The last thing she’d been expecting to find when she first entered Angel Investigations was Cordelia on the ground, clutching at her head in what seemed like obvious pain. Kate might know about the supernatural now, but it was still foreign to her, leaving her uncertain of what was happening. Taking her gun out of it’s holster, just in case, she rushed to the other woman’s side, kneeling down beside her with a flash of concern on her hardened features. ‘Cordelia? What happened?’
“Oh god, Kate?” It was out of pure instinct that Cordelia leaned toward the blonde, clinging to the cop’s arm to ground herself as she rode out the remainder of a torturous message. She couldn’t remember now, in a haze of half-awareness, just how much Angel had told the other woman – but if Kate didn’t ALREADY know about the visions, well, she was about to find out now.
“Vampires at a frat party at USC. There’s so many of them, and… Oh god…” An echo of words from moments prior, Cordelia opened her eyes and tilted her gaze upward, frightened hazel meeting worried blue. “We can’t wait for Angel, there’s barely any time before –” Her eyelids screwed shut once more, a small groan slipping through parted lips as the last living moments of FAR too many flashed before her eyes.
“Hey– uh–” Eyebrows pull together, knitting, while a deep crease etches itself across her forehead and her nose scrunches. She’s drawing a blank on the name. She knows this face, and actually the name is sitting right there on the tip of her tongue. She just– can’t– “–Cordelia.” There it is. “I know this is sort of last minute but uh– I need a place to uh– ya know.” She hates talking about it, hates even acknowledging her alter ego. “Somehow the cops found my cage and there’s a bunch of police tape around the entire thing and– it isn’t safe. At least not for tonight. I’m desperate.” She almost tacks on the word ‘please.’ Almost.
“Spencer.” Tanned arms cross over an ample chest, cautious eyes meeting pleading ones with only a hint of congeniality shining through. But as always, Cordelia’s a sucker for a demon is distress ( worryingly so, actually ), so the facade lasts for but a moment longer before she sighs and leans over, fingers snagging a key ring from Angel’s desk drawer. Sure, she’s totally making an EXECUTIVE DECISION here, but really? The last thing any of them need to deal with is a werewolf on the loose, herself included.
“Fine; follow me.” the brunette orders before turning away. Thin heels clack against cool tile as she makes her way to the basement, not even glancing back once to make sure the lycanthrope had followed. “But Angel better know that the SECOND he gets back, I’m going home – no way am I gonna be on babysitting duty all night! Besides, risking becoming wolf chow before I’m even twenty-one? So not an appealing option.”
Send ‘😴’ for my muse to fall asleep in your muse’s bed.
It had been a LONG day for Cordelia Chase. Between barely getting any sleep the night before, having her mind and body torn apart by the vision from HELL, and being left alone on baby duty for the day ( a job she rarely ever minds, but it would be a hell of a lot easier to do if every muscle in her body didn’t ACHE, and she could keep her eyes open for more than a minute at a time ), it doesn’t take long at all for exhaustion to sink in. Even the mere idea of trying to make it back to her own apartment is far too much right now – and besides, she knows Angel willtotally freak if he came back to an empty hotel – so it’s not long before Cordelia finds herself curled up in the center of Angel’s bed, body forming a protective shield around the baby beside her.
( And really, it’s no surprise at all that she’s already out like a light mere minutes later. )
“Dunno, Queen C, but I’m willin’ to bet it’s a problem,” Safe. Snug as a bug in a rug, yo. Safest Slayer there ever was– she might, in fact, be hella more protective than B, honest to god, hand to heart, but it’s not really her fault. She’s the hero type deep down. Nobody’s ever bothered to look. “Wouldn’t figure it a good idea to take it on if I don’t know, either. Angel’s probably got a little more knowledge to drop on it, before I hurl myself.”
There’s a weird, unconscious need to be careful when she reaches up and takes the hand against her shoulder, squeezes it softly. She thinks the thing doesn’t see them– she thinks it might be motion-based– won’t see until they move. “Hate to be pushy, but I’m def faster’n you. I’m the Flash. Gotta problem with me pickin’ you up, gettin’ you outta here?” Voice calm, lower, “Don’t wanna leave you in the dust. Just don’t wanna freak you out. Cool?”
Cordelia hadn’t expected the Slayer’s proposal to be to run, not to fight, but if that means getting out of here? There’s no way she’ll complain. “If it means I don’t have to end up being THAT thing’s dinner? You can carry me all the way back to Sunnydale for all I care.” she answers, the words a more colorful echo of her thoughts just moments before – though her voice is just a little too high, slender fingers tightening around black-polished ones. Not that she’s slow by any means – years of cheerleading, gymnastics, and running for her life from the big, the bad, and the UGLY weren’t for nothing, after all – but Cordelia would be a complete idiotif she thought she could outrun pretty much anything, or anyone, of the ‘unknown supernatural’ variety without a little help.
For once, Cordelia has no sharp-tongued rebuke to offer as she’s shoved behind the other girl, stumbling backward in heel-clad feet. She loathes to admit it, but even after everything with Angel and Wesley,even after Faith has gone ROGUE far too many times for her to try and count, there’s still something that feels unnervingly safe about the Slayer. Especially now that she’s shielding Cordelia from… whatever the hell that slimy, growly, AWFUL thing before them is.
