Chapter Seven
Sunday, November 10, 2002 – foothills of the Santa Ynez mountains, south of Solvang; just after sunset:
{ Well, crap. }
For a day that had started out all right, and then even managed to get a bit better, this one was surely taking a sudden slump here near the end.
Xander gave the right rear tire on his Taurus a disgusted look, tempted to kick it. Yup. Flat, all right. Flatter than hell. Pancake. Roadkill. Damn it.
Oh well. If he hadn't decided to do some shopping while he was in Stockton at a few places that Sunnydale just didn't have... and if he hadn't decided to quell the growling in his midsection by stopping for dinner in Pismo Beach –
Well, then he'd have had a flat earlier in the evening, instead of now.
{ Yeah, but then you would've been stuck up here in the ass end of the Santa Ynez in daylight, probably, } his inner smartass told him. { Not in the early dark looking out over the Santa Ynez Valley, schmuck. }
Crap. Nothing for it but fix the flat and move on.
Checking his watch, Xander noted the time and decided that even with the delay, he would probably be able to get back to Sunnydale around eight-thirty, maybe a bit before. Not as early as he'd hoped, but still plenty of time to hit the Espresso Pump for a late snack, and pick up some pastries for a quick breakfast in the morning. Giving the tire another disgusted look, he decided that afterward, a cold beer at the Bronze sounded good, too...
Nodding decisively, Xander went around to the trunk for his hydraulic jack and a 4-way. Opening up, he paused for a moment, gazing around uneasily into the approaching darkness.
This far north and west from the Hellmouth, you didn't usually tend to find nasties and creepy-crawlies in the dark. Unlike Sunnydale, which was riddled with caves, tunnels, and lairs for all kinds of beasties, south of Solvang was usually a lot less dangerous. Still...
Vampires could turn up anywhere. And so could other things that went chomp in the night.
{ No point in being stupid or careless, pal. } Hefting the spare, Xander set it down against the rear bumper, and set the jack down beside it. He subsequently reached past into the trunk well, drew out a stake and tucked into the back of his pants. He then uncased a short barreled pump-action twelve-gauge, and loaded it with eight rounds of alternating FF size steel shot and saboted slug rounds.
Yeah, yeah. Buffy was real big on the whole "Guns? Never useful," attitude.
Especially after getting shot by that asshole Warren, last May.
Xander held a somewhat different opinion on how useful guns were, but it was one that he was tired of arguing with Buffy about. { Basically because the Buffster has super-strength and durability, not to mention a comic book healing factor. Whereas, apart from Faith, the rest of us don't. }
Xander set the shotgun down on its shoulder by the car, and started changing the tire.
A short while later – the Magic Box main counter, Sunnydale; early evening:
Anya Christina Emmanuella Jenkins, formerly Aud, formerly Anyanka the Demon Patron Saint of Scorned Women, and almost once Mrs. Alexander Harris, swiveled her hips and bounced around the store – doing the dance of capitalist superiority, as she counted out the day's receipts. Giving the neatly arranged stacks of bills a fond pat, she ceased dancing and straightened up, looking down with satisfaction.
Not bad for a day's work, especially a Sunday.
Sighing, she looked around at her magic shop with a mixture of proprietary happiness, satisfaction, and aggravation.
Happiness because, well, the Magic Box was hers. Momma's little money maker. OK, so not completely hers – Buffy's Watcher actually owned it, but still. She ran it, did all of the day-to-day work, all of the ordering and stocking, and all of the sales, promotions, and investments. So there – it was hers in all but formal ownership.
Pretty good for a former demon turned high school girl who'd started out with hardly anything to her name, which didn't belong to her fake parents.
Satisfaction because, well, once again – the magic shop was hers. She'd built it practically from the ground up – well, initially with Giles' help and knowledge, of course. And aided and abetted by a deep knowledge of magic and demonology gained over the course of well over a thousand years spent as a vengeance demon.
Aggravation because, well, her store and livelihood had been destroyed when her no-good ex-fiancé's best friend had gone on a rampage and nearly rubbled it. And because her insurance company had had the nerve to hire her bride-dumping ex's construction company to do the rebuilding. Grrr. So what if T&P Construction and Contracting was both local, and the most highly thought of commercial construction firm in this part of southern California?
