Title: Radiance
Author: Loki
Posted: 05-17-2002
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: The characters in the Angelverse were created by Joss Whedon & David Greenwalt. No infringement is intended, no profit is made.
Note: This was written for LB’s challenge. The requirements were: Angel and Cordy be invited to some kind of party in Sunnydale, Cordy’s demon status be revealed, Cordy would coax Angel onto the dance floor, and Buffy and Xander’s response to the last two.
Timeline: For the sake of the story, can we just imagine Cordy found out about her glowy powers a little … well, a lot earlier than canon? This is set right after Provider (bleh) and before WITW. So everything is of the hunky-dory and no Pylean champions have appeared, babies are not yet getting snatched into other dimensions nor are certain British people accidentally betraying their friends, okay? As far as Buffy goes, that makes it right around the Doublemeat Palace (bleh) time. Hope you like it! It's only my second story, so go easy on me please!
Part 3
A Maudlin Sort Of Way
Xander remained frozen at the bottom of the stairs. The stricken vampire didn’t even look at him. So Xander kind of … hung there, waiting for something he couldn’t identify. A sign of life? Movement? Angel provided neither. He simply stood where Cordelia had left him, eyes on the place she had been. The expression on his face would have been enough to make the devil weep.
“Uh, Angel?” Xander asked finally. “Are you, uh…”
“Go away, Xander.”
“Right, sure, uh-huh.” Xander fled for the kitchen. He topped the stairs and closed the door behind him, to be greeted by the sight of Cordelia at the table, head in hands. Her shoulders were rising and falling, but not in the way of somebody crying. More in the way of somebody desperately trying not to.
Xander glanced around uncomfortably. Willow and Anya were already gone, Buffy was upstairs showering, and so that left him. He took a deep breath and stepped forward, wondering where to begin.
As it happened, Cordelia saved him the trouble. Her head shot up as a floorboard creaked underneath his feet. She blinked a few times, and Xander caught a brief glimpse of incredible anguish before Public Cordy was slammed into place.
“Xander!” she said brightly. “I didn’t … didn’t hear you come up.” She pointed to her ears. “These demon parts not so special, apparently.”
Xander came closer. “Cordy, are you okay?”
“What?” she said, smiling. “Sure. Of course I am.” A hitch in her breath gave her away.
“Yeah,” he said, sitting down next to her. “Because this is what I do when I’m fine also. Sit around and stare at tables. I’m a pretty happy guy lately, so I don’t get much else done.”
She stared at him for a moment before her brittle smile softened and, to his relief, became genuine.
“Xander, you’re such a dork.”
He smiled. “I’ve missed hearing you call me that.”
“Really?”
“No,” he admitted with a grin. “But nobody tears strips off me like you can.”
Her smile widened. “What can I say? It’s a gift.”
He sobered. “Cordy, look. Downstairs-”
“Was nothing,” she said quickly. “Less than, even. Just a stupid fight. Don’t worry about it. We have them all the time.”
“Are you sure?” he asked. “Because-”
“Totally,” she rushed on, avoiding his eyes. “Really. It’ll blow over.” She stood up quickly. “We’re gonna be so late. Is there anywhere else I can change in this place?”
Xander sighed. Denial. Not just a river in … uh … in…
Egypt! Egypt, yeah, that was it.
- - -
Angel was still standing where Cordelia had left him. In complete shock. In two hundred and fifty-odd years, there had been times he had thought his un-beating heart would break, there had been times he was so utterly miserable that he could barely move.
But there had never been a time quite like this.
Dimly, he remembered his other life. Liam. A tavern brawl he had been in at the age of twenty. Isaac had bested him eventually – drunk that Liam was – and Isaac, in his rage, had begun to suffocate the younger man. Torn off his cloak and forced it down over Liam’s gasping, mottled face. Liam had been unable to breathe.
Breathing. A long-unused luxury. But Angel had never forgotten what it had felt like. Or what it had felt like to have it taken away. Seeing the world go black and grey before his eyes, feeling all that he was, all that he had achieved (what little of it there was) being torn from him by the simple inability to draw air into his lungs. Clawing, choking, beating helplessly at his friend until his reprieve. That night had ended with forgiveness, wenches and ugly, intoxicated mirth. But this night…
Angel stood there, again unable to breathe.
