Angel

"AAAh!"

I woke up to the sound of Cordelia screaming her lungs off. It was almost worse than waking up to Connor's screams. "What's wrong?" I asked as I got up.

"I de-aged!" she exclaimed.

"It's about time. After all today's the day we get sorted. Are you going to come out of that bathroom?" I asked.

So she's 16 again. I don't understand why she's making such a big deal about it. I thought every girl dreamed about being 16 again or at least looking 16. "I'll come out just so you can see my hair!" Cordy exclaimed.

Cordelia came out looking exactly like she had when I first met her. "What's wrong with your hair?" I questioned.

I didn't see anything wrong with her hair—I mean it wasn't the wrong color or anything like that. "It's long. And. I. Hate. It. I liked it better short. That's why I cut it!" she ranted.

"Whatever!" I mumbled.

I wondered what I looked like. Luckily, I didn't have to wonder too long. "Why don't you look like you did back in the 1700s?" she asked.

"What?" I replied.

"You look like a younger version of Angel and not like Liam. And I look like actual 16-year-old Cordy!" Cordelia clarified.

I shrugged. I had no idea why I didn't look Liamish. " Guess the potion works differently on vampires," I supplied.

"We better get going Angel, the sorting ceremony's about to start!" Cordelia said.

"I just got up!"

"Yeah and it's 8 O'clock already. I thought you were going to sleep through the ceremony!"

"And you chose to notice your hair at 8 O'clock?" I questioned.

She makes absolutely no sense sometimes. "That and my new hair was getting on my nerves!"

As we made our way to the Great Hall, I wondered which house I would be sorted in and how we were to be sorted. Dumbledore left that little detail out.

We stood with all the first years. I hated to admit it but I felt a little nervous. "When I call your name, put on the hate and sit on the stool," a lady by the name of McGonagall said.

A hat sorts us? That's much easier than what I thought! I thought they might sort us by how well we fought a type of demon.

I glanced over at Willow, Buffy, and Faith. Willow had long hair again and Buffy looked good. I mean her hair was shorter and looked nice. "This year we have 5 transfer students," McGonagall announced.

We were the only 5 left to be sorted. "These students are 6th years from California School of Magic. Adams, Faith," she called out.

Faith walked up to the stool with a grin. A mere second later the hat called out, "Slytherin!"

"Chase, Cordelia!"

Cordelia took longer than Faith to sort. The hat finally chose to put her in Gryffindor. "O'Connor, Angel!"

I slowly walked up to the hat feeling a sense of dread. I carefully placed the hat on and sat down. "Ah, a vampire. Now I've sorted everything," I heard a voice say.

"What? How'd—? " I thought.

"I can hear both your thought and the monster's thoughts. Now where to put you? You'd make a fair Gryffindor but you don't belong there!" the hat said.

"I don't?" I thought.

"No. SLYTHERIN!" it shouted.

I walked over to the cheering table and sat down between a group of boys. That's when I noticed him. ' No he wouldn't!' I thought.

Yet there Spike was plain as day. "Spike?" I questioned grabbing him.

I realized it wasn't him a little too late. I got an earful, too, which wasn't exactly what anyone could call pleasant.

"Whoa! Too much physical contact there, man! What are you trying to do? Start up a fight or what?" he bellowed.

A moment's pause as my skin heated up. "Oh—wait!" he finally laughed. "You must be the exchange dork! Duh—who else would have such poor manners in the ever-so-popular Slytherin house! Now, we expect such behavior to maybe appear in Gryffindors at times, but never in Slytherins, my friend."

Two fat boys to his left smirked as the two across from him slightly frowned. He went on. "So tell me, mate, that's what you call a 'California hello?' You simply grab someone by the front and yell 'SPIKE' into their eardrums? Nice try, but News flash, Mr. Exchange, here in England if you want a friend that's certainly not the way to do it. It's much more proper to introduce yourself. Come up to a person and say 'Hell0—how are you? I'm great—you? My name is—oh, I'm sorry, now I'm the improper one! I didn't catch your name. What was it now?" he questioned.

"Angel," I supplied quite proudly.

"No, really, mate—your name?" he snickered, clearly not wanting my name to be so girlish.

I could hear it now. "Angel," I calmly repeated for him.

"That's sweet, but I'm not your Angel, and anyways it's not polite to keep your peers on the edge of their seat just to find out something as simple as a name. C'mon, your name has got to be better than Angel—unless it's Dayshay—but that's a whole other story," he explained.

