Continued from Previous… Sunnydale CA, Chase Mansion 1999:
Buffy and Cordelia walked silently to the front door after parking the latter’s car in its spot. Once there, Buffy almost rung the doorbell, but Cordelia slapped her hand and gave her a mean glare.
“What are you trying to do? Get me grounded for the rest of my life? We will sneak in, I will go quietly into my nice, warm, soft bed, and you will leave. You can either call a cab or walk home for all I care. Right now I am so tired that I could actually sleep for the rest of my life.” Cordelia whispered to the Immortal as she dug out her house keys.
Cordelia finally found them and fit them almost soundlessly into the lock and opened the door. “I take it that you’ve done this before,” Buffy quietly observed. Cordelia only nodded her head, not saying anything, fearing the risk that somebody in the household would hear.
It was all for naught as in the next moments as the two women entered the foyer, they both heard the distinct, and unpleasant, sound of a male throat being cleared. The blond and the brunette turned abruptly at the unexpected noise and both saw a sight that widened their eyes in fear and shock.
“Good morning ladies,” Mr. Maxwell Chase greeted. “Or should I say goodnight? As you did not come home last night Cordelia. Again. You know, I’ve known that you have snuck boys into your room before, and in all truth, that was all right. As long as you weren’t getting into anything that you weren’t supposed to. And now I see…”
His eyes suddenly widened as he saw exactly whom
his only child had brought home with her. At first glance, all he had seen was blond hair and a female figure. Hoping that it was at the least a female friend, maybe Harmony, and fearing that it was his daughter’s lesbian lover, a bit of an overreaction. When he saw who it actually was, he began to think it might not be that much of an overreaction.
“Buffy…” Maxwell greeted stiffly. She just gave him her charismatic grin that he had learned she liked to give to those that were her prey.
“Uhhhh…, Hi dad,” Cordelia stuttered in greeting. “Uhm, you-you remember B-buffy, don’t you?”
“Hi Max,” Buffy said after her introduction.
“Cordelia, go up to bed. You look like hell.” Maxwell told his daughter sternly.
“Thankyou!” Cordy gasped out and hastened up the stairs. When she reached the top, however, she shouted back down, “HEY! I’ll have you know that I was up listening to old people talk all night!!” Then she rushed to her room, stripped to her undies, crawled under the sheets and bedspread and was asleep instantly.
Maxwell sighed as he pointed his arm towards his study, in offering to Buffy. The blond nodded appreciatively and closed the front door and followed the dark-haired businessman out of the foyer.
Maxwell Chase’s office was actually rather comfortable, but not completely so. He had a large modern black leather chair behind a Spartan desk, in front of which rested two uncomfortable looking chairs. At best they could be called foldouts. Behind the desk were various pictures, most of Cordelia and himself when she was much younger. Others were of Cordelia with her mother, or the entire family, and a few with just Mr. And Mrs. Chase by themselves. Yet one immediately struck Buffy’s eye. A group of elderly and middle-aged men, all standing together in a rather strict pose.
Buffy, as soon as she was in the beige wallpapered office, walked around the desk and plopped down into the large roll-around leather chair. Maxwell saw this, but knowing whom he was dealing with, chose to ignore it for the moment, and chose to stand on the other side of his own desk.
“I take it the hunt went well last night Buffy?” Maxwell put forth, in hopes of starting a polite dialogue.
“Very,” Buffy answered, “Some big ole demon creep that used to play the roles of Hansel & Gretal, mind-controlling the masses to turn against witches and the supernatural in general, thereby destabilizing the balance by wasting the knowledge needed to fight the true evils of this world. Was pretty easy to beat, once we got its true form revealed that is. Giles managed quite nicely to handle that, with your daughter’s help I might add. The problem came after the big bad was wasted. A vampire tried to kill Willow with a knife.”
Maxwell’s eyes lit up with horror. “My God,” he exclaimed silently.
Buffy just smiled, a little morosely, at him and continued. “Oh, don’t worry. Faith got in the way before they could even get close to each other. Unfortunately, Faith
was the one who died. In front of everyone.”
Maxwell considered the clue for several moments before speaking. “So that’s what my little Cordelia meant by staying up all night talking to old
people. You told her the truth?”
Buffy nodded. “The whole truth. We have a meeting this afternoon to continue our discussion. I’m staying here for the day to make sure that Cordelia isn’t late and actually attends.”
“That’s not necessary. I’m sure that I can…”
“She needs to be there Mr. Chase,” Buffy interrupted. “And yes, I know that you could quite easily convince your…”daughter” to keep her mouth quiet about Immortals. After all, she kept the secret of vampires and demons secret from everybody else, even you. Remember, I
was the one who finally had to tell you. But Cordelia has to be at this meeting to not only understand that the fact and presence of Immortals must remain a very silent secret, but she must also understand what it is to be
an Immortal. She…she has to.”
