Title: The Fine Line
Author: onlyann (Anne)
Posted: 01-19-2004
Email:
Rating: NC-17
Category:
Content: C/A
Summary: This is in response to a challenge posted by Psychofilly back in Sept. 2003 on the ‘Hiatus Challenge thread’.
Spoilers: BTVS Season 3
Disclaimer: The characters in the Angelverse were created by Joss Whedon & David Greenwalt. No infringement is intended, no profit is made.
Distribution:
Notes:
Feedback:
Thanks/Dedication: Becky and Kel. Those lovely talented women have given me nothing but encouragement, help, and support on this story.Part 13
Angel rolled off the king sized mattress barely taking note of the clock that told him that it was 11:00 a.m. and headed straight to the shower.
He let the water flow over him, as he remembered the night. His fist hit the tiles and he slumped against the shower wall. The lies that he had discovered were weeks in telling.
He would find Cordelia and the truth.
***
Cordelia hid her yawn against her hand. The morning sucked has much as the night had. She hadn't been able to sleep at all.
It seemed like every ten minutes she woke up trembling in fear or ready to cry. The first dream had snuck up on her. She had staged her death changed her identity moved to a small backwater town, but still Angel found her. And worse she hadn't even looked like Julia Roberts.
Then she dreamed she had trained to punch, kick and hurt in self-defense, yet she still lost, and was stuck in a damp dreary cave prison. She hadn't looked like Ashley Judd, and the psychotic hadn’t looked like Angel, but in her dream she knew it was him.
And for the rest of the night dreams of Angel’s anger and torture kept her tossing and turning.
She had barely stayed awake in the shower, but by the time she got out and dressed she felt better, exhausted but no longer feeling the lingering fears of the dream.
Then everything started to suck again when she got to school and found her locker had been destroyed along with about half of the student population’s’.
And now, her history teacher was aiding her exhaustion by putting her to sleep.
“Cordelia.”
Cordy looked up to find her teacher staring at her.
“Yes?” She asked, resting her elbows on her desk.
“Clearly, you’re too ‘tired’ to answer our question.”
Cordelia leaned back crossing her arms. She was so not in the mood. “Repeat the question, please.”
“My question was about the Declaration of Independence.”
“What do you want to know about it? Some trivia about Thomas Jefferson, the guy that paraphrased John Locke and others to write the whole thing? Or something about the whole ‘ self-evident truths’ sentiment and then let’s-kick-Britain’s-butt-cry. Or were you asking about how not PC it really was? You know, 'One people'…'We the people'…'All men are created equal” meaning of course, as long as you were a white male property owner?” Cordelia looked up at her teacher.
“I…I…” The teacher glanced to the clock. “It’s seems…um..the class is over. Time to go.”
Cordelia got up as the bell rang, gathering her books and ignoring the snickers that were being directed towards the stuttering teacher.
God, how long would the day last? She leaned against the hallway wall as the students lucky enough to still have lockers scrambled to them.
She flinched as her cell vibrated in her pocket. She had five missed calls starting at 5: 00 a.m. She was scared to answer it or find out what the calls she missed could mean.
She took a deep breath. “Hello?”
“Honey, are you alright? Where are you? Why didn’t you answer?" Miss Twittle’s concerned voice filtered through the phone.
Cordelia knew she wasn’t going to like this. “I turned it off to save my batteries after I talked to you. Is something wrong?”
“Where are you?”
“I’m at school. What happened?”
“He broke into the store. The police didn’t find a body, but hopefully the shotgun has incapacitated him. But still you better be careful. Your file is gone. I should’ve burnt it. I’m sorry. But, Barney will be happy to go to the school in case he shows there. Barney has a .48 and a .32 strapped to his ankle.”
Cordelia’s mind froze. “I’m okay,” she answered. “You shot him?”
“Oh no. I set up a gun trap in the store. It worked. I wasn’t sure. It was the first time I actually tired it. I’m quite excited.”
Cordelia shook her head and locked her knees to keep from slumping down to the floor. “Miss Twittle?”
“Gladys, dear.”
“Right. Gladys.” Cordelia gulped, praying. “There was no sign that anybody had been injured?”
“No. The police didn’t find any signs of it.”
Cordelia couldn’t believe it. The woman was disappointed that there wasn’t a dead guy on the floor.
She pressed her palm in between her eyes. Her lie had gotten so out of control. “The police? What did you tell them?”
“I’m afraid that I had to give them a description of your stalker. They were getting quite testy about the trap, so I had to explain it.” Miss Twittle huffed.
“Great.” Cordelia didn’t know if she could handle the picture of Miss Twittle in a cage built by her lies. Angel wasn’t going to like being arrested. Hopefully, the Sunnydale police would exhibit their usual inability to investigate anything that wasn’t up in their face.
“Um, Gladys, I have to go to my next class. I’ll see you at work.” Cordelia needed to run and hide.
“Oh no, dear, the shop has to be closed for repairs. The shotgun blast broke the front window and door. I’ll let you know when it’s re-opened. Honey?”