Because Cordelia was the only air he needed now. And she was gone.
- - -
The young woman in question closed the door of Dawn’s room behind her and leant her forehead against it.
Cordelia Chase did not cry often, and never without a reason. She did not realise it, but in recent years, her tears had all been for others. Never herself. Never in self-pity, never in jealousy, never in anger. Her tears had all been for her friends, for the helpless who were now her charges, for the hurt and lonely people she worked so hard to help. For Angel … and the insurmountable odds he faced in a battle simply to exist and atone.
Ever an honest girl, Cordelia was well aware of her own failings. Scarcely a day passed that she did not remember a remark she had made and flinch, or desperately wave away the stinging memory of the way she had once treated people in an effort to protect herself from hurt. But she was different now. She had been brittle, but now she was whole.
And it was all because of Angel.
Her best friend. The man who was everything and more to her, whose face was the last she saw in her mind as she closed her eyes at night and the first person she thought of each morning. Angel, who loved her and had been brave enough to tell her despite the impossibility of it all. Who she had run from in terror as the secret heart she had been protecting so fiercely was flayed open and left bare.
Unseen by anyone, for the first time in three years, Cordelia allowed herself the luxury of tears shed for herself. They didn’t last long, but they were hot, bitter and tasted of loss.
- - -
Angel had finished dressing, because duty was duty. This was Willow’s night. He would go to the Bronze. He would drink. He would even smile if he had to. But nothing could possibly make him enjoy it. Not without a smile from her in return.
Suddenly, purely on impulse, the vampire pulled out his cell phone. He punched in a number and waited while it rang endlessly. Finally, it picked up.
A somewhat breathless voice with a Texas twang said, “Good evenin’, Angel Investigations, we help the-”
“Fred.”
“Angel?”
“Yeah. Hi.”
Fred’s voice crackled down the line, immediately full of worry. “Angel, what’s wrong? Is Cordy okay? Did she have a vision? Oh no, did Buffy die ag-”
“Fred, you like me, don’t you?”
“Huh?”
“Am I a bad man … uh, pire?”
“What are you talkin’ about? What’s the matter?”
“You know I care about you, right?”
“Angel!” Fred’s voice was panicked now. “*You’re* not dyin’, are you?”
Despite himself, Angel chuckled. Fred had a way of making him do that. “Fred, I’m not dying. Neither is Cordy, neither has Buffy. Everyone’s fine. I just … just wondered if you knew … uh…”
The girl’s voice warmed. “Course I do. You might not be the most, um, demonstrative guy in the world, but … we all know you love us.”
“Do you?” he muttered, almost to himself, the phone clenched in his hand so tightly it nearly shattered.
Fred sighed. “Angel, didja piss Cordy off again?”
Angel nodded, before remembering she couldn’t see him. “Uh…”
Fred clicked her tongue. “If there was a course in how to piss Cordelia off, you’d get an A. Y’all snipe at each other more’n my grandparents. It’s the kyerump-”
“Fred-”
“Sorry.”
“I’m late, I gotta go. I just … I just, ah…”
There was a smile in her voice. “I love you too, Angel.” She paused. “You’re a good man.”
Angel smiled. “Thanks, Fred.”
“G’night.”
“Night.”
Angel hung up, stuffed the phone into his inside jacket pocket, and sighed. At least there was someone he loved of the female persuasion who wasn’t mad at him.
- - -
“Oh my god, Angel!” yelled Willow over the pounding music. “I’m so mad at you!”
Angel shuffled his feet. “I-”
“You shouldn’t have done this,” the redhead continued. “I mean, really.” She put the gift-wrapped box down on the table and hugged the vampire. “But for a shady creature of the darkness, you sure know what girls like,” she told him, smiling. “Thank you.”
“Just thought, you know, it’s a party…”
Over Willow’s shoulder, Angel saw an unusually subdued and pale Cordelia’s eyes widen in panic. He instantly realised her error. Cordy, usually the thoughtful one where such things were concerned, had forgotten to get a present.
