Title: A Day In The Life
Author: Restive Nature
Disclaimer: I in no way own any part of BtVS. It belongs to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. This fiction is for private enjoyment and not for profit.
Rated- PG for some mild language.
Genre: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, fanfiction
Type: humor, challenge response
Summary: A day out of Cordelia Chase’s life.
Spoilers- Season Three Buffy, Episode “Enemies”.
Feedback: Always welcome.
Distribution: various, ask before taking.
A/N-This is a response to a challenge fic from Sky. I have never written Cordy like this and it is my first attempt ever at a response. So please excuse all the little mistakes. Also, humor is not my finest point, but I hope you enjoy.
Challenge Requirements-
Must have:
Cordelia as a main character
any hetero pairing
Cordy has to slap someone twice, the same person
Giles is trying to find a new look
Angel is very very drunk and mumbles a lot ending each group of
sentences with: at three in the morning with my reputation...
Could include:
Devon’s mic stops working during a performance
Oz suddenly develops stage fright
Willow is forced to dress up as a giant m&m
a vampire attacks Cordy's love interest with a shrimp fork
Part One
Ugh! Waking up first thing in the morning is not my favorite thing to do. I mean, first of all, my room’s on the exposed side of the house so sunlight everywhere from six a.m. on. And the noise in this neighborhood is astounding in its constancy. Kids crying, parents yelling, people gunning their motors on their way to whatever crappy little jobs define their crappy existence. I so do not need this.
I’ve become quite the expert at getting up now before Mother’s voice can yell for me. Does she not realize that constantly screeching like that may very well cause me to go deaf? And it’s not like our little duplex is all that big. I can hear her if she speaks normally. Maybe it’s one of the effects of having Daddy lose everything to the stupid IRS. She’s still acting like we have the big house, fancy cars and servants that clean up every mess. I know I’ve been maintaining my façade to the public world, but I certainly have enough of a grip on reality to let it go at home.
Yep, when the chips were down, Cordelia Chase stepped up. I was devastated when my credit cards were refused and snipped to bits while on a mega shopping spree. Thank God no one was around to see it but the pimply faced cashier who so needed one of my patented makeovers. But did I give in to the tantrum I wanted to throw? No… well only once, but people expect it of me. I am Queen C after all. But I thought about what I wanted from my life, what I deserved and what I was going to have, come hell or high water. And I went out to accomplish it.
That’s why today is so important. I know last year I swore off college men, but I have my future to think of now. I mean, I am not going to stay in Sunnyhell forever, working a part-time job in the only acceptable dress shop in town. So I needed to find a solution and it was obvious. Ever since Angel and Buffy destroyed that little fraternity ring, things have settled down over at the college. And the dating scene has heated up again. And I happen to have a date with the most eligible college man there. Gregory Wells-Thornton. I sigh a little as I look over my now meager wardrobe. He reminds me a little of Wesley. What with the two last names, which are so classy, but also, he has a little bit of an accent. Definitely not a California native. I can’t remember what Gregory’s father does, but it’s not important. Gregory is going to take over when he graduates next year. And I’m going to be there right beside him.
I finally pull out an outfit I’ve only worn twice. Hopefully no one will remember that. Add a few accessories and it will be like new. If there’s one thing I can count on, it’s that Harmony’s, er, I mean my friends have memories like elephants. They never forget clothes that anyone has worn. But, ripping the tag out, maybe I can fake my way into making them believe it’s a DKNY original. That seems the best plan. I mean, quality clothes are meant to be worn more than once. I certainly can’t run off and buy whatever I want now.
I head off to school; God can’t wait until it’s done, with tonight’s date on my mind. Planning what few hints I’m going to drop in Harmony’s way. She’ll be so jealous when she hears my date’s name. And maybe if she’s nice, begs and pleads a little, I’ll share the details tomorrow. But first stop, the library! Even if nothing could ever happen between us, I need to keep up the flirting with Wesley. For one, he’s so cute when he’s flustered. Two, it drives Xander nuts, not that he’s not nuts already. I mean honestly, sucking face with Willow when he had me? I mean he obviously had to be out of his mind.
But when I get to the library, it’s strangely quiet. Which can mean one of two things. Last night was an apocalypse and Buffy’s little gang is dead. Which I actually would be disappointed about. I mean, she has on occasion, saved me, and the world I guess. Or, they’ve already had their meeting and I’m running a little late. Probably the latter. I hear a noise and turn. Giles is coming out of his office, alone, his nose predictably stuck in a book. And oh my God! What is on his face?
"Giles!" I catch his attention, smiling a little as he jumps and fumbles his book, catching it just before it topples from his hands. "What on earth are those?" I point at his eyes. He’s so often in his own little world that a snake could bite him and he wouldn’t notice. I would, and have in fact. He stares at me, uncomprehendingly, which is a look I see on his face pretty often. "The glasses, Giles," I clarify with a little sigh.