Cordelia stared at the phone. Oh god. Her lie hadn’t stopped her from getting fired. It made her job explode into nothing. “My job?” Cordelia tried to keep the panic out of her voice.
“Of course, you’ll have your job when the store is re-opened. That reminds me. I need your address.”
“My address?”
“Don’t worry, dear. I’ll keep it safe. I’ve learned my lesson. But, I do need it for your paychecks.”
“My paychecks?”
“Yes, dear, the one from last pay period and future ones.”
A smidgeon of hope sparked against Cordelia’s panic. “Future?”
“Of course, dear, I have informed Mrs. Macintosh how much the sales have increased since your employment. She doesn’t wish to take the chance of losing you to another store while The Dress Place is being repaired. Unfortunately, it will only be the hourly wage as the shop won’t be open for you to make any commissions.”
“You did that? ” Cordelia locked her knees together again to stop from falling to the floor. “ Oh. Okay. I’m staying…”
“No. Dear. Not over your cell phone. They are notoriously unsafe. The calls can be intercepted.”
“Oh.” Cordelia rubbed her temples. “Um, I have a P.O. Box, I can tell you that.” Cordelia waited. “Miss Twittle?” She asked into the silence.
“I’m not sure,” Miss Twittle said finally. “They can be traced. To be safe, I still suggest going to a pay phone.”
“Pay phone?” Cordelia tried to think. There were two in the cafeteria. “I can call at lunch.”
“Lovely. Now write this down. 555-2345.”
“Miss Twittle, are you sure no one was injured at the shop?”
“We could only wish, dear. Have fun at school.”
‘Have fun’? Cordelia’s head was spinning. Miss Twittle was seriously disturbed and completely wonderful. Cordelia was still going to get paid.
Cordelia scrunched up her forehead. What if Miss Twittle was wrong? What if the burglar had been injured? Oh god. What if it had been Angel?
Cordelia glanced at her watch. 11:30 am. She was going to have to skip her next class and go to Angel’s. She wasn’t sure exactly where he lived, but she had an idea from Buffy’s monologues about Angel-angst during her times at the Scoobies' after school meetings.
Cordelia could find him. She had to. She wouldn’t be able to concentrate until she was sure he was all right. If he weren’t Miss Twittle’s culprit, then she’d figure out some sort of explanation about why she was there. If he was the culprit, she had no idea what to say. But that nightmare didn’t change her need to go.
Cordelia looked around. All the students had scattered into their respective classes and there were no teachers around. She had a clear shot off campus.
She quickened her pace to the doors but gave a muffled scream as she was suddenly swung up and carried into a supply closet.
Cordelia was dumped unceremoniously on the floor, her mouth still covered by an unmovable hand. Her eyes squinted at Angel as he raised his finger to his lips.
Cordelia slowly nodded, relieved to see him but still more than a little freaked.
Angel waited a full beat until he was sure that she wouldn’t yell out. Once he was satisfied, he stood and pulled the chain to illuminate the room. His satisfaction that he had caught her hadn’t in anyway diffused his anger. He could only hope that Cordelia was smart enough to tell the truth.
He was thrown for a loop, when Cordelia suddenly started moving her hands rapidly over his chest. “Are you hurt? Please, tell me that you didn’t break into the store. Tell me you didn’t get shot,” she hurriedly begged. “Tell me.”
“I didn’t get shot.”
“Oh thank god.” She wrapped her arms tightly around him.
Angel looked down at the dark hair buried under his chin unsure what to do with his hands or what to say. He wanted to tell her that her arms around him would go a long way in making the talk they were going to have easier on both of them.
Her embrace had caused more of a dent in his anger than any words could. If she had just done that last night, a lot of aggravation and property damage could've have been avoided.
He held on to her wrists as she stepped back.
“I swear, Angel, I had no idea about the shot gun. She didn’t call me until just now. Well, she called earlier but my phone was off.”
Angel gazed into her eyes. “Why?”
“In case you broke in, I guess,” she shrugged and then looked up at him. “Why in the world would you break in? You have something against dresses?”
“Answer the question.” Angel wasn’t prepared to discuss his frantic need to find her or the increasing rage in his failure. “I think it is only fair, since something you told her almost got me shot.”
Cordelia winced.
Angel hadn’t really believed that Cordelia had wanted him to get shot, but her embarrassment and regret knocked his anger down another notch.
“I had no clue that Miss Twittle would be so --- into it all. All I wanted --” She stopped to glare up the vampire. “It’s all your fault.”
Angel arched his eyes brows. “Really?”
“I get that I made you mad by saying that your were Bu ----” she paused, obviously rethinking the direction of her words. “Could you let my arms go, please?” She shot him her most charming smile.
Angel studied her hands in his. He didn’t want to.
“Come on, Angel,” she complained.
Angel dropped her hands before the temptation to brush beneath Cordelia’s sleeves could take hold.
“Hmmph,” Cordelia automatically rubbed at her wrist. “It’s all your fault.”
“You said that already.” He suddenly frowned at her actions. “Did I hurt you?” He snatched a wrist examining it for redness.