Suddenly very suspicious of his “assignment” Maxwell stood straight and actually dared to look her in the eye. “What do you mean? Why? Why does she even have to be near you and your group anymore? Now that you’ve actually revealed that you know who…and what I am, we can just get together once a week for coffee to talk about…things. As for your nightly activities, I’m sure that Mr. Giles is doing a wonderful job in that regard…”
“Have you told her?” Buffy snapped.
“Excuse me?” Maxwell had a look of utter confusion on his face.
“Have. You. Told. Her?” she repeated more slowly.
Getting a sinking feeling in the bottom of his gut, Maxwell decided it would be best if he sat down. So as he reached behind him and settled himself into the foldout, he asked, “Told her what?”
Buffy stared quite steadily into the Watcher’s eyes and spoke very slowly and deliberately clear. “That Cordelia Chase is adopted. That she is neither yours nor Tracie’s biological daughter. That one day you both just went out, applied, and picked her from the orphanage nursery ward on N. Angel Drive in Los Angeles. That she is…pre-Immortal.”
Maxwell Chase was suddenly very glad that he had decided to sit down. His breathing became irregular and his palms and forehead began to sweat like barnyard animals. Buffy just sat back, passively watching his reaction. Finally, after five or more minutes, he managed to gain enough control over himself that he could speak again, though the intense emotions he was feeling were quite evident. “Could-could…could you please…press the…intercom button, call in…call my wife in, …please?”
Buffy nodded and did so. Several minutes later, Tracie Chase walked into the office, looking quite happy in her “Saturday morning” outfit; a simple yellow silk blouse, black stretch pants made for lounging, and simple brown leather sandals. No make-up yet.
“What can I do for you Max…well?” Tracie stopped when she saw a beautiful, young blond girl sitting in Maxwell’s chair, while he himself sat in one of the uncomfortable “interrogation” chairs having what looked like a nervous breakdown.
“Sit down Tracie,” Maxwell ordered. She was so stunned by the sudden twist in her day that she instantly complied. * * *
Joyce was just pulling up to Amy’s house, her father’s house. She was also just finishing up telling how Buffy, John, and Faith had narrowly escaped the Vampire mafia’s lair under their hotel.
“You are kidding me?!” Amy exclaimed in an excited voice. “They crawled up the sewer pipes from the hotel into the basement!”
Joyce could only nod and smile at the exuberant teenager. Amy started shaking her head in disbelief at the amazing tale that the original Celtic had told her. The was that she and Buffy spoke of times past…it made her feel as if she were there, living it with them. “You are an amazing storyteller Mrs. Summers” Amy told her elder, ‘Boy is that the understatement of the millennium or what?’
Joyce actually blushed with the complement. “Well thank you Amy, it was my pleasure to tell it to you. And please call me Joyce,” the Immortal replied. “Well, this is your house Amy. You don’t have to come this afternoon if you don’t feel like it. I’m sure that when John comes to visit he’ll tell you more stories than even I know. Oh, and do Faith a favor by avoiding mentioning her name when or if you call John.”
Amy smiled brightly, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Don’t worry Joyce, he won’t get nothing out of me,” Amy vowed. “But I think I will come by this afternoon. Three you said?”
Joyce nodded. “Three o’clock,” she confirmed.
Joyce waited until the young witch was safely inside her house before backing out of the driveway and onto the street. She immediately made course for her house and repeated her driving from earlier that morning and made it in record time. Lucky for her that the local patrolmen weren’t fully awake yet.
Joyce sighed as she got out of her jeep and walked into her house, not too surprised to see Faith already inside. “Hey Mrs. S!” Faith greeted, her smirk evident in her voice even more than it was on her face. “Hello Faith,” Joyce tiredly answered before slumping upstairs and into her own bed.
“Geez, somebody’s in a mood,” Faith grunted under her breath. ‘For you information,
Joyce telepathically reprimanded Faith, ‘I have been up since three o’clock yesterday morning, I have been in a fight, I have been through my normal daily training regimen, and I have had to deal with the stress of explaining only
half of our secrets to yours and Buffy’s friends!’ ‘I repeat, somebody’s in a mood,’
Faith shot back. All she got in return was a sense of subconscious relaxation as Joyce drifted off to sleep the second her head hit the pillows. Faith sighed herself and decided to wait for Buffy to get back before even trying to drift off herself.
She wandered into the kitchen and immediately began to raid the cabinets and fridge. Ooo, cookies! * * *
Buffy was glad that Tracie was at least accepting this better than Maxwell was. But then, she guessed it was because she didn’t even know about Immortals, or the Watchers, or what her husband really did and why she was really here.
“Honey,” Maxwell started, “What I’m going to tell you is going to sound fantastic, but…you have to believe me, because its true.”
“What is it Maxwell?” Tracie asked, concern deep in her posture.
Buffy took the time that Maxwell tried to explain the same thing that she had just been explaining to her friends to study him and his wife. To say that it took a while would have been a gross understatement. At least he wasn’t distracted by having to tell ancient anecdotes that were caught in her memory.
Maxwell was almost the male version of Cordelia Chase, just older and with shorter hair. He had slick black hair, handsomely styled on top of his, dark forest brown eyes, and a slightly tanned complexion that came more from being a Californian and appreciating the outside more than any heritage it might hint to. Often, he was found in elaborate or just plain expensive business suits, and loved to flaunt as much money as he could easily afford to flaunt. Ofcourse owning your own investment company has many benefits. Buffy would know.