"O-oh, yes," he finally manages to stammer. "Do you like them?" Now it’s my turn with the uncomprehending. Granny glasses? How passé. So sixties, which makes sense, because Giles is like, old. "I thought a, a little change in appearance was long overdue." I can’t help but roll my eyes.
"Try contacts," I suggest, knowing he’ll never take my advice. You just can’t teach an old dog new tricks. "And speaking of appearance," I eye him critically, "lose the tweed. I mean hello, not in England any more. Try jeans once in a while Giles. They are pretty comfortable. And you know a few silk shirts wouldn’t go amiss." But I have to reconsider. Daddy losing everything has made me a little more sympathetic to the lower classes. "Or denim. I’m sure denim is well within your budget."
"Er, yes Cordelia, thank you," Giles got out in a rush. I knew it, never take Cordy’s advice. "Did you perhaps need something?" he asked, obviously desperate to change the subject. Not that I do. I never mind talking about fashion. And it’s obvious that Giles needs my help. But before I can answer, He walks in.
"Wesley, hi!" I greet him with my most charming smile. Not that I needed to. His eyes seem to glaze over just a bit every time he looks my way. It’s always a thrill when I see that. Haven’t lost my touch at all.
"Ah, Miss Chase," he doesn’t quite stammer. But that’s okay; I know a little eyelash fluttering will have him there in seconds. But of course before we get that far, the warning bell rings. Regrettably, I have to go. But maybe it’s better this way. Always leave them hanging. I smile ruefully as I glance up at the unseen noisemaker. Wesley tilts his head, understanding. No more words pass between us and I head to my first class.
School was a bust. Harmony was nowhere to be found. A sick day, ostensibly. And yes, I do know some big words. But from the rumors going around, her date was a no-show this weekend. She was here yesterday, but needed to recover today when the grapevine caught up during the day. That will make tomorrow that much sweeter, when my date naturally goes off without a hitch. But school. My horrid and woefully undereducated history teacher sprang a pop quiz on us. I wonder how he manages to remain employed. All he ever does is read aloud from textbooks that are thirty years out of date. And pop quizzes are not how I like my surprises. I prefer them to sparkle and cost a nice chunk of dough.
Xander was nowhere to be found, so I couldn’t even take my ire out on him. Willow was there, but she’s not as much fun to guilt trip. She’s already riding the express with a season ticket. And her faithful little lapdog Buffy won’t let me get too close. Granted, she thought my feelings were justified in regards to the wonderless duo, but it smacks too much of pity for my liking. No matter. I certainly don’t need them like they needed me. I only hang around, well for many complicated reasons. And to top off my day, some jock jerk that refuses to do his scholastic duty and join a sports team knocked my bag off my desk and wrecked my compact. So it looks like a quick trip to the mall is needed. After all, I can’t contemplate a date without proper foundation.
I hurried to the mall, hoping for once to be in and out in less than half an hour. Normally I’d take my time, but I had much more important things to do. But the fates were against me. The very first person I run into happened to be… Giles! I had no idea that he even knew there was a mall in Sunnydale, much less where it was. And even more to my surprise, he’d been shopping for a little while, if the number of bags were any indication. I filed that away in my head. Mr. Dedication must have snuck off of work early to come here. He probably even wanted to be out of here before he ran into someone he knew. Well, hello! Busted.
"Hey Giles!" I was only being friendly because my fingers were itching to see if he’d taken my suggestion.
"C-Cordelia!" he was definitely taken aback to see me. He tried to hide the bags behind him, but I had already seen them. "W-what are you doing here?"
"Shopping," I replied with an eye roll. "What else is there to do at a shopping mall?"
"W-well," he looked contemplative. "You could be here to have your portrait taken. Or for a free makeover. Or to apply for a job. Or even to make a wish in the fountain."
‘Damn,’ I think to myself. ‘He does have a backbone when it’s not Slayer related.’ "Gee Giles, no need to get snotty. I’m just glad to see someone taking my advice for once." And before he can respond, I snatch his bags from him. I have to make sure that he did it right. A man who thinks tweed, British or not, has some serious fashion deficiency. I was pleasantly surprised to see that he did in fact buy jeans. But the sweaters, ew! Full body shudder here. I shake my head sadly. It looks like my good deed for this month has come round again. "Come on," I sigh, tugging on his arm.
"W-what are we d-doing?" he stammers as I drag him to a trendier men’s shop.
"We’re bringing you into the twentieth century," I reply. I cringed though when a collection of gaudy sport’s jackets caught his eye. But he moved past them to the leather jackets. I cheered inwardly. I knew enough about men that the quickest way to turn them off of something was to wholeheartedly support it. Giles was trying it on, stroking it as if it were a security blanket. Which maybe it was, some reminder of his lost youth. But damn, he did look good. "That’s great Giles," I teased. "Now all you need is a leather dog collar, some gel to spike your hair, and I’m sure I can find you some black lipstick." The horrified look on his face went a long way to appeasing me in this self appointed task of good deeding.