But instead of acknowledging this, Cordelia Chase does what every Sunnydale expat does best: Denial. She ignores the way Faith’s arm is thrown up before her as if that alone can keep her out of harm’s way. She pretends it doesn’t matter that the girl who once had absolutely no qualms about ( literally ) knocking Cordelia out of the way to get what she wanted is now potentially risking her life for her. Instead, she simply allows her face to scrunch up in DISGUST, a hand on the smaller girl’s shoulder her only show of gratitude as she loudly proclaims, “No problem there; because, ew, what the hell is that thing?”
Coming back
from the dead should be something to celebrate. It was a miracle, wasn’t it? To be pulled back from a hell dimension, to
have a heart beat once again. In Doyle’s case, however, it was the opposite. Being
brought back here had brought him nothing but nightmares and a conflict of
emotions. His memories were gone,
lost somewhere he couldn’t find and in their place, all he could remember was
his time in the pit, the torture he’d
had to endure, the screams and the terror.
The people
responsible for his uprising, Wolfram
& Hart, told him a vampire was to blame. Angel, or Angelus,
whichever. That he and his band of side-kicks had hunted Doyle down and killed him, all for the sake of winning an
investigation. At first, he’d believed them. Had even had a showdown with the
caped crusader himself a few weeks ago. He’s starting to remember things now though. Little flickers here and there.
Laughter. Friendship. Cordelia.
It’s not
enough for him to grasp onto, but it’s
enough to have him questioning the lies he’s been fed. It’s enough to bring him
here, to Angel Investigations, looking for answers.
The hotel was quiet, an eerie silence that
had him wondering if someone was even here.
“Hel’o?”
“Angel Investigations, we help the– -”
The too-familiar slogan cuts off mid-sentence, COLLAPSES, dying a terrible death somewhere in the back of her throat. Hazel eyes are wide as saucers, drinking in the sight before her the same way a man in the desert gulps down his first sip of water. It can’t be real, can it? After all, she’d seen it herself; the man before her jumping to his death, recklessly, thoughtlessly sacrificing his own life to save the rest of theirs. “Doyle, you…” Her words die yet again, a million thoughts rocketing around TOO FAST for her to catch on to any of them. Her entire being is torn between running straight into his arms andkillinghim herself – and the longer she stares at him, the more each of them become equally appealing options.
And yet, no matter how much she tries to shake it, there’s still another nagging thought in the back of her mind, brought on by far too many years of justifiable paranoia and hanging around the undead. Maybe this isn’t REALLY him – maybe it’s some demon, or hellbeast or whatever, out to kill Angel ( and her in the process ) by using Doyle’s form to drop their guard. She doesn’t want to think it; in fact she HATES herself a little bit for thinking of it at all. But after everything she’s been through before? Better safe than sorry.
So, rather than acting on either impulse, she instead inches toward the nearest heavy object she can find ( a stapler, OF COURSE) fingers lightly curling around cool metal as she finally brings herself to finish a coherent sentence. “What – how are you here?”
It took a lot for Fred to be able to ask if they could go out. She’s been gathering up the courage for so long, and now that she’s finally said it … she can feel her heart beating hard in her chest. Was it too LATE to take it back?
“Go out. I think — I mean ... do ya think that it’s safe & all to go out? Like if I went out into the world right now nothing horrible would happen? ‘Cause I really don’t feel like havin’ horrible stuff happen anymore.”
"I… I can’t promise that, Fred. Anything could happen. But what happened last time… that’s not how things usually go, that much I can promise you.“
Her expression softens into one of sympathy as she takes in the nervous look on Fred’s face. Sure, Cordelia had never quite been in Fred’s position, but she does know that adjusting to life in L.A. (especially a life like theirs) is BEYOND difficult. So it only takes a moment of hesitation before she blurts out a suggestion:
"How about this: we start slow - just to get you reintroduced to the world a little bit? Just you, me, and whatever place you want to eat - and we can just figure the rest out from there.”
“… No! You’re fine. I’m fine. We have to do this to kill the demon, I got it.”
Angel was never really good at the social thing & he has only had one girlfriend in the last 100 plus years — so he’s a little awkward when it comes to the whole dating thing. Mostly when it comes to fake dating Cordelia. He nods, throwing a small smile towards her. He can do this. It couldn’t be that hard.
“We’re just a normal demon couple. Dating for two years — madly in love. Look human on the outside. We go in, and then we go out, okay? We’ll be the most believeable fake couple they’ve ever seen, Cordy.”
“Oh, so you’d ONLY date me to kill a demon, then?” Cordelia’s half-kidding, but honestly, she’s not even sure why she’s giving him such a hard time. It shouldn’t matter if he would or wouldn’t date her outside of their little undercover mission… should it? “We’ll be the most believable fake couple, easy; but we’ve gotta be on par with the REAL ones, too. Since some of those demons are probably gonna be able to read minds, or whatever - right?”
“It’s Not that I underestimate your ability to help me out here, but I was kinda hopin’ Angel would be around. Kinda sorta in dire need of a cage. Like tonight.”
“Oh please, like I’ve NEVER dealt with a werewolf before. At my high school, having a supernatural boyfriend was practically trendy. There’s a cage downstairs; normally I wouldn’t offer it to someone I barely know without Angel here, but if you’re really gonna turn than I’d rather deal with that after you’re BEHIND bars.”