“It’s from both of us,” he said quickly, as Willow released him. “Me and Cordy.” *Me and Cordy. Cordelia and me. I and Cordelia. Cordy and I.* He sighed. *Idiot.*
Willow went past Buffy, Anya and Xander to hug the Seer too, who despite having said nothing to him since their arrival, shot Angel a quick look of gratitude.
“It’s nothing much,” said Angel, as Willow started to tear the paper off. “I, uh, we went to a little shop in Chinatown and the guy said these might help.”
Willow opened the box and pulled out something wrapped in linen. She frowned as she unfolded it to reveal several thin papery sheets the size of cigarette packets. On one side of each were swirled images, reminiscent of Celtic art, on the other a slightly sticky substance.
“They’re patches,” explained Angel. “They’re supposed to help with cravings.”
“For magic?” asked Buffy sceptically.
“For any kind of cravings,” Angel clarified. “Oh, they’re not magical,” he reassured Willow, as she opened her mouth. “They’re herbal. It’s some kind of yin-yang Eastern meditation thing; I’m not sure how it works. You wear them when, when…” -his voice became slightly hoarse- “you want something really badly that you can’t have…”
He couldn’t suppress a fleeting look at Cordelia. The Seer reddened and studied the patches a little too intently for somebody who was supposed to have known about them already.
“Guys, these are fantastic!” Willow exclaimed happily. “Thank you so much!”
“You’re welcome,” mumbled Angel, echoed by a slightly shamefaced Cordelia.
“Okay, so who’s gonna dance with me?” asked Anya abruptly.
Everybody turned to look at her.
“What?” said Anya. “Presents are finished. The only thing left is boring small talk or dancing. I know which one I prefer. So who’s with me?”
Cordelia straightened. “I’m your girl,” she said brightly. “All systems go.”
Anya smiled. “Well in that case, I’m your girl, too.” She turned to Willow. “Only not in the way that *you’d* be someone’s girl, if you get my drift.”
Xander rolled his eyes. “Hon, the ashtray gets your drift.”
Angel caught Cordelia’s arm as she brushed past him. “Cordy-”
“Can’t talk,” she replied quickly. “Dancing.” *And repressing, hopefully.*
As Cordelia followed Anya and the two girls threaded their way through the crowds to the dance floor, she tried to shake off the feeling of Angel’s hand on her arm. It didn’t work. She then attempted, with equal failure, to banish the desolate expression in his eyes from her mind. They reached the dance floor, and Cordelia threw herself desperately into the pounding beat, barely aware of Anya at her side or the men who let predatory eyes travel over the two of them.
*Time*, her subconscious told her quietly. *You said you needed time. Time to say what? If the answer was no, you’d would have said that already.*
Shut up. I’m dancing.
*To avoid him. To avoid seeing that look on his face and knowing you’re the one who put it there. To avoid having to listen to me tell you that DO deserve him, if it’s what you want.*
Shut up.
*Because you lo-*
SHUT UP!
And so Cordelia danced.
After a few minutes, Anya leant toward her. “You and I should start a club!” she called over the music.
Cordelia paused and eyed Anya with mild suspicion. “What kind of club?”
“Demons Who’ve Dated Xander,” explained the former wielder of vengeance seriously. “I think we’d be the only two to qualify. It’d be very exclusive. Like Amway. Or the Young Republicans.”
Cordelia stared. Despite herself, and with some difficulty, she stifled a wild fit of laughter. “Sure, colour me clubbed!” she called back.
Anya smiled hugely and they began dancing again. After a moment, Anya captured Cordelia’s arm hard enough to make her wince. “Only, I get to be Treasurer,” she yelled, no trace of humour on her face. “And you can’t ever date Xander again.”
Cordelia patted her hand. “He’s *so* all yours.”
Anya nodded with satisfaction. “Bet your sweet patootie.”
The two girls smiled at each other in understanding, and picked up the beat again.
* * *
Angel lurked. It was, after all, what he did best. Wherever he was, he made sure that he could see Cordelia. He had been approached several times, but even the most persistent of his would-be suitors - a willowy blonde wearing a dress several sizes too small – had been put off eventually. Some took more growling at than others.
It was in this state that Xander found him and tapped the brooding vampire on the shoulder. So intent was Angel on his study of the distant Seer that he didn’t even react. Xander leaned in close and put his mouth next to Angel’s ear.
