__Watch Over Me__
By Hayley
Sunnydale:
"I don't get it. Want to tell me again why I'm here with you in this one Starbuck's town when I could be on the French Riviera for the week?"
Wesley sighed. "Angel explained it Cordelia. We need Giles' help to
translate the rest of the scroll. The sooner we get the scroll
translated, the sooner we'll know what it is that Angel will be facing.
Now what's more important to you? Your tan or --"
"Don't finish that sentence Wesley and I won't hurt you." Cordelia
grumbled shifting the heavy box on her hip to a slightly less
uncomfortable position as they walked up the sidewalk toward's Giles'
apartment. "And what I don't understand is how come this couldn't have been done two weeks ago? Why is it that *I* don't get time off, while *you* on the other hand get to go hang out in a demon brothel for a week of R&R. And I so don't want to know what you picked up in that place! Do they even MAKE a demonic equivalent of penicillin?"
"You know perfectly well that was 'BUSINESS' Cordelia!" Wesley spared
her a withering death glare, and passed her on the stairs. "Looks like the gang's all here. Let's attempt to have a civilized time of it. . ."
"I'm Miss Civilization I'll have you know!"
"Just like you're Miss Congeniality." Wesley muttered in frustration
under his breath. He made a mental note to kill his already deceased
employer for sending the two of them back to Sunnydale for their errand.
Cordelia forced to give up an all expense trip to France was not the
most pleasant company.
"Bite me." Cordelia returned waspishly. "I don't know what your problem is Wesley, but if your inner Rogue Demon Hunter needs a spanking, feel free to do it in front of someone else. I'm here to help Angel. Not because *you* told Angel to make me give up my trip. You don't sign my pay-checks, and I don't work for you. You don't get to boss me around."
"So you do work for the highest bidder and not the higher calling?"
Wesley rapped twice on Giles' door.
"Wesley. Come in." Giles took one of the boxes of books from the other ex-Watcher's arms.
"Thank you. I do appreciate your willingness to help us in this matter Rupert. I don't have the necessary tools to translate the scroll fully myself, and some of the dialects are troublesome."
"I can't believe you came into the scroll at all. Scholars have been
searching for the scrolls of Aberjian for years." Noting Cordelia's
disheveled, and irritated appearance, Giles took her box from her as
well. "Cordelia, it's good to see you."
Shoving a hand through her hair, Cordelia smiled brilliantly at Giles. "Giles! How are you?" She offered him an unexpected hug around the boxes of books.
"Cordelia. . . ." Anya's eyes narrowed into slits at the sight of the
ex-cheerleader. "Xander's mine. Touch him and die."
Pretending to consider the ex-demon's words, Cordelia nodded. "Hmm...
that was pretty much the same motto we had in High School."
"Cordy! Gee! It's great to see you again! I mean it's not like it's been forever, but a year is a really long time. How's L.A?"
"Hey Willow." Cordelia's expression softened slightly at Willow's
babbling attempts to fill the tense silence. "L.A's really good. Oh! I brought you something!" Cordelia's dark head bent over the bag slung across her shoulder and emerged with a slender volume in deep blue binding. "I kind of ran across it. . . " She handed the red head the book. "You're still into magic stuff right?"
"Ripley's Moon-Casting for Intermediates in Magik." Willow read, a huge smile lighting her face up. "Wow! This is so cool! I've never seen this in any book store. I don't know what to say. . .you didn't have to. . ."
"You're the only person I knew that would like it." Cordelia shrugged
off the thanks, and took a seat next to Willow, looking curiously at
Tara. "I don't know you. I'm Cordelia Chase."
"Tara."
"Oh! We talked on the phone a while ago when Willow was de-crypting
stuff for us!"
"That's right." Tara nodded. "That's a really cool book you brought for Willow. I've been looking for one like it for a long time."
"Well I'm glad someone's happy about this trip." Cordelia grumbled. "I was actually kind of planning a trip out of town. But Wesley here needs me to lift books for him."
Wesley paused in unpakcing the books, and opened his mouth with a
crushing retort. And decided against delivering it. "It's nice to meet you Tara."
"You too."
"So Cordy, how come I haven't seen you in any major feature films? Of
course I don't spend that much time in the 'secret' room of the video
store." Xander added a small dig.
Before Cordelia could respond, Buffy and Riley entered the apartment,
and seemed shocked to see it so full. "Oh. Cordelia. Hey."
"Buffy." Cordelia nodded crisply in acknowledgement before turning back to Willow and Tara.
"So- that encryption thingy worked?"
"Oh, like a total charm! And I've been using it on other stuff too. I
brought my new laptop, do you think you could show me how to get past a firewall and all that sort of stuff? And I brought copies of the
demonology database I've been working on."
"Yes, Dr. Harry Doyle's done wonders with that database." Wesley pointed out pissily.
"Yes, well. Before we get started, there are a few things from the
library I'm going to need. Wesley, since my car is in the repair shop, would you drive me?" Sensing the upcoming hostilities, Giles moved to intervene.
"Of course. Cordelia, would you mind terribly unpacking the rest of the books?" Wesley ordered. "I'll be right back. Try not to spill anything on these won't you?" He added just as Giles propelled him out the door.
"How many times do I have to tell you that Dennis did that reaching for the remote control!?!" Cordelia exploded. "You know, I think the
explosion effected your hearing!" When the door shut on her small
tirade, Cordelia added. "Insufferable ass."
They drove in silence until Giles gestured for Wesley to pull into the parking lot of a small pub. "What are we doing here?"
Giles climbed out, and shut the door after himself. "We're allowing the children to sharpen their claws on one another for a while so that we can speak privately, and not be in the line of fire. And I'm getting the distinct impression I'm going to need a drink."
Once they were seated in a back booth, with large glasses of dark beer in front of them, Wesley removed his glasses and rubbed absently at the bridge of his nose.
"I heard about the explosion on the news. Are you recovered?"
A wry smile touched Wesley's lips briefly. "Yes. And as a matter of
fact, it ended up being the best thing that could have happened to me."
"How so?"
"The force of the blast dislodged a pinched nerve that was hurt during Faith's recent visit."
That brought the two men back into silence for some time, before Giles spoke. "It was poorly done my not calling. I regret it. But there was a good deal of confusion at the time."
