__Weathered__
By Amanda G



Angel Investigations:


"Groo- I don't understand..."

"I am sorry if my words confuse you Princess- but I can only speak
what is in my true heart. I love you. You are more dear to me than
either of the suns in the skies over my homeworld. But you do not
feel the same. I cannot remain here in this place so long as I am
standing in the way of your happiness."

Cordelia felt her jaw drop slightly. Groo was leaving? Her Groosalugg
was leaving her? HER. And to make things worse he was standing there
telling her how she felt? She glanced briefly over her shoulder to
see if another interdimensional portal had opened up and SUCKED them
into another world.

This was GROO for Christsakes! He crossed time and space to be with
her. He let her cut his hair and burn his clothes and dress him. And
now- now that Connor- SHIT!- Stephen was home and everything was
getting back to normal again, Groo was dumping her. And dumping her
in the middle of the hotel lobby where Angel and his stupid vampire
hearing and Gunn and Fred with their stupid Big Gulps could hear him!

"I can see you are speechless with joy." Groo smiled sadly. "Now you
can be with the one who truly hold your heart."

"Wa-aa-aa-ai-t just a minute there buddy! This isn't me speechless
with joy! This is me with my head about to explode! Groo what the
hell are you talking about?" Cordelia stepped down the stairs into
the lobby and touched his arm. "Did someone tell you that I'm not in
love with you? Because if someone did- if they said that then tell me
who so I can explain things to them with the business end of an AXE."

"You say all this my Princess..." Groo stopped himself from touching
her cheek. "No. Not my Princess. Not any longer... You say all these
words but what you do not say is louder than anything spoken. You do
not say you love me."

Walking into the lobby, Lorne observed the unfolding melodrama with a
critical eye. Damned rubberneckers. Striding forward, he caught Gunn
and Fred by the elbows and *gently* guided them out into the
courtyard. "You're the kind of people that slow down for a car wreck
aren't ya'?" He hissed before shutting the double doors.

Next to deal with the big dumb lug on the steps. Angelcakes looked
like he was watching The Young and the Restless. Lorne was tempted,
however briefly to shove the champion out into the courtyard- but it
was a bit early in the summer for the Fourth of July. "Come on Big
Guy. This isn't meant to play out as a group scene..."

Angel resisted Lorne's persistent tugging and heard Groo's next words.

"I'm not the champion you seek. The champion of your heart. That
great honor belongs to another...."

Upstairs, Angel leaned over the railing. "Come on Lorne..."

"Move it Mister or you'll be getting a U.V hycolonic."

Once they were inside Angel's suite, Lorne shut the door and pulled a
chair over directly in front of it and plunked himself down with last
month's Vanity Fair.

Angel watched the empathic demon curiously. "You knew this was
coming?"

"Helloooo Precious- wake up and smell the future. Of course I knew
this was coming. I just figured they'd be married and have a half
dozen baby 'Luggs' scampering around the place. Our Cordy's not
a 'love 'em and leave 'em' kinda gal, and well... Groo may be the
hottest thing in leather since Larry Fishbourne in The Matrix- but
he's not the brightest bulb in the socket." Lorne looked up from the
magazine. "And by the way? I'm re-opening Caritas and you're invited."

 "Really?"

"Seems only fair since it's going to be in your hotel. Try not to
park your Plymouth in it, shoot it up, or blow it up and I'll try to
pay rent on time."

By the time Lorne judged it was safe to go down stairs, the lobby was
minus one Pylean and one Princess.

"Where'd everyone go?" Angel looked to Gunn and Fred who were just
coming back inside.

"Groo took a cab someplace and Cordy went into the kitchen."

Lorne gulped. "The kitchen?"

"Yeah! You know Lorne, the room with all the BIG SHARP KNIVES!"
Cordelia stormed into the lobby toting a pint of Haagen Daas coffee
icecream. "I can't believe you told Groo to leave me!"

Taking up a strategic position behind Angel, Lorne peeked out. "I
told him no such thing."

"He said that you're the one to thank for his epiphany! Although I
suppose I should be grateful that he didn't have to boff Darla to get
one but still!"

"Now hold the phone Cordy! Groo came to ME and HE asked ME a
question. He wanted to know about his future- his place in the cosmic
scheme of things. Remember puddin'? That's my thing. It's what I do.
I can't alter someone's reading just to make you happy. He's got his
own destiny and it ain't here."