So nothing, if you asked her. Which they didn't.
Oh well. At least they'd done a superlative job of rebuilding the Magic Box, even if it was under her ex's supervision. Which meant that she had been willing to accept Xander's presence around here after he'd unceremoniously dumped her at the altar.
In a strictly professional capacity, of course. The jerk.
Luckily, she'd had lots of insurance for the Magic Box. Otherwise, Anya knew she might have had to live off of her investments and dividends, rather than cheerfully watching them do what they were supposed to be doing – making more money and accruing interest and value.
The soft twittering of the shop's telephone interrupted that train of thought. Quickly pouncing on it, Anya answered the phone chirpily before it could ring a third time. Pushing a wing of brown hair behind her left ear, she spoke into the mouthpiece, "Hi there! You've reached the Magic Box, how may we cheerfully help part you from your discretionary money supply?"
«Hello? Anya?»
"Giles!" she said somewhat happily, before settling down into a more professional demeanor. "What can I do for you?"
«I've been trying to contact Willow and Buffy. Do you know where they are?» the Englishman's voice asked, crackling a bit over the transatlantic connection.
"No, I don't," Anya huffed a little.
The huffiness was well deserved, in Anya's unbiased opinion. OK, maybe not completely unbiased. Still, biased for perfectly good and logical reasons...
Well, they were! After all the events of the previous year, culminating in Black Magic Willow destroying her place of business, she wasn't exactly thrilled about having Buffy and her groupies present in her store any longer; but since Giles was still officially the owner (read silent overseas partner), she was effectively obligated to let the Slayer use the training room and allow the Chosen One's friends to do research there.
{ Which is probably all for the best, } Anya admitted grudgingly, { as otherwise we wouldn't have learned even half as much as we have regarding the First Evil, now that it's popped its non-corporeal head up. }
The funny thing was that Anya simply couldn't understand what something older than the Old Ones (to quote her dearly departed friend Hallie, Yekk rest her soul) would want with Buffy. Or any of them, but especially the Vampire Slayer. Oh, sure, scourge of the demon world and all that; but these days, Buffy seemed so fixated on Spike it didn't seem like she was being all that scourge-y lately...
Rolling her eyes, Anya said into the phone receiver, "So, why did you want to contact Buffy and Willow?"
«I have some news regarding the First,» Giles' scratchy voice replied, all the way from England.
"Well, it can wait. I need to talk to you about something else!" Anya said a bit snappishly.
«Which is?»
"I don't want any of those people coming to the store any longer, and interfering with my ability to make a profit," she told him in no uncertain terms. "Seriously – I'm trying to run a business here, and they're constantly getting in the way of that!"
Anya could hear Giles sigh tiredly from thousands of miles away. «Running the business properly is important, of course. But Anya, you know perfectly well th-that the training room and research area were set up specifically for Buffy's use in Slayer-related matters. And I see no reason for that to change now.»
"But Giles! Buffy and the rest of them are always getting underfoot, sitting around and eating snack foods at the main table, and disturbing actual customers," Anya said irritably. "Paying customers. Or at least customers that I have a fair and honest chance of convincing to part with my hard-earned income!"
«Yes, I understand what you're saying, Anya,» Giles replied, sounding a bit put out; even if he was doing a good job of sounding as if he was faking that sympathetic tone. «But I-I'm afraid you'll just have to learn to live with their presence, somehow.»
"Live with their presence? Oh, come on! I mean, Buffy tried to kill me, not all that long ago! A bit ineptly, considering that she should have remembered that you can't kill a vengeance demon with a sword, after trying it on Hallie," Anya grumped at him. "But still. Seriously!"
«Well, you can hardly blame her for that, Anya,» the Englishman replied, sighing tiredly on the other end of the line. «I-I mean, from what I heard – you did slaughter nearly an entire fraternity's worth of people with that Wish you granted.»
"Well, it was my job to do that!"
