Title: Off the Path
Author: Samsom
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairing: Cordelia & Angelus. Canon pairings for BtVS s2.
Fandom: BtVS
Disclaimer: Not mine.
Summary: During Killed By Death Cordelia has a little encounter of her own with Angel.
Notes: Thanks to
damnskippytoo for the beta and dialogue suggestions.
~~
“Hey, Cordelia.”
So much for making a run for her car.
Before she can think about it, she reaches for the oversized cross in her open bag, turning and aiming it at Angel like a gun.
He raises his hands, turning his face away just a little.
“Whoa, sweetheart. Why the hostility?” he asks, voice velvet rough.
She sees his face and wonders how she could have found him so hot. His eyes are dead in his pale face and his hands are full of blood, even if she can’t see the stains.
“Maybe because you’re an evil loser who killed Miss Calendar?”
Her voice shakes like temblors along the San Andreas Fault but her hand is steady. She can see his mind working, like rats scurrying behind his pupils, looking for a weakness.
He won’t find one.
“Well, that was business. I’m here under a flag of truce. I promise,” he smiles and it’s like something that slithers along her boots. “I won’t bite.”
“What do you want?” she demands, putting as much aggression into her tone as she can, praying someone feels the need to grab a smoke soon before the shaking in her voice follows the inevitable path to her arm.
“Just some information,” he replies with a casual air. “About Buffy.”
She nearly rolls her eyes. Even surrounded by hospital staff and concrete walls, he can’t stay away from Buffy. Must have been something Xander caught from him, or he caught from Xander. She’s not sure; she just knows how very sick she is of living in fear for her life just because she keeps getting pulled into Buffy’s orbit.
“She’s fine, dead boy,” she replies, using Xander’s nickname. “She’s got Giles and her mom with her, and she doesn’t need you to make her sicker.”
“You’re forgetting Xander,” he smiles.
“What?”
“Buffy’s got Xander too, right?” he says with a widening smile. “I mean, he’s probably in there right now, isn’t he? Pacing the hall outside her room, or maybe sitting next to her bed, holding her hand?”
Cordelia doesn’t flinch, even though the picture he paints is so accurate she wonders if he’s been looking in through the windows.
Or maybe he just knows Xander that well.
Angel’s gaze narrows, focusing on her face, waiting for the first crack.
“Oh, he’s happy to pass the time with you - I mean, let’s face it, anyone would be happy to get a chance at those girls - but in the end, you just can’t compete with Buffy, can you?”
He pauses, waiting.
In the distance she can hear cars going by on the highway, and the sound of sirens. Someone’s bleeding, maybe dying. Her father’s probably pulling another late night at his office.
And she’s -
She’s on the verge of disaster, a few short feet from the rest of the world.
“Is that all?” she questions him with an arched eyebrow. “Because if you want poor little Cordy to cry, you’re going to have to do a lot better than that, fang face.”
Angel doesn’t move for a long moment, and she prays harder than she’s ever prayed in her life for someone to come out before he jumps her and rips her throat out.
But he just blinks and sighs.
“He’s going to leave you, you know. When he’s tired of parading you around on his arm to make up for the pathetically small dick he has, he’s going to dump you and you’re the one who’s going to get laughed at.” He smiles. “Xander’s little runner up. Got a nice little ring to it, don’t you think?”
“Buffy’s going to win.” She tells him, unblinking eyes steady on his face. “She’s the good guy, even if she’s fashion challenged, and the good guys always win.”
“Must be why you’re going to lose, kitten.”
He vamps and makes a sudden lunging move at her.
By the skin of her teeth she doesn’t scream or drop her cross. Inside she feels like she’s shaking apart but outside she just smiles.
“Time for you to go, sport.”
He bursts out laughing.
“Oh, you are fun, Cordy. I might have to visit you again. But for now, I’ve got some flowers to pick.”
He turns and saunters away as she blinks hard, trying to understand why she isn’t dead.
“Be seeing you, Cordelia,” his voice calls to her from beyond the ring of parking lot lights, and she heaves a breath, wanting to throw up so bad it hurts to hold it in. Instead, she draws in a lungful of cold night air and practices her yoga breathing until the sweat on her forehead dries.
When she’s sure she isn’t going to heave up what’s left of her lunch, she turns on her heel and walks shakily back into the hospital, glad to leave Buffy’s nightmare out there, in the dark.
~end~