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. Ryan Chamberlain and Kevin Collins- characters belonging to General Hospital – Jill F. Phelps, Executive Procedure; Port Charles Julie Carrruthers, Executive Procedure.
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 25
Cordelia ignored the sounds of the grunts, yells, and catcalls that echoed in the gym. She was just glad that she wasn’t out there getting all sweaty playing volleyball. She shifted a bit, trying to get more comfortable in her bleacher seat and buried her head in the Soap Opera Digest.
She didn’t get it. She’d found the section on Port Charles, but nothing on Ryan Chamberlian.
She was tempted to just chuck the magazine. She may have to go with her first idea.
“Cordy.”
Cordelia glanced to each side, looking for the origins of the low voice. She frowned. It sounded like Angel but where the hell was he?
“Cordelia.”
Cordelia looked down between the slats of the bleachers. “Angel?”
“Hi."
Cordelia scrunched up her face at Angel's upside-down one then sat back up before, grabbing her purse and hurrying to the gym floor.
“Cordelia.” A loud voice bounced off the walls of the gym.
She turned to her teacher.
“Where are you going?”
“Locker room.”
“The period is not over.”
“Yeah, well, I need some 'girl' time.”
“Oh.”
“Yeah.” She ignored the snickers and the bright red blush on the male teacher’s face and rushed to the open side of the bleachers. “In here,” she gestured, not waiting for Angel to follow her into the girl’s locker room.
“What are you doing here?” Cordelia asked.
“You didn’t eat breakfast.”
“Okay. You have stock in Fruit Loops and are pissed?”
“Here.” He pulled out the sandwich.
Cordelia eyed the paper package suspiciously. “What is it?”
“Peanut butter sandwich.”
“Huh?” She stepped back, fumbling with her purse and magazine, stopping only when the back of her leg hit a bench.
Angel stepped with her holding the sandwich out. “Aren’t you hungry?”
“No, yeah, I guess …”’ She snatched the paper-wrapped package from his hands and unwrapped it as she sat down. Her eyes widened. It was a sandwich.
“I already had lunch period,” she said, still staring at the sandwich.
“Oh, you’re not hungry?” He reached for it.
Cordelia yanked it back. “I didn’t eat, I had to stay after in Mr. Lambert’s class to make up the part of the lecture I missed.” She licked her lips at the peanutty smell. She took a bite. “Hmmmomp.” She smiled, happily licking the peanut butter from her lips.
“What?”
“Mmhupm,” she said, smacking some more, then swallowing.
“Need something to drink,” she said finally.
“Wait here.” Angel said, leaving quickly.
“Angel?” She shrugged and took another bite. Wow. Angel made great peanut butter sandwiches. She could barely taste the bread. It was gooey peanutty goodness.
“Here.” Angel handed her a soda.
Cordelia shook her head, waving the Coke away.
“What’s wrong?”
She swallowed. “Do you know how many calories that has? Diet Coke, Geez.” She took another bite of the sandwich.
Angel frowned and left again.
Cordelia licked her lips, savoring each bite. She had been really hungry.
“This?”
Cordelia nodded and grabbed at the silver and red can. She popped it open. She smiled as the carbonation fizzed through the gooey peanut butter that was still stuck to the roof of her mouth.
“Wow.” She smiled. She scrunched her brow at Angel. “Why are you here?”
“Lunch?” He pointed to her sandwich.
“Really?”
“Yes.”
“You aren’t here on some Buffy emergency? Is the world going to end or something?”
“Yes, the Apocalypse is happening. I just thought you might want a sandwich before the world ended.”
She put the sandwich on her lap, raising her finger to him. “You’re making fun of me again.” She glared.
“You’re being stupid again,” he said.
“Hmmph.” She scooted back, bringing her legs up to a cross-legged position, taking another bite of her sandwich.
Angel took advantage of the space on the end of the bench and sat down. “Does your leg still hurt? Let me see it.” His hand brushed at her pant-covered thigh.
“What? No.” She scooted back. "It's fine. I just put a little bandage on it."
"Oh." Angel frowned, his hand slowing retreating to his lap. "Then why aren't you playing volleyball?"
"Hmm?” she licked her lips and took another swallow of her soda. “Oh, no clothes.”
“Excuse me?”
“My gym clothes are stuck in my locker, which seems to be as broken as my other one. Only, while that one,” she jabbed up to the ceiling, “won’t close, this one,” she jerked her head over her shoulder towards a long row of metal lockers, “won’t open.” She shrugged. “I can’t play if I don’t have play clothes.”
“I ---” Angel shut his mouth.
Cordelia shrugged. “I don’t care. I’ve got enough PE credits too graduate. Cheerleading counted, so screw volley ball.”
“Oh.”
Cordelia licked her fingers of the last of the peanut butter then looked up. “Thanks, that was really nice. Are you sure you’re a vampire and not a house mom want-to-be?”
“You’re welcome.”