"In a way, it may have been the best decision."
"You're taking extremes in stoicism to new levels Wesley." Giles chided.
"For Faith that is. Had I been aware of her escape, I might have been in wait for her, and we would have had the same mess over again. This way at least she's seeking peace, and help. We have Angel to thank for that."
"I understand tha the Black Ops team came looking for her."
"She turned herself into police custody and is serving her time, quite peacefully."
"Do you see her?"
"Twice a week if I can. But always at least once a week. Angel goes as often as possible to visit, if you can call it that. She barely speaks anymore."
"Any hope?"
"All reports say that she's been a model prisoner, even saving the life of one of the guards during an another inmate's attempted prison break."
Wesley shrugged. "I honestly don't know about rehabilitaion, but there may be a chance for her to find peace."
"It might surprise you to know, that I speak to Cordelia frequently. She tells me that you have invaluable to Angel in his work."
Wesley's snort was disbelieving. "Are you sure you spoke with CORDELIA? Anyhow, I do what I can. And the irony of me being a better Watcher to a 250 year old vampire than I was to an 18 year old Slayer hasn't been lost on me." He added wryly.
"Actually, Cordelia always speaks highly of your work." Giles pointed
out.
"I find it difficult to believe that she's noticed." Seeing Giles'
objection, Wesley held out a placating hand. "I apologize Rupert. I'm
venting a good deal of frustration. As I'm sure you've noticed, Cordelia is less than pleased to be here and because she can't, and won't stay angry at Angel, I'm the next logical target. . . ."
"She mentioned a trip?"
"French Riviera. I'm afraid I made the mistake of pointing out how ill advised the whole thing was, Angel took it to heart, and viola."
Giles took a long pull on his beer. "And the two of you have the power to dictate Cordelia's life?"
"No, but as her employer Angel does have the right to limit certain
clients' access to Cordelia."
"Ahh. . .David Nabbitt."
"I imagine that his name has come up several times in your conversations." Wesley flagged down the waitress and ordered a medium
rare hamburger and fries.
"And he's unacceptable?" Giles seconded the order and sat back against the booth.
Wesley could feel his blood pressure rise at the mention of the wealthy benefactor of Angel Investigations. "He's not evil if that's what you're asking. He's eccentric, childish, not particulary bright, and affable as a lap dog."
"Sounds like someone Cordelia could deal with on her own."
"Oh, without a doubt." Wesley chuckled harshly. "She's got him wrapped around her little finger with no problem whatsoever. The problem isn't HIS motives. It's hers. Recently Cordelia was given a small glimpse into the world of abject poverty. A group of street kids banned together to fight vampires. They've appearently been doing it for sometime with their headquarters in a burned out warehouse. They live like alley cats.
I think that it scared her. And I think that David Nabbitt is Cordelia's way of making sure that she never has to live that way. According to Angel it was a close thing for a while. Before she came to work for him, her apartment was something of a pit, and she was living on stolen food." Wesley thanks the waitress as she delivered their food before continuing. "So I have no objection to David Nabbitt per se. What Angel and I are both concerned about is the precedent that it sets in Cordelia's mind. The idea that she can't take care of herself. The idea that only a man will provide her with the security she needs. You don't live in Los Angeles Giles- let me tell you, the circles that Cordelia is moving in is rife with rich, powerful men buying their way into the good graces of these beautiful ingeunues who wouldn't look at them otherwise."
Giles considered Wesley's words for a time before formulating a
response. "And what is the solution? Cordelia remains alone until you or Angel find her a suitable husband? Do you realize how like a Neanderthal you sound?"
"Yes." Wesley returned sharply. "But I might say in my own defense that I was the one holding Cordelia's hand during her demonic surrogacy which was a DIRECT result of moving in circles where 'The girls have the pretty and the men have the money.' She's a girl Rupert. Young, and apart from myself and Angel utterly alone."
"So while you're distracting her here in Sunnydale, dare I ask what
Angel is doing to Mr. Nabbitt?"
"Nothing more than informing him of Angel Investigations new personel
policy forbidding employees to date our clients."
"When Cordelia discovers your little ruse, might I suggest you remove
all sharp, potentially lethal weapons from the room?"
******
Giles':
Cordelia continued to unpack the boxes of books, and spread them out on Giles' diningroom table, while continuing to field questions from the Scooby Gang.
"So where did the scroll come from?" Buffy asked inspecting it with
gentle fingertips.
"Wolfram and Hart."
"That law firm you had me help hack into?" Willow asked excitedly.
"They're real bad guys aren't they."
"Ooh. . . .fighting the lawyers of the world, and making it safe for --
criminals." Xander joked.
"Wolfram and Hart defends demons, vampires, assassins." Cordelia
answered setting the books up into the categorization that she knew
Wesley preferred. Although, he was acting like such a jerk, he deserved to have them scattered everywhere. "Let's see. They defended one vamp who was using his casting agency to kill actresses, and tried to have me for dinner. Then there was the whole 'trying to buy my eyes' which was a lot of fun. In case you ever needed to know, my eyes are worth $30,000. Then of course there was the whole thing with the assassain hired to kill three blind kids. That's the case Willow helped us out with. Then there was Faith. . . .oh, yeah. And let's not forget the whole 'kill the Oracles, blow up our office, and curse Cordelia to neverending visions' thing. Lemme tell ya' we all had some laughs over that. . . .in the hospital."
"Yikes! They even give LAWYERS a bad name!" Willow exclaimed.
"Anyway, Angel took the scroll, they got it back, they raised something awful from Hell, Angel needed the scroll to keep me from going over the edge with the neverending visions, I guess he had to chop off one of the lawyer's hands to get it too. So needless to say, this scroll's pretty important. There are all sorts of prophesies about what's supposed to go down in L.A in the future. You so don't want to know what's coming to Reseda, the beast of Amalfie, a razor toothed six-eyed harbinger of death."
"Okay, I'll go with Cordy on that. I didn't need to know that." Xander nodded.
"Anyway, I HOPE once it's all translated Wesley will take up a nice
hobby . . . .like landmine collecting." Cordelia sighed and once the
books were all arranged in perfect Watcher's order, shoved her hands
through her hair and sank down onto a chair.