«A job which you should not have been performing within the environs of Sunnydale,» Giles told her, sounding as though he had removed his glasses and was pinching the bridge of his nose. Anya could tell how it had that tight, slightly nasal, and exasperated quality to it. «Given that it's, it's home to a practicing Vampire Slayer.»
"Well, I'm not a vampire. Not that Buffy's actually been slaying a lot of them lately, anyway. She forgets the 's' part of that when it comes to Spike, after all," Anya groused. "Well, fine. Be that way. Make it sound like it was all my fault. Hrmmph!"
«Anya... » Giles trailed off, sighing heavily again. «Even you must admit that it was more than somewhat foolish of you to be practicing lethal demonic activities directly under Buffy's nose, a-all things considered.»
"Oh, so I'm foolish now?" Anya glared at the telephone heatedly. "Well, just for that, I refuse to let Buffy and her fan club come over here anymore!"
Giles unleashed another audible sigh before Anya heard him say, «A pity, that. It means I'll have to return to Sunnydale so that I can find a new store manager to replace you, then.»
Anya instantly looked alarmed. In the heat of the moment, she'd forgotten that she didn't actually own the magic shop, and that Giles could do that if he wanted to. "What?! Now, wait... there's no need to be hasty about this... "
«Ah. I was hoping, ah, rather against hope actually, that you'd manage to see reason on this matter. Now, as for my previous question?»
Glaring at the phone again, Anya huffed and said tightly, "Fine! I have no idea where Buffy is; Dawn is staying at her friend Janice's, and Willow is doubtless running amok somewhere. If you want, I can leave a message on their voice mail that you called."
«Excellent.» Giles replied, sounding relieved. «Now, about this other matter of the group using the Magic Box for Slayer-related activities... »
In the end, she managed to convince the British man that there was no need for him to return to Sunnydale, by promising that she wouldn't make a fuss if the Scooby Gang showed up at the Magic Box. Any and all of its members, even Xander.
"Although if he does show up... " Anya muttered to herself, after hanging up on Giles, "it won't be my fault if Harris doesn't exactly enjoy his stay here!"
No doubt that if Dr. Phil had been there, he'd have come up with a comment like "Ain't love grand!" to summarize the situation.
Anya thought to herself that a good poke in the eye would cure Dr. Phil of that in a hurry.
A while later – Sunnydale Railway Station, Sunnydale; night:
The white, blue and red striped train approached the station, slowing down and the horn blowing before it finally came to a stop. The porter sitting at the platform bench stopped reading his Spider-man comic, got up and called out, "Sunnydale Station! Last stop this line before Goleta," before Cordelia exited out of the railway vehicle.
{ Home sweet hell, } she thought to herself... well, happily, for want of a better word, as the other passengers followed her out of the train.
Hesitating for a moment – hey, it wasn't like she was used to traveling by rail – Cordelia then headed for the taxi line outside the station. Checking her watch – 9:35 pm, excellent, she'd made good time in getting here – she hoped that luck would be with her and she'd find a cabbie that could take her home. She didn't care for walking around Sunnydale after dark; 2002 or otherwise, she doubted that the Hellmouth had changed that much.
Luck was indeed with her; a solitary taxi was waiting outside, and so Cordelia headed straight for it before anyone else could grab it for themselves. The driver gave her a moment's pause – along with the .45 pistol he had visibly resting in the open center console – but then she figured beggars couldn't be choosers, and all that. The decent-sized crucifix dangling from the rear view mirror made her both smile and frown simultaneously. Because, if you thought about it, the precautions actually made sense for Sunnydale; working the night shift in this town was lethally hazardous to your health...
"Where to?" the taxi driver asked suspiciously, as soon as Cordy got into the back seat.
"4 Parkview Crescent."
The man nodded. "You got the money?"
Cordy nodded and held up the money clip, after digging it out of her pocket. She then touched the cross on the ceiling of that side of the taxi, figuring this guy either knew or at least suspected about the night life in Sunnydale, making sure he could see her do it. "So, can we get going now? I've had a loooong night, and I'd just like to go home, OK?"