“Help, a vampire!”
Angel jumped at least a foot, his fists whipping up defensively. When he saw who it was, he dropped them with a surly frown. “Don’t *do* that,” he said roughly, and Xander took a step back in surprise.
“Sorry,” he replied. “Jeez. This from a professional Lurkmeister.”
Angel merely glared at him.
“Who can’t take a joke, apparently,” added Xander, annoyed.
Angel turned away. “I’m not in the mood for jokes.”
Xander held up his hands defensively. “And again with the apology.”
Angel frowned at him a moment longer, then crumbled. “Forget it. I overreacted.”
The young man smiled. “Hey, there he is! Melodramatic guy, the Angel I know best. The new you? Scary.”
Angel couldn’t help it – a small grin crossed his face. It died, however, when he looked past Xander to behold Cordelia in the arms of a tall footballer type. Xander followed his gaze, and nodded slightly in understanding.
“No progress, huh?” he asked casually.
“Xander, I’m sure you’ll understand if I really don’t want to discuss it with you,” Angel replied tersely.
“Sure,” breezed the young man. “Just, see, things in the car were on the frosty side and I was wondering if-”
“You were gonna drop the subject?” cut in Angel. “Was wondering that myself.”
Xander drew back in mild surprise. “My my, somebody’s been taking one-liner class from the Master, haven’t they?” He indicated Cordelia. “The Master in this case actually being a Mistress. My guess - tall, gorgeous and otherwise-engaged over there.”
Angel faced him, anger flickering in his gaze. “What the hell *is* it with Sunnydale people? You always-”
“All I’m saying is,” interrupted Xander, “that if your little ‘fights’ are as common as Cordy seems to think they are, shouldn’t you guys have made with the patching by now?”
Angel deflated and resumed his scrutiny of the dance floor. “I don’t want to talk about this with you. Okay?”
“Not much wanting on this side either, pal,” Xander snorted derisively. “But I don’t like seeing Cordy cry.”
Angel was in front of him so fast that Xander’s head spun. “She was crying?”
“Whoa, whoa! Personal space! And lack thereof!” Xander protested, backing away. Angel merely glared at him. Xander relented.
“Look. If she wasn’t crying when I talked to her, she was about five seconds later, okay? I don’t know what happened with you guys, but…” Xander took a deep breath. “I don’t wanna see it happen again.”
Angel looked intently at him, softening slightly. “You care about her.”
Xander met his eyes and an old memory surfaced. “Don’t you?”
Chapter Seven: Angel Loves Me, I Love…
“…growled at me like I was a frickin’ dog or something!”
“*Neg!*”
“Pos! I could *not* believe!”
“He’s probably gay, y’know. All the gorgeous ones are.”
Cordelia was tired. She let the conversation settle over her like an old shirt. Its very inanity was what made it comforting. The fact she was eavesdropping rather than partaking made no difference. Sometimes it was … relaxing … to let vacuousness reign.
She leant further into the bar and rested her head on her crossed arms. All the better to overhear you with, my dear. The five girls next to her were various clones of each other – much like, she acknowledged, she herself would have been once.
“…don’t care how good the leather looks, sometimes an attitude smears all in badness. I mean, rude or anything?”
“…totally…”
Once. Twice. Three times and you’re out. Cordelia wasn’t sure what the word ‘once’ really applied to. I would have been that way ‘once.’ Buffy and I were nearly friends ‘once.’ I was attracted to Angel ‘once.’ *Twice, three times, four times…* Why can’t I have a normal life?
“…sounds like a job for a star, girls. Where is he?”
“Near the pool tables last I saw. Can’t miss him, the only real talent in the place.”
Cordelia idly remembered when she would have been up for a challenge like that. Bending Men To Your Will 101, the Cordelia Chase special. Click your fingers, snap that smile out, and they were all yours. When had she stopped wanting that? Why had she stopped wanting that? Was it because she and everybody she loved could die any old time? Or was it because Angel-
“…warning you now, he’s all rebound-y or something. Wouldn’t even talk to me, just kept staring at some girl on the dance floor.”
“Probably stalking her.”