“No. Geez.” She pulled back, and then shot a finger into his chest. “If you hadn’t tried to get me fired I never would’ve had to make up the story.”
Her hurt glare made him want to defend himself. “I didn’t…”
“Did to.” She poked again.
“Stop that.” He grabbed at the offending hand, keeping it in his.
“No.” She poked him a third time.
“Yes.” He manipulated her hand so that it was imprisoned against his chest.
Cordelia tugged. “Let me go.” Her glare turned suddenly to curiosity. “Hey, you don’t have a heart beat,” she exclaimed, wiggling her fingers underneath his hand seeking out more chest area to test. Angel dropped his hand in astonishment, the action giving Cordy’s hand more room to move.
“I’m a vampire, Cordelia. Dead.” He couldn’t take his eyes of the hand brushing along his sweater, dueling with the amazement of her actions and cursing the material of his sweater for blocking the heat.
“Duh.” She rolled her eyes. “But, I never felt a non-beating heart.” She fisted her hand and gently knocked as she leaned in closer.
“What are you doing?”
“Seeing if you echo,” she said, stifling her giggle.
“I’m dead, not hollow.”
She shot him a laughing smile.
Angel frowned at her smile. It was real, it was beautiful, and he didn’t want to stop it. But he had to know the truth. “Your story.”
“Oh right.” Cordelia’s shoulders slumped. “Can we take this out of the closet? I don’t like closets.”
“Don’t stall.”
“I’m not.” She puffed out her cheeks. “I don’t like them. Bad memories. Xander.”
“What does he have to do with your fear of closets?” Angel's mind swerved with the change of topic.
“Not afraid of them, it’s just that Xander and I…” A blush crept up her neck. “Nevermind, here’s fine.”
Their constant battling had made him forget Cordelia and Xander’s previous romantic relationship. For some reason, even the thought of it made him angry.
Cordelia sighed. “Miss Twittle had just been waiting to get something on me and you gave her that something with your stupid lie.” Cordelia glared and then rolled her eyes at his incomprehension.
“Oh, don’t give me that look. You set me up. She jumped all over the fact that I didn’t have a clue about a man coming into the store to order a dress for his mother. She wouldn’t believe me that it never happened. She was too busy going on and on about how handsome you were. Pfft, mother, my butt.” She glared at Angel. “So, I told her you weren’t a customer, but a psycho stalker and that you may have…” Cordelia bit her lip, her glare shifting to one of sweet innocence.
Angel was almost afraid to hear what Cordelia hoped her sugared-coated glance would dilute. He nodded for her to go on.
“Um, that you may have killed your mother, your father, and an old girlfriend that you drove crazy before you killed her, who happened to have dark hair.” She said quickly. “I didn’t tell her you were a ‘grr’, though, I swear,” she said, patting his arm, as if it made it all better.
Angel shook his head. “I guess I should be grateful, other wise the home made burglar alarm would’ve been equipped with a crossbow.”
Cordelia winched again. “I had no idea, really. She sucked up the melodrama and danger bit like that.” Cordelia snapped her fingers. “Letting me go home early, park up front, even hired a security guard. She’s been really nice. It’s weird. OH.” Cordelia squeezed her eyes tight, peeking at Angel. “She gave your description to the police.”
“So, I’m going to be arrested for stalking you?” Angel was conflicted. In one lie Cordelia had enraged him, yet, he couldn’t quite get past the sweet smile and the diabolical effectiveness of the lie.
“The Sunnydale Police Department is pretty bad,” Cordelia said encouragingly. “So, I wouldn’t worry too much.” She patted his arm again. “I told you everything and I have to go to class. Glad you weren’t shot.” She quickly reached for the doorknob.
“No, you didn’t.” Angel held the door shut.
“Yes, I did.” She turned crossing her arms.
“No, you haven’t told me why you’ve been lying about where you’ve been living.”
“I haven’t.”
“Yes, Cordelia you have. Tell me.”
“Where I live is none of your business,” Cordelia snapped, her eyes widening. “You broke in to the store to find out where I live, didn’t you.” Cordelia stepped back. “You really ARE stalking me.”
“I was worried.”
“Why?”
Angel hoped that he could convince her. Because her refusal to tell him the truth would just piss him off again, otherwise.
“You weren’t at work. Miss Twittle told me that you’d gone home sick. Both she and security guard were acting suspicious. Of course, now I understand why. But at the time, I didn’t and decided to see if you were all right. But that was difficult because you don’t seem to live anywhere.”
“I live somewhere.” Cordelia shifted her feet.
“Where? Cordelia, just tell me. It’s only fair, isn’t it, since your lie almost got me shot and could get me arrested.”
“You started it,” Cordelia protested. “Why did you come back anyway? You had already had done your damage.”
Angel sighed. “I wasn’t trying to get you fired, okay? I just wanted to know how many nights you were going to continue to be reckless and walk by yourself. The story seemed the best way.”
“Why do you care?”
Angel slowly brought her chin up with his finger. “Because, contrary to your opinion of me, I do care about other things than Buffy, including stubborn young women who don’t have the sense to at least take the proper precautions when walking alone at night.”