"I certainly shall not spike my hair," he cried indignantly.
"I was just joking," I defended myself, holding my hands up peacefully. I studied him carefully. He looked almost like a little boy, searching for my approval. "Hmm, I guess it will do." Again with the non-overly enthusiasm. With a sharp nod and a gleeful grin, he carried it to the cashier. I trailed along behind. Who knew that Giles could get a happy from leather? Maybe there was hope for him after all.
After his guarded threat to never speak of this encounter, as if I ever would, we parted ways. That image I had of Giles would stay with me a long time. I noticed of course that he hadn’t protested the dog collar and lipstick. I had the brief flickering thought of what Ripper might have been like in his glory days. But on to business. I was into the store and had bought my regular when fate stepped in again. On my way out, I found myself surrounded by a bunch of freaks. And I do mean freaks. They were all dressed up, for reasons I can’t imagine why, as candy, and they were carrying flowers. I would have pushed my way through them, but a flash of red where it didn’t belong caught my eye.
Part Two
"Willow?" I was so stunned to see her. She tried to spin around, but the giant blue M&M costume was hampering her movements. It was hilarious. "I see you’re finally letting your… true colors show?" This was too good an opportunity to pass up. "And here I thought it was just Xander that was in his second childhood." She started to speak, but I didn’t let her. "God, where is a camera when you need one?"
"Cordelia!" she finally gasped out. "It’s not what it look’s like." I raised one perfectly shaped eyebrow.
"It looks to me that for some reason you’re dressed up as candy," I pointed out smoothly. "What, the little miss innocent act no longer working? Think the guys will come panting after you now because you’re oh so sweet?"
"No, no," she protested. One of the others had come forward, a look of interest on his face. "It’s just a job. I’m, uh, just filling in for a friend."
"Are you Cordelia Chase?" he asked. I nodded and with a stupid grin, he held out a bouquet of gorgeous flowers, with some candy mixed in. He turned back to the rest of the group. "Ready?" There were various nods. I was so shocked when they began to sing a little ditty. Obviously they were some sort of delivery service. But my embarrassment over being made a public spectacle was outweighed by Willow’s flaming face as she sang along. Once they were done, I opened the card that was with the bouquet. It was from Gregory.
"Oh, he’s so sweet," I crowed. He had certainly made my day. And thank God they had found me here. How would I have explained to Willow why I was no longer living at the address I had given Gregory? Before she could escape, I just had to twist the knife a little further. "My new boyfriend sent me these," I preened. I knew she wasn’t really interested, but possibly the news could get back to Xander, my main target. "Gregory is just so thoughtful. Does Oz ever do sweet things like this for you? Oh, I suppose not. He must be so busy these days, what with his band and everything." I could see the little flash of insecurity in her eyes. I would have stayed longer, but honestly, much better things in the offing and her little group of friends were pulling her along to get to work. Thank God I never had to stoop so low in my quest for a decent job.
Luckily I didn’t run into anyone else. I was so busy eating a light dinner, which was usual these days, and then getting ready for my date. I had made arrangements with Gregory to meet at the Bronze. Of course, that was just the jumping off point for our evening. I was sure that we’d end up going somewhere classier. I made sure that I was fifteen minutes late. Grand entrances are essential, no matter where you make them. After checking to make sure my make-up, hair and dress were perfect, I entered the Bronze. I had long ago perfected the precise area to stand as I scanned the crowd. The light haloed behind me, giving me that extra sparkle. I saw Gregory immediately, but pretended I didn’t. Men came to me, not the other way around. And he was no exception. As soon as he saw me, he jumped up from his seat and came to escort me to the table.
I have to say, he did look scrumptious, in a scruffy college boy sort of way. He was dressed in charcoal gray slacks with a nice green sweater. It could go either way. Casual enough for the Bronze, but acceptable in other places too. I let him greet me with a peck on the cheek. It was always best to establish boundaries from the start. And despite the reputation I seemed to have gained in some quarters, I have never given in to the baser urges. He led me to the table he’d chosen and I mentally applauded his choice. Front and center before the stage, where everyone was sure to see us. I took in the familiar faces in the crowd. But then realized he was still talking. I managed to repress a sigh. This was the hard part of the date. Pretending to be interested to keep his interest. I was excellent at it, but it could be so draining sometimes.
"…can’t believe it," he was saying. "I’m so glad we came here tonight. I haven’t seen them in so long."
"Huh?" I can’t help myself. "Seen who?" I glance around again, wondering what other influential I might be introduced to.
"Dingoes Ate My Baby!" he crowed. "They’re playing tonight."
"Oh, them," I sniff. It’s not as if they are some up and comers. In fact, they’ve been getting a little stale as of late. But still, he seems impressed. "I used to date the lead singer," I let drop. His eyes go wide. And speaking of eyes, it seems they’re kind of glazed a little. Is he really that impressed? "And I’m still friends with the lead guitar player."
