Chapter Twelve
Monday, November 11, 2002 – somewhere in Los Angeles, California; a few hours after midnight:
Charles Gunn wasn't entirely sure what was going on right now... but after parting company with the uptight limey ass, he figured his best chance to learn the truth lay with finding his gang and his little sister, ASAP.
He cursed the fact that he had no idea where his pickup truck was, the vehicle for which he'd sold his soul to that demon named Jenoff. On account of walking the streets of L.A. after midnight, alone, wasn't exactly the best strategy for survival. But luck was with him, and eventually Gunn arrived at a building with a rod-iron fence and barbed wire looped through it. Frowning, he made his way past the fence, and entered the abandoned-looking building.
{ What the heck... } Gunn thought to himself, looking around. The room was lit by several candles, and graffiti covered most of the walls. { What happened to this place? It wasn't like this, last time I saw it! }
A Hispanic guy suddenly attacked him with a staff, appearing out of nowhere – but Gunn easily matched the other man's moves. After ducking and weaving for a couple of moments, Charles chopped the staff in half with his ax, tripped his opponent onto his back and held his weapon against his attacker's neck – only to sense a loaded crossbow being put against his own neck, by another guy that had come up behind him.
"You might wanna drop the weapon," an unfamiliar voice said. "Otherwise, my trigger finger might get a mite itchy."
Frowning, Gunn did as he was ordered. He then turned around and took a look at the crossbow, with the point of the bolt now just inches away from his face. "Nice rig."
"Glad you like it," the gang member said calmly.
"He should. He built it."
Frowning, Gunn turned around to look at that source of that voice, as he recognized it; but then freezing horror engulfed him. "RONDELL?"
The black man frowned at Gunn's tone. "Yeah. What's wrong with you, dog? And why are you even here? Figured our last meeting was just that – our last meeting."
"You're old," Gunn said thickly, unable to believe what he was seeing. "I mean – you don't look seventeen no more, man. Whatdafuq is goin' on here? And where's Alonna?"
"Alonna?" Rondell looked at him in shock, before he grew angry. "You kiddin' me? She's dead! You dusted her over two years back, after that goddamn vamp turned her! What's wrong with you, man?!"
"YOU'RE LYING!" Gunn yelled, rushing forward and grabbing Rondell by the front of his shirt. "She's not dead! She's not! She can't be! Damn it, where's my little sister?!"
The loud click! sounds of a number of crossbows and a number of other weapons made Gunn pause in his rant, as Rondell called out to the troops, "Hey, no! Stand down, he ain't gonna hurt me... "
"You sure 'bout that? 'Cause way I heard it, he turned his back on all of us to hook up with some vampire," one of the gang members growled, glaring at Gunn.
Startled, Charles abruptly released Rondell and turned to face his accuser. "Say what?"
"You heard me, vamp lover. You been hangin' with your demon buddies," the young man spat.
"Man, you are fuckin' crazy!" Gunn yelled out at the top of his voice, startling just about everyone present. Charles then turned to Rondell with a pleading look on his face. "Tell 'im, bro! Ain't no way in hell I'd ever do something like that!"
Rondell frowned. "C'mon. You 'n me, Gunn, we need ta take a walk – talk in private."
"You sure that's a good idea?" the Hispanic guy whom Gunn had easily disarmed asked doubtfully.
"Who's in charge here, Tommy – me or you?" Rondell asked challengingly. Upon seeing the other man's acquiescence to his authority, Rondell grabbed the ax – then he grabbed Gunn by the wrist and led him outside.
Over the next half-hour or so, Rondell told him a lot of things: stuff which Charles simply could not accept to be true. From their first meeting with Angel, to their last meeting after the gang had attacked and destroyed a demon nightclub called Caritas. Rondell told him bluntly, "And that's where we're at, bro. Despite what y'all think, this ain't '95 no more – figger you musta hit your head and gotten some kinda amnesia, ya lost the last seven years or so?"
"Freakin' unbelievable," Gunn muttered, before turning to look at this older-looking version of his best friend. "You really think I turned my back on everyone to hook up with one of them, don't you?"