Cordelia reached out to touch his sweater. "This is just like the one I borrowed. Which, I had no choice in doing, because I was cold and you didn't bring my suitcase up last night, so you can't be mad because it’s your fault,” she said all in one breath.
Angel shifted on the bench, looking down at her touch. "Is it? I didn't notice."
"Probably because you have twenty just like it. Black, black, black and for a little bit of change, off-black.” She drew her hand back. “I guess bright yellow doesn't blend into the shadows as well, huh."
"I don't… have a bright… yellow sweater.” He stuttered.
"I know. No colors of the rainbow in your dresser drawers.” She giggled at the expression of horror that flickered over his face.
"You went through my clothes."
"I told you ---" She pointed.
'I know, my fault."
"Right." She nodded. Cordelia was quiet for a second. “Angel?”
“Yes.”
“This is not helping.” She flashed up the Soap Opera Digest. “I think that there is only one option.”
“Option?"
“To 'fix' your evil stalker status."
“Right, that's your research.” He pointed to the magazine.
Cordelia shrugged. “Yeah. Miss Twittle is hung up on the soaps. When I told her you were a stalker she was all agreeing, citing a Ryan Chamberlain as an authority. So, I just figured if I read more about what she liked, I’d find something that she would believe. But, I’m not getting it. But, I do have an idea.” She paused.
“And?”
“We stage this shoot-out with the police, once your shot full of bullet holes and declared dead, no more stalker.”
“No.”
“You wouldn’t die.”
“NO.”
“Fine." She swung her feet to the ground. “I’m just trying to help.”
Part 26
The time Angel took to get back to the mansion hadn't cured him of his doubts or his headache. Cordelia had seemed happy when she knew that he hadn't been shot. She hugged him. But, now she seemed pretty determined to make up a new scenario that Miss Twittle would be believe and not get her fired.
If Cordelia believed that a shoot-out was the best way, would she even bother to tell him or would he just end up bleeding on a sidewalk?
Angel stopped pacing. He wasn't going to get shot.
He groaned, sinking down into his armchair then looked up at the clock on the mantle – less than one hour. When she got home, he would sit her down and remind her in no uncertain terms that the whole point of her making up a story was so he wouldn’t get shot. Angel considered going back to the school. He could always have that conversation in the supply closet.
Angel stood and started to pace again. His fists continued to clench and unclench, his gaze alternating from the front door to the clock.
***
She was late. The sun had already started its descent. Angel's growl vibrated in his chest. It did not take that long to drive home.
He grabbed his coat and strode out to the atrium and into the tunnels.
***
Angel stood in the school’s hallway. Cordelia’s scent was everywhere and nowhere. He headed to the heartbeats in the library to find his answers.
He paused outside the door at the sound of familiar voices.
***
"I can't believe it." Buffy jumped on the table. "That was ballsy, even for Cordy."
"She really got detention?" Willow chewed on a strand of hair.
Xander stuffed his hands in the pockets of his khaki pants. "She told Mr. Edwards to shut up and stop bothering her, Will. Should have seen his face - it puffed out. I thought he was going to explode."
"What happened?" Willow sat on the table next to Buffy.
"Mr. Edwards was painfully going on and on about.” Buffy paused and looked at Xander. "What was he talking about…?"
Xander shrugged. "Some book or another. Who listens? Shoot, half the class was asleep, but not Cordy. She just sat up straight and told him to shut up."
"Yeah. She said that his 'squeaky' voice was interrupting her concentration.” Buffy made quotation marks in the air.
"Her concentration of what?"
Buffy turned to her. "That's the weirdest thing, Willow. She had been talking to Becky Miller about General Hospital."
"Cordelia was actually talking to Becky?” Willow jerked up. "Becky is more of a loser than me."
"Me, too,” Xander said with a nod. "And, Becky, I guess, was so flabbergasted that Cordy was actually talking to her, she didn't even react when Mr. Edwards yelled at her. She just let Cordy drag her off to detention."
"Wait, Becky got detention too, because of Cordy---?"
"No.” Buffy rested her elbows on her knees. "She just left with her in a daze when Cordelia said they could finish their talk outside Snyder’s office."
"That was mean, getting Becky in trouble." Willow crossed her arms.
"Oh.” Xander shook his head. "She's not in trouble."
"But…"
Buffy shook her head also. "I don't know exactly what happened in Snyder’s office, but I saw Becky after school. She said that she didn't get in trouble- Cordy took all the blame. Becky wasn’t even upset, she was just on cloud nine that Cordy had actually been talking to her.”
“Oh.” Willow's eyes widened. "What about Cordy?”
"Cordy's got detention all of next week." Buffy brushed at her mini-skirt.
"I wouldn't count on it," Xander said.
"Why?" Willow turned to him.
"She managed to get out of it early today. I saw her rushing out of here ten minutes ago and Snyder looked like he had been sucking on a lemon ---."
"He always looks like that." Buffy interrupted.
"True. But, he also looked happy to see her go."
***
Angel didn't need to hear anymore. Cordelia was on her way home. He moved quickly. He hadn't remembered to give her a key to the house and she didn't know about the side door. Damn. He started running back to the tunnels.