"Working with Wesley. . .that's got to be a very 'special'
experience." Buffy remarked surveying the assembled books.
"Every day's an adventure."
"Who's Dennis?" Xander asked, his eyes narrrowing. "I were yelling
something to Wesley about Dennis. What's a Dennis?"
"Good question. Dennis is my roomate." Cordelia answered with a smile. "He doesn't eat my stuff, except for my Jolly Ranchers and Diet Pepsi. He doesn't use my phone, or wear my clothes. And he's a ghost."
"Excuse me?" Riley spluttered nearly shooting soda out of his nose.
"He came with the apartment, that's why I got it so cheap. And he picks things up, and always knows where to find something good to watch on t.v."
"Seriously?"
"Yup."
"And he's not all 'evil'? Cause most of the ghosts we've met lately have been evil with a capitol 'E'."
"Dennis is like my own personal Casper. And he *did* spill pop on one of Wesley's books. I think it's cause the apartment was too crowded. After the office blew up, Wesley needed a place to recover, and Angel was out of a place to live."
"So you lived with two dead guys and Wesley. . . . how could you tell
who was who?"
"Funny Xander."
"He's *MY* funny Xander." Anya growled.
"Down girl! Take some kibble and relax." Cordelia answered flippantly. "I have a life in L.A."
"I would love to see some of the stores in L.A. Most of my occult
catalogs come from there."
"Now that we've finally got our own office building, you can come and
visit. Any of you." Cordelia offered sincerely which surprised her more than anyone. She'd thought this trip back to Sunnydale would be painful, and hateful, and ugly. All the things she'd felt when she allowed herself to think of her time in High School. But even just one year's perspective did wonders for her outlook. They weren't her enemies. And a tiny part of her missed them.
"Really?" Willow bounced on the sofa.
"Sure. I know some of the magic shops on Dover. But I bet Wesley could tell you all of 'em."
"You know, we're all goin' Bronzing later. . . ."
"Ooh! That could be fun! Have they had any good bands lately?" Cordelia began to flip idly through the books and mark passages that looked remotely like the text in the scrolls. She knew that Wesley would never believe it, but she'd spent a lot of time with the scrolls when he and Angel were sleeping. She wasn't able to read the text the way Wesley was, but she had. . . .'feelings' about sections. Like mini-visions about the culture of the language the scrolls were written in.
If only she and Wesley could call a 'truce' they might be able to get
more done. But she HATED being bossed around. Especially when Wesley put on his 'fatherly concern' face. He wasn't her father. Whatever feelings she had for Wesley, she could definately say they weren't 'fatherly'.
It was strange. She never minded Angel's little 'talks'. Or any of the little ways he interfered in her life. In fact, it only made her feel cared for.
Wesley on the other hand had taken 'Guard Dog' to new levels of
extremism since the Wilson Christopher thing. She couldn't make a move without Wesley dogging her heels. Ever since Wilson, Angel had asked that she have her potential dates pick her up at the office, which wasn't too bad. Angel could even be friendly when threatened enough. Wesley on the other hand always seemed to be cleaning his weapons, or elaborating on some point of anatomy, especially methods of evisceration . . . ugh. An actor she'd met at an audition had ended up getting a 20 minute mini-dissertation in the benefits of decapitation versus emasculation. Poor Jerry had been too green to go to dinner.
And the whole thing with David Nabitt didn't help matters AT ALL. She
liked David. As strange as that might be, she appreciated his dorkier
qualities, and she wasn't too good to admit that he kind of reminded her of Xander pre-cheating loser times.
Of course his money was a draw. But she'd never claimed not to be
mercenary. She liked going to movie premieres, and big parties, and
private clubs. . . .They had *FUN* together. She'd made it perfectly
clear to David that she didn't see him as anything more than a friend, and in return for her honesty, David confessed that he was hopelessly in love with one of the working girls at Madame Dorian's, Lina, an exotically beautiful demon that David couldn't take around town to social functions. So she was playing the role of her life, not even getting paid for it, and she couldn't really tell anyone.
Except Wesley and Angel.
But with the way Wesley had been acting, she didn't feel particularly
inclined to cut him any slack. If he thought so little of her that he
believed she'd sell herself to the highest bidder . . . .then he could take a flying. . . .leap.
She continued marking possible passages in the books until Giles and
Wesley returned, and she looked at her watch. "Long time for the
library. Even the way YOU drive."
"We stopped for a quick bite to eat." Wesley responded evenly, not
rising to Cordelia's bait.
"Great. Well since you boys partied like animals before researching, you
won't mind if I go with these guys to the Bronze later."
"Do as you please." Wesley shrugged off his jacket and settled on one
side of the diningroom table, with Giles taking a similar position on
the other side.
"Well guys, Riley and I will meet you at the Bronze. I've got to do some patrolling. A Slayer's work is never done."
"And Xander and I have stuff to do too." Anya declared suddenly pulling her boyfriend to his feet, and nudging him along ahead of her.
"What things?"
"Things that aren't here." Anya declared, making sure to keep herself
between Xander and Cordelia at all times.
Once the two other couples were gone, Willow, Tara began to go through some of Giles' magic books working on their own project. Cordelia went into the kitchen, and after quietly rummaging through Giles' pantry, she put on a kettle for tea. It was the one domestic act that she truly enjoyed, and saw no reason to give it up just because she was trapped in Sunnydale instead of her own cozy kitchen.
When the water had *just* come to the boil, she quickly made five mugs and set them on a tea tray, taking two to Willow and Tara, and setting one at Giles' elbow with a light touch to draw his attention to it. The last one on the tray had a touch of honey and milk, and she set that on Wesley's right side. Then snagging one book off the table, she curled herself into one of the slightly shabby chairs, hoping to find something useful.
******
Wesley's Hotel Room:
A knock interrupted Wesley from his reading. Dressed only in a pair of pajama bottoms, and an open robe, he tied off the robe, and ran a hand through his wild hair. Instantly alert, he jerked open the door to find Cordelia standing on the other side dressed in a sarong style wrap skirt in a dark, almost blood red color, and matching sleeveless top, her dark hair pulled back only slightly behind her ears, and brushing past her shoulders.
"Cordelia! Is anything the matter?"
"No- I just. Were you sleeping?" Cordelia checked her watch and frowned. "Wesley, it's only 10!"