The driver nodded silently, starting the engine and departing the railway station. Cordelia did her best to ignore his driving style and the pistol she knew was within arm's reach in front of her. { I'm home, and that's all that matters. Well, almost home anyway... }
As they drove down Wilkins Boulevard, though, Cordelia was able to spot how way too many businesses were no longer around, or had changed names or whatever. { Maybe that cop was right about the whole Rip Van Winkle thing? Or maybe I have woken up in Bizarro World, or another dimension, or something... }
All sorts of weird theories, ideas, and half-baked explanations started running through her head. { Time travel spell? No, wait, I recall Giles once saying something about that sort of thing not being possible. Some kind of Hellmouth glitch, maybe? Better, I guess, but that still doesn't explain why I've lost nearly the past five years – or why I woke up in freaking Los Angeles! And jeez, I don't even want to think about the other possible explanations – like an alien abduction, or getting trapped in an episode of the freaking Twilight Zone. For one thing, I'm Cordelia Chase – and no one does anal probes or whatever, on me! And for another, hello, I was planning to be an actress after high school's over? I wanna star in a TV show, not fricking live in one!}
"We're here," the cab driver said abruptly after slowing down and pulling over, drawing Cordelia out of her thoughts. "That'll be ten bucks."
"OK, I... oh, what the hell?!" Cordelia yelped, spying something totally unexpected whilst looking out the window. Namely, her home having become a long-vacant and abandoned-looking wreck, with an IRS foreclosure sign out front – and a rusty realtor's FOR SALE sign on the front gates.
"No, no, NO!" Cordelia screamed as she immediately scrambled out of the taxi, heading for the mansion's front gates.
"Hey! HEY! Come back here! This ain't no free-ride service!" the cabbie shouted angrily, grabbing the .45 pistol.
But Cordelia was deaf to his orders, her heart full of horror and pain as she examined the wreck that used to be her home. Through the wrought-iron gates she could see the unmowed lawn, the front guest house with its windows smashed in (probably thanks to some high school kids breaking into the property on a dare) and the mansion itself without a single light on anywhere. Which simply made no sense...
The taxi cab came all the way up to the main gates, swerving madly and just barely missing her. "Hey!" the driver yelled, angrily. "You didn't pay your fare before exiting the vehicle!" The gun wasn't pointed at her, exactly, but it wasn't resting on the passenger seat anymore either.
Cordelia turned to the man, still lost in pain and bewilderment. "What happened here?" she asked, looking dazed and confused and gesturing at the IRS lien sign.
"What do ya mean?"
"This house... " Cordelia trailed off hesitantly, not sure how much to reveal about herself and her situation to this person. "What happened to the Chase family? The people that used to live here?"
"What do I look like to you, lady, an information kiosk or something?" the driver demanded, looking exasperated.
"Please," Cordy practically begged the man, which said a lot about the levels of her personal distress right now. She never begged anyone for anything, period. "If you know anything, please tell me?"
The cab driver frowned. "I dunno... it was three, maybe four years ago? I don't remember much... "
"Anything you know. Please," Cordy said, moving back towards the vehicle.
The driver shrugged, scowling. "There was something in the town paper about, y'know, rich folks becoming poor folks – I think that David Chase guy ended up in Federal prison, for tax fraud or embezzlement or something? IRS forfeiture, yeah, that was it. Whatever, it's none of my business. Now pay up, so that I can get outta here!"
The words echoing madly in her head, Cordelia just stood there for a moment – before mechanically getting back into the cab and asking the driver to take her to the Harris residence, at 17619 White Oak Drive. Grumbling, the driver agreed to do so before they left the empty mansion behind.
{ Tax fraud, or embezzlement? } Cordelia thought dazedly to herself. { Oh. My. God. Daddy, what have you done? What did you do, way back when? And what about Mother? What the hell happened to her? Good grief, I've gotten trapped in some kind of nightmare... }
That thought only became more apt in Cordelia's mind, as she soon discovered that Xander's house was likewise dark and empty; there was a realtor's FOR SALE sign on the front lawn, with what looked like several months' worth of stacked-up yellowing newspapers on the porch. She didn't even bother getting out of the cab this time – she just stared out through the window, feeling numb.