Part 27
Angel went immediately through the side door and straight to the front, looking for an angry Cordelia waiting to be let in.
He frowned at the empty driveway. He turned back into the living room.
Angel's hands came together in a tight grip, slowly taking deep breaths trying to stall the wave of frustration and anger. He wasn't going to lose her again.
He strode through the atrium to the run-down stables. He didn’t hesitate as he got into his Plymouth. In the three years that he had been in Sunnydale he could count the times that he needed it to get around. Once because of Cordelia. And now he would need it again. Because when he found her, he didn’t want to argue about keys, he just wanted to toss her in his trunk.
***
Angel gripped at the steering wheel. The closer he got to Riverside Street the greater his rage built. Images of Cordelia forever locked in the mansion flashed through the angry haze.
He swerved the car into the parking lot of the motel then jumped out into the dusky night. His face angled up. He didn’t smell Cordy’s scent but he couldn’t take the chance. He went straight for the main office. He didn’t see Bob behind the counter and he didn’t have the patience to wait for him. Instead Angel turned to the staircase and started up, taking the steps three at a time.
He banged on the door. His fist was in the air, when the door slowly opened.
“Yeah?” A suspicious Sandy peeked up and then turning away when the baby in the cheap playpen started to cry.
The cry of the baby managed to get through to Angel. He took a deep breath and waited.
“Look, I don’t know what beef you have with Bruno, but if it’s about money, I don’t have any and I don’t know where Bruno is. He didn’t come home last night.” Sandy carried Tommy in her arms to the door, not waiting for Angel to speak. “Check, The Lone Star, on 13th.”
“I’m not here for Bruno.” Angel forced a courteous smile on his face. “I’m looking for Cordelia Chase.” His smile became a concerned frown. “I’m a friend of hers. She wasn’t in school or in her room.” He gestured around the hall. “I was wondering since you are neighbors, whether you have seen her. I’m worried.”
Sandy bit her lip. “Cordy? Shh, baby.” She bounced Tommy. “Cordy?” She repeated, running her hand through her stringy hair. “I haven’t seen her since last night. Bruno couldn’t have…No. Cordy went out last night. I don’t know where she was going but Bruno wasn’t here and he hasn’t come back. Did you try The Dress Place? She works there in the evenings.” Sandy looked up hopefully.
“The store’s closed. But she hasn’t been here?”
“Oh God, she's really missing? I told her she didn’t belong here. She always would come and go alone. I told her it was too dangerous. I wish I could help you. We weren’t really friends but she was nice to me…nicer than anybody has been in a really long time.” Sandy reached out to touch Angel’s arm. “Please, find her. She shouldn’t be out there all alone. She puts on this brave front, but she doesn’t know how bad it can really be out here.” She looked down to her baby, who had started to cry again. “I’m sorry, I have to go.” She moved to close the door.
The baby and the realization that Sandy couldn’t lead him to Cordelia kept him from lashing out. “I’ll find her ---,” he promised the closed door.
Angel strode around the walkway. The door of Cordelia’s door was still broken. He walked into the room, scowling at the presence of the same unidentifiable human scent in the room. It was too fresh to be from last night.
He turned and looked over the railing. A grin slowly formed as a Trans Am pulled up and Bruno hopped out.
Angel vaulted over the railing, landing in front him.
He grin got broader as Bruno recognized him. Angel let the man run a few feet before he grabbed the back of his shirt.
"Going somewhere?" Angel asked, yanking Bruno off the ground by his throat. Immediately, Angel sensed that Cordelia’s scent was nowhere on the man, but that didn’t stop him. Right then he was angry and a deserving target fell in his lap.
"I'm sorry. Did I startle you?" Angel didn’t fight the rage that brought his demon face forth.
"Whh --- Aaat?" Bruno choked.
"What was that? I couldn’t hear you." Angel pulled Bruno closer as he squeezed. "You need to speak up."
"Arggh." Bruno clawed at Angel’s arm.
"Still can't hear you,” Angel tsked as he slapped Bruno’s head. “Can I tell you how upset I am that you threatened Cordy?” Angel smiled. “I told you she was mine, right?”
Angel cocked his head at the gasping man. "I don't think you quite understood." Angel's fist smashed into Bruno's stomach. Only his firm grip on Bruno’s neck kept him from falling.
"Now.” Angel grabbed Bruno’s shirt getting a handful of flesh in the process. “I’m just not getting the understanding vibe from you,” Angel said, tossing Bruno through the air.
Angel’s long strides ate up the several feet to where Bruno landed. “Ow. Did that hurt?” Angel picked Bruno up by the scruff of his neck. “Do you think that the women you hit hurt like that? Did Sandy? Would Cordy?” Angel cocked his head. “I don’t know.” He backhanded Bruno and laughed as blood spurted from Bruno’s mouth.