"Oh man," he grins. "That guy rocks!" What the hell? How did I not notice the language usage on our previous encounters? So eighties! But, he’s talking again. "Could you excuse me a second?"
"Sure," I agree, watching him carefully. Something seems to be off. "Are you okay?" I ask as he sniffs again.
"Yeah, just a cold, I think," he offers with another sniffle. Ew, so don’t need to catch that. "I’ll be right back." He hurries off, to the men’s room I think. I sit there, all by my lonesome, wondering a little more about this guy. He’s enthusiastic, that’s good, I guess. But my man-o-meter has shot up on the cautious side. But really, the thought of all that wealth overcomes it. I’m still waiting fifteen minutes later, but to my utter relief, I happen to catch sight of Oz, conveniently Willow-less at the moment. I wave to catch his attention and he changes course. Surprises me, as we’re not that close. But we do have the shared experience of catching our respective others violating our trust. That’s a bond you just can’t ignore.
"Hey Oz," I greet when he’s close enough.
"Hey," he responds in his usual stoic guy manner.
"So, you’re playing tonight?" I could almost smack my forehead. Don’t I sound lame?
"Unless there’s another group named Dingoes, then I guess so," he nods. To my relief, Gregory has returned. But, uh oh, there goes the meter again. Eyes are even more glazed and I catch a faint whiff of an odor I most definitely don’t enjoy. Great! My date is stoned. But I’m committed, for tonight at least.
"Gregory," I catch his attention, " this is Oz. Oz, my date, Gregory." Oz shakes his hand politely
"Oh man," Gregory gushes over the currently red-haired guitarist. "This is so cool. You guys are awesome. Everyone in my fraternity thinks so." His fraternity? If they’re all druggies like him, then I could see that.
"Thanks," Oz gives a little half-smile, which is actually kind of cute on him.
"No seriously man," Gregory continues. "The things you do with a guitar blows my mind."
"It’s the fingers," Oz jokes, I think, as he holds his hand up. "They’re very independent. Come up with all sorts of stuff to try." Gregory nods, as if Oz has imparted some majestic wisdom.
"I don’t know how you do it though man," he shakes his head. "Getting up on stage and putting yourself out there to be judged. I couldn’t do that." Oz had a strange look on his face.
"Suddenly I’m nervous now," he mutters to me. I want to laugh. Nervous Oz? But the look in his eyes convinces me not to. Is he serious? "Uh, I think I should go." He hurries off and I turn back to Gregory.
"That was strange," I comment. And it was. Oz never gets nervous. He just doesn’t care what people think of him. But I put the thought out of my mind as Gregory motions at the bar.
"What can I get you, fair lady?" he asks, kind of appeasing me a little. At least he’s still being gentlemanly.
"A cola would be great," I reply with my patented charm smile.
"Anything to eat?" he offers. "I hear they’re doing some appetizers here now."
"Whatever you think," I shrug, in a ladylike manner. Another good pointer. Let the men make some of the non-essential decisions. It adds to their delusion that they are in charge. With a nod, he hurries off to the counter. He returns after a few minutes and places my drink before me. I can’t tell for sure what he’s gotten himself, but no worries. Hopefully he’ll lay off the stuff with his attention elsewhere. Just as the band finally makes their way onstage, a waitress comes to our table, her tray loaded down. My eyes go slightly wide as I take in everything she sets down for us. There are chili cheese fries, a blooming onion, spicy Buffalo wings and other assorted munchies. After thanking the waitress, he slides a shrimp cocktail towards me.
"Here, I thought you might like this," he smiles. And sure, shrimp is great. Haven’t eaten seafood in a while. I dig in to avoid my astonishment as he begins to pig out on the rest. I guess it’s true. Drugs do make you get the munchies. I avoid his eyes as I seriously re-evaluate this date. Oz. He’s glancing constantly at us, that same wild look present that I saw earlier, catches my eye however. And did he just bungle a chord? Oh wow, he really is nervous. And of course, it isn’t helped when Devin’s mike suddenly cuts out. Great, now I have to make small talk while they fix the problem.
"Mmm," Gregory moans, holding out a drippy, half-eaten chicken wing out to me. I can’t conceal my shudder of revulsion. "You have to try this."
"Uh, no thanks," I lean back a little. "I’m not as hungry as I thought." Completely true now. His attention is caught again as they have fixed the problem and the band has started up again. And yep, Oz is still fumbling with his chords. It’s a sad sight to see.
We listen to the first set, not talking. I drink my cola quickly, wondering how I can steer this date towards a quick end. But before I can make my suggestion, Gregory excuses himself again. But instead of heading to the men’s room, he heads towards the entrance. I watch in disgust as he meets up with someone at the door. I see a flash of cash and it dawns on me what precisely is going on. And that is it! Cordelia Chase does not put up with this behavior. I’m going to put a stop to it right now!