"I don't think it, Gunn – I know it," Rondell shrugged. His friend then sent him a pitying look. "Truth? I ain't heard a word from you in months – not since last time we talked outside that demon club, 'n we agreed ta go our separate ways. Night I promised y'all me and mine weren't gonna be crossing Venice Boulevard again, least not any time soon. Hell, I was even starting to wonder if you were still in this world... "
"How did this happen, man?" Gunn practically begged him.
Rondell shrugged again. "I figure it was Alonna what started it. Things were just never the same after that."
"I couldn't even keep my own sister safe?" Gunn asked hopelessly.
"No. But – wasn't your fault, not really," Rondell said uncomfortably. "You still remember that much on what it was like, don'tcha? Sometimes, no matter what, we lose people. So don't beat yerself up 'bout it too much. 'Sides, vamp what killed her is dust, happened after ya staked yer li'l sis. Not sure that helps, but it's the truth – for whatever that's worth, anyways."
"Right. So, now what?" Gunn asked, still sunk in the depths of misery and despair.
"You can't stay here," Rondell shook his head, causing him to look at his best friend sharply. "Your reputation bein' what it is, can't afford ta let ya stay, however much I want to. Somebody would end up dead – maybe you, maybe one of my boys. My advice? Go back to that hotel you woke up in, 'n ask your buddies there fer help ta get yer memory back."
"And what if I don't want my memory back?" Gunn asked, rising up to his full height. "Or, what if they can't help me? What if I'm stuck like this, permanent-like?"
"I dunno, Gunn," Rondell said with a soft sigh. "All I know fer sure is you burned all your bridges here, long time ago. You're still my friend," he added, "but you ain't got no place among us no more. I try to bring you back into the fold, only thing that'll happen is a goddamn riot, and then they'll string both of us up the nearest lamp post. Like I said, go back to that hotel and your buds there. Best advice I can offer."
Rondell abruptly hugged Gunn and gave him the ax back, before turning and walking back inside the building. His friend tossed a brief farewell over his shoulder, "Vaya con Dios, bro. And like I said – don't come back."
The expression on Gunn's face had to be seen to be believed.
The same time – an alley somewhere in the greater metropolitan district, Los Angeles; night:
Gazing around, the souled vampire who thought of himself as 'Liam O'Reilly' was still trying to deal with the horrifying lunacy he'd become entrapped within, after waking up a few hours ago.
{ Madness, this is. Sheer madness. I musta died and gone to Hell, that's gotta be it, } Liam thought to himself, trying to understand everything he had seen and gone through since waking up earlier tonight. { Me da always said I'd come to a bad end, he did, that I was a sinner – and that I'd end up in the Devil's clutches. Plus, nowadays I'm apparently a... a vampire... }
It wasn't easy for Liam to maintain his sanity right at the moment, especially in the face of that particular bit of knowledge. Not to mention that as far as he was concerned, all the cars he'd seen were rampaging demons – and that English pig, the Blackamoor, and the two fishwives he'd encountered earlier were just part of the overall nightmare. All he wanted was to go home...
Liam desperately wanted to see the familiar sights of Éire again, the sweet blessed rolling hills and valleys of his beloved Galway. He also wanted to see his mother, his little sister Kathy, and even his father; hard though that was to admit to himself. He especially wanted to see the family servant, Anna, despite the recent falling out between them...
"Hey, mister, you OK?"
Liam started, and turned around to see a blond woman standing in the alley. She looked concerned as she asked, "Seriously, are you all right? You look kinda... "
"Who are ye?" Liam asked, not wanting to hear what he looked like right now.
"The name's Nina Ash," the young woman shrugged, introducing herself.
"Ah. I'm Liam. So... uh, ye wouldn't happen to have a flask of ale, would ya, lass?" Liam asked. He leaned back against the wall of the alley, shaking his head. "I don't care what me father says the Devil's brew does to a man, right now – I need ta get stinking drunk."
"Uh, no, but there's an all-night bar not far away, I went past it just now. Will that do?"
"Bar?" Liam briefly stumbled over the unfamiliar slang. "Do ye mean a tavern, or-or an ale house?"
"Yeah, I guess," Nina blinked over his terminology. "Are you sure about this, though? I mean, trying to drown your problems with alcohol – it doesn't work for long. Personal experience talking here."