His wife, Tracie Chase, was a tall brunette with a much lighter complexion than Cordelia or Maxwell had. She was about 5’11”, a fact that briefly annoyed Buffy about her immortal shortness, had deep sea green eyes that at the moment were filled with concern, and disbelief, about her husband and daughter. Her outfits were never the same. Not often even in the same day. Her hazel brown hair hung in long curly locks to her shoulders, which today she had let go free, though normally she might at the least accessorize something with it.
Finally, actually less than thirty minutes later, the longest thirty minutes that Buffy can remember since the end of the Cold War, Maxwell had finished his brief synopsis over Immortals, Watchers, and how it involved them.
“Maxwell…I, I can’t believe you. It’s just too crazy! You are telling me that you watch
this girl here because she’s three thousand years old, and she just told you that our daughter, I’ll admit, our adopted
daughter, is one of her ‘kind’ and will live forever unless some maniac with a sword kills her by decapitating them?” Tracie was approaching shrieking volumes.
“Actually some use axes,” Buffy contributed to the conversation for the first time.
Tracie started as though she hadn’t even realized that Buffy was there, which she probably hadn’t knowing Chase’s tendency for self-involvement. Buffy was getting bored, and she didn’t want to have to deal with the stress of explaining everything in detail, again
, so she picked up the letter opener out of Maxwell’s drawer. If you’ve ever seen a real letter opener, then you know that it is almost entirely useless as a weapon, unless you can put enough force behind it to be so. The sides are far too blunt. That didn’t stop Buffy from ramming it through her hand, between the bones.
Tracie just stared, wide-eyed. Maxwell was still overcoming the shock of his daughter’s potential, but Buffy could tell that he wasn’t happy at the stunt she just pulled. She didn’t care, it hurt too much to care about anything else. Yet from her posture and calmness, you’d think that she was clipping her fingernails.
Blood began to pool down Buffy’s hand from the open wound, and Tracie knew than no Hollywood special effect could ever do something as real as that. Buffy just agitated, as it was, the situation by jiggling the opener up and down a little, opening the wound even further. Finally she pulled the bloodied instrument from her hand and held her palm out so that Tracie could see the “miracle” about to happen.
Tracie stared in total disbelief as the very bloody wound in the blond girl’s hand was held in front of her. Then her disbelief began to fade as there was a sudden spark. The spark sprung up to become spark of lightning dancing around the wound. At the first pass, the wound stopped openly bleeding, but still bled. At the second, all bleeding stopped and the open wound was no closed. At the third, new skin had grown, but it was still very agitatedly red. The fourth and fifth passes left it much the same. The sixth made it look like it would scar over, but by the eighth pass of the spark of lightning, there was nothing but healthy skin where once had been an open gash. The blood was still there, drying now, but the wound was no more.
Buffy turned to Maxwell. “You mind if I freshen up a bit? I’ll take the downstairs guest room if that’s all right with you?”
Maxwell just nodded and waved his hand, “That’s just fine. Uhm, thank you for brining Cordelia home Buffy.”
“No sweat. A lot of blood sure, but no sweat,” Buffy commented easily as she left the room.
“I need a drink,” both Maxwell and Tracie Chase said as they stood and made to raid the liquor cabinets. All of them.
FINIS…(for now) J
Authors Notes: I’ve felt that for this story, it has continued enough. I fully intend to continue this as a series and as a part of a whole, but in another story. So there will
be a sequel and I will continue to write this. Just under another title. As hints go, it will be several weeks after this “nights” events when Amy’s uncle John Madison comes to town, along with other problems that begin to arise. Plus, and tell me if this is too much information that you want to know at this time, Cordelia’s immortality is triggered, along with some others.
Now to address several…indiscrepancies that have been brought to my attention. First, the Romans attacking the British Islands when Joy claimed to have lived there…it is true, the Roman Empire at that time was on the verge, if not already, of collapse. Many suggested numerous tribes or regions of Vikings to take the place of invading and massacring army. I really don’t know much about that and couldn’t find any specific information that I could use. So for the time being, the passages of Joy’s flashback and statements of the Roman Empire, or what remained of it, shall remain. Besides, I did it mostly to go along with the episodes of Hercules: The Legendary Journeys when he was in Ireland, defending against Caesar, aka “the foreign stranger that was prophesied to come and help us by the elders of my tribe, the High Druids.” I think it was in the next to last season, when he was fighting Dahok, but before Iolas’s revival J. I’ve said it before and I will say it again, and maybe even again, I’m not a historian, I only write what I know, and for the most part that’s TV, books and other entertainment.
If anybody has any questions, my e-mail is displayed on my “Author’s Page” or you can just ask them in the ‘Reviews’, which I check daily. Thank you for enjoying my fictions (J) and I hope to hear from you, either praise, questions, and I only stand proper flames, no cuss words or I just delete and ignore you.