Growling around a mouthful of icecream, Cordelia leveled her glare in
his direction. "Oh yeah? And what about me? Hmmm? I didn't even
WANT
a damned destiny! All I wanted was a nice, funny guy to go home to
who would understand me when I say things like 'Boy, how about that
appocalypse?' or 'Honey, do you know how to get Drokken drool out of
pashima?' That's it. That's all I wanted."

"You want a reading? Open those pipes and let 'er rip. One anagog- no
waiting." Lorne huffed, stepping out from behind Angel now that he
knew she wouldn't be doing that Celestial Lite-Brite thing on
him. "But till then- you do YOUR thing for the hopeless and I'll do
mine."

"Fine! But the next time I find a cute little go all night puppy and
he comes to you for advice? Do me a favor and make like a Magic 8
Ball. Tell him 'Answer Unclear' 'k?"

"Perk up pumpkin. Things won't always look so bleak- trust Auntie
Lorne when I tell ya' something's just around the corner that'll rock
your world."


***

"I'm not one of those doe-y eyed girls that works for Angel
Investigations." Lilah's voice was crisp and cold like their
lovemaking. Technical perfection without a trace of passion. "Don't
go thinking about me when I'm gone."

Propping his head up on one folded arm, Wesley's own clipped British
tones replied with equal precision. "Lilah- I hardly thought about
you while you were here."

"Ouch." Reaching down, Lilah plucked her pantyhose from the
floor. "Kinda ironic. Angel's still got his soul- but getting laid
made you lose yours."

"Are you always this tiresome after shagging Lilah? If so I would
think it explains why Mr. McDonald's no longer in Los Angeles."

"Son of a -"

Wesley's lips curl into a sneer as the jibe hits the mark
beautifully. Lilah Morgan was nothing if not predictable.

Pausing at the door, Lilah turned back. "Tell me one thing. What did
you do with the copy of the Inferno I gave you?"

"I used those lovely 14th Century illustrations to wipe my arse."
Wesley lied coldly. "Now get out."

Once the front door closed, Wesley slowly climbed out of the now cold
bed and padded to the shower. There really wasn't any point in
getting dressed. He had no where to go and no one was likely to pay
him a visit.

Under the scalding spray of the shower, he quickly ducked his head
under and began to wash his hair. He didn't want any sensory memory
of Lilah Morgan on his body or in his mind.

The only mildly pleasent bit of information in his otherwise bleak
life was the acceptance by the Watchers Council of his proposed book
on demonology. Of course they would have final approval over the
draft, but it was a foot back in the door.

The patronizing bastards even went so far as to arrange another job
as a librarian's assistant at UCLA. Most likely Quentin Travers'
personal touch- a chance to remind Wesley that he was back to where
he'd started. Friendless in a strange land.

But it was far more appealing than the alternative which was
starving. The money he made from playing darts in the pub only went
so far. It covered rent, utilities and maintainence on the
motorcycle. Food wasn't so much of an issue- and there were always
women willing to buy his drinks.

But the medical bills he'd incurred during his hospitalization were
coming due soon, as well as the need to replace some of his books.
Fred had forgotten them on her 'mission of mercy' and he didn't have
the urge to pick up the phone and request them.

So the library job would keep the financial wolves at bay, as well as
give him the opportunity to immerse himself once more in the academic
world.

Emerging from the bathroom, Wesley looked upon his rumpled bed in
disgust. The last thing he wanted was to stay in and relive the
memories.

Decision made he swiftly stripped the linens from the bed and stuffed
them into the bottom of the dirty clothes hamper, replacing them with
clean ones, not that he'd notice after spending the evening at the
bar, but it was the thought that mattered.



***

The Hyperion Hotel:


"Dang! What did you get girl?" Gunn emerged from behind the front
desk to help Fred with the bags full to the breaking point.

"Comfort food. I thought Cordy and I could sort of hang out and talk
about how horrible men are." She grinned as Gunn pushed her glasses
up on her nose. "Well, except you... and eat icecream and make
brownies..."

Hefting two of the bags, Gunn shook his head. His girl did nothin'
halfway. "Fred- I don't think even Liz Taylor's got enough heartbreak
to eat all this!"

"Maybe not- but I hear Vicadin can give you the munchies." Lorne
offered.