“I took precautions, I had ---”
“The spray of holy water you wanted me to stand there and wait for? I could’ve had you by the throat in a second.”
“I didn’t have a choice. I had to work.” She stepped back.
“Is Europe ---“ Angel paused, comprehension dawning. “You lied about that too.”
Cordelia closed her eyes. “I got a room at a motel on Riverside, okay? Miss Twittle suggested I go there after I told her that you were a crazy stalker. I did it to make her happy.”
“No, Cordelia.” Angel wasn’t about to just accept her sudden willingness to answer one question to avoid another as the truth.
“Yes, Angel.”
“Cordelia, I broke into the store. I took your file. Are you saying that prior to last night you were living in a open field?” Angel wished she’d just tell him.
Cordelia shoulders slumped. “What do you want from me?”
“The truth.”
“I’m staying a motel on Riverside. That is the truth, okay?”
Angel studied her. He believed her, but she was still hiding something. Angel thought back to what he learned last night. “Your parents aren’t in Europe. Where are they?”
Cordelia held his stare for a moment then looked to the floor. “I don’t know.” Cordelia finally admitted in a small voice.
“You aren’t working to go to Europe. You’re working to survive.”
Cordelia’s eyes hardened. “You will not tell anyone. No one.”
“Cordelia, you can’t stay in that hotel alone. Not, if it’s the one I’m thinking of. It’s not safe.”
“I am eighteen, not twelve. I can take care of myself.”
“Stay with friends.”
“What friends?” Cordelia spit out a chuckle.
Angel winced. “Cordelia.”
“Shut up.” Her tone was as glacial as her expression. “You got your ‘truth’ and I hope you choke on it. And stay the hell away from me.” She reached for the door.
Angel didn’t stop her. “Not fucking likely,” he said lowly as the door slammed shut.
***
Angel stopped from kicking through the door and going after her. Rushing wasn’t the way to accomplish…
What? He smashed the palm of his hands into his eyes. Angel bore down further until the pressure brought some clarity to his thoughts.
He couldn’t go running after her. It was in the middle of the day. He knew where she would be for the next few hours. It would be insane just to sit in the closet and wait for her to pass by so he could yank her back into the small space.
Angel pulled out the hair scrunchy. It was coated in the false smells of shampoo and hair spray. Cordy’s scent was there but he needed more.
Angel leaned towards the door. The halls were silent, so he started out into the hallway. His feet took him to a science class and Cordelia sitting at a small desk. He frowned, barging into the room and holding her down wasn’t the way. He concentrated and turned down the hall towards the gym. He stilled at the sight of the students playing volleyball, and then slipped through the doors, staying in the shadows until he got to the locker room. His nose twitched as one scent out of many drew him to a long metal cabinet.
He studied the locked container for a moment, then ripped at the combination lock and opened the door. This was true Cordelia, or at least as true as he would get right then. He blocked out the artificial aroma of deodorant and perfume targeting the soiled clothes shoved to the bottom. He brought her t-shirt to his nose.
The material held everything and the answer he sought. He felt better and conversely his body itched at the same time. It wasn’t that he had somehow failed in his ability to identify Cordy’s scent, not completely. The underlying spice was more than one single thing, it was deeper, and more taunting than anything he could’ve labeled with a simple euphemism.
The problem had been that he separated the elementally female part of her, the scent of earth and the primordial promise of life, with the unidentifiable scent. All women had the other to a certain extent, blooming when the blood and body matured to ensure childbirth and fading as the time passed, nature’s way of ensuring that males recognized the holder of the life of the species.
But now he realized that he couldn’t discount the universal scent of women, in his questioning. In Cordelia, the scent of pure female was wrapped up and blended with sex, sin, sweetness, fire and innocence taking nature’s insurance to a whole new level. It was an enthralling flavor that was in place to do more than signal procreation, it was designed to tempt and drive the male of the species crazy with the promise of impossible pleasure.
Stupid. He had been searching for another Irish flower or exotic spice. Instead he should’ve been searching for every man’s Mecca.
Angel shoved the t-shirt into his jacket. The girl was in danger. He wondered how she stayed safe for so long. She was as vulnerable as a bitch in season. Unknowingly, she would get herself hurt or killed just by being.
It wouldn’t happen. He would make sure of it. He shoved the broken metal piece back into the joke of a lock and gave a slight tug, smiling, as it didn’t fall open in his hands, but in fact refused to budge.
He left through the gym’s showers down into one of the several entrances to the tunnels that weaved under the school. His hands shoved into his clothes, fingers twirling the stolen fabric.
Part 14
Cordelia took a deep breath before pushing into the library. She wished that she had Miss Twittle's shotgun to use on the sophomoric asshole that made her locker unusable. Then again, maybe she would save the shotgun for the idiot school maintenance squad that said it would take at least two weeks to get all the lockers fixed.
Even better, maybe she’d just blast Principal Snyder. After all it was his directive that required all students with broken lockers to use the library’s cubicles as makeshift safety zones for their belongings.