Part Three
I hurry out of the Bronze, just in time to see Gregory wander into the end of the dark alley with his friend. I chase after them, furious. As I reach them, I realize that I still have the shrimp fork that came with my cocktail clenched in my fist. I was about to drop it, when Gregory’s friend whirled around. In game face. Great! My stupid date was buying drugs from a Vampire. Only on a hellmouth, I tell you. I reacted before I thought, stabbing the fork into the hand that was reaching for me. Wouldn’t do much, I know but I had to keep him back from me somehow. Where the Hell was Buffy when you needed her? Probably off selfishly spending some me time, avoiding her sacred duty.
Thank God she was no longer the only one anymore. I mean, I always knew that was her mantra for an added boost of sympathy. But Faith had appeared out of nowhere, to dispatch the Vamp. She almost seemed to play with the thing, as if she were testing herself. Strange. I watched dispassionately, having seen Buffy fight before. I can really see the difference in their styles. Not that I care, but I can’t help comparing it to my own style. Mine was more of the catch the Vamp off guard and hope like hell that we’d get a lucky stake in. But then, I didn’t have super strength to fall back on. So I guess that makes my sacrifices all the more important, since I was doing it out of the goodness of my heart. Or well, because Xander and Willow wanted to. Gregory watched this all, hysterical giggling pouring from his mouth. It was a good thing he was stoned. How else would we explain what he’d just seen? I so did not need it getting around that freaky things invaded my life, putting said life in danger.
But now, I have Faith to deal with. She’s giving Gregory quite the appraising stare. Have to nip that in the bud immediately. I don’t care what kind of loser he may be, at the moment he’s my loser. "Thanks Faith," I try to inject as much sincerity into the words as I can. "At least you’re out doing you’re sacred duty. Unlike some badly bleached blondes I could name."
Faith jerks her chin up, acknowledging my thanks. "I’m meeting B. later," she lets drop.
"What’s so important that she’s not out here doing her job?" I demand. Because really, she never is around when you need her.
"Hot date with a cold vamp," she smirks. I get her immediately. Another round of the Buffy/Angel merry-go-round. That is getting so old. She gestures to Gregory, still giggling once in a while, between sniffles. "So what’s with frat boy here?"
"I have no clue," I shrug. On reflection, it’s much more important that people don’t think that I willingly hang out with drug users. "Maybe you could take him along as bait," I suggest. She raises an eyebrow at me.
"Drug the bastards via stony here?" she grins, and then shakes her head. "Not my style. I like a little rough and tumble."
"I guess I’d better see if I can get him home then," I sigh. It’s a good thing my car is close by. I kneel down, thankful that the alley isn’t as dirty as some I’ve seen. "Hey!" I yell in his ear. He seems to have finally passed out. Not good, as again, regular strength here, not good for hauling guys around. With not quite all my strength, I deliver an ear ringing slap to his face. Huh? That woke him up good. His head rolls around as he tries to focus on me. "Get up!" I instruct loudly. "We’re going." I turn and see Faith watching with an amused smile. "Help me get him to my car." With a shrug, she grabs one of his arms and yanks. If he hadn’t been so pliant, I think she might have pulled his arm right out of the socket. Not that he wouldn’t have deserved it, after subjecting me to the date from hell.
Between us, well more Faith than me, we manage to dump him into the passenger side of my car. There’s really nothing else to say, so she leaves as I move around to the driver’s side. As I start the vehicle, I realize that neither Gregory nor I paid the tab at the Bronze. Oh well, it was a date, he should have paid. Maybe they’ll ban him and this humiliation will never get around. Since it was Faith that rescued him, I have some hope that it won’t. She and I were never close, especially after those stories she kept luring Xander in with.
As we near the frat house, I realize that Gregory has passed out again. Should I just open the door and shove him out? Argh, he’d probably just become another vamp’s snack. Because I am so sure that his frat brothers couldn’t give a flying gnat about him. Unbuckling my seat belt, I reach over and give him a good hard shove. It’s enough to rouse him out of his stupor. He comes to with a leering grin on his face.
"Hey baby," he slurs a little, glancing around. "Are we home?"
"At your home, yes," I remark pointedly. "Now get out, so I can go to my home."
"Are you sure you want to do that?" he mumbled. "Come on up, we can have a party in my room."
"Ew! I don’t think so," I almost yell. "I am not into that party scene." But my words are falling on deaf ears. It looks like I’m going to have physically rid myself of him. With a cautious glance around, never can be too careful. I mean anyone could see me, I move around to help him out of my life. He isn’t quite as bad as before and can stumble a little on his own. I was going to ring the doorbell and alert one of his brothers to help him, but the door was ajar. Really smart here people. Just because Vamps are the major concern around, does not mean we don’t have thieves as well. But it’s to my benefit tonight, their stupidity. So I push the door open further with my foot, as my arms are full of Gregory.