"I was doing a bit of reading. Is there something I can do for you?"
"Yes. You can put on your least fashionably criminal clothes and come to the Bronze with me." Cordelia demanded slipping past him to enter the spartan hotel room.
"Go to the Bronze? With you?"
"Yeah. Novel idea isn't it? So what are you waiting for?"
"The other boot to drop." Wesley responded setting aside his book.
"Why would you want me with your friends at the Bronze?"
"Because." Cordelia suddenly found her fingernails absolutely
captivating. "Because, you're one of my friends, and I haven't been
acting very friendly lately. I thought we could go to the Bronze, have a couple sodas, dance a little, and not fight anymore."
Most of the tension seemed to ease from his body at her words, and
Wesley felt a flash of guilt. He should have known better than to take her anger to heart. Cordelia's impatience and ill-humor was normally explosive, and short lived.
"But- if we're not friends. . . ."
"Don't be absurd Cordelia. Like you told Angel. We're a family. You and I are bound to disagree. Two people who work so closely together, and spend so much of our time in one another's company, it's inevitable."
"So you'll come?"
"Give me a chance to shower and change into appropriate clothing and
I'll join you." Quickly he went into the bathroom, and ran a cool shower to counteract the humidity of the evening. When he finally emerged from the shower it was to find a white shirt box on his bed with a note hastily scribbled on a piece of hotel stationary: Wesley- I promised the gang I would meet them at 10:30 SHARP. Please meet us there- Cordelia.
Opening the shirt box, Wesley pulled back the tissue to reveal a silk
shirt in a shade of teal like the sea after a storm.
Surveying the shirt, Wesley could feel a small twinge in his chest.
Curse the girl's generosity. A good quality shirt like that had to have cost her more than she spent on her own clothes lately. She shouldn't have. Quickly he grabbed a pair of leather pants from his bag. He didn't know what made him bring the things, but now he was glad he did.
Constant wearing had rendered the pants less irritating against his
skin, and now they were soft, pliable, and the most comfortable item of clothing he owned. He donned the pants, added the exquisitely soft
shirt, and finished off the look with a pair of well polished black
boots.
Looking in the mirror he decided to leave his damp hair slightly wild, and concluded that at least he wouldn't be humiliating Cordelia in front of her friends before moving to the door, and locking it after.
*****
The Bronze:
"Hey! Cordelia! Over here!" Tara waved wildly to get the other girl's
attention.
"Tara! Whew! I forgot how packed this place can be." Cordelia slid into the booth next to Tara and Willow. "Anyone else here yet?"
"Buffy and Riley were doing the patrol thing, and Anya and Xander went for drinks." Willow returned over the noise.
"I invited Wesley to come along. He should be here soon. . ."
"Cool." Willow smiled at Xander as he and Anya returned to the table
carrying two drinks a piece. "I bet you go to glamorous clubs all the
time in L.A."
"Not really much time for clubbing these days. I did get to go to a
movie premiere though, that was really fun!" Cordelia returned noticing the proprietary glares she was getting from Anya.
"What movie?" Xander prompted.
"The new sci-fi one." Cordelia answered craning her neck slightly to see if Wesley had arrived yet. She hoped he liked the shirt. It had kind of been an impulse buy. "So what are you guys up to these days? I mean aside from stopping government agencies from starting demonic
Armageddon?"
Xander chuckled. "That about covers it."
"For me too." Willow laughed. "Well, that and me and Tara doing the
whole magic thing. School's cool."
****
Man, it's a hot one
Like seven inches from the midday sun
Well, I hear you whisper
And the words melt eveone
But you stay so cool
My Munequita
My spanish harlem Mona Lisa
You're my reason for reason
The step in my groove
And if you said
This life ain't good enough
I would give my world to lift you up
I could change my life to better suit your mood
Cause you're so smooth
****
"Oh! I love this song Xander! Dance with me!" Anya burst out yanking her boyfriend out onto the dance floor.
Noticing the other girl's look, Willow shrugged. "She gets jealous all the time."
"That's okay. Xander looks happy, that's a good thing."
"Hey guys. Did we miss all the fun?"
"I told you honey we could skip patrolling tonight. There were only a
dozen vamps." Riley teased as they slid into Anya and Xander's vacated seats.
"Silly me. My rule book says 'Slay first-boogie later'." Buffy returned.
"No time like the present to boogie." Riley remarked with an arched
eyebrow, holding out his hand. "If you ladies will excuse me. . . "
"Sure, go on and boogie till your heart's content." Willow offered
wistfully. She'd asked Tara to be sort of discreet about the two of
them. Not because she was ashamed of her girlfriend, she just didn't
want to have Tara have to face Cordelia's mean side.
As if reading her thoughts, Cordelia leaned over the table and rested
one chin on her hand. "You guys don't have to baby sit me. Go on and
dance."
"But-"
"Willow, I'm a bitch. But I'm not a prejudiced bitch." Cordelia pointed out with a smile. "Actually it's nice to see that there's one couple in all of Sunnydale that can keep their hands off one another for more than ten minutes. Just promise me that if they make an ABC After School Special about your life, I can have a part!"
Tara leaned over and with a light touch of her index finger closed
Willow's mouth. "Let's dance."
Sitting back at the table, Cordelia watched as the other couples moved to the seductive rhythm of Santana's music. Deciding she wasn't going to sit at the table like some wall flower, Cordelia got to her feet and moved to the bar, ordering herself a Coke.
****
And it's just like the ocean
Under the moon
Well, that's the same the emotion
That I get from you
You got the kind of loving
That could be so smooth
Give me your heart
Make it real
Or else forget about it
****
Walking into the club, Wesley's eyes immediately scanned the dark, noisy place for any sign of Cordelia. His attention was quickly drawn to the end of the bar, where Cordelia was surrounded by several young men hanging on her every word. Intellectually he knew that there was no reason to be irritated. Men seemed to gravitate to Cordelia like bees to a sweet flower, but she'd asked *HIM* to join her.
He cut quickly through the herd of youth, to reach Cordelia's side, and cut off whatever the obvious fraternity boy had been about to say. "Is this dance taken?"
"Depends on who wants it." Cordelia teased lightly, trying to ignore the butterfly loose in her stomach. Oh boy howdy did Wesley look good. Good enough to eat in fact.