The only saving grace was seeing the pained expressions on Buffy, Xander, and Willow’s faces as they huddled with Giles in front of his office. The steady flow of students into their freak-safe-haven every 50 minutes was causing them ulcers.
She shook her head. Thoughts of the Scoobies only brought her mind back to Angel. She didn’t get him. He hadn’t been half as mad as she thought he would be. Sure. He must have been pissed if he came to the school during the day, but he seemed to have calmed down after awhile. Cordelia frowned as she put her books in the cubicle. Would he tell?
She jerked as a hand touched her shoulder.
Oh God, not now. Cordelia turned to look at Xander. If some one pinned her down and forced her to talk, she couldn’t explain why she had begun to love the moron. She guessed under the pain of death she would admit, that for a dork he was really cute and could be amazingly brave. Not mention the tingling in her belly as their lips clashed.
“What do you want?” she asked not quite able to manage her usual cutting tone.
“I…”Xander fumbled his words.
“Figures. Sentences still hard for you, huh?” she said as she picked up the books she would need for homework. “Save it, until you learn.” She left not waiting for his comeback.
“Xander, are you all right? Maybe, you shouldn’t talk to her.” Willow came up to his side.
***
The hall was clearing, the students rushing to get out of school. Cordelia forced her feet not to run with them, past them and straight back into her bed.
“Cordy.”
Cordelia paused and turned. Could this day get any worse? She gathered her strength. Xander would think nothing of her weakness. Harmony, however, would zero in on any sign of weakness. It was one of the many talents that Cordy had been able to teach her on their rise as the “popular of the popular”. But, no matter how downtrodden, and fucked her life had become Cordy was still the teacher in this particular duo, hell trio, she added, as Aura moved up quickly. Cordelia adjusted her books and angled her chin up.
“Yes.” Cordy’s tone was appropriately condescending.
Harmony smirked. “Dissing me? I don’t think so, I wasn’t the one who resorted to not only dating a loser, but also hanging with his loser friends.” Harmony flipped her long blond hair over her shoulder.
“Harm.” Cordelia returned the smirk, along with a more practiced hair flip. “You stopped me, wanting to chit- chat.” Cordelia raised a forefinger to her chin. “Do tell, what I have I done to earn the honor?”
Harmony bristled. “YOU…” She stopped as Aura smacked her arm.
“Cordy, do what you want, but don’t drag us into you ‘working experiences," Aura huffed.
Cordelia put on a fake apologetic smile. “Oh, has the word gotten out? Don’t worry.” Her hard gaze glittered towards Harmony. “I only told your mom that Starbucks has an opening.” Cordelia then turned to Aura. “I’m afraid with your mom, I could only think of the Doublemeat Palace. I hated to do it, considering the absolute bad hair that the cute hat would cause.”
Aura reached for her shirt. “I can’t. I won’t. Cordy. Please. Stop it.”
Cordy knocked away Aura’s hands. “I wouldn’t know how.”
“Cordy,” both Harmony and Aura shouted.
“What do you want me to do?”
“Quit.”
“I can’t.” She shrugged. “Daddy is really set on me working.”
“He’s on some old people honeymoon with your mom. He’ll never know.” Harmony exclaimed. “Okay, look, just meet us at the Bronze, that’s all we ask.” She smiled winningly.
“Um, why?” Cordy cocked her head.
“To be with friends of course.” Harmony nodded. “You need us to get you back on top.”
Cordelia raised both brows. “I’m okay where I’m at. You both seem to be the ones in need.”
“Cordy, do something. I don’t want to work.”
“Me, either,” Aura echoed Harmony’s plea.
“I don’t know.” Cordelia turned away
Harmony pulled at her. “Just come to the Bronze tonight.”
“Hands." Cordelia peered at Harmony's grip on her arm. "You'll wrinkle the shirt."
Harmony immediately dropped her hand. "Cordy. Please."
"Maybe.” Cordelia said as she turned away, her long hair snapping in a dismissive flip.
Cordelia couldn’t hide the wide smile that formed on her face as she left the school. She hadn't even had to lift a finger. It was almost too easy.
Part 15
Angel’s nails dug into his palms as he stared at the yellow police tape and plastic blue tarp protecting the front of The Dress Place. The gentle evening breeze caused a corner of the plastic to flap over the ‘closed for repair’ sign. The crunch of glass under his boot reminded him of how close he had come the night before to being scattered on the sidewalk like the rest of the debris.
Angel pushed down his irritation. He had wasted valuable time going to the store. He needed to find Cordy NOW.
***
Angel stood on the perimeters of the dirty pink stucco two-story motel. He cursed the breeze and the muddle of scents it brought towards him. He couldn’t even be tempted by the multiple whiffs of human blood. They were too diluted with chemicals, alcohol, and disease. The bums, addicts, and hookers that inhabited the two story old motel were as decayed as the building.
Angel willed the oppressive scents away and concentrated on locating Cordelia.
His feet automatically followed the trail into the heart of the cesspool, slipping past a blonde hooker servicing a customer in a junked car and bypassing a stoned long-haired man mumbling as he traveled in wider and wider circles trying to find the way out of the parking lot. Any satisfaction Angel received from his discovery of Cordelia paled in his anger at her presence in the place. She didn’t belong there.