I clenched my fists, ready to give this kid a good punch for annoyance. I cleared my throat and took a deep breath to release my anger—or, at least, some of it.

"My name," I said, "is Angel O'Connor."

The boy raised an eyebrow once more. I scowled. "Angel O'Connor! My name is Angel Christina O'Connor! How many times do you need to hear it—you—you—?"

Okay, for the younger readers out there, I'm not going to let you hear the rest of what I said. I kind of lost my cool and cursed the boy. "Two things," he snickered when I finished insulting him. "One, that mouth of yours needs cleaned out. My parents don't even allow me to use language like that—how did you even learn that last word?"

Bugger—how did I see this speech coming? I tell you! I sat in the wrong place! "You have a very, very, filthy mouth. Two, who gave you a Nancy name like that? Oh—wait, excuse me, two, Nancy names like that?"

I saw that one coming, too. The boy cracked up laughing, obviously pleased with himself. "Hmm…let me think…when I was born, my little brother, Shelby, named me cause he was mad that he got stuck with a girl name," I said.

"That explains it!" the boy replied in a snotty tone.

I rolled my eyes. "That was called sarcasm, you dipstick! I didn't have a brother. I had a sister named Kathy—"

"You sure that she was girl and not really a boy?" he interrupted.

I banged my fist on the table so hard my hand turned blood red. I was pissed. "SHUT THE—SHUT THE—OH, WHATEVER! JUST SHUT UP! Look, you—you evil, demented creature from the underworld, who do you think named me? My parents, okay? Who the—who else would?"

He laughed at my anger. "Having trouble not cussing me out, eh?" he chuckled. "It's a common problem with me. Don't sweat it. It's okay—happens to the best of us!"

"Mmm-hmm…." I replied.

He went on. "Anyways, what parents you had! They must've had their hearts set on the name Angel Christina whether their baby was a boy or a girl. They didn't really care when you came out a boy. They just HAD to name you Angel Christina. No wonder you transferred—couldn't show your face on America any longer, huh? Thought that boys with Nancy names were hot in England, eh? Guess you didn't do your research correctly."

"Now, my other theory on your name is that your parents thought you were going to be a girl so they didn't have a boy name picked out for you and you got stuck with a Nancy name. Whatever the story, you have the name Angel Christina. Now, who were they now?"

Before I could reply, he went on just like the energizer bunny. "Must've not been very good, huh? My parents are awesome! Top at the Ministry, too, mind you. And they give great gifts. Got me on the Hogwarts Slytherin Quidditch team and bought me the Nimbus 2001. Narcissa and Lucius—you've probably heard of them, no?"

"Actually, I haven't. And I didn't even catch your better-than-mine-name, either," I piped in.

"Name's Malfoy."

I snickered until he went on. "Draco Malfoy."

"I see," I replied. "Means, if I recall back to my Latin days, Dragon, no?"

"Correct—hey, guys! The exchange Angel actually does have a bit of brain between his two ears!"

I fumed. "Yeah, well, Dragon isn't much a name either," I snapped back. "Especially with the Bad Faith that follows it. Seriously, Dragon of Bad Faith? Your parents aren't much either."

"Watch your mouth, my little Angel—you'll turn into Potty and his filthy lot before any Slytherin even considers accepting you," he threatened coolly and calmly.

I really wished at that moment that I had listened to Faith about changing my name. I forgot how harsh school could actually be. But it was all said and done now. I'd already been sorted, so my name had already been called out as 'O'Connor, Angel'. And it's gonna haunt me all year long by a little annoying twit who thinks he's proper when in reality he isn't. Ugh! I can't believe the nerve of him! Draco Malfoy made me miss the rest of the sorting and got my blood boiling. That has got to be a record.

You know what? I don't even know where Cordy or Buffy got sorted into. All I know is that I'm stuck in this stupid house full of an unhealthy looking crowd of people in which I can see Faith sitting at the other end of. Bugger. Saving the world just got weirder. I never knew walking into this that I'd have to relive putting up with tough crowds and school bullies. I thought I got through with that 100 years ago. Luckily, because of my grandchilde, Spike, I know exactly how to handle this type of situation. If I insult him back, I'm just going to get hit harder with something more cruel and harsh to get to my emotions.

Not that I'm emotional. I'm just saying…you know….how this would work if I were to be an emotional man. But I'm not, okay? Is that clear? Good. The last thing I need is people running around and telling everyone that Angel Christina O'Connor is emotional.