“Let’s try it again, just to be sure.” Angel’s palm smashed into Bruno’s face breaking his nose. “Hello? Anybody home?” Angel pulled the limp man back up, smacking at the side of his head. “It’s always the bullies – no stamina, just bluster.” Angel said disgustedly to the unconscious man.
He hoisted Bruno over his shoulder and looked around, spotting the motel’s dumpster.
He yanked back the sliding door ready too toss Bruno into the trash. He jerked back at the smell that was set free. He dropped Bruno’s body on the pavement. He reached into the dumpster, feeling for the source of the scent. He pulled at the leg, yanking it until the body it was attached to came to surface. Chuck.
He pulled the dead body closer. His skull had been smashed to pulp. Angel flung Chuck’s dead body back into the garbage. He stared up at the motel, his focus on Cordelia’s old room, then back at the dumpster as he remembered Cordelia’s words about Chuck and his watch-dog habits.
Angel growled. The unidentified human scent in Cordelia’s room had suddenly become a real threat. Angel directed his rage into a solid kick into Bruno’s midsection.
Without a backward glance, Angel ran to his car.
Part 28
All the known possibilities flashed through his mind. Maybe, just maybe she was back at the mansion. He would go and if she weren’t there he would search every inch of the Hellmouth.
As he turned on the main thoroughfare of Sunnydale, he saw the red convertible brazenly parked in front of Starbucks. He slammed on his brakes, squealing into the parking lot.
He was worried and she was drinking coffee. He was locking her up. Trunk, bedroom - either or both - she wasn’t leaving him again. He looked again. Cordelia was at a small table with Miss Twittle.
He turned his head quickly. He didn’t see any police. He narrowed his eyes at the blue Escort hidden in the shadows across the street from the parking lot.
He waited sixty seconds. When Barney didn’t shoot him, he strode into the coffee shop. He kept his eyes on Cordelia has he headed to the restroom. It took less than a second to wash Bruno’s blood off his knuckles.
Then he headed straight to their table.
***
“You see, Miss Twittle…” Cordelia paused, then jumped as she caught sight of him. “Angel.” She squeezed his hand. “We were just talking about you.”
“You were?” Angel raised his brow.
“Yes. I told you I would explain to Miss Twittle.” Cordelia turned to the older woman. “Miss Twittle this is Angel, Angel this is Miss Twittle.”
Angel was at least glad that Cordelia had shown a tad bit of apprehension at his sudden presence. Her nails stabbed into his hand, begging him to go along. He was tempted to ignore her and just throw her over his shoulder. But, since he hadn’t been shot, he would give her a chance.
“We’ve met.” Miss Twittle tapped her manicured fingernails on the plastic table.
Angel let Cordelia’s hand urge him down next to her. “Yes.” Angel said simply.
“Angel, I explained to Miss Twittle that you had to lie under the circumstances.” She released his hand, but patted it as she talked.
Angel grabbed her hand back. “You did?”
Cordelia bit her lip, glancing down at his clenched fist. “Um, yes, I explained how you just recently found out that you had a twin.” She discreetly tried to tug her hand away.
“Yes, Angel, Cordelia told me how you didn’t know about Damien until your father died. I am sorry for your loss. I’ve seen the documentaries about the hardships that both the patient and the surviving family have to endure.”
Angel shifted in his seat. “Thank you.”
“I’m sorry, I know you hate to talk about your father's death, but I had to explain. I told you how kind Gladys was once I told her about Damien.” Cordelia said sweetly as she tugged again at her hand.
Angel merely nodded and held on, giving her a smile, when she finally gave up her struggles.
Cordelia stared at Angel for moment then turned back to Miss Twittle. “See, Miss Twittle it was Damien that I met in LA.”
“Yes, dear, you told me that.”
Angel frowned. The woman was hesitant to believe Cordelia. Not that he was surprised. Twin?
Cordelia nodded. “I know but I didn’t tell you that the reason that Angel didn’t know about Damien was that they were babies when their parents divorced and neither were told by their parents that the other existed.”
“Ah.” Miss Twittle nodded, leaning toward Cordelia. “I’ve never approved of that. I was very disappointed that Walt Disney promoted that type of solution.”
Angel turned to Cordelia, noticing the slight release of tension in her shoulders.
Cordelia nodded. “Me too. I thought it was just fiction. That no parents would be so…”
“Selfish.” Miss Twittle shook her head in knowing disappointment. “I know dear, but it does happen.” Miss Twittle’s sincere gaze centered on Angel. “It must have been a shock when you found out.”
Angel slowly lowered his head in a nod. There was no way Miss Twittle could believe that story. .
Cordelia took a dramatic breath. “It was worse than that, Miss Twittle.”
“Gladys, dear.”
“Gladys.” Cordelia gave a smile. “You see, the papers Angel found after his father died told where Damien and his mother lived. Of course, Angel went. But when he got there,” Cordelia paused and patted her free hand over Angel’s. “He learned that his mother and her husband had been killed. He also learned that Damien had been a suspect, when, well…” Cordelia turned to Angel. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”
“Yes.” He settled back in his chair. “Cordy has been so understanding about everything.” Angel sighed, squeezing her captured hand.