"What's that supposed ta mean, lass?"
"Oh, I went through a messy breakup recently," Nina shrugged. "So I started drinking, in order to forget about that creep I fell for. Only problem is, it didn't work."
Liam could not help feeling sympathy for this girl, even if some of her words were incomprehensible to him. "Sorry to hear that, lass. And – sorry for acting so woman-ish, bleating about me own problems."
Nina smiled. "That's OK."
Suddenly, Liam's gaze was drawn to Nina's throat. He could hear the pounding of her heart, could smell the delicious scent of her blood wafting towards his nostrils. Liam's face morphed to that of a yellow-eyed vampire, bumpy forehead and everything, as he started to close the gap between them.
Immediately, Nina screamed. "OH MY GOD!" She turned around and started to run, but Liam easily caught up with her. Moving solely on instinct, his fangs moved towards her throat...
{ What am I doing? } Liam suddenly asked himself, as he abruptly let the girl go and recoiled away from her. { What in God's name am I doing? } He shook his head and told Nina roughly, "Go on, lass, run – get out o' here. It's not safe to be being around me, I'm thinking!"
Unsurprisingly, the blond instantly ran for her life.
Liam watched her go, shaking his head and fighting down the urge to chase after her. He then walked out of the alley, and took a big sniff, trying to sort out all the various smells his undead nose could perceive. He was able to smell the alcohol at a location close by, like the lass had mentioned, and so headed for the strange-looking tavern – or 'bar', as they apparently called it here.
Once inside, he calmed down a bit. Although in one sense this 'bar' was strange and unfamiliar to his eyes, there were enough similarities to the taverns of Galway to enable him to relax somewhat.
"Barkeep!" Liam called out to the man wiping the main counter. "Some Irish whiskey, please. Jameson's or Bushmills, if'n ye have it."
The bartender frowned for a moment, feeling like there was something off about his latest customer. But then he shrugged and grabbed a bottle off the shelf behind him, before pouring some of the whiskey into a shot glass. The barman apparently didn't notice Liam staring at the huge mirror behind the counter, or the shocked expression on his face when he couldn't see his own reflection. The man just said, "Here ya go, mac."
"Aye, it's thanking ye, I am," Liam said gratefully, before he downed the shot of whiskey. "Another! In fact, I'll be taking the whole damn bottle, I'm thinkin'... "
"All right. You got the money to pay for it, though? This stuff ain't cheap, you know," the bartender said suspiciously.
"Money? Ah... " Liam hesitated, before he started searching himself. He quickly found his wallet, opened it up and stared at his I.D. "Huh. What's this? Look – pictures! So lifelike... "
The bartender rolled his eyes, leaned over, grabbed the wallet and took out a number of bills. He then gave the wallet back to Liam and said, "That'll cover you for the full bottle of Jameson's, friend. Anything else after that, you're gonna hafta cough up some more cash."
"Aye, as ye say, barkeep," Liam nodded, deciding that even though he may be a vampire now, and stuck in Hell to boot, his situation wasn't all that bad. "Just keep that whiskey comin'."
The bartender obliged. "Here ya go."
Liam eagerly drank up at least half the bottle, before starting to giggle. He said somewhat drunkenly, "Och! That's some damn fine whiskey you're servin' me, barkeep. Say, can ya gimme a blood chaser to go with that Jameson's? A BIG one?"
The barman rolled his eyes again. { Why am I the one who always get all the weirdos, during the late shift? }
Many hours later – kitchen of 1630 Revello Drive, Sunnydale; early morning:
"Damn it," Buffy cursed, as she hung up the telephone without being able to leave a message. Again. There had been no response to her phone call to Angel's hotel in L.A. just now, exactly like every other time she'd called there since talking with Cordelia and Xander last night. And just as sure as death and taxes – well, taxes, anyway – that particular conversation must have been predestined to not go well.
Buffy knew that all the recriminations which had ensued after she and Spike had bounced off that invitation barrier hadn't been absolutely necessary, strictly speaking. But she'd been upset and annoyed, and she'd thought that she could count on Xander to help with regard to her former lover. It had been something of a nasty shock for her to learn just how wrong that assumption had been.