Angel frowned up to the second story and the door that hid Cordelia from his view. The protection of the motel was a joke.
The metal bars that hugged the second floor walkway offered less coverage than an old Band-aid. The lone bulb attached to the wall cast a sickly glow on the cheap door to Cordelia’s room.
Angel glanced around, his eyes fixing on a near by tree. He leaped to the deep curve of its branches, now eye level with the room.
He watched as Cordelia’s towel-draped form passed by the window. His eyes narrowed on the thin cotton that was twisted above her full breast and fell snug over her curved hips, more of an invitation to touch rather than a shield.
Angel leaned further away from the security of the tree, trying to catch another glimpse of the dark hair, sun-kissed shoulders and the body covered by white cotton. Angel peered in closer as Cordelia appeared once more. His knuckles whitened around an overhead branch, snapping the thick wood as she pulled down a plastic shade and blocked his vision.
He sat in the confines of the tree pondering his options. Angel threw aside his first instinct, which called for him to just go up and yank her out of her room.
Angel paused, studying the merits of his second instinct to kill all of the potential threats that were disguised derelicts, junkies, and hookers.
Angel didn’t have a third instinct so he jumped to the ground ready to go with the first.
Angel’s first and second instincts vanished as he heard opening and closing of a door and the clicking of heels.
Part 16
Cordelia locked the door to her room, testing it once, before stuffing her keys in her jean jacket. She narrowed her eyes at the flickering yellow bulb. The manager still hadn't changed it. Tomorrow she'd go out and buy a bright 100-watt bulb. She hated to spend the money, but she hated the gloomy shadows generated by the weak bulb more.
She glanced at her watch. She wasn't going to be as fashionably late as she wanted, but she couldn't sit in her room any longer listening to Tommy’s cries through the walls.
Cordelia turned to look over the railing, spotting the junked car. She hoped that Sandy would be done with her customer soon and get back to her baby. She looked again, relieved to see that at least Bruno's jacked up Trans Am wasn't in the parking lot. Cordelia peered into the dimness, shaking her head at the lone form circling the parking lot. "Come on, Tony, you can do it." She couldn’t help but smile, though she knew she shouldn’t. But it was so sad that she couldn’t do anything but laugh.
Cordelia sighed and turned to walk to the stairs. "Hey, Chuck," she said to the dirty man slouched up against the wall half-way down the stairs. A bottle dressed in brown paper was clutched to his chest.
The bum grunted and dragged his feet to let her get by.
Cordelia paused on the pavement of the parking lot. Her mother and father would be appalled that she actually knew the names of the few permanent residents of the fleabag motel. But since they were the reason she was there, screw ‘em. She rolled her shoulders, pushing away the memories of her parents.
Cordelia hadn't planned on meeting or talking to any of the occupants of the motel. But it had been kind of hard to maintain snobby disdain when she was forced by her own pathetic circumstances to live there also.
She narrowed her eyes as a thin woman dressed in a leopard skin mini, fishnets stocking, and a red tube top came tittering forward on plastic spiked slip-ons, her stained pink boa trailing behind her. “This is my spot, you fucking bitch.”
“Hi, Sandy.” Cordelia sighed, stepping further into the weak glow provided by the parking lot lights.
The hooker clamped her mouth shut. “Cordy?” Sandy moved closer, tugging at her black bra strap. “I’m sorry, I thought…” She shrugged embarrassedly. “Aren’t you supposed to be working?”
“Store’s closed. Tommy's crying, Sandy. He shouldn't be alone."
“I have to work, Cordy. Bruno will…”
“Tommy’s your baby. He needs you more than that asshole needs another …employee. Let him work for a change.”
“Cordy, I can’t do that.”
Cordelia sighed again at the guilt and fear on the woman’s face. “Here.” Cordy reached into her purse, picking the first envelope she felt. She dug through the envelope labeled ‘food’ and pulled out some bills. “Take this.” She shoved it towards the woman.
Stringy platinum hair fell in Sandy’s face as she shook her head. “Bruno will kill me.”
"Just take it."
Sandy reached out clutching at Cordy’s arm rather than the money. “You have to stop doing this. Bruno doesn’t like you interfering. He’ll kill us both.”
“I’m not scared of him.” Cordelia forced out the words.
Sandy pushed back her hair displaying a black eye. “You should be.”
Cordelia closed her eyes briefly at the injury. "He didn't do that because of me."
"No.” Sandy shook her head. "I wasn't feeling well enough to work the other night. But, Cordy, he will do it to YOU if you keep trying to help me. You've got to stop."
Cordelia still held out the money. What was she doing? She needed the money and Sandy's pimp of a husband did scare her. "Take it." Cordelia said with more determination.
Cordelia was pretty sure she wasn't helping for compassionate reasons. Sandy scared her, too. Not in the same way as Bruno, but in an even more terrifying way. Sandy had once been a teenager left to fend for herself and life had just kept on kicking her down. Sandy was the victim that Cordelia never wanted to be.