“Yes, well, he found that there was a very strong possibility that Damien had been abused,” she held Miss Twittle’s gaze, “ really abused.” Cordelia took a deep breath, and let her voice drop. “By his mother.”
Miss Twittle sat up straight. “Oh. Oh.” She looked sympathetically towards Angel. “Oh dear, I know what that kind of trauma did to Ryan Chamberlain and Kevin Collins, they were twins, too.”
Angel shouldn’t have doubted. He had the feeling that Cordelia could now tell the woman that the world was made of cheese and she would believe it.
Cordelia shook her head. “Angel never was raised by his mother. The divorce, but….”
“Oh. Yes of course.” Miss Twittle tapped her fingers on the table. “Therefore, Angel has been able to avoid the psychological effects of that horrible trauma. Good.” She patted Angel’s hand. “I am so glad. And you must not feel any guilt over acts that you had no control over. Your mother was a sick woman, and your brother a victim. But you cannot let that deter you from doing what is right. Your brother is dangerous.”
Cordelia leaned towards Miss Twittle. “Angel knows that Damien is dangerous. That’s why he’s tried to track him, but he lost him in LA. But he did hear that I…. well, that Damien was showing a lot of attention towards me. So, that’s why he came to Sunnydale in case Damien does show up. To protect me.”
“Very admirable.” Miss Twittle leaned back in her chair, looking towards Angel. "Perhaps, Angel, you could get me another coffee?”
Angel frowned. “Huh?”
“Coffee? That’s a dear,” Miss Twittle smiled.
Angel frowned as the woman’s actions became clear, she wanted him to leave. He looked towards the counter, measuring the distance from it to the table and then to the door. He got up. He could get to either before Cordelia got up from the table. “Of course.” Angel went to wait in line though his attention was focused on the table he just left.
“Honey, I’m not sure about this,” Miss Twittle said.
“But, when he came by the school, I immediately checked with the private investigator Daddy had hired before- he confirmed that Damien did have a twin - and about their parents’ divorce.”
“Oh no, dear, I’m not doubting that. But, it has been my experience that the evil twin masquerades as the good one, not only to avoid detection but also to get close to their victims. Just look at Ryan and what he did to Kevin - had him locked up in a mental institution under the subterfuge that he was Ryan. How can we be sure that,” she leaned in closer, ‘Angel isn’t Damien?”
Angel willed the cashier to move quicker. He wanted to be at the table when Cordelia explained that concern away.
“You are going to think I’m so foolish.” Cordelia sighed.
“Never, dear.”
“It’s well … I told you how charming Damien was.”
“Yes as most psychotic serial killers are. You can not be faulted for that.”
“Well.” Cordelia leaned in closer. “Angel’s not.” Cordelia leaned back in her chair.
Angel threw some bills at the young girl behind the register. He shrugged away her attempt to give him change, as he thought about what Cordelia had said. Not Charming. He could be charming. He was charming, tons of…. Angel’s thoughts slammed to a halt. Tons of Angelus’ victims thought he was charming before he ripped the life from their bodies. He took a breath. Thinking about the past wasn’t what he needed to do. He pushed aside his earlier thoughts and concentrated on the conversation between Cordy and Miss Twittle.
“Don’t get me wrong, he’s brave and nice, but he’s pretty klutzy and not charming at all. It’s not Damien. I really do trust Angel. I think it’s in the eyes. His are warmer than Damien’s. Damien was gorgeous and all, I mean look at Angel, but his eyes, now that I see Angel’s, I realize just how cold Damien’s were.”
“The eyes?” Miss Twittle tapped her chin. “Yes, the eyes. I can understand that.” She leaned back in her chair, her finger continuing her sure tapping against her chin. “Eyes are the windows of the soul.” Miss Twittle leaned in, cupping Cordelia’s hands. “I understand, but I think it would be best if we talked every day. If you are in trouble - ask about Fluffy.”
“Fluffy?”
Miss Twittle brought her finger to her lips as shushed. "My dog," she whispered.
“You have a dog?”
“No, of course not, I have cats, but if you ask then I’ll know something is wrong---it’s a code.”
“Oh. Okay.”
“Your coffee.” Angel stood at the table. Angel refused to show his admiration. Cordelia did it again. God. If she had been at his side in his soulless days, there would’ve been no home barred from them.
“Thank you, dear,” said Miss Twittle. “Angel, what steps have you taken to ensure Cordy’s safety?”
Angel slid back into his chair beside Cordelia. “I’ve moved her out of the Sunnydale Inn. I understand why she was staying there, but that motel was dangerous in and of itself.”
Miss Twittle looked over to Cordelia. “The Sunnydale Inn? You said that you would find a dingy hotel- I assumed you were staying at the Economy Inn.”
“Um.” Cordelia shifted.
“No, it was the Sunnydale Inn.” Angel shook his head.
“On Riverside?” Miss Twittle sat up straight in her seat. “Cordelia Kelley Chase, that street is infamous for its debauchery and danger. No place for a young lady. I AM disappointed in you.”