"I think it's good." Angel commented from the door to his
office. "You and Cordelia- doing the friend thing. She's really not
in any condition to be by...." His words trailed off, followed by an
incoherent vocalization or two as Cordelia descended the lobby steps.

"Damn. You know I've never actually looked up the definition of
trouble in a dictionary- but I'm pretty sure I'd find a picture of
Cordy wearin' that next to it." Gunn commented as his eyes moved from
the silver and satin choker at Cordelia's throat to the black leather
halter top that apparently was defying some basic principles of
gravity, to the black leather pants that would have made any Hell's
Angel proud all the way down to the tips of her stilletto heeled knee
high boots.

Angel gulped. "Where did you get that outfit?" He demanded while his
lesser acknowledged demon side gave the clothing a mental thumbs up.

"S&M R Us had a fire sale." Cordelia shrugged and picked up the black
leather jacket Groo had left behind. It was too big in the shoulders,
but narrower in the hips than one of Angel's. Once she turned up the
cuffs it felt just fine. "You know what? Last time I got dumped it
led to an alternate universe where WILLOW ROSENBERG got to wear the
dominatrix gear and got to have all the fun, I'm thinking this time I
can top it."

"Uh- Cordy... I don't think it's such a good idea. You're upset, you
should be at home with me. Here. With us. Us your family. That's what
families are for right?"

Tilting her head to the side for a brief moment, Cordelia's new,
harsher facade fell away. Damn him for those puppy eyes. "Angel- it's
just one night out. By myself. I'm not running away and joining the
circus."

"Come back here tonight. You can stay in one of the guest rooms and
I'll make you breakfast." Angel wheedled. "No sense going home when
you have to be in early tomorrow anyway."

Sensing that she wasn't getting out the door any time soon unless she
gave in, Cordy nodded once. "Fine. Whatever. But I swear- if you
follow me I'm replacing your Folger's Crystals with Holy water."

Lorne watched Cordelia go with trepidation written all over his
face. "Somebody's in for a world of hurtin' tonight."


***


The Corner Bar:


College night. Noisy. Smokey. Obnoxious music. Stale beer for a
dollar. Aesthetically the establishment was as close to an open
Hellmouth as Wesley ever wished to come, but it was the perfect
breeding ground for rich, ignoramuses with far too much testosterone
and far too little eye hand coordination.

The perfect place to line up a few games of darts. He immediately
snagged the last available table near the dartboard and billard table
in the back, ordering a whiskey and water from a young, gum snapping
waitress.

Hours and dollars later, Wesley rose from the table to use the
facilities, weaving in and out of the crowd and missing entirely
Cordelia's enterance to the bar.


***

'Third time's the charm.'

Cordelia thought striding confidently through the crowd. The first
bar she'd been to had been empty and lifeless. The second one even
worse than that- some college campus bar where the 'I'm So Deep I
Can't Get A Date' crowd was holding a poetry reading. Definitely not
places to drink herself into oblivion. This was a nice place. A good
place. A nice and annonymous place where she didn't have to do
anything for anyone but herself.

The only problem was there wasn't a single seat at the bar open, and
all of the tables were occupied. As she made her way through the room
she noted that most of the tables were occupied by groups or couples.
There was no way she was going to be the third wheel on someone's
date- if she wanted that then she would have gone out with Fred and
Gunn. And she really didn't feel like sitting with a group of frat
boys or accountants.

Finally in the back of the bar she found one table with a jacket
draped over the back of the chair. A man's jacket.

"Drinking alone is so lame... drinking with strangers? It's down
right neighborly." She decided outloud before adjusting the depth of
her cleavage, ordering a dry martini with three olives and settling
in with her back to the wall. Whoever was sitting there alone would
probably consider himself lucky to have someone looking the way she
did at his table. If anything, he should be thanking her for her
thoughtfulness.


**


Wesley returned from the cess pool they were currently calling a
restroom to find the seat facing away from him was now occupied by a
slender woman dressed all in black leather with a wild mop of dyed
blonde hair on the very top of her head.

He shrugged off his irritation. What did it matter so long as the
woman in the seat wasn't Lilah Morgan he had no complaint.

Rounding the corner of the table, Wesley rocked back on his heels and
stared in amazement at Cordelia.

Perhaps he had one complaint.

"You? What are you doing here?"

Cordelia's put out tone irked Wesley. "I was sitting here." He sat
down, so stunned to see her that he almost missed his chair
entirely. "How was your vacation?"