Most of the time, Cordelia could convince herself that it wouldn't happen. But sometimes when she saw Sandy, she doubted and it frightened the hell out of her.
So, Cordelia forced herself to believe that the only way not to get trampled by life was to fight back and that meant not being scared of men like Bruno.
Cordelia pushed the wad of bills at Sandy. "Just tell him you earned it. Take it. Tommy needs you upstairs not down here looking for more tricks." She ordered.
Sandy paused, looking up at faint sound of a baby crying. She took the money, squeezing Cordelia’s hand quickly. “Thank you, you’re an angel,” she whispered running towards the stairs.
Cordelia turned watching Sandy run up the stairs. “Yeah, right,” she mumbled.
The sound of brakes squealing on the pavement had her turning. "Oh. Damn." She whispered. She stood straight, refusing to let the fear in her belly take over as Bruno's Trans Am stopped between her and her car.
“Mother fucker.” A wiry bald man, with tattoos covering his neck and head jumped out of his car and rushed towards Cordelia. "I saw that, bitch, I’m going to kill you. I warned you... "
Cordelia blinked as a dark solid body moved in front of her, blocking her from the rest of Bruno's threat.
“Angel?” Cordelia moved slightly to see her rescuer better.
Angel ignored her. “Is there a problem here?” He leaned into the smaller man.
“Who the fuck are you? Get out of my way. I’m going to kill that bitch.” The words choked as Angel’s fist tightened around the man’s throat.
“THAT bitch is mine.” Angel wrenched Bruno closer and shifted into his game face. “Touch her. I’ll kill you.”
Angel yanked Bruno off the ground. “You can’t even imagine all that I can do to you before you die.”
“Holy shit,” Bruno gasped and squirmed.
Angel's chuckle sent chills up Cordy's spine.
Angel squeezed harder, his smirk becoming wickeder as Bruno turned blue.
“Angel. STOP.” Cordelia yanked at Angel’s arm. “Please. You can’t hurt him. You can’t.”
Angel’s grip remained firm. He turned to Cordelia. “This piece of shit threatened you,” he snarled.
“He’s all talk.” She shoved aside the relief that she had first felt when she saw Angel. She was alone and men like Bruno were everywhere. But Angel wouldn't be. She had to be strong on her own.
“Put him down.” She ordered.
“Fine.” Angel grunted harshly, dropping the man to the ground. .
Cordelia snagged, Bruno’s jacket, stopping his frantic retreat with a quick yank and sharp words. “You know what, if you so much as yell at Sandy or Tommy, or use her again in anyway, I’ll tell him.” She pointed to Angel. “And you’ll be dead in a very painful 30 minutes. So, I suggest you keep on running.”
Angel stepped forward growling at the man.
"Shit. “ Bruno jumped into his car.
"Bastard," Cordelia muttered. She turned to Angel and put her hand on his arm. "Angel."
Angel slowly turned towards her.
"You can stop with the 'grr' routine now." She gestured up to his game face.
Angel’s gold eyes flickered then switched to deep brown as the brow ridges faded into the smooth planes of his forehead. "He could've killed you."
His words were still low and menacing. "Um, no.” Cordelia tugged at her jean jacket, her hands fidgeting over her slim red skirt. "Great follow-through on the whole bluffing thing. Thanks. I bet he won't be hitting Sandy anymore." She smiled encouragingly.
"I wasn't bluffing."
Cordelia took a step back at Angel’s hard stare.
“Um. Okay.” Angel’s onyx eyes were boring into her. She didn’t like it.
Cordelia stuffed her hands in her jean jacket, jingling her car keys. “Well, thanks.” She turned to her car.
Angel jerked her towards him.
“This Bruno,” Angel said with a calculated calmness, “lives here. Near you. Which room?”
Cordelia stepped back as far as Angel’s hands would allow. “Why? You scared him away already,” she said quickly. “And you’re kind of scaring me right now,” she blurted.
Angel took a deep breath, slowly dragging his hands from her shoulders down her arms until they touched her fingers, squeezing once before letting go. “I…I’m sorry.” Angel shoved his hands into his pockets.
“Um. Okay. Sure.” She wiggled her tingling fingers for a moment then stuffed them back into her jean jacket. “Why are you here?”
When he didn’t answer, she looked up at him. “Well?” She stopped to face him.
“Bullets hurt.”
“Uh.” She wrinkled her brow. “Bullets?” She covered her face with her hands. “Was it the police or Miss Twittle?” She peeked through her fingers. “Wait. You don’t look like you’ve been shot.”
Angel pulled her hands down. “I haven’t been. But I could’ve been. And I want you to fix it. I don’t want to be a bullet-ridden victim of Miss Twittle or an over-anxious security guard.”
Cordelia took a deep breath. “Fix it? How am I supposed to do that?”
“I want the truth.”
“I told you.”
"Not to me."
“You want me to tell the truth to Miss Twittle.” She threw up her hands. “Angel, the truth is I thought a revenge minded VAMPIRE stalker was trying to get me fired. That’s what you want me to tell?” She dropped her hands onto her hips.