“I ---” Cordelia ducked her head at the other woman’s pointed stare.
“That’s what I said,” Angel nodded quickly, cutting into Cordelia’s attempt to speak. “I don’t care if it was the only place she could find a room on such short notice---“
“Cordelia,” Miss Twittle interrupted sharply. “You should have told me right away. You could’ve stayed with me. I understand your concern for the safety of your friends, but that was just reckless and stupid.”
“I said that, too.” Angel joined in, leaning back in his chair. . “So, I took her to my place. I’ve rented a house for the time being. She’s safe now.”
“Well, thank God for that. Really, Cordelia, to go into one danger to escape another is not something I’d expect from a girl with your intelligence.”
“I’m sorry, Miss Twittle.” Cordelia said meekly as her shoulders drooped.
“Yes, well. Be that as it may, you are safe now.” Miss Twittle shook her head.
“She is,” Angel said firmly, pleased with Miss Twittle’s’ lecture. But his feeling of satisfaction waned as something occurred to him. “Miss Twittle, you didn’t know where Cordelia was staying.”
She frowned. “Of course not. I would never---“
Angel held up his hand. “It’s just that I thought I saw the security guard that was here the other night at the motel when I moved Cordelia.”
“Barney?” She pursed her lips. “He must have taken it upon himself to make sure that Cordy stayed safe. He was very concerned when I told her that Cordy was being stalked. I’d better call him and tell him that the situation has changed.”
“Please.” Angel bit back his scowl even as he stood. “Miss Twittle, if you don’t mind, I’d like to take Cordy home. She didn’t eat breakfast this morning and didn’t have much lunch.”
“Yes.” Miss Twittle said, getting to her feet. “Of course, a well-balanced diet is very important.”
“I’m not hungry,” Cordelia grunted.
“That wasn’t very lady-like.” Miss Twittle tsked. “Honey, breakfast is the most important of the day and if you missed it you at least should have a well-balanced dinner.”
***
Miss Twittle stood on the sidewalk her eye settling on the Plymouth. “Would you look at that? How rude. I’ll have to go tell the manager that some one is blocking us in.”
“That’s me,” Angel said, offhandedly, as he scanned the area. The blue Escort was gone.
Miss Twittle eyed the car again. “I must say that looks like just the car for a dashing private investigator.”
“I liked it. Cordy,” he said as he pulled her to his car.
“I have my car.” Cordelia dug in her heels.
“Yes, and I told you that I didn’t want you out by yourself.” He looked to Miss Twittle. “Please tell her that while Damien’s whereabouts’ are unaccounted for, she shouldn’t be alone. She’s so stubborn.” He shook his head.
“Angel, you are absolutely right.” Miss Twittle’s gaze zeroed in on Cordelia. “Go with Angel,” she said firmly.
“But, my car---“
"Cordelia, your safety is of far more concern than a vehicle,” Miss Twittle interrupted.
“Your car will be fine. I’ll pick it up later. Let’s go Cordy.” Angel cupped Cordelia’s elbow and ushered her to the Plymouth. “Good night, Miss Twittle.”
“Good night, Angel dear. Take care of Cordy.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Part 29
“I can’t believe it.” Cordelia grabbed her long hair, to keep it from her face as they traveled towards the mansion. “It’s not right.”
“What?” Angel glanced at her.
Cordelia shifted in the passenger seat, her fingers busy knotting her windswept hair into a tight ponytail. “How an hour ago Miss Twittle thought I was intelligent and you were a psycho. Now I’m an idiot and you’re a hero.”
Angel raised a brow. “It was your idea.”
“That's right. *My* idea.” Cordelia focused the full force of her glare on Angel. “And it was going just fine. But, no. You had to stick your big fat nose in with, ‘Cordy is too stupid to be safe’. Bah.”
Angel shrugged.
Cordelia tucked the tendrils of hair that refused to be tamed behind her ears and then dropped her hand brushing the seat. Her attention suddenly focused on the feel of the leather interior. “Whose car is this?”
“Mine.”
“Yours?” Cordelia turned to stare at his profile. “Yours? As in, you have a car?”
“Yes.”
“This is your car?” She slapped at the upholstery, her voice rising.
“Yes.” Angel frowned at her.
“And you just got it?” Cordelia’s tone dared him to deny it.
“No. I’ve always had it.”
She narrowed her eyes. “So, you had this,” Cordelia dragged her hand along the sleek lines of the interior, ”while, I was designated driver for the Scoobies. *My* car got dragged into demony messes, rammed through the school and yours was *where*?”
“Um…”
“Yeah. Right. Can’t have Buffy’s boyfriend delegated to driving duty. Geez, I did my duty, Oz and his van did his. You on the other hand,” she shot him a hard glare, “*suck*.”
“I --“
Cordelia held up her hand. “I can’t even talk to you right now.”
“Cordy?”