"A stranger in a strange land. Save me from these savages." Wesley
drawled as she accepted his outstetched hand, all the while praying that he wouldn't humiliate himself or Cordelia with his attempts to dance.
"Well. . .since you asked nicely." Once they were out on the floor,
she was surprised when one of Wesley's hands settled on her hip, and the other brought her hand clasped in his up to his heart.
The first movements were slow and hesitant until they fell into a simple rocking step. Wesley looked up into Cordelia's normally critical hazel eyes and found instead of disappointment, enjoyment. She was enjoying dancing with him. Bolstered by that knowledge, Wesley lifted their linked hands and gave Cordelia a light push away from his body, using their hand hold to reel her back to his side.
"Wow! Who died and made you Fred Astaire?"
"Can't a man have a few dangerous secrets to himself?" Wesley asked
seriously.
"I guess so, I just never knew you could dance. . .cause from what I've seen. . .when did you learn?" Cordelia was shocked, when instead of taking offense, Wesley just laughed and spun her out only to reel her back in again.
"Cordelia, of all the things the Council of Watchers saw fit to teach
me, social graces weren't among them. The little dancing that I *did*
learn, I wasn't dancing by myself. It would be considered 'inappropriate'."
"And this isn't? Dancing where you have to 'touch' a girl? Oooh. . . I bet the Council will severely disapprove Mr. Wyndham-Price."
With a smirk, Wesley picked up the pace, and after resting her hand on his shoulder, moved to hold both of Cordelia's hips in his hands. "Oh, I'm certain of it. But I won't tell if you won't. At any rate, no one from my dance lessons would believe that you could keep up with me."
****
I'll tell you one thing
Well, if you would leave
It'd be a crying shame
In every breath and every word
I hear your name calling me out
You hear my rhythm on your readio
And you feel the turning of
The world so soft and slow
It's turning you' round and 'round
And if you said
****
Sensing a challenge, Cordelia decided to turn up the heat a little, and whirled away from Wesley, just out of reach, but never losing his gaze as she hiked up the hem of her gauzy wrap skirt to reveal her legs. The prolonged eye contact giving the illusion that their bodies were still touching.
She danced around him, flitting like a moth to a flame. Two steps
forward, one step back, until she was behind him, and Wesley's arm
whipped out, catching Cordelia around the waist, and dragging her back into the circle of his arms once more.
His hands trapped both hers at the small of her back, leaning in to
whisper in Cordelia's ear. "Can't leave anything alone can you Cora'?
Always have to push a little bit, see if you can't take things further, higher, faster?"
"Only way to get what you want in life Wesley." Cordelia responded
seriously as she untangled her hands from his grip to twirl beneath his arms and end up even closer to his leather and silk clad body than she was to begin with. "You just have to reach out and take it. Take it as far as you can and see what happens next."
****
"You do realize that you'll never be safe again don't you?" Cordelia
asked as she and Wesley made their way back towards their hotel.
"From?" Wesley prompted.
"From women. The Hugh Grant thing, combined with dancing ability has
just put you on the endangered species list when it comes to women."
Cordelia explained. "Just trust me Wesley. There isn't a woman alive
that can say 'no' to a man who can dance."
Wesley was about to remark on that, when Cordelia pulled him to a stop in front of a slightly seedy re-sale shop. "Cordelia?" Following her gaze, Wesley noticed a beautiful antique music box in the window.
"Lovely isn't it? More than 100 years old I'd say."
"One hundred and five if you want to be picky about it." Cordelia
replied with a sharp bitterness in her voice.
"How do you know?"
"It's mine." Cordelia gave herself a mental shake. "It was mine. When
the I.R.S came, they auctioned everything off. . . ."
"Are you certain it's the same?"
"See that tiny little nick on the left side?" Cordelia pointed out. "I did that when I was four. It was sitting on my grandmother's vanity, and I was brushing my hair, the edge of my brush hit the box..." Her eyes never left the box, and the more she spoke, the more tense her body became. "I've never hated anyone in my entire life as much as I hated the woman who bought it. I stood there while they sold off everything my family had and all I wanted to do was scream. I just stood there until it was all gone." She laughed bitterly. "One of the auditors came by and told me that I could keep my earrings cause they just looked so pretty on me."
Wesley flinched at the venom in Cordelia's voice.
"I threw them at him and left. Nothing like a dramatic exit huh?"
"We could go in and inquire about the box. . . ."
"No. I'm being stupid. Besides, it's got a yellow tag on it. That means whoever sold it's got 30 days to buy it back." With one last bittersweet glance through the window, Cordelia squared her shoulder and turned away from the shop.
"Is that what it means?"
"You've never been to a pawn shop? Wesley! You don't know what you're
missing! When we get back to L.A I can show you the best ones. . .you
can get anything there."
Amazed at the sudden change in subject, Wesley allowed Cordelia to twine her arm through his own as they walked the streets of Sunnydale.
"Actually, I think I have all I can fit into my apartment."
"Why don't you take one of the apartments in the new offices? There's
more than enough room. And you wouldn't have to worry about your
privacy, I mean Angel is Mr. Discreet most of the time."
"I'm really quite comfortable where I am." Wesley answered calmly. The truth was he would rather live in a cardboard box on the Boulevard than live in David Nabbitt's building. And he did enjoy his apartment, humble as it may be, it was comfortable, and even 'homey'. Or so he'd thought until he had been forced to recuperate in Cordelia's apartment with herself and Angel.
The experience was hardly ideal for rest and recuperation. They'd played musical bed, sofa, chair round the clock with Angel sleeping during the day, Cordelia usually catching a nap in the afternoon, and him sleeping at night.
Add to that the fact that Cordelia's ghostly roommate seemed to have
taken an unnatural (as if there could be any other description of a
ghost) disliking to Wesley's presence in Cordelia's home. It wasn't
until he'd threatened to exorcise Dennis that he'd gotten his glasses
back. Of course Cordelia had heard the threat and banished him to the
couch for two nights. Although it had to be impossible, he would have
sworn he heard the ghost snicker.
After the closeness of Cordelia's apartment, it had been difficult to
readjust to his own home. The silence that had once been comforting had inexplicably become oppressive, and he found himself grateful for any excuse to get out.