“Yah.”
“Oh please, allow me. Title to defend here. Big and Broody is all mine.”
And when had this love thing begun, anyway? And what in the hell had he been thinking? Which wasn’t really fair, she admitted silently. It’s not like you could choose who you loved. You either loved somebody or you didn’t, and if you did, there was no use pretending…
She suddenly stood up. “Excuse me. Big and Broody, you said.”
“God,” exclaimed one of the girls, a bottle-blonde with a brittle face. “Earwig much?”
“Unfortunate and painful side-effect of the being near you,” retorted the Seer, straightening her shoulders. “This guy you were talking about.” She held her hand up to Angel’s height. “About this tall?”
“Yeah,” a brunette answered slowly.
“All glowery and gorgeous?”
“Uh-huh.”
Cordelia stepped closer. “Leather jacket and dark hair most men would kill for?”
“Totally.” The brunette waved a hand for emphasis. “William Shatner would first weep, then die.”
Cordelia swallowed the instant, pure and fiery rage that threatened to consume her. They were talking about … about…
And suddenly, wonder of wonders, Cordelia Chase had an epiphany of her own.
“I don’t think you girls know exactly what you’re dealing with,” she said through clenched teeth.
“What’s it got to do with you?” sneered the first girl.
“Everything,” Cordelia replied calmly. “Allow me to make something very clear here, and I suggest you take it on board. Big and Broody guy?” She levelled a death stare at the blonde. “He’s mine.”
Chapter Eight: Saying Something Stupid Like-
He was under the stairs when Cordelia finally found him. Leaning against the wall, hands in his jacket pockets, staring blackly at the floor. She couldn’t help it – an affectionate grin crossed her face. *Dumbass vampire.* There was something so familiar and endearing about his fits of melancholy. Perhaps because she knew better than anyone how to snap him out of them.
*Well*, she thought, watching him wondrously, *Powers give me courage. Because I’m officially insane.*
“Hey,” she said, bumping him gently with her elbow.
Angel looked up, startled. “Cordy.” He had been so consumed by thoughts of her that he hadn’t noticed her approach. He briefly acknowledged the irony, then slipped into mild panic. “Uh … Cordy. Cordelia.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Yes. Cordelia. I thought so too. Although the way you’re saying it, I’m not sure now.”
Angel gave her the ghost of a smile.
“So, I’m conducting a survey about people who suck all the life out of a room by their mere presence,” Cordelia said lightly. “I couldn’t help noticing you qualify.” She poked him. “Jeez, Angel. Black hole of despair or anything?”
Angel shrugged, not meeting her eyes. She knew damn well what was wrong with him.
“So,” she continued calmly, leaning against the wall next to him, “why’re you glooming over here by yourself?”
The vampire decided to bite, as it were. “See,” he said, meeting her eyes, “there’s this girl.”
Cordelia had the grace to colour slightly, but she said nothing, and Angel turned back to the room. They stood there in silence for a moment, before he waved irritably at the strobe lights. “Plus, this all just makes me kind of crazy.”
“I know that too,” agreed Cordelia. She took a deep breath and turned to him. “And I have a solution. Don’t focus on them.”
“What should I focus on instead?” asked Angel, feeling his stomach tighten.
The Seer smiled. “Me.”
The vampire gazed at her. In the flickering half-light, her eyes caught and held his own. For a few seconds, Angel saw something strange and tender flare deep within them.
“Cordy,” he said carefully, “about before…”
“Don’t,” she told him quickly. “Don’t say anything about that.” She clasped his hands within both her own, bringing them to her chest.
“Angel,” she whispered, “I’m so incredibly sorry.”
His throat closed as she lifted his hands higher, to her lips. She dipped her head, kissed his trembling fingers and Angel shut his eyes in disbelief. This was not happening. This was not happening.
Cordelia was not threading her arms around his waist and nestling herself against him.
She was not looking up at him in a way that made his legs suddenly feel like water.
She simply *wasn’t*, because somewhere between pissing off the two of the three women he cared about most and this moment, someone had obviously staked him. He must have died, and...
…gone to vampire heaven where the girl he loved was now resting her head on his chest?