“Don’t ‘Cordy’ me,” She said, crossing her arms over her chest. “I had to sit through a lecture ad nauseum about insurance and other nonsense from my dad, and instead it could’ve been you. What’s wrong with your car?”
“Nothing,” Angel said. “It’s in perfect condition.”
“I can’t believe it.” Cordelia rolled her eyes at Angel's offended tone. "I was stuck being chauffer-girl when you had this all along.”
“Remember that while you were chauffer-girl, I was fighting,” Angel retorted.
Cordelia faced him. “Big deal. Drive in, jump out, fight, and then give everyone a ride home. You could’ve done it. Why me?”
“It had nothing to do with you. This is a classic.” Angel waved his hand around. “I wasn’t going to let some demon damage it.”
“Oh, but it’s okay for my car?”
“Yours is foreign. This,” he caressed the dashboard, “is real American. It’s a 1967 Plymouth.”
Cordelia studied him for a moment and then turned, her makeshift ponytail snapping in the air. “I think I hate you.”
“Cordy?”
“Talk to the hand.” She said, flinging up her hand.
“Cordy--“
“ -To the hand, Angel.” Cordelia pressed her palm closer to his face.
Angel slapped it down. “That’s annoying.”
“You’re annoying.” She crossed her arms against her chest and decided to ignore him.
Part 30
Angel kept glancing at the fuming young woman next to him. He still wasn’t sure why she was so mad. She had to see the merits of his reasoning regarding not using the Plymouth.
Still, he wasn’t going to let her unreasonableness distract him. “Cordelia, from now on you will *not* disappear from me. You should’ve told me that you were meeting Miss Twittle.”
“It was last minute.” She huffed. “Becky explained in English class that the reason I couldn’t find Ryan in Port Charles was because he killed himself years ago on General Hospital. He was Kevin’s evil twin --” Cordelia stopped and glared. “Why am I explaining this to you? *So what* that I didn’t tell you.”
“So what? So, you could’ve been in danger,” Angel said, glancing at her.
“Danger?” She turned to meet his stare. “Ooh, Starbucks- scary. Gotta watch out for that killer cappuccino.”
Angel clenched his hands around the big steering wheel. “You should’ve called. I was worried.”
“So you came looking for me?” she asked, gaping. “You’re as nutty as Miss Twittle. Damien — was a figment of my imagination. You don’t really have an evil twin that’s stalking me. *And* I don’t have to tell you where I’m going."
“While you’re under my roof, you *do* have to tell me where you’re going.”
Cordelia clenched her jaw. “No I don’t. And, as for being under your roof- I don’t have to do that either,” she said more loudly. “There are other motels -- without Bruno’s.”
Angel faced her, jaw clenched. “You aren’t going anywhere.”
Cordelia looked away, shuddering. “Am, too,” she muttered, wrapping her arms even tighter around her body.
Angel watched her out the corner of his eye. “Cordy, if you leave now or go around town alone, especially at night, Miss Twittle will get suspicious-- I’m just thinking about your job,” he said in as reasonable a tone as he could muster.
“My job?” Cordelia turned towards him.
“Yeah, your job -- the one that you don’t want to get fired from. How do you think she’ll react if she finds out that you’ve been lying to her?” His brows rose.
“You’d-…” She blinked at him.
“I’m not going to tell,” he quickly reassured her. "I lied, too. We’re in this together, Cordy. But, if she hears that...” Angel trailed off, shrugging.
Cordelia slumped down in her seat, pressing her palms to her forehead. “I should’ve gone with my first idea.”
Part 31
Angel pulled into the stables. Cordelia got out and started toward the house, her back stiff, her mouth clamped tightly shut. Obviously she wasn’t talking to him again. He hurried after her.
When he got to the atrium, he stopped. Cordelia stood in the middle, gazing at the garden. He frowned for a brief moment, picturing another brunette twirling around on the stone pathway, surrounded by the jumble of blooming flowers. Cordelia wasn’t spinning in circles or babbling, but her expression of appreciation for the moonlit garden was the same.
“Cordy?”
“This is beautiful.” Her fingers lifted a dangling purple wisteria bloom and blew on the delicate petals. She closed her eyes as she took in a deep breath. “Hmm.” She smiled at Angel. “Why would they leave?”
Angel gulped. Flashes of Drusilla and Spike flooded his mind. “Who?”
“The people that planted all this,” she said, swinging her hand around. “Ooh, I love daffodils. They’re so bright and cheerful. They’re so brave – it’s still chilly out, yet they know spring is almost here so they bloom not caring about the rules.” She bent down and fingered the delicate yellow petals, bringing them up to her face. “Not my color though, too bright. I’m an autumn, maybe a winter, but earth tones are a definite - see, bronze a good color.” She stood and pointed to her shirt. “Only goes to prove that they were killed by the Hellmouth. It’s the only explanation.”
“That you look good in bronze?” Angel was completely confused. But one thing he was sure was that she wasn’t talking about Dru or Spike.
“The people that used to live here.” She fisted her hands on her hips.