{ OK, so where to now, genius? The only other place where Xander might be living is his Uncle Rory's place, and he lives way out past Ojai, } Cordelia cogitated dully. { Not that I'd, like, mind seeing Rory right about now – he'd at least be something sane in all of this – but I don't have enough money for a cab ride out there. And what if he's gone too, or dead or something? God – this really sucks. I've fallen down the rabbit hole, and now I can't get out of Bizarro World! }
Likewise, Buffy and Willow's houses were dark and unoccupied tonight, as she soon discovered; but at least there were no FOR SALE signs or foreclosure notices at either of them. Plus, apparently Giles didn't live in his condo anymore: some stranger answered the door, and even the Kendalls were away somewhere. Cordelia wasn't sure she really wanted to see Harmony right now, anyway, because that ditz would probably get far too much enjoyment out of seeing her reduced to this state... but by this point, almost anyone familiar would have been welcome. Even Harmony.
Unable to think of anywhere else to go, Cordelia decided to head for the Bronze in the hope that she'd find Xander or someone – anyone she knew, who could explain to her what the hell was going on, and what had happened to the people she'd been counting on finding tonight. And yet, when they finally arrived at the nightclub – which thank God was still there, just as the cab driver had assured her – Cordelia was rather reluctant to get out of the car and check the place out...
She'd already had enough shocks for one night, thank yew verra much.
But the cabbie started checking his watch and said, "Come on, lady, I don't wanna park out here all night – make up your mind, already!" He left unsaid that she had racked up quite the fare by this point, and that she probably couldn't afford going anywhere else.
Grumbling under her breath, Cordy gave the man his money; and the taxi driver quickly roared off, the car's tires smoking, leaving her behind while she was still counting the change. "Hey! Jerkoff. And to think Xander used to call me a bad driver... "
Jeez. And good grief, even. OK, so that ate up way too much of her available money. Not that she'd ever been in the habit of taking cab rides around Sunnydale, but she wouldn't have thought they were that expensive. Then again – operating a taxi after dark in Sunnydale. Yeah, maybe she'd have charged a premium for that service, if she were risking her neck – literally, in this town – doing something like that.
Still, if she didn't run into Xander or anyone else she knew here, then she had to figure out where to go to spend the night safely – because for damned sure, she wasn't gonna be able to afford anything more than one short taxi ride from here.
Cordelia's stomach suddenly rumbled loudly. OK, a cappuccino and a muffin to snack on. That and one more ride anywhere would leave her dead broke, not just low on cash.
Ummm... flat broke, that is. { Let's not go with the dead metaphors, girl, } she thought to herself, gazing uneasily around the parking lot. { Not in this town. }
Squaring her shoulders, Cordelia headed towards the Bronze, paying the minor cover charge and entering the nightclub. The place looked different – it had obviously been rebuilt and remodeled at some point over the years, and fairly recently, too. But looking around inside, Cordelia felt lost all over again: she could recognize no one...
Well, it was a teen and young adult club, after all. Plus, almost five years. In that context, it wasn't surprising that all the sixteen- to eighteen-year-old patrons were completely unfamiliar to her. She then looked around at the staff, but again she could recognize no one. Still, that wasn't very surprising either; the Bronze had always had a high level of staff turnover, just like a lot of bars and fast food restaurants in this town.
"Damn it," Cordelia cursed, before going up to the bar. At this time of night, she didn't want to risk going to find that snitch named Willy, or whatever his name was, that Xander had mentioned recently. She just said to the barman, "Hi! Have you seen Xander Harris around here tonight?"
The blond-haired and kinda pimply-looking bartender just stared at her. Quickly getting the idea and rolling her eyes, Cordelia said huffily, "Fine, I'll have a cappuccino! Um... cinnamon, chocolate, half-caf, nonfat. Oh! And extra foam, of course!"
"Coming right up," the twenty-something bartender said mechanically, as he began to prepare her order.
"Good. So, how about it? Have you seen my boyfriend or not?" she demanded, even though the barman seemed to have forgotten the question.