"You know, I never could tell the difference between companionable
silence, and uncomfortable silence. They all sound the same to me."
Cordelia's words interrupted his solitary thoughts.
A flicker of a smile graced Wesley's features. "Amazing how alike the
two sound. Not that I imagine you've had more than a passing
acquaintance with either."
Cordelia scowled darkly. "Oh, that's it. This is war Mr. Wynd-bag-Pryce!
I'll have you know I'm very good with silence…not my own maybe,
but silence in general. And when I talk it's because I have something to say, and not because I like the sound of my own voice."
Their friendly bickering continued until they reached the steps leading up to their hotel rooms and Cordelia's cell phone rang. "I wonder if it's Angel." Cordelia fished her cell phone out and put it to her ear. "Hello? David? What's the matter? Oh?"
Wesley watched as Cordelia's face lost a measure of its innocent beauty behind a mask of pure outrage.
"No David. That's not what I want at ALL. No, I don't know what Angel
was thinking, but I'll take care of it." Her gentle soothing voice was not completely at odds with her dark mood. "I would never let anything that silly stop me from seeing you. No. I bet Angel just got a bad bag of blood, and it's making him cranky. Of course you're still our client. And I'm really sorry about all this. Don't worry about it. No, I'll see you when I get back tomorrow. Sleep tight."
Hanging up the phone, Cordelia stared at Wesley for a long moment before speaking. "Not a word. Not one word. I've never hit anyone I've considered a friend before. But if you say one word to me I swear Wesley I'll shove your teeth down your throat. Don't talk to me until we get back to Los Angeles." With that she let herself into her hotel room, slamming the door so hard that the window vibrated.
*~*~*~*~*~*
Angel's Car
Feeling Cordelia's rigid body next to his, Wesley cursed under his
breath in exasperation. An enraged Cordelia Chase was without a doubt a formidable sight. She'd kept true to her word and not spoken since the previous night's phone call.
But instead of feeling apologetic, Wesley began to fume. Her feelings
were hurt. That was obvious, but she was taking this too far.
Unreasonable girl. He was a grown man, and here he was waiting on pins and needles for the judgments of a 19 year old, being given the silent treatment and scorned for looking out for her best interests.
As they passed an abandoned drive-in theater, Wesley wheeled the
enormous car in a U-turn, and pulled into the parking lot.
"What is your DEAL?" Cordelia shrieked, holding on to her seat belt for dear life.
"I want to speak to you."
"No. You don't. Because, anything I have to say to you right now you
don't want to hear." Cordelia returned. "Now get this piece of junk
moving again and we can get to L.A and go to our own apartments and talk to one another LATER."
"I will not be brow beaten by you Cordelia. I understand that you've
spent your life being catered to, but I am not one of your servants, or your hangers on."
Cordelia's jaw tightened mutinously. "Give me the keys Wesley."
"Not until we have a rational discussion. Surely you can manage that?"
"In your own words Wes, PISS OFF!" Cordelia reached for the keys in the ignition, only to have Wesley rip them out himself and hurl them out of the car before turning to face her angrier than Cordelia had ever seen him. "You're a lunatic!"
"I'm the lunatic? Who threatened to HIT me over a disagreement?"
Cordelia's eyebrows shot up. "A disagreement? No. That wasn't a
disagreement. A disagreement is a conversation where two people don't
agree on something. That snotty little stunt you and Angel pulled on me and David wasn't a disagreement it was a sleazy, bullying, stupid trick to control my life! And you ought to be grateful that I gave you some warning."
"Angel merely expressed concerns that Mr. Nabbitt should be aware of.
Concerns that he and I happen to share."
"Concerns about things that are none of your business! Who I see, when I see them, are NONE of your business! I would NEVER do that to you or Angel. I would NEVER go behind your back! I would NEVER humiliate you! I would NEVER air your dirty laundry. What I do with my time is private! It's personal. And neither of those words involve you or Angel bullying away someone I care about!"
"Angel feels responsible for your safety and well being Cordelia. You're an important part of his life, and his cause. Becoming emotionally involved with the clients we serve is dangerous. Surely you realize that?"
"No! What I realize is that I don't have *ANYTHING* that's my own.
Nothing. Everything I have is tied up in this. . .'cause'. I'm not like you Wesley! I didn't choose this, and I can't get away from it. I came to Los Angeles to be an actress. That's all I wanted. A new start. A chance to make my OWN life. Someplace where I wasn't Sanford Chase's little girl. Or Xander Harris' ex-girlfriend. And you know what I found here? I found myself sucked back into the SAME LIFE I HAD IN SUNNYDALE!
But even that wasn't so bad. I mean, it was only supposed to be
temporary. Work a few hours a week. File. Type. Answer phones. Bring
home a pay check. Then Doyle died. . . .Doyle died and I got his visions. Don't you think I know what they mean? Don't you think I get it by now Wesley? I don't get to have a life. I can't have an acting career. I can't have normal friends, because they might want to know why my boss doesn't have a reflection, or they might notice that there's demon slime on my boots. Or I'll collapse when we're at lunch screaming with a vision. And now, I have something that's MINE. I'm not saying that I'm in love with David, but even if I were, it would NOT be your business, but it's a relationship. One that makes me as happy as anything else in this insane life makes me. And because you and Angel don't approve I'm supposed to just walk away. Well to hell with both of you! I won't let you do it Wesley. So you can take your 'concern' and your 'responsibility' and blow it out your . . . ear."
Wesley sat back and folded his arms over his chest. "Are you quite
through? Because I believe you're missing the point. Neither Angel nor myself wish to take anything away from you. I-we both care a great deal for you Cordelia. And all we want is to ensure your safety. Mr. Nabbitt may very well be a good man, but he is unprepared for the way of life in which you live. How would you feel if something were to happen to him? I know it's difficult Cordelia. Believe me I know. But to drag someone into this particular way of life who has no business being here is unconscionable. I understand your frustration Cordelia, but you should know Angel and I have only your best interests at heart. You are still very young Cordelia…there are things that you will have to take my word for. Angel and I wouldn't bother to 'interfere' as you put it in your life if we didn't care." He took a deep breath, and continued. "I won't be ignored Cordelia. You yourself said that we're a family, and I'm afraid you can't change that. Angel and I will always look after your best interests." Having said his peace, Wesley opened the car door and climbed out to retrieve the car keys.