Still, the way Cordelia had indignantly taken Xander's side in the 'discussion', and the way that girl had asked her just what the hell her damage was... yeah, all that certainly hadn't helped matters.
"You stay out of this, Amnesia Girl. You have no idea what things are like nowadays in my town!" Buffy had told her angrily, after learning just why Cordelia was back in Sunnydale.
"Your town?! Hey! I grew up here, Little Miss Cry-Buffy! It's more my town than yours, Immigrant Girl!" Cordelia had ranted back.
Sighing, Buffy remembered the argument getting more and more acrimonious on both sides, before Xander had finally said, "OK, time out! Look, Buff, bottom line is this. Spike's not welcome in my home anymore – and things are quickly reaching the point where you may not be, either. So get him outta here, and we'll talk about this tomorrow. If you've calmed down enough for us to talk rationally and sensibly about it, anyway. Now, GOOD NIGHT!"
To say that Buffy hadn't been happy with the situation at that point was like saying the Earth was a little bit round, or the Sun was a little bit hot. Still, she'd reluctantly decided to resettle Spike elsewhere, either in his old crypt or Angel's old mansion – before grabbing the chipped vampire by the wrist and departing.
Unfortunately, the crypt hadn't been an option and neither had the Crawford Street mansion; both had been demolished by this point. One by Spike's enemies, and the other by City Hall. So, with nowhere else to go, Spike had accompanied her to her home and slept in the basement.
Buffy had to admit to herself that she was slightly weirded out by this whole thing, especially since she couldn't reach anyone at Angel's hotel. But whatever was going on in L.A. right now, she needed to talk to Dawn about –
"AHHHHHH! Spike?! What the hell are you doing here? Wait, did you spend the night? With Buffy?!" Dawn's loud and incredulous voice could easily be heard all the way in the kitchen, as the Slayer quickly raced towards the stairs in order to quickly deal with this.
"Dawn!" Buffy said, screeching to a halt as her indignant-looking sister turned to glare at her. "Damn it, calm down; it's not what you think! Nothing happened between me and Spike last night, it's just – well, Xander acted like a total horse's ass, and kicked Spike out of his apartment – "
"Gee, I wonder why," Dawn interrupted, her glare not softening in the slightest.
"You ask me, whelp was thinkin' with his John Thomas – now that the Cheerleader's moved in," Spike shrugged.
Dawn looked at him in confusion. "Xander was thinking with his John what? And a cheerleader? What cheerleader?"
"Never mind," Buffy cut in, feeling annoyed with Spike. As far as she was concerned, Dawn didn't need to socialize with Cordelia Chase of all people. So she said to her sibling, "Dawn, all you need to know is that I let Spike stay here last night. He, uh, he's going to be staying in the basement, until he can find another crypt or someplace like that."
"I see. So, when were you planning to ask me if I was OK with this? Lemme guess – the twelfth of never?" Dawn demanded angrily.
"Dawn!" Buffy automatically snapped at her, as the sisterly argument started to kick into high gear. She never noticed as Spike silently disappeared through the door leading down to the basement...
"Buffy, what's the matter with you?!" Dawn ranted. "Why the hell do you want the guy who almost raped you hanging around here?"
"Don't call him that!" Buffy responded, with an annoyed look on her face.
"Why not?"
"Because... " Buffy trailed off, briefly. "Well, he has a soul now. It's, it's kinda like the situation with Angel – whatever Spike did before that, it's not his fault now. So I don't want to hear you calling him that anymore, OK?"
"Fine. Still, compared to some of the nicknames Xander has for him – " Dawn started to say.
"Don't talk to me about Xander," Buffy cut her off, instantly. "He's not exactly on my list of favorite people right now!"
"Why, just 'cause he kicked Spike out of his home? Oh my God, who are you – and what have you done with my sister?" Dawn demanded belligerently. "'Cause no way would the real Buffy be this much of a control freak!"
"That's enough, Dawn!" Buffy shouted, trying to remember how her mom spoke during these sorts of situations. Definitely time to be the Voice of Authority around here. "End of discussion. Now come on, you need to eat something before I drive you to school!"
"I'm not hungry anymore," Dawn said sullenly, staring at the ground before looking up at Buffy. "Something – or someone – has made me lose my appetite!"