Giving her a slightly annoyed look, he glanced at the other customers lining the bar. Apparently seeing that none of them were exactly clamoring for attention, the bartender shrugged and looked back at her. "Harris? Kinda tall guy with dark hair? Hangs out with a tiny blond and redhead?"
Cordelia nodded and said, maybe a bit too excitedly, "Yeah! Wears obnoxious fashion disaster shirts, like, way too often?"
The bartender gave her a blank look at that, like he didn't pay much attention to what guys wore, but said, "Not since... Wednesday night? Naw, Friday. Came in for a quick beer, played some pool with that English guy, and left. Hasn't been back since."
{ English guy... } Cordelia blinked at him, at a loss for the moment. { Xander was playing pool with Giles? Seriously? Well, I guess it's not impossible, but jeez... I never expected something like that! }
"Cordelia?"
She whirled around at the sound of that familiar-sounding voice, and nearly sobbed with relief. "Devon? Devon!"
Cordy hugged him at once, so glad to finally find someone she recognized that it never crossed her mind to wonder why her flake of an ex-boyfriend was present here tonight. "Oh, am I glad to see you! I swear, this entire night has been just a complete nightmare. I haven't been able to find anyone, and don't evenget me started on what's happened to my house – "
"Babe," the handsome musician and lead singer she used to date interrupted her rant smoothly. "Slow down. Rewind, even. You're not making any sense, here. And I got things to do and places to be, ya know?" Throwing a smirking grin at his companion, he added, "Girls to do, actually."
"Uggh," Cordy groaned, instantly reminded of why she'd dumped Devon in the first place. { Still the same self-centered, egotistical, loudmouth jerk... oh, never mind. So not the time for that!}
Nodding at Devon's companion, she realized that she kind of vaguely recognized him too. Jason, Jimmy, something or other... Jace! That was it. Jace something, the drummer for the Dingoes Ate My Baby, Devon and Oz's old band back in high school. Huh, OK... obviously, the both of them went heavy metal hair band or something in the years since. Mucho on the black leather and studs. So not a good look for either of them...
Well, OK, the black leather pants did look pretty hot on Devon – but then he'd always been a really good-looking jerk, for a jerk.
"Hi, Jace," Cordelia said, throwing the beefy redhead a nod and a smile. "Look... listen, Devon, I'm looking for Xander or Willow or Buffy or... well, any of my friends, really. Have you seen them in here tonight?" she asked hopefully.
Devon's eyes widened appreciably. "Xander Harris? You're looking for that guy? After all this time? And after what happened between you?"
"What's that supposed to mean?" Cordy snapped automatically, a bit more acerbically than she'd meant to.
"Oh, nothing, I guess," Devon shrugged and shook his head. "Anyway, the answer's no. Haven't seen him since Oz left town, way back when."
"Oz is gone?" Cordelia echoed in confusion, before pulling herself back together. It was late 2002 now, damn it, not May 7th 1998 like she'd thought it was after waking up in that el creepo hotel. She guessed that it wasn't all that surprising how the guitarist with the multi-colored hair and nails fetish might have moved on... especially if something had happened between him and Willow.
Oz always was a bit too cool for this one-Starbucks town, anyway. Never mind.
"Yeah, he moved on after him and the redhead ended up on the outs," Jace said, shrugging casually. "Heard he turned her gay or something. Really broke him up." He and Devon bumped fists, laughing a bit nastily at that.
"Turned her... Willow? Gay?!" Cordelia shook that one off along with the rapidly encroaching feeling of entering the Twilight Zone again. "No, never mind. Look, Devon, I kinda need you to help me right now, OK? Do you have a car – or even that van you used to use for the band, when we were dating?"
"Yeah, it's parked out in the lot. You want a lift somewhere?" Devon smiled as he said that, for some reason that Cordelia couldn't understand. "What, no rich girl car anymore?"
{ Oh, of course. It's so very funny seeing Cordelia Chase having to beg for a ride, } she thought to herself in annoyance. "Well, duh! So apparently not. And yeah, I need a ride," she said imperiously. "So, what are we still doing here?"
"Your cappuccino, Miss!" the bartender abruptly intruded into the conversation, having finally finished with Cordelia's order.