“No. AND I wasn’t trying to get you fired.”
“Whatever.” She brushed the hair away from her face. “Which truth then?”
“The one where I didn’t kill my parents or a dark haired girl I was obsessed with.”
“That’s not a lie.” She raised a brow.
He glared. “That particular truth was over a 150 years ago, without a soul, and you know that. I’m NOT stalking you.”
She tilted her head. “I don’t know, Angel, you followed me to my locker to walk me to my car in the daylight.” She held up a finger, emphasizing her point. “Then you show up where I work.” She lifted a second finger. “Then you break into The Dress Place to find out where I live.” A third finger went up. “Then you show up in school, in the daylight, to drag me into a closet.” Her pinky went up. She was running out of fingers. “Then you show up here.” Cordelia stuck up her thumb. “I don’t know. I think it would hold up in a court of law.” She waggled her fingers at him.
Angel was still staring at her.
“Oh, all right.” Angel was sorely lacking in a sense of humor. “I’ll think of something. I don’t know what, but I will. Satisfied?”
Cordy dropped her hand and found her keys in her pocket. “Look, I’ve got to go. I’ll think of something. Bye.” She moved quickly towards her car.
“Where are you going?”
Cordelia turned around. “Geez, for a minute there, I thought you lost your ability to speak."
"Where are you going?" Angel repeated.
"Your business how?”
“Just asking.”
Cordelia narrowed her eyes. “Bronze.”
“Good, you can give me a ride.” Angel moved quickly to the passenger door.
“What?”
“What if a cop sees me? You have to give me a ride.”
“I said I was sorry.”
“No, actually you didn’t.”
Cordelia frowned. “Yes, I did.”
“No. You didn’t. You just hugged me. And then tested if I echoed.”
Cordelia stared at Angel. Was he laughing at her?
“My ride?” He raised his brows.
Cordelia narrowed her eyes. “I don’t think you’re scared of being shot.”
“I didn’t say I was. I just said it would hurt. My ride?” Angel shrugged.
“You’re going to the Bronze?”
“Yes.”
“Buffy?”
“She’ll be there.”
“Figures.” She mumbled, walking to the driver's side. "Um, Angel, you didn’t tell her did you? I mean, you never actually said you wouldn’t.”
Angel waited at the passenger door. “You ordered me not to, didn’t you?”
She pointed to the smile on his face. “Are you laughing at me?”
"Never." His smile disappeared. "So, are you going to let me in?” He knocked at the car window.
“I’m not living in my car, you don’t need to be invited in.”
“It’s locked.”
“Right. Okay.” She got into the car leaning over to unlock the passenger door.
“Thank you.” Angel slid into the car.
.
***
Cordelia decided that the easiest thing to do about Angel was ignore him. She had to wash away the memory of the motel, Sandy and Bruno. She had to get prepared for her little meeting with Harmony and the rest. She raised her hands off the steering wheel and curled her fingers, thinking I'm Cordelia Chase, I don't give a damn what anyone thinks.
"Cordelia." Angel's hand shot out to capture the steering wheel.
"What?"
"Hands on the wheel.”
"I wasn't going to wreck. Geez." She rolled her eyes, but put her hands back on the wheel.
"Yet." He retorted. "Why were you clawing at the air?"
Instead of answering she turned on the radio and cranked up the volume. She gave a pleased grin. The loud music effectively drowned out Angel’s presence. She could concentrate on the process of getting back into the groove of being Queen C, ruler of the Cordettes.
Angel turned of the radio with a decisive click.
"Hey, why did you do that?” Cordelia smacked his hand from the power switch and turned the radio back on.
Angel pushed her hand, switching the radio off again. "I've lived for over 200 years with hearing, I’d like to live the next the same way." He grabbed her hand as she reached back for the power button. "I'll break it,” he warned.
"My hand?" she squeaked.
"The radio.”
She tried to tug her hand away. "You know, I did you a favor, letting you ride with me so you can hurry to Buffy-gaze. You could at least be nice."
Angel’s gaze shot back up to Cordelia’s. He released her hand and turned the radio back on adjusting the volume. “Just not so loud. Please.”
“Okay.” Cordelia put both hands on the steering wheel. She shoved down the jitters in her stomach. It was only in her imagination that Angel had refused to let her hand go.
***
"We’re here.” Cordelia grabbed her purse from the back seat as she got out. She leaned back in the car. “The Bronze is that way.” She jabbed her finger over her shoulder.
"I know where the Bronze is.” .
She crossed her arms and tapped her foot as Angel slowly exited the car. “You’re welcome.”
"Thank you for not getting me killed and for not causing hearing loss.”
"Whatever.” She bent down to lock the car. Once done, she hurried for the door of the club.
"Are you in a hurry?”
"Yes." Cordelia looked over her shoulder. “And before we start, here’s the rule: In there, you do not exist to me. Got it?”
His eyebrows rose.
She smoothed down her jean jacket and red dress, taking a deep breath. “I’m Cordelia Chase and I look great,” she said, taking no more notice of Angel as she went into the club.
Continue on...