“I shouldn’t have taken off, Angel. I’m sorry. We’re friends,” she mumbled softly against his shirt. “Best friends. And real friends don’t run away from things just because they scare them. They stay. And talk things out.”
Stunned, Angel watched from a great distance as his arms lifted of their own accord and wrapped themselves around the young woman in front of him. He could feel her breathing. He could feel her heart beat against him.
“Friends?” he muttered, in a daze.
“Uh-huh,” she breathed, her hands warm as they caressed his back.
“Talk?” managed the vampire, her hair silky underneath his fingers.
“Talk,” she agreed, lifting her face to his. “About feelings that frighten them.”
Angel’s world stopped. “Feelings?”
Their eyes locked, and there was a softness in hers that he had never seen before.
“Yeah,” she confirmed. “Big ol’ feelings. How ‘bout that, huh?”
“W-would…” Angel hesitated, then decided to take a chance. “Would these be the usual kind of feelings that best friends have for each other?”
She tilted her head. “Well, not usually. I’m told that only people who are truly, *amazingly* lucky get to feel like this about their best friend and have their best friend feel the same way.”
“Really?” Angel whispered, feeling something bright and warm close around his heart.
“Really,” she whispered back, and leant her forehead against his chest, breathing deeply.
Angel simply gazed down at her, unable to believe this was happening. Finally, he cleared his throat. “Cordy, do, ah, do best friends who feel this way ever, I don’t know … kiss each other?”
Her arms tightened around him as she looked up. “Sometimes,” she nodded, her eyes twinkling. “When one of the friends has been unbelievably wrong about the way she feels for the other friend. *Especially* then.”
Angel suddenly released her from his embrace. “Sorry, I don’t know anybody like that,” he said airily, before smiling.
Cordelia slapped him on the chest, grinning. Then she sobered. “Angel, until five minutes ago, neither did I.”
The vampire gently stroked her cheek as they gazed at each other, both amazed at the way the other’s face now seemed different somehow, touched by something new. Something deeper than either of them had known existed. Angel finally spoke.
“I do love you, Cordy. You’re ... everything I never knew I needed. You believe me, don’t you?”
She looked up at him. “Yes.”
Angel just waited.
Cordelia smiled, and it was a smile that encompassed both love and sadness. She waved a hand around at the throng. “Look, Angel. These people? They’re so incredibly lucky. They have no idea what’s out there, and most of them never will.” She met Angel’s eyes. “Us … you and me … we have to live differently. It could all get taken away from us at any moment. And I suddenly realised that I don’t have time to be afraid any more.” She reached up and touched his face, her fingers trailing across his brow and down his cheek. “We can’t … can’t have everything, you know. The Powers took care of that. He’s still in there somewhere. And we don’t know what’s in me, exactly. But you were right. We deserve to have *something*.”
She lifted her face to his. “And I want us to have whatever we can,” she said softly. “Because I’m ready now. I’m not afraid any more. And because…”
She trailed off, leaning upwards. Angel swallowed, inclining his head forward, letting her come to him.
“…I love you too,” Cordelia whispered, before gently touching her lips to his.
It lasted an age, that kiss. It deepened each second, until there was no space between them not filled. Cordelia blurred; every blur an emotion, all streaks of colour, light and warmth. For Angel, even when the kiss had ended, it didn’t. Somewhere in his head, which was filled with the closeness and the sheer reality of her, he knew that it never would.
Twenty feet away, Willow stared in utter shock, the drinks she had gone to collect spilling unnoticed to the floor. *Oh boy. Oh boy. This is … new.*
Finally, Cordelia stepped back, a little flushed. “Wow.”
“Uh-huh,” agreed a grinning, extraordinarily giddy vampire.
“Okay,” Cordelia said breathlessly. “Executive decision. Kissing? *Definitely* something we can have.”
“A lot?” asked Angel, pulling her gently back to him.
In answer, she smiled, laced her arms around his neck, and kissed him again.
* * *
“So,” Willow said lightly, sitting down next to Xander and placing a beer in front of him. “Where’s Buffy gone?”
Xander pointed, his eyes riveted on the dance floor. “Dancing with Anya. Which makes Xander a happy boy.”
Willow’s brow creased. “Why?”
