Disclaimer: Joss Whedon owns everything worth owning. I have nothing, or very little anyway.
Just as Geoffrey had predicted, the preparations took only a week. Naturally, he had rushed it all and though Angel was told it would be soon, he was not yet ready. Now he faced the most difficult challenge, second maybe to actually seeing Tessa again, a prospect he chose not to even acknowledge yet. Right now, he had to explain this to his friends.
"You can't have a kid, Angel. You're a vampire."
"Yeah, I'm kind of aware of that Cordelia. She's not my kid."
"Then whose is she?" Doyle asked, shifting in his seat.
"That's not the point. Look, she's going to stay here for a while is all."
"Oh yeah, a while, no biggie. I mean she's just a kid who clearly has some kind of special thing about her and is going to be living here where we like work and we don't know anything about her or..."
"Jesus, Cordelia, take a breath," interrupted Doyle. "What she's saying is...who is this kid?"
"I knew her mother, in New York, a couple of years before coming to LA."
Cordelia's face broke into an awkward smile. "Was she by chance a petite blond?"
"Not petite really, average height."
"And you were...involved?"
"We...no, not really...it doesn't matter."
"And this girl was special?" asked Doyle.
"What, like retarded?" Both men gave her a disappointed look and moved on.
"She was a slayer."
"Oh well of course she was!"
"So you think the kid will be too?"
"It's not that simple. It's..."
A knock at the door interrupted them and a woman entered with a young brunette who looked to be about 11 or 12. All eyes were on them as they entered and no one moved.
"Um, excuse me? Is one of you Mr. Angel?" asked the woman, presumably a social worker.
It took a moment for everyone to realize she had spoken. "Yeah, yeah, I'm Angel. Mr. Angel. Liam Angel."
"I'm Chelsea Mayor, Division of Family Services. Ms. Charles is taking a personal day so she asked me to drop off Theresa."
"Tessa," corrected the girl.
"Yes, well, here she is. Most of her things should arrive in a few days." Silence. No one moved. No one spoke. "Right, um, okay. Ms. Charles said she checked everything out already, so I guess I'm not really needed here. So, I'll be going. Theresa has my number in case there are any problems and you can't get a hold of anyone else."
"Um," Angel started to say something, though he didn't know what, but she was already moving out the door.
Thank God for Cordy, ever talkative Cordy, who couldn't spend more than 30 seconds in an awkward silence if her life depended on it. "How old are you, Tessa? It was Tessa, right? I'm Cordy by the way, Cordelia, but you know. Well obviously since you're Tessa not Theresa. Obviously you get it I mean."
"Twelve," she said, cutting Cordy off before she rambled any more.
"Ugh, terrible age, all awkward and ugly. Not for me of course, or you...I mean you're neither awkward nor ugly."
This time Angel interrupted. "Maybe you'd like to see your room." They all headed downstairs and the musty smell hit Tessa like a ton of bricks. Gibb. The staleness and lack of fresh air reeked of him, the man who would refuse to open a window even on the nicest day of the year. He spent so much time inside, either at his little apartment or in the equally stale school library, that he would carry the scent of the indoors around with him. This place, dark, dank, vapid, it was perfect.
Angel led them over to the corner of the main and only real room. He had it sectioned off with a hanging blanket on one side and an old wicker screen on the other. "You know this isn't actually a room, right?" Cordy said with her usual hint if disgust. "False advertising."
"I know, but there isn't a whole lot I can I do about it right now," he replied to her. Turning to Tessa he added, "I only had a few days. We can figure something else out later. But look," he smiled and indicated the curtain and divider, "privacy. Nice, huh?"
Tessa sat down on the bed, which had been Angel's just this morning, and looked around. "Nice," she said sullenly.
"Are you hungry? I haven't actually been shopping and there isn't much here, but..."
"No."
"No. Not hungry. Okay. Do you want to watch TV? I have one."
"No."
"Okay."
"Do you want us to leave you the Hell alone?" Doyle asked irritated and impatient with Angel's niceties. She didn't respond, just looked down and slowly shook her head yes.