He tries to give me directions up to his room, but I’m having none of it. The couch I spy in the main room will have to do. If he wants to get anywhere else, he can do it on his own. "Well, thanks," I mutter sarcastically. "It’s been a great date, but I have school tomorrow." I try to get up, but his hand clamps around my wrist. "Hey! Let go!"
"Come on Cordelia," he slurs, leering up at me once more. "I heard all about you from some friends last year. How about a little goodbye kiss?" He pulls me down so suddenly, that I lose my balance, falling onto him. His slimy little lips are on me before I can stop it. Well, there’s one way to take care of this. I can’t quite get the leverage I need, but it’s still enough to actively discourage him. I scramble back from him as he yells in pain, cupping his crown jewels. "What the hell did you do that for?" he yells at me. Me? He’s actually got the nerve to be offended. This time I put all my weight behind the slap. Wow, I think I slapped him back into sobriety.
He stares at me, his hands undeciding of which part of his body needing the most care. Oops, jewels win. I push off the couch, and move to stand over him. "I’d explain it to you Gregory, but I don’t waste time on people stupid enough to risk their lives all for the sake of a little high. Or to people too ungrateful to even thank me for saving their worthless hide." Okay, well maybe it was more Faith than me. But hey, I was the one who distracted the Vamp long enough for Faith to get there. That counts for something, right?
"Huh?" is all he can manage. Typical. It seems all my good deeds end up going unnoticed.
"You know what Gregory?" I smirk at him, looking at the face I’d thought so handsome. Now it just seems twisted and pathetic. "You need to grow up. Get over this rich little boy playing around with mindless rebellion thing. Get it out of your system. You aren’t worth much as you are now and if you keep heading down this road, you won’t be worth anything but the groundskeeper’s fee at the cemetery." I artfully twist around on my heel and stalk towards the door. I glance back once for my parting shot. "So do everyone a favor and grow a pair already."
This whole day was turning into a nightmare. And I realized that once I was back in my car, I’d forgotten my purse and coat at the Bronze. How humiliating was this going to be? I mentally reviewed how much cash I had in my purse. Probably enough to cover my drink. But certainly not for my date’s munch-fest. But there was no way I could leave my purse there. It had my make-up, essentials, and oh, my license. I could only pray I didn’t get pulled over by a cop. Normally; I could flirt my way out of a ticket. But with the way this night was going, I didn’t want to have to chance it.
So I pulled back around to where the humiliation started and crept my way back in, hoping that I could avoid the waitress that had served us. I made it in and back to where we’d been sitting, but everything was gone. I felt a hand on my elbow and with a startled gasp I couldn’t hold in, I let out a little shriek and turned around. Thank God it was only Oz. Holding my purse and jacket.
"Looking for these?" he asked mildly. I nodded and held out my hand.
"Thanks, so much," I offered, actually sincere this time. "I was afraid someone had made off with my original Italian-!"
"No problem," he interrupted. "Your date okay?" Hmm, was he asking how Gregory was, or how the date was going? "Cause I noticed you kind of ran out during one of the sets."
"Oh," I nod slowly. "Just your run of the mill Vamp, luring him out for an alleyway appetizer," I shrug.
"He okay?"
"Yeah." But before I can say anything else, I muffle a groan. Our waitress has me in her sights and is making a beeline straight for me. I wonder if I can borrow money from Oz. God, how much worse is this going to get? But I’m pleasantly surprised when she smiles at me.
"Everything all right miss?" she asks.
"Yes, great," I steal a glance at her little nametag, "Molly."
"I noticed you had to leave in a hurry," she continues, holding something in her hand out to me, "and I didn’t get a chance to get this back to your friend." I look down and see with relief, a credit card. Okay, so maybe Gregory did have some sense to pay as he went. But really, who leaves their card behind? Oh, that’s right, drug-heads. I take it from her and slip it into my coat pocket.
"I’ll make sure he gets it back," I assure her. And I will, after all, I can mail it. She smiles again and moves back to work. The crowd has thinned out quite a bit and I notice that the Dingoes have packed all their gear. I really do not miss being Devin’s girlfriend. I could never stand the repetitiveness of their nights. Which reminds me of Oz. I turn back to him. "Boy, you guys sucked tonight."
"Yeah, a little," he agrees.
"Not just a little," I scoff. "Even I could tell you were screwing up the songs and everyone knows I have no musical inclination. What was that about?"
"Not sure," he shrugs. "Walk you to your car?"
"Yeah thanks," I nod and make sure there was nothing else that I forgot. But I have it all.
It’s just a short walk and we say goodbye to each other pleasantly. I am so ready to get home and just go to bed. As, I pull to a halt at a red light, my mischievous little fingers itch to get a better look at Gregory’s card. Is it platinum, I wonder? It seems like so long since I’ve had my own. If I were a lesser person, I’d hit some late night shops. But really, nothing is open this late and yeah; it’d kind of be stealing. But, I argue with myself, not seriously, that the creep kind of does owe me. But it seems to be my day for goodness, so in the morning, I will mail it back to him. I notice that the light has changed to green and I begin to pull away. The tires squeal just a little in my haste. But, oh crap, hit the brakes!
