- that he'd recommended. He'd gotten her hooked on them, Monty Python's Flying Circus, and they would often debate whose name was 'coolest' -- Michael Palin, John Cleese, Eric Idol, Terry Gilliam, Terry Jones, or Graham Chapman. He staunchly maintained that it was Eric Idol, but she was of the belief that that was only because of his 'Billy Idol Thing'.
"Spike, it's Angel. He wants to talk to you," Buffy called through, sounding a little confused.
Bemused, the blonde vampire got up to answer the phone. "What is it?"
"It's about Cordelia."
***
Author's Note:
All done. Love it? Hate it? Don't care either way? Think it went too fast and could've been way better if I put in more effort? (I agree). Let me know!
[unsubtle hinting about reviews]
Cordelia: I cannot believe you killed me off.
Adele: It's called artistic license. [smirk]