"Pretty good." Cordelia recovered her composure. "Trip home was a
nightmare...got lost, had a flat tire, Groo got sunburned, my best
friend had his child kidnapped. That was kinda a downer."

Wesley flinched at Cordelia's harsh words before rallying. "And I'm
certain that when you found out another friend had his throat slit
you rushed to his side?" He felt a hollow sense of satisfaction when
Cordelia recoiled... that is until her next volley.

"Nope.. I was too busy helping Angel mourn his son. You remember
Connor?" She held her hands inches apart. "About so big, not much
hair, drooling problem... only he's not so little anymore."

Wesley's fingers clenched around the glass between his hands. "What
are you talking about?"

"Connor. He's back. Of course he's 18 now, walks softly, carries a
whole arsenal."

"Where is he?"

"I don't know. He's got the usual teenage issues... raised in a hell
dimension, psychopath for a 'dad'. We're sort of hoping he grows out
of his 'I want to murder my biological father' phase sometime in the
near future." Cordelia finished off her martini just as the cocktail
waitress delivered another.

"He's alive?"

"Selective hearing much? I said he's 18, he's lived his life in HELL.
He's tried to kill Angel and he's tried to kill me. I've done a
little tap dance through the boy's psyche... you have no idea the
kind of ugliness, pain and suffering he's been through." Cordelia
slammed her glass down. "You thought Angel was going to go evil again
and what? You couldn't pick up the damn phone?"

"Would you have listened? Would you have believed Angel was capable
of killing his own son?" Wesley snorted. "You would have gone to
Angel and asked him point plank. He would have denied it and you- you
would have been satisfied and told me to shut my mouth. Your faith in
Angel is world reknown!"

"And what about Fred? Or Gunn? Or Lorne? Or Giles? Or Buffy? For
God's sake Wesley you would have had an army here in less than 3
hours if you'd just CALLED."

Wesley's shoulders slumped briefly. "It doesn't matter now. As
Winnifred so kindly informed me, it was all for nothing." He waved to
the waitress for another round. "It's all lost."

"I think you're probably right. Everything's wrong and everyone's
gone."

"Who's gone?"

"Groo. Today." Cordelia leaned back and accepted another martini, her
7th for the night. Her mother would certainly be proud.

"Why?" Wesley couldn't imagine any circumstance what would make the
Pylean hero leave his true lady love.

"Long story." Looking up she eyed Wesley critically. Far too thin.
She could almost count his ribs even in the darkly lit bar. Unshaven.
Unkempt. Unhapy. Unwanted. He reminded her of a discarded rag doll.
In fact he looked like she felt.

The two ceased talking for the most part and turned their attention
solely to drinking.



****


Wesley's Apartment:


Feeling the bed barely dip to the right of him, Wesley opened one eye
and propped his head on his fist. "Fleeing the scene of the crime?"

"I told Angel I would stay at the hotel tonight once I was through
clubbing." Cordelia answered as she reached for her top.

"Ah yes. Ridiculous of me to forget."

Cordelia's head snapped up as she tied the straps of her top behind
her neck. "Do you really want Angel to come looking for me and
find..." She waved her hand around the bedroom. "This?"

"No- I suppose surviving one murder attempt is enough." Odd, Wesley
thought, how a dream come true could so easily be twisted into
something faintly sinister through nothing more than the passage of
time.

At one point in his life making love to Cordelia Chase would have
been his fondest desire. But seeing the way things were now, watching
as she retrieved her things from the floor of his bedroom in an
unabashed hurry to flee his bed and his company, possibly for the
last time, left him feeling hollow.

"Don't think this means everything is okay- it's not. You kept
something huge a secret Wesley. Things are never going to be the same
again no matter what goes on between us. But I can try and talk to
Angel- make him understand..."

"Bugger that! Is that what you think last night was Cordelia? A
pathetic attempt to worm my way back into Angel's good graces? If
anything I've made matters worse." Seeing Cordelia's confusion,
Wesley rubbed his hands vigorously over his face. "Nevermind. Be
assured the last thing I want is for you to plead my case. Leave it
alone."

"I can't! We can't leave things like this Wesley. Forget Angel! We
need you. Fred nearly died just a few nights ago."

"I realize that. But it does nothing to change the situation." His
voice softened imperceptibly. "As you said last night- everything's
lost."

* * *