"Fine, then let's get going," Buffy said, reaching out to grab her sister's arm.
"Don't touch me," Dawn snapped at her, recoiling. "Hey, I don't wanna catch any necrophilia cooties off of you!"
"What did you just say to me?!" Buffy shouted in infuriated disbelief, unable to believe that her own flesh and blood would sink to that level.
"Well, gee, Brain; I could use shorter words, but then my name's not Pinky," Dawn fired back.
Buffy grabbed Dawn's arm again; but the Key subsequently grabbed hold of Buffy's hair and started yanking and pulling to make her sister let go. It didn't take long for her to respond in kind, but luckily, Willow showed up as the fight began...
And the redhead quickly ended it, before either Dawn or herself did or said something unforgivable.
A few hours later – Sumi's Clothing, Sunnydale Mall, Sunnydale; lunchtime:
"Damn it," Xander said to himself impatiently, sitting on a chair within the clothes boutique and glancing at his watch. He and Cordelia had less than fifteen minutes before they were due to meet up with Willow in the food court, but he figured his ex-girlfriend must have forgotten that factoid – or else, because she thought she was still the Cordelia Chase of four or five years ago, the woman simply didn't care about anyone's schedule other than her own.
It had been quite the surprise arriving home, and seeing her with her natural hair color restored. He figured Cordy had probably inflicted some moderate damage on his credit card, but he could deal with that later. { It's more important to fix her memory loss, anyway, } he thought to himself. Still, this little blast from the past – keeping him waiting, while she tried on whatever clothes took her fancy – it wasn't something that Xander was particularly happy with.
He figured he'd already suffered through enough of that crap, back in high school.
More time passed, and he grew more and more impatient with every passing moment – until Cordelia finally stepped out of the change room. She was wearing a glamorette dress, something emphasizing all her curves in all the right ways. Turquoise blue, the low-cut hip-hugging outfit was definitely fetish fuel for all his teenage fantasies where his former girlfriend was concerned. Vaguely, Xander figured it was also the stuff of his current sexual fantasies...
"You like it?" Cordelia smiled, twirling around and giving him quite the eyeful.
"You look... incredible," Xander managed to say, trying not to let saliva dribble down his chin at the sight of her.
The smile on Cordelia's face was almost blinding. It was obvious she knew exactly what sort of power her body held over him, and that she was basking in the unspoken appreciation of her efforts. "Thank you."
"Come on, let's pay for the dress and get out of here," Xander said abruptly, checking his watch again. "Otherwise, we're gonna be late for our meeting with Willow."
"Yeah. Right. Wouldn't want that," Cordelia rolled her eyes, as she headed back towards the change room.
Narrowing his eyes, Xander abruptly followed her, pushing her in and closing the double doors behind him as she squawked slightly. "Hey! What are you doing in here? Damn it, Dork – OK, not really complaining as such, but you – "
"Cordelia, I think we need to clarify something right now," Xander cut her off, putting a finger to her lips. "Why did you choose this particular dress to buy, out of everything they had available in this store? And please, be honest."
"When am I ever not?" Cordelia replied, staring him right in the eye. "And, duh! Why did you think I chose something like this, an outfit which I knew would make you start drooling straightaway? Come on, Lame Brain, I'm sure even you can do that math!"
"Ohhhh... I was afraid of that," Xander sighed, leaning back against the wall.
Cordelia briefly looked confused, and it was fairly obvious that she didn't like that feeling. "What? What? The fact that I please you visually is a problem now?"
"No, Cordy, it's just... " Xander trailed off. "Well, you're making a big mistake, and I'm just trying to figure out a way to lessen the pain for once Willow gets you back to normal."
"Pain? And mistake?" Cordelia demanded, looking like she had no clue what he was talking about.
"Yeah. Look... maybe you don't get it, but this isn't the real you. Not anymore," Xander tried to explain. "Cordy, I'm flattered – I really am – but if you were in your right mind, you absolutely wouldn't be doing this right now."
"What are you talking about?!"