Part Four
The car slid to a stop and I am quite sure I left tread for a few feet. I check my head quickly, just to make sure I didn’t bump my forehead when I collided with, well whatever the heck it was. I can’t help the groan that pours out of me. Daddy is going to kill me. I so don’t need my insurance to go up. And sued. I could be sued. Despite what my panicky brain wants me to do, namely get the hell out of there; I climb out of the car to check on my unintended victim. I step around the car, seeing at once that it’s a person. Oh yeah, it’s really going to hit the fan. Hopefully I can bluff my way out of this. Besides, the light was definitely green. I was in the right.
"Hey!" I call to the person huddled a few feet before my car. "Are you okay?" I kneel down, contemplating whether or not to roll the person over. I think I heard somewhere that you’re not supposed to. But how the hell do you check if someone’s alive if you don’t look at him or her.
But I’m saved from making the wrong choice as the person rolls over under his or her own steam. "Man, that hurt," he mumbles as he sits up.
"Angel!" I exclaim. Oh lord, am I happy to see him. Because if it had been a normal person, I could have done some serious damage. But Vampires, hey, they recover from everything but immolation, beheading and wooden heart transplants, right? "Are you okay?" I ask again. He grins up at me.
"Car hit me," he mumbles. "Could be worse though. I could have hit it. Cause you know, at three o’clock in the morning, with my reputation…" My face twisted in a grimace. Huh?
"Huh?" I gave in. That totally did not make sense. I took a closer look at him. "Angel? Are you drunk?"
"Drunk lassie?" he laughed. "I’m na drunk. I’m Irish. All good Irish boys drink. Especially at three in the mornin’, with my reputation."
"Your reputation?" I repeat, a little worried. Oh God, he had that date with Buffy. What if…? "Angel? Where’s Buffy?"
"Buffy?" his face lights up as he looks around for her. This is not good. So not good. "Where’s my Buffy?"
"She’s not here Angel," I point out, grabbing his chin to pull his face back around to face me. "Do you know where she went?"
"Had a date tonight," he mumbles, his eyes rolling about, unseeing. He leans in closer and I can smell the whiskey on his breath. Well, one thing I’ll say for him, at least it’s not the cheap stuff. "She thinks I canna control myself. Canna kiss her without losin’ my soul. An’ she should worry. ‘Cause at three o’clock in the morning, with-!"
"Your reputation," I finish for him. "Yeah Angel, I get it." Irish indeed! I never really knew that, but I guess it’s true. No one can fake an accent like that. And once again, I realize that my day is still not over. I’m thinking that I’m really starting to deserve a medal here. There’s no help for it though. I’ve seen how Buffy gets when Angel is in trouble. And he’s a walking invitation to have his ass kicked right now. At least he was just drunk, and not Angelus. I smirked to myself. Obviously, Buffy didn’t have a lot of faith in him if she wouldn’t even kiss him. Poor guy was so frustrated that he got wasted after leaving her. Or she left him. I did recall Faith saying that she was meeting up with Buffy tonight.
But right now, I need to get drunken Irish boy out of the street. "Angel, you didn’t break anything did you?" I ask. I’ve already had to haul one guy home. I’m not looking forward to doing so with a guy the size of this one. He gapes up at me, then frantically starts patting down his torso.
"Where is it?" he asks himself, then with a look of relief, reaches into his coat pocket. "Ah, there’s my beauty," he giggles, as he pulls forth a bottle. Great. That’s just what he needs. More booze. "It dinna break." He unscrews the cap and takes a large swig. Then he holds the bottle out to me. And Lord I am tempted. But Daddy would kill me if I came home with liquor on my breath. Speaking of which, it’s getting late and I don’t need more aggravation piled up on top of this. I shake my head and he cradles the bottle to him. He takes another furtive swig as I try to pull him upright.
"Come on Angel," I snap at him. "Get up." He finally allows me to pull him to his feet. He staggers a little as I direct him to the passenger side of my car. I open the door and he stares at me. Oh shoot, I forgot. "Angel, I officially invite you into my car." He tilts his head, leering at me and sinks into the seat. I nudge his feet, well, okay, kick his feet and he pulls them in as well. I slam the door shut and move back to my side, noting that at least he didn’t damage my bumper. I climb in and automatically tell him to buckle up. He gives me another strange look but does it. Duh! I’m not stupid. I know a car crash wouldn’t kill him. But, the law is the law. And speaking of, I reach for the bottle, but he snarls at me. I cringe back a little. There are some things that I just can’t handle. And snarling, drunk Vampires are one of them. But damn, is he going to cry?