I sat back with no reply, thinking that the Dragon of Bad Faith as well as manners would believe that he'd gotten the best of me. And it worked. For a while, anyway. "Oh…Christina…." He taunted towards the end of the feast, "Could you pass me a small piece of cake?"

I rolled my eyes. "You can reach it," I said flatly and coldly.

He was, after all, right next to me, and anything I could reach, he could reach as well. "Please, Christy—I asked sweetly didn't I?" he snickered in a sickenly girly voice.

I felt like throwing up. And on him, too. "No," I repeated in a calmer voice than before so he wouldn't think he'd made me angry.

He pretended to pout. "Aww—Christina's not a nice little girl. Good thing I'm not crushing on you, sweet heart," he smiled.

I felt my face turn red again. Ugh! That's it! No more Mr. Nice Guy! "Oh. My. Gosh! You never quit! I don't see how you even have friends—you just choose to be everyone's enemy before you let anyone give you the chance. We could've been friends, Draco. We could've, but you know why we're not? Because you are an insulting brat who never shuts up!

"I have tried to be nice. I really have, because I'm new to this school and all. But you have just pushed me over my limit, and let me be the first to tell you, I don't let ANYONE push me around and tell me what to do. You got that?

"Oh, and one last thing before you run off to the headmaster or the teachers of this school. You will not take advantage of me, and you won't call me Christina or Christy. My name is Angel. Christina is only my middle name. Plus, I don't want people knowing about it. Would you like it if people went around spilling your middle name? I bet with all the pride you hold that you'd hate it.

"So if you tell so much as one other soul in this world about my name, I promise I will snap your little neck so hard your friends will have nightmares about your horrible, horrible death. You understand me?"

The blonde boy simple smiled again once I finished my threats. How annoying! He cleared his throat. "I wouldn't care if everyone knew my middle name. They aren't Nancy names like yours," he replied slowly and softly. " I will push you, Angel. I will push you till you go home crying to your Mummy and Daddy. I'm not taking your threat."

He stopped for a moment and thought hard. I waited for his next sneaky and sly move. "Now, as for that whole Christina issue—"

"Draco Malfoy, I mean it. You tell a soul and you die!" I threatened again to make myself clear.

He chuckled. "Oh, really? You know, back when I was 13, you would've scared me out of my wits by saying that. But, I'm not thirteen anymore, Angela. I'm older. Wiser. Braver. And I don't bloody believe you. So, wait here one second for me. My friend, Blaise Zabini, is Hispanic and at the other end of the table with a few of his Hispanic Slytherin friends. Let me go get him so I can test your threat out.

"If I'm right, nothing will happen at all, 'cept a little blushing. If I'm wrong, I die right here and now, in front of the entire school. In front of Dumbledore. In front of Snape. In front of everyone. And everyone will have seen you do it, so you'll go to Azkaban for the rest of your miserable life," he finished happily as I raised my eyebrow.

"Look, mate, I didn't say I'd kill you right here and now—"

"Whatever! You did too, whether you deny it or not. Now excuse me while I go get my friend Blaise!"

He turned and walked off down to the other end of the table. I shook my head and clenched my fists, hoping that Draco Malfoy would not return.

Perhaps Draco and Blaise are tight friends and they will have a lot to talk about. Perhaps they'll talk, laugh, and insult so many other weird people that they'll forget all about me…

Guess what? They sure are great friends, but they didn't forget about me. It took less than five minutes for our little Dragon to return with his Hispanic friend. "Okay, Blaise, I want to show you the guy who—oh, wait, excuse me—the girl who claims we could've been friends," he mocked as he approached me.

"This is Angela Christina O'Connor. She a bit moody and unfriendly, though, so I'd try to keep away from her."

His friend smiled slightly, but I could tell he didn't entirely approve of Draco's taunting. "You know," I said. "My first name is Angel—not Angela. If you are going to extend my name, at least make it a guy name. Like, for example, oh I don't know—Angelus!"

"Yeah, but then it's not as funny," He explained.

I faked a huge smile. "Of course—yeh have to make it funny, you know," I replied sourly.

He nodded. "Yeah—but anyway, Blaise, I just wanted you to be aware we know have an Angel looking out for us here in Slytherin. Plus, it's hilarious that he actually thought I was willing to have such a girly friend. Sorry, Angel, but if I wanna hang with a girl, I think I can find a real one instead of a fake one like you."

Draco once again turned around and left me alone. Except this time he didn't return. I finally had peace and Quiet. Hopefully I would never see Draco Malfoy again…