“You’re supposed to appreciate the finer points of the sisterhood, Will. Noticed the music?”
Willow’s expression cleared in understanding. “Oh. Lambada.”
“Lambada-bing!” crowed Xander, and recommenced staring.
Willow punched him.
“Ow!”
“Appreciate, yes. Ogle, no. First rule of the sisterhood.”
Her companion sighed. “Where’s Deadboy when you need him? He understands me now. We’re bonded in manliness.”
Willow’s face became suddenly mischievous. “Speaking of, did anybody … and by anybody I mean you, notice the strangeness that is Angel and Cordelia?”
Xander snorted. “If by noticed, you mean stepped right in it with all its subtext-y badness, then yeah, I noticed. Kinda like daytime soap, only less funny.” He considered for a second. “Hairstyles were about the same, though.”
Willow raised an eyebrow. “I know what *I’m* talking about. But you flounder in murk. So, exposition please?”
“Oh, I walked in on some kind of big vicious,” Xander explained, waving his beer bottle around. “With the yelling and the storming off, I didn’t find out what it was all about.”
“Would it explain why they’re under the stairs groping like a pair of … gropers?” asked Willow calmly.
She quite enjoyed the minor explosion that followed.
Chapter Nine: Love Song For A Vampire
Cordelia didn’t know how long she and Angel been locked in each other’s arms. She wasn’t wearing a watch. She had the feeling that even if she had been, she wouldn’t have been able to read it. It was that kind of night. Some time earlier, she had dimly registered a dirty look from a girl she recognised as one from the bar. It had made her giggle, which had required an explanation. Soon, they had both been giggling.
Dreamily, she smiled. Her vampire … and he was hers … giggling like a little girl. Dork.
“But,” she told him aloud, “you’re *my* dork.”
“I should be offended,” Angel replied, leaning his forehead against hers, “but I keep getting distracted…”
He kissed her again, ran his hand down her cheek, trailed his fingers across her collarbone and drew her even closer to him. She shivered.
“Angel…” she mumbled. “Angel … I’m getting, I mean … we should st-”
“Don’t wanna,” the vampire whispered against her throat.
“Me *unbelievably* much neither. And yet.”
Angel pulled away with a sigh. “And yet,” he agreed sadly.
Cordelia took his hands in hers, noted that their trembling matched her own. “Those Powers have a lot to answer for,” she said glumly.
The vampire nodded, pulled her back to him and rested his chin on her shoulder. “If I ever meet ‘em, we’re gonna have-”
“A loooong talk,” she finished for him. “You know it, mister.”
They stood there for a while, Cordelia with her back to his chest, his arms tucked around her waist. Angel wasn’t aware of the moment the music changed, but Cordelia was, because she suddenly straightened.
“Oh my god,” she said softly.
“What?” Angel asked, oblivious to anything but her nearness.
She cocked her head. “This song … I can’t believe it.” She whirled in his arms, locking her hands behind his neck. “Dance with me.”
Angel shuffled uncomfortably. “Cordy…”
“Dance with me,” she repeated softly, and kissed him.
The vampire weakened under this onslaught, but still managed, “Cordy, I can’t-”
The Seer interrupted him with a hand over his mouth. “As we’ve established, there are a lot of things we can’t do.” He opened his mouth again, so she shut it for him. “A lot of things,” she clarified, pressing herself against him in a way that made his knees weak. “But we can dance, Angel. We can have that.”
Angel drew in a shaky breath as her body began to move sensuously against his own. “No fair,” he complained half-heartedly.
She smiled devastatingly. “Uh-huh.” Her lips captured his own just long enough for him to lean forward into the kiss before she broke away. “Dance with me, Angel,” she whispered.
And he broke.
As they made their way to the floor, she turned to him. Lacing a hand in his hair, she whispered into his ear. “This music,” she told him. “Angel, it’s called Love Song For A Vampire.”
Angel couldn’t believe how much he loved her.
She wrapped her arms around him and melted into him as the song played. And he surrendered to her completely. For the first time, the vampire and the Seer were locked in a battle neither wanted to end.
Song after song came and went, and still they danced. Because finally, they could.
* * *
Xander dropped into the seat beside Buffy and handed her a drink. The Slayer muttered something unintelligible.