"Why does everyone hate me?" he whines, cradling his bottle. "Xander hates me. And Giles hates me. Faith hates me. Willow loves me. But only caused I didn’t let her be struck down by the lightnin’. And Oz hates me. And I like Oz. He’s nice. Does Oz hate me?"
"Oz does not hate you," I sigh, starting the car. If we get pulled over, I’m certainly going to make sure the officer understands that it’s not my open bottle of liquor. Angel will just have to face the music if it comes to that. "And the others don’t hate you. It’s just-!"
"I know," he interrupts. "I know. Just at three in the mornin’, with my reputation…"
"Which way?" I ask tersely. This mantra is getting really old. He gapes at me. "To your place?" I clarify. "Which way." He nods and points out the way to his home. And then continues his litany of people who hate him. Which, if they were ever around him when he was drunk, then I certainly think their hatred was justifiable.
I eventually pull to a stop outside a mansion on Crawford Street. Stupid twit had me driving all over town! If he’d just told me the address, we could have been here in ten minutes. But oh no, just a drunken ‘turn here’ or a ‘you can go left’. But we finally made it. And he still hasn’t shut up!
"An’ Spike hates me ‘cause Dru loved me more," he rambles. "But I don’ love her. And she hates me ‘cause I’m not evil anymore. And Darla hates me. But she hates me ‘cause I killed her. Killed her dead. But I know cause I’m dead too. But not as dead as her. But she has good reason to hate me," he grin suddenly. "’Cause she knows my reputation, at three o’clock in the mornin’!"
Argh! I can’t stand it anymore! I smack him lightly upside the head. "Angel!" I yell. He looks at me in shock. "It is not three o’clock in the morning. It’s eleven thirty!"
"It is?" he asks in disbelief. "How do you know?" I roll my eyes and point at the digital clock on the dashboard.
"Because that says so," I point out. He leans in close and stares at the little red numbers.
"Amazin’," he giggles. What is it with men tonight and giggling? It is so not attractive. "But no matter. ‘Cause with my reputation, any hour is three o’clock!"
That’s it! I’ve had it. I wish this whole night would just disappear. Just poof, as if it had never happened. Except of course that I’d remember the look on Willow’s face this afternoon. But that’s not the point. I thought catching Xander cheating on me and having a rebar forcibly exploring my ribcage was the end of my patience. But it’s not. This is! I unbuckled my seatbelt and turned to root around in the back seat. Ah, just like I thought. A smart girl is always prepared. And there was a leftover stake that I’d never bothered to remove from the vehicle. I twist around again, holding it threateningly before me.
"Cordy…" his eyes are wide.
"Get out of my car," I order in a low voice. He hurriedly fumbles with the release and jumps from the car. As I lean over to yank the door shut, I can’t resist one more shot. "And Angel, do us all a favor and dump Buffy. Because if this is what she does to you, then I think we all prefer Angelus." I slam the door shut and get the hell out of there. I don’t care what else comes up tonight. There will be nothing stopping me from getting home and going to bed. This nightmare just needs to end.
*****
With a sigh, Cordelia shut the cover to the latest of her many diaries. Not that they were diaries, per se. More like journals of her many adventures on the Hellmouth. She’d outgrown diaries in seventh grade. But once high school had started up, she’d begun the habit again. More so after Buffy had entered her life. She needed that certain outlet to keep some perspective on her life. Things seemed to have been growing steadily worse, the longer she stayed in this town. She couldn’t wait for the moment graduation was over. Then she was hightailing it out of town. She had no set plan, just some vague ideas of making it big somehow.
She ran through the list in her mind as she readied herself for bed. She stared at herself in the mirror, braiding her long chestnut hair back so it wouldn’t tangle. There was an influential marriage, but the pickings here were slim. She doubted that she’d mysteriously inherit a fortune that was hers alone in the next six months. She could always head to LA. The city of Angels. With a rueful grin, she let her braid drop and ran a hand over the smooth cover of her journal. She picked it up and carried it to the little hiding spot she’d ferreted out in their new home. There was a vague impression that she could make a million with these stories she kept. Surely there were people in LA who would love to make her little stories into best sellers. Purely fictional of course.
She slid the book away and moved to her bed. As she pulled back the covers and slid between the coolly comforting sheets, a smile played over her face as she imagined a life as a best-selling novelist. Appearances on Oprah, book-signings, people clamoring to have their picture taken with her. Except for one thing. She’d always maintained that those who can, do and those who can’t teach. And writing seemed to her a lot like solitary teaching. She shook her head a little, adjusting the pillow beneath. She could always write under an assumed name. Live the high, but mysterious life of an eccentric. Rich in an unknown way.
Oh yes, that suited her much better.
Visions of series of books spawned thoughts of movie deals. Which in turn spawned thoughts of television spin-offs. Oh yes, people would adore her stories. If only she could think up a catchy title and an unforgettable alias to write under. What was that name she’d heard the other day? She yawned and let her eyelids flutter shut. Oh yeah, Joss, that was it.