Quickly Cordelia slid over into the driver's seat, locked the doors,
fished out her own set of Angel's car keys, turned on the ignition, and drove out of the parking lot at breakneck speed, leaving Wesley behind in a cloud of dust.
****
The first thing that confronted Wesley when he entered the office was a neatly typed letter placed square in the middle of his desk.
To Whom It May Concern:
As of 8-27-00 my life is my own. My friends are my friends and will remain my friends until further notice. Anyone caught interfering with said friends will be promptly taken out back and shot out of a cannon.
Thank you for your co-operation in this matter.
Miss Cordelia Chase
President in Charge of Cannon Fodder
A hint of a smile crossed his lips before Wesley could remind himself just how truly pissed he was at her. He'd waited at the drive-in for a good hour before one of Gunn's people had been able to come pick him up.
"I take it you got one of these too?" Angel held the brief note between two fingers, a semi-smile on his lips. "I caught all kinds of Hell for my little chat with David. And I think I'm qualified to recognize Hell when I see it."
"She left me at the Drive-In." Wesley removed his jacket, and began to remove several texts from his brief case. "You know, I don't remember her being quite so-- "
"Prickly?" Angel offered taking his usual seat on the other side of
Wesley's desk.
"For lack of a better word, yes. I don't remember Cordelia being so
'prickly' in Sunnydale. Of course my attention was on more important
things at the time."
"I don't know much about Cordelia before meeting her again here in Los Angeles, my attention in Sunnydale was somewhere else too." Angel scrubbed his hands over his face. "Since then though Cordelia's been a very good friend to me. But you can bet I'm not going to be interfering in her personal life again anytime soon. I've been shot out of a cannon before, and quite frankly I wasn't too fond of the trip."
"Excuse me?"
"When I was Angelus. . . .Drusilla had a whim, I ended up flying through the air. The flying part wasn't so bad, but let me tell you the landing's a killer." Seeing the expression on Wesley's face, Angel grimaced. "Go ahead, laugh."
"No. That's quite all right. I can't see any reason why I should laugh at the image of one of the most feared vampires in history being *snort* shot out of a cannon."
"Keep it up Wes, cause there are some Moldavian Slime demon samples just waiting for an in depth analysis in the lab. . . ." When the smirk on Wesley's face faded somewhat, Angel rose to his feet. "As for Cordelia, my only advice is to either be more subtle about interfering in her life, or stop all together."
"Oh, I assure you. If Miss Chase wishes to frolic naked in a cemetery at midnight, I have no intention of offering so much as my coat."
Angel's lips twitched. "Well that might be going a little far, but the sentiment is there."
"Oh no, I think it goes just far enough. And for your information Mr.
Wesley Wyndham-Price, I don't frolic naked in cemeteries. I prefer to frolic naked at David's country house. A lot more room for frolicking, and a lot less chance of getting bit…unless of course I want to be."
Cordelia nearly growled the words from the doorway. She'd been all set to come in and be the ADULT in her little tiff with Wesley apologize, when she'd heard Wesley going on and on. . ."Oh, Angel, there's a client in your office."
Looking back and forth between his two friends, Angel was suddenly very relieved to have someplace else to be. "Please, don't kill one another, double homicide makes it very difficult to instil confidence in a client."
Neither Wesley or Cordelia gave Angel any indication of having heard him. They remained exactly as they were before. Wesley with both his hands planted firmly on his desktop, and Cordelia leaned in the doorway, one long leg crossed over the other. "Can I offer you some advice? It's the same advice that I once offered none other than Buffy Summers herself. Lose the 'tude. Whatever your major malfunction is, I don't care. But if you need to cleanse your aura, or try a hi-colonic, or even if you have to go so far as to take your inner moppet out for a spanking, DO IT ALREADY and get back to NORMAL. I'm sick of this Wesley. I came this morning to make nice, and be friends again. . . . but I can see that that's not gonna happen today."
"You'll forgive me Cordelia if I appear slightly confused. You're angry because I intend to follow your dictates no matter how juvenile they may be? And might I add that if this is your manner of 'making nice' I think I'll pass. Now if you'll excuse me I have some work to do, and it was a long night last night."
A momentary flicker passed over Cordelia's face. "How did you get home?"
"Fortunately I had enough change in my pocket to call Gunn."
Absently Cordelia nibbled on one of her perfectly manicured nails. That wasn't so bad. It's not like he had to walk the whole way home. "Oh-"
"Was there something else?"
"No. Nevermind." Cordelia turned away from the door and walked back to her desk, unaware of Wesley's quiet consideration.
****
"Can I ask you a question?" It was later in the afternoon, and
Cordelia blew a hot exhausted breath out. *smack, thud, thump*
"Sure. Just as long as you keep your focus *here*."
"What is it with guys? I mean, you've been one for 250 years, surely
you've got to know how they tick by now."
"Two hundred and forty five years." Angel corrected.
*Jab. Thwack.* "Sorry. Didn't mean to cross that line between old and
really ancient! But I don't get you and Wesley. When did I become somebody too stupid to take care of myself? I'm not one of the hopeless you have to help Angel."
"To coin a phrase from you 'Delia. 'Duh'!" Angel smirked at finally being able to give back some of Cordelia's slang. "But Los Angeles is a cesspool. Rome at it's most decadent and perverse had nothing on this place. Since I've been here, I've already lost one friend. The last thing I want it to wake up one morning and realize that I didn't do everything I could to keep you safe. It's not a matter of intelligence. . . and it's not that I don't think that you can take care of yourself. . . to a POINT. What worries me about you, is the same thing that worries me about the rest of the Scooby Gang." Angel confided. "You've all spent so much time in this strange little world, and you've all spent so much time with Buffy. It's like you have this mentality of 'If Buffy can do it, so can I.' and that scares me. You're not a Slayer. Or a demon. Or a vampire. If you get a broken bone, it's going to *stay* broken. If you get shot, you're going to feel a hell of a lot more than a twinge. In a fight I never had to worry about Doyle. Brakken demons are notoriously resilient. But now I find myself working with two humans. And I can't worry about both of you. So I have to decide who I worry about *first*. Of course I'm concerned about Wesley, *BUT* in all of this he has the option of walking away. He's not tied in Los Angeles, he's here because he wants to be."