“Okay,” said Xander, “that could have been a ‘Thank you, Xander,’ or you might have been cursing me in Japanese.”
Buffy smiled half-heartedly and patted his hand. “Sorry. Thank you.”
“What’s with the grim?”
“Cordelia Part Two: The Strangeness Continues.” She gestured to the couple on the dance floor and shook her head. “I mean, *look* at that. I know I haven’t been to LA in a while, but did they change it to an alternate universe or something?”
Xander turned just as Cordelia executed a devastating double-spin, came up short and fell laughing into Angel’s waiting arms. The glimmer of a smile crossed Xander’s face. That look of Cordy’s, the laughter and warmth that exuded from her. He’d never seen her so unselfconscious. So natural. So real. For the first time since Xander had known her, Cordelia had eyes for nobody else in the room. She wasn’t trying to make a statement or impress anybody, wasn’t surreptitiously looking for a better option, didn’t care how she looked or what anybody thought of her. Her whole heart was focused on the tall vampire who was holding her as tenderly as if she were glass and as tightly as if she were smoke that might slip away.
“Buff, as unspeakable as this may sound, coming from *my* lips, no less … Deadboy actually looks kinda … happy.”
“Don’t call him that,” Buffy responded automatically, and resumed her intense scrutiny of the dancing couple.
Xander watched her quietly for a few moments before asking, “Are you okay?”
Buffy sighed. “Yeah. Of course.”
“Ah, yes. Cause that’s your ‘okay’ face.”
“No, really.” Buffy picked up her drink and turned to Xander. “Angel and Cordelia’s business is their business, you know? I don’t have a right to feel this way. Not any more. And especially since Sp-” She caught herself, and paled with shock at what she’d almost revealed.
“Sp?” Xander asked with a grin. “Spears? Spigots? Sputnik?”
“Yes,” Buffy deadpanned. “Since the Russians made with space travel.”
Xander chuckled, then sobered. “Look, Buffy, I don’t know exactly what’s going on with them, either. But think about it. I was doing this little tally o’ weirdness in my head, counting up all the strange stuff that happened here since they left. Guess where I got up to?”
“Eleventy thousand?”
“Lost count right around ‘Willow’s gay’ and ‘We merged our essences to make Matrix Buffy’,” admitted Xander. “People change. Stuff … happens, you know?”
The Slayer nodded emphatically. “Yeah. Stuff. Angel and Cordelia in a more than platonic groove kind of stuff.”
Xander gave a tiny shrug. “Look, you know De-, um, Angel and I never really-”
“Liked each other even a tiny bit?”
“There is that, yes. But much as it pains me to say it, he’s one of the good guys. And Cordy-”
“Is completely different.”
“You noticed that too, huh?”
“Yeah, the radiant glow kind of gave her away.” Taking a deep breath, she added, “Plus, she’s not the Cordelia I remember any more. She’s actually really … nice. Who’d-a thunk it?” She looked out onto the dance floor again. “They’ve changed each other, haven’t they? For the good.”
Xander followed her eyes. “Looks like it.”
They were quiet for a while.
“I’ve decided to be Magnanimous Man,” said Xander suddenly. “I think they deserve this. You know, one demon for another?”
Buffy glanced across at the couple again, and despite herself, a smile touched her lips. “Maybe you’re right. Look.”
Out on the dance floor, wrapped in Angel’s arms, Cordelia had begun to glow.
End.
Love Song For A Vampire – Annie Lennox
Come into these arms again
And lay your body down
Rhythm of this trembling heart
Is beating like a drum
It beats for you
It bleeds for you
It knows not how it sounds
For it is the drum of drums
It is the song of songs…
Once I had the rarest rose
that ever deigned to bloom
Cruel winter chilled the bud
and stole my flower too soon
Loneliness … old hopelessness …
To search the ends of time
For there is in all the world
No greater love than mine
Still falls the rain (still falls the rain)
Still falls the rain
Be mine forever (be mine forever)
Let me be the only one
To keep you from the cold
For now the floor of hell is laid
With stars of brightest gold
They shine for you
They shine for you
They burn for all to see
Come into these arms again…
…and set this spirit free.