"What? Oh, right! Uh, I'll have to take that order to go, thanks. Is that OK?" Cordelia asked the barman, who simply shrugged and nodded, placing the beverage in one of the Bronze's disposable capped cups before she shoved some money at him and prepared to walk out of the club with Devon and Jace. "Are we out of here?"
"Hey, girl's in a hurry, bro," Jace said, snickering. Devon smirked and made a sweeping 'after you' bowing motion. Not wasting any time, Cordelia slid off her stool and began heading for the door.
"So, babe, where do you wanna go?" Devon asked casually, as he led the way to his vehicle.
"That's what I wanna figure out," Cordelia mused. { I've already been to most of the places I'd automatically head for, whenever the weirdness hits! Well, except for... }
"The high school," she said out loud, looking up at her ex-boyfriend as they walked. "Hopefully Xander will be there, even at this time of night. Maybe Willow, Giles, and Buffy, too."
"The Slayer," Devon replied, a brief look of distaste appearing on his face.
"You know about that, nowadays?" Cordelia frowned, slowing down a little.
"Well, yeah," Devon said, shrugging and putting a hand to the small of her back. He gave her a slight nudge forward. "After that thing with the giant snake demon at Graduation? Hell, babe – everyone knows."
"Giant snake demon... " Cordelia trailed off, feeling overwhelmed by the weirdness and the sense of having fallen through the Looking Glass again. Then she looked at her former boyfriend, a lot more carefully than before. It was Devon, sure, but there was something... something she couldn't quite put her finger on, despite how familiar he...
{ Oh, God, no! } It was nearly 2003 nowadays... but Devon didn't look like a guy his age! He had been an eighteen-year-old senior like Oz, back when she was a junior. Now, though... He looked barely a year or so older than when she'd known him, like maybe twenty at the most, not five years older, which meant...
"You're a vampire!" Cordelia screamed, quickly moving away from him. And then she screamed again when Devon sighed and his face morphed into that of a monster; the yellowed-eyed, bumpy forehead demon she had become oh-so-familiar with since the end of sophomore year. "You're a vampire!"
"Very good! And you're still the same shrill-voiced yet gorgeous piece of ass I remember," Devon smiled sadistically at her. "Sweet, not very petite, and oh-so-good to eat."
"Hey, not like you ever found out," Cordelia said, her mouth running almost on reflex. "Or ever will!"
Still smirking, Devon stalked forward, heading towards his prey as Cordelia backpedaled nervously. "Come on, babe – what's with the attitude? Trust me, you're gonna love immortality!"
"Ewww! As if!" she said scathingly, shaking her head.
Hands grabbed her upper arms from behind. Oh crap... she'd forgotten about the drummer guy. Vampire too, no doubt. Well, duh. "And if you think you're getting anywhere near my neck, think again, mister! Suck on this!" With that, Cordelia ripped the cap off of her cappuccino, and then threw the steaming hot liquid back over her shoulder and directly into Jace's face.
The Bronze may not have ever made the best cappuccino around, but it surely made up for it in hot.
"AGGGHHHH! YOU BITCH!" the soulless vampire yelled furiously, his clawed hands letting go of her arms and automatically heading for his burned face as Cordy turned and ran for it. "Oh, you're gonna pay for that!"
Oh, no, the hell with that. Not if one Cordelia Chasehad anything to say about it –
TBC…
A/N: Yes, we know the X/C reunion has been somewhat delayed, but trust us: it's coming in the next chapter! And hopefully, no one minds that we made Devon into a vampire? As far as we could determine, there's no mention of him anywhere in any canon source we could find beyond season 4 - the character just sorta faded out of existence - so in this AU, after Oz briefly came back to Sunnydale, Devon got himself turned into one of the undead. Hey, we needed someone familiar to be the Little Bad for Cordelia to run into! Anyway, thanks as always to everyone for reading and reviewing, and please keep the feedback coming! Even though the reviews aren't showing up on the site (what is wrong with the reviews section nowadays?) we still get notification of submission and will respond with a PM, we promise. So, tell us what ya think!