"And I can't go anywhere else." Cordelia finally stopped jabbing at the heavy bag, and rested her hands on the top of it. "Okay, so that explains you. I mean, seriously Angel, you blame yourself for everything. If I were to get a splinter going up the stairs you'd probably go into a blue funk for a week. But what's Wesley's excuse? I mean YOU are old enough to be my great-great grandfather. . . and are only slightly more fashionable." She teased, snagging a towel off the workout bench to pat at the sweat dripping down her back. "But Wesley's not. And we've been fine, until this whole thing with David backfired in my face."
Angel crossed the room they used as a gym, and retrieved a bottle of water for Cordelia, taking a seat on the bench next to her. "What do you mean 'backfired'?"
"Nothing."
"The only thing you're worse at than 'tact' is lying Cordelia."
"Look, all you need to know is that David is my friend. And as my friend, I expect you to treat him decently. And that means no having a conversation with him about how unseemly it is for a client to be dating one of your employees."
Angel had the grace to look like abashed at that. "I just wanted to make my point."
"Hmph. I don't have a lot of friends Angel. I can't afford to throw any of them away."
"I agree completely." Angel nodded. "Too bad you can't see your way to extend that same friendship to Wesley."
"Ooh. That was below the belt!" Cordelia grumbled. "Besides! He started it!"
"Angel?" Wesley's voice emanated from the outer office. "I was wondering if there was any news so far on what it was that Wolfram and Hart raised in that box, or any other plans for the evening."
"Why? Hot date?" Angel teased lightly, emerging from the work out room with Cordelia right behind him.
"Actually, I'm meeting Det. Lockley for dinner." Wesley tugged on his
leather jacket. He and Kate had decided on a casual almost hole in the wall restaurant with some of the best Mexican food he'd ever tasted for their dinner.
"You and Kate?" Cordelia's eyes narrowed slightly. "Why? Isn't she like public enemy number one?" At Angel's expression Cordelia shrugged. "Okay, so she's a little further down on the list, but you get my meaning. Isn't she still the one that tried to stuff Angel into a potentially nice, bright sunny cell?"
"She's run into a situation and has asked for my help."
"Kate's in trouble?" Angel pressed quietly.
"No, not in the traditional sense. There are a few matters she needs help with. That's all I'm going to say on the matter."
"Kate? Cop-Lady Kate?" Cordelia made a face once Wesley had walked out of the office. "Ewwww. See? There's more proof that something is really wrong with Wesley if he wants to hang out with that barracuda! Blech!"
"Kate's not so bad Cordelia. I just hope that she's not in real trouble."
"What *is* it with you men and dumb blondes? And not even REAL blondes? Angel, please. Kate's a big bad Los Angeles cop. Give her a taser and a pair of handcuffs and let her deal."
"Cordelia. . . ."
"Hey, if spending a little quality time with Cagney and or Lacey gets
Wesley off my back, then I'm all for it."
****
Later that Night:
"OOH! I hate TPTB. I swear Angel…even DEAD they're making my life miserable!" Cordelia stormed into the office and slammed her evening bag down on her desk and began to rummage through the top drawer for her bottle of Excedrin for Migraines. "I was two feet away from meeting Brad PITT! Two lousy feet! Could TPTB have given me a little warning nudge?
Maybe a prophetic headcold? Allergies? Post-nasal drip? OH No! Not your little weird postal worker pals! Full collapse, and I know I drooled. I drooled on Brad Pitt's shoes! I quit!"
Emerging from his office, Wesley offered Cordelia a bottle of ice cold water. "Angel's already gone out to see if he can't track down what it was you saw in your vision. He'd like for us to reaseach both the demon and the possible victim. See what we can find out."
Cordelia accepted the water gratefully. "Okay, I'll start with the police database and see what I can find out about this guy. I'm not positive but I think one of his tattoos was a Hell's Angels and a set of prison numbers. And you're gonna be looking for bright orange things that go squish in the night?"
"That's the general idea. Some of the more obscure Celtic demons have
those characteristics. You mentioned a noise it made?"
"A high pitched screech. Kind of like the sound a cat makes it you step on its tail." Cordelia seated herself behind her desk and booted up her computer. "So did you help Kate?"
"I believe I did. There were some books in her father's posession at the
time of his death, excellent sources on the occult that she didn't know what to do with, and she felt uncomfortable broaching the subject with Angel."
"Oh? So she gave you the books?" Cordelia couldn't explain it, but the knowledge that Wesley's dinner with Det. Lockley had been all business made her feel a lot more chipper.
"Yes, I think they're a marvelous addition to my collection."
"Good." A little blip from the computer diverted Cordelia's attention for a minute. Before utilizing the back door she'd installed to the LAPD's mainframe, she offered Wesley a genuine smile. "Friends?"
"What?" Already Wesley's nose was buried in a book. "Of course Cordelia. Always." His evening with Kate had been a drastic contrast with his earlier disagreements with Cordelia. The two women being direct opposites.
Whereas Cordelia was quick to anger, and even quicker to express that
anger (in loud, often crass ways) her anger was short lived, and replaced with a genuine joy for living and the people around her. Kate on the other hand seemed reluctant to let past resentments go. He could practically feel the venom emanating from her everytime Angel's name came up in conversation.
Cordelia was spontaneous and impulsive, but also a dear soul. Which made it extremely difficult to stay mad at her for any prolonged period of time.
"Good. Now let's get to work! Maybe a good old fashioned demon hunt will take my mind off the fact that I drooled on Brad Pitt."
"Let's hope he was wearing rubbers."
Cordelia blinked twice. "OH! BOOTS. . . .ha . . . .and might I add ha? Have you dissected those Moldavian Slime demon samples yet Mr. Smarty Pants?" When Wesley groaned, Cordelia laughed. "If you're a good boy and find a way to save Biker Dude from a Celtic Orange Hell Beast I'll toss the samples away and tell Angel I was cleaning…"
Pausing at the door ot his office, Wesley stuck his head back out. "Oh, that won't be necessary. Besides, for that to work, Angel would have to believe you were cleaning." He could hear the box of tissues whiz past him, and Cordelia's soft grumble before settling in for research.
* * *