New player? Or Old Enemy?
Title: Come Undone -- Part 4 New Player? Or Old Enemy?
Description: The Big Bag rears it's ugly head.
Disclaimer: In the first Chapter
A/N: You're just not going believe it until you read it. And I'm not going to believe you like it unless you tell me.
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Checking his watch, Angel thanked the PTB that the day was at an end.
He looked into Brennan’s office – there she was, as usual, “Working late Bones?”
She barely looked up, intent on the screen in front of her, “Huh? Yes, I think I might have a lead on how-“
Angel shook his head, “Don’t need to know. Just…have a good night.”
“You too,” came the absent-minded reply.
He was only too glad to leave the office – too long a day with too much sexual tension. He barely noticed the journey home, his senses only waking when he did in a cold shower. Turning the faucet, he stepped out, dried off and slipped on a pair of boxers.
Sighing contentedly, he sat on his bed, opened his journal, and began to write. The pages were filled with poetry – god forbid Spike ever find the damn thing – about Temperance.
“Wow. I guess I was right to never believe I was your big love or whatever. So ascension was really the best way forward.” A familiar voice came from his doorway.
She stepped into the light, and there she was, beautiful as that final day she died, as that last kiss they may or may not have shared.
“You know. Except for the whole possessed by an entity that slept with your son so it could give birth to itself. Oh, and that ridiculous coma.”
He hadn’t dared turn completely, he was watching her out of the corner of his eye, “You’re not her.”
Cordelia sighed dramatically, “No, but that dying thing did her a favour. I mean, an eternity of bed hair? No thank you!” She crossed her arms over her chest, and rolled her eyes – a perfect replica.
Finally, as though he couldn’t bear it any longer, he turned around to look at her properly.
There she was, as the day she died. Cropped hair bounced in loose curls around her jaw line, her eyes bright and calculating and her clothes looking like they were made to fit that body, and that body alone.
“They probably were you know,” she stated; reading his mind as she studied her nails with feigned nonchalance, “You know Wolfram and Hart. Shame they couldn’t do a better job with the manicure, huh?”
He gritted his teeth, “You’re not her.”
She sashayed towards him – so much like the teenaged Cordelia who was once desperate to tear him away from Buffy, “Maybe not. But don’t you want to hear what I have to say?”
He turned around, almost petulantly, “Buffy defeated you. Go crawl back to whatever pit in hell spat you out.”
Hands on hips – a mockery of her rich-bitch snobbery, “Buffy?! You think a stupid little vampire slayer could get rid of me? I’m the First freakin’ Evil! Vampires may be Miss-Kill-a-lot’s turf, but I live in the hearts and minds of every man, woman and child. Until there’s nothing left on this pathetic rock I still exist, and I still have power over them all,” her tone changed like the flick of a switch, suddenly sultry, “I have power over you still, Angel.”
“Booth. It’s Booth now.”
Angel would have been grateful to not see the ugly look on Cordelia’s (usually) pleasing face, “I don’t care what you’re calling yourself nowadays, Liam
. You’re one of mine. You always will be-“
He turned to face her, angry, “Buffy was right about you. Don’t you ever just shut up?”
She morphed, and there Buffy was, a huge gaping wound in her stomach, her face and arms littered with cuts and bruises.
He looked at her, stunned, “How-?”
She shrugged, and a little blood blossomed onto her blouse, “You know me,” she quipped, her voice hoarse, and he thought to wonder – had she really been that tired? – “Can’t seem to stay dead or alive.”
“I didn’t choose you though. Did I Angel? For all those times I called you my ‘soulmate’, I chose him,” she grinned maliciously, “Got him
burnt to a crisp for it, but I wouldn’t let you die for me.”
And in an instant she turned into Spike, “You just weren’t that important to her? Were you peaches?” He grinned his smug grin, much like the cat that got the cream, ate the canary and screwed all the girl-cats in the local vicinity.
It was Cordelia again, sitting with a bored expression in a chair opposite his bed, “So I guess the both of us really weren’t that important in the grand scheme of things.”
Angel wanted to scream, tear his hair out – erase that taunting voice from his mind, but he bit back his anger and calmly asked, “So, you behind the bodies then?”
, per se. More like an adoring fan.”
She was suddenly a woman he didn’t recognise – bleached blonde, blood red lips and a tight sheath of a dress to match, “It’s need to know. And either way, you’re more useless than a common vampire slayer right now,“ seeing his confusion she gestured to herself, “Oh? This body? The reason your girlfriend was in the ground for however long it was – Spikey could tell you,” she winked saucily, “He was counting.”
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath he didn’t need, “Who’s the fan?”
She sighed, as though he really was insanely stupid, “Not gonna tell you that, you little worm. Got better things to do,” she paused, and a slow smile spread over her features, “You’ve got you a new girl? I think I’ve got me a new playmate.”
“Bones!” Angel scrambled forward, but it was futile – she was non corporeal, and had vanished before he could get close.
- - - - -Well I bet you didn't see that coming! I know right? Tell me about it! No, seriously, tell me about it. Review.