"You thinking up ways for us to get back together," Xander said simply, which caused her to freeze in dismay. "Truth is that here and now, you're... uh, you're like the Ghost of Girlfriends Past, if ya know what I mean? The Cordelia Chase during high school, who was an item with yours truly. But that's not who you are anymore, you understand what I'm saying? The Cordelia Chase of the present left me behind years ago and she lives in L.A. nowadays, she works with Dead Boy and the rest of his crew at that hotel on Hyperion Avenue. She hasn't spoken to me in ages, and I'm simply not part of her life anymore... "
He sighed. "That's why I'm pretty sure that once you remember who you really are, you're gonna look back on modeling this particular outfit for me – and then cringe in horror," he said, way too bluntly. "And I'd prefer to spare you that kind of pain, if I possibly can."
"You, you, you JERK!" Cordelia shouted angrily. He ignored the insult as she ranted at him, "What's the matter with you? Here am I, practically throwing myself at you – and you're trying to be all noble and self-sacrificing like this? What the hell is this crap? Why the heck won't you even try to fight for me? For us?"
"That's... complicated," Xander said feebly, rubbing the back of his neck.
"So un-complicate it!" The brunette then looked like she'd just had an epiphany. "Oh, wait, now I get it. You simply don't feel that way about me anymore, right? You love that Anya girl instead, who you left at the altar?"
"No, it's not that," Xander had an introspective look on his face for a moment. "Or at least... Cordy, even though I was happy with Anya, and I told her that I loved her and wanted to marry her – and at the time I really did, don't get me wrong – deep down, I never quite managed to fall out of love with you. I may have buried them and poured cement over the grave; but those feelings for you are still there, believe it or not."
She froze up again, apart from her mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Eventually, Cordelia cleared her throat. Then she whispered, "You never told me that you were in love with me before. Not that I can remember, anyway."
"Yeah, I know. And waiting until now to actually admit it to you, one of the biggest regrets of my life," Xander shrugged sadly. "I was going to tell you at one point during senior year, actually. But certain things happened, and afterwards – never seemed like it was appropriate to say it." He sighed again. "Like the making out with Willow, and the rebar, and everything else. I just... couldn't ever say those three words to you, especially after I stopped trying to get you back."
"Yeah. But you still haven't told me – why? I mean, what did Willow give you back then that I couldn't?" Cordelia asked, looking as if she was unsure whether she wanted to know the answer to that question.
"I dunno," Xander shrugged again. "Gotta admit, I've thought about it on and off over the years. But apart from me being a hormonal jackass, I still can't explain what happened during those six weeks. I mean, I knew it was a mistake right from the start, and so did Will... OK, she'd been in love with me since kindergarten, so that might explain her part in it. But as for me... "
He paused, briefly. "I don't know, Cor, I honestly don't. Like I said, I knew it was wrong, but I just... I basically couldn't help myself, whenever I was around Willow back then. It's no excuse, I know, it just is what it is. And even though we had sex more than once afterwards, you simply couldn't get past that sort of betrayal in order for us to officially get back together. And that's the cold harsh truth, I'm afraid."
Cordelia stared at him, before unceremoniously pushing him out of the change room. Xander stumbled for a moment, attempting to regain his footing as the woman shut the doors. She then took off the dress and changed back into her regular clothes. She quickly stormed out of the booth and over to the main sales counter – sighing loudly, Xander paid for her outfit and then followed his pissed-off ex out of the boutique.
They made their way to the main area of the mall, and Xander spied Willow's unmistakable red hair in the food court. He called out her name and waved to her.
Willow got up, smiled and waved back; but then she saw Cordelia's stormy look of fury, and to his total lack of surprise, the smile quickly vanished off her face...
Love triangles. Even if they were, like, four years out of date – and one of the girls was suffering from magical amnesia? Whew! Mess-ee.
TBC…
A/N: Seriously - you didn't think Xander and Cordelia would get back together just like that, did you? With those two, nothing is ever that simple! Plus, for the record, we should mention that in this story, the characters will occasionally call each other out on their crap. No bashing intended or desired; we're just trying to be as realistic as possible, which means people will scream and fight and argue with each other, the same way they do in real life. And they'll get in each other's faces and say hurtful things, and come up with stuff that isn't necessarily true. The characters are not always right – just right as they see it, which is different. Anyway, thanks for reading and (hopefully) reviewing the latest instalment of the story!