Angel could hear the silent, though still loud, Duh in her expression. He didn’t mind. He was just glad that her angry glare had disappeared. Angel slid closer, placing his hand on the small of her back, propelling Cordy in the direction of the side door. “Actually, you're wrong.”
Cordelia dug in her heels. “Bronze does too look great on me,” she said, turning and pointing to her shirt. “Well, if it wasn’t so dark out here, you could tell,” she said.
The corners of Angel’s mouth twitched. Cordelia didn’t know much about vampires if she believed he couldn't tell. He could see everything clearly, more clearly than humans in the day.
The dark-gold sheen of the blouse enhanced the radiance of her skin, the richness of her hair, and drew out the flecks of gold in her hazel eyes. She was the embodiment of glowing embers, crackling with promise. He felt the sudden urge to warm his hands in her.
His eyes narrowed on the bronze blouse again and the hard nubs that pressed against the fabric. Was it arousal? Did she feel the heat that he felt?
Then Cordelia shivered and wrapped her arms around her body and whined. “I’m cold.”
Where’s your jean jacket?” He said, not knowing why he was disappointed but only knowing that he was.
“In my car, which I don’t have,” she said, narrowing her eyes at him.
“You’re wrong, and not about the color of your shirt. You’re right about that.” He said, again, pushing her closer to the side door of the mansion.
“Huh?” Cordelia twisted around to face him.
Angel turned her again and walked her to the door. “I looked at all of these mansions before I picked this one. It wasn’t an evil of the Hellmouth that made these people abandon the houses.”
“What was it, then?” She turned quickly, causing Angel’s hand to brush against hers.
Angel resisted the nonsensical urge to grab it and twirl her in some silly dance. Instead, he brought his hand to her shoulder and smoothly spun her back towards the house. “There is a maze of tunnels under this whole area. Twenty-or- so feet of top earth isn’t a secure foundation for million dollar estates.”
“You can’t see it, but over there,” Angel nudged his chin to his left, indicating past the wall of wisteria, “the pool ended up at the bottom of one of the tunnels. Bad place to build, that’s all.”
"Hmmph. I like the haunted version better,” Cordelia said, as she shot forward, leaving Angel’s hand hanging in the air.
***
"Where are you going?" Angel asked as soon as Cordelia headed for the stairs leading to the second floor.
Cordelia paused on the third step. "Oh, now I have to tell you where I'm going while I’m under ‘your roof’.”
"I---"
"Well, if it's okay with you, I was going to take a bath. Or is that too dangerous?" She fisted her hands on her hips.
"Don't be stupid." Angel took his jacket off and placed it on the chair. Cordelia could go anywhere she wanted in the mansion. It wasn't that big, he would always know where she was.
"Stop calling me stupid." She stomped up the stairs.
Angel frowned as he heard the bathroom door slam. He hadn't called her stupid.
***
Cordelia sank into the steaming water, slapping at it in frustration. She felt trapped. Everywhere she turned Angel was there- ordering her around one minute and being nice the next. She groaned, sinking below the water line, letting the water surround her.
Angel wasn’t supposed to be like this. He was the stoic brooding man…pire that waited in the wings for Buffy. He wasn’t melodramatic or bossy. That was Buffy’s role.
Cordelia broke the surface of the water as a thought occurred to her. Maybe Angel was just missing the Buffy-love. It was throwing him off-balance.
Maybe all she had to do was get them back together.
“Good idea, Cor,” she mumbled. Buffy and Angel together meant the possibility of Angelus. And the soulless version of Angel was something she never wanted to experience again. Angel might be annoying but he wasn’t homicidal.
Maybe she could just remind him that he was happier spending his time brooding about Buffy and their failed romance and then he would stop messing around in her life.
She looked around. Damn. She didn’t bring her robe in.
***
She wrapped a towel around her and opened the bathroom door.
“What the hell are you doing out here?” She jumped back at the sight of Angel hovering in the hall.
“I live here,” he said matter factually.
Cordelia narrowed her eyes at him as she tried to think of a response to the truth of his statement. When she couldn’t, she ignored him and headed towards the bedroom.
"Cordy?"
"What?" She turned.
"What do you want for dinner?" Angel edged closer to her.
"Huh?" Her hands grasped the slipping towel tighter around her chest, feeling the sudden need for more protection than the thick cotton offered.
"Dinner." Angel took another step. "I can make pasta or an omelet. Aren't you hungry?"
Cordelia nervously smoothed down the towel making sure that the white cotton still went past her knees. "Um. I...Sure...I don't care.”
Angel nodded.
Cordelia hurried to the bedroom, trying to calm the jitters that swarmed in her belly. Angel had just been asking a question, not preparing to pounce.
A thought occurred to her. "You can cook?” She asked, looking over her shoulder.
Angel hadn't moved. He was still staring at... .
Cordelia chewed on her lip as his eyes rose slowly to her face.
"Yes." He turned quickly and went down the stairs.
Cordelia frowned, her hands rubbing at the goose bumps that peppered her arms. Her nervousness was back. Had he really been staring at her butt?
Continue on...