The Mystery of Fred
She had seen a lot of things. Nothing could really surprise her anymore. I mean, after you've worked for one of the worst mass murderers in the history of ever and have gotten blood and other strange gook on your clothes that will never come out no matter how many times you wash it or take it to the dry cleaners, you get use to the strange occurrences. It's not like everyone's graduation ceremony involved a giant snake, an explosion, and a nasty maroon covered gown that so did not go with their complexion.
What was wrong with the teal color anyway?
But that's besides the point.
Right now, Cordelia Chase was facing the strangest thing her mind could ever fathom.
“So...” Cordelia started, addressing the English ex-watcher sitting next to her at the counter while looking up at the stairs, “How many tacos has she eaten this week?”
Sifting through some papers in a manila folder, Wesley glanced up and turned his sights to the stairs, “Uh... I'd say at least three a day for the past two weeks actually. So...” Just as soon as he had started the calculations, he gave up. He really had other things to occupy his mind with at the moment, “Quite a bit.” He supplied before turning back to his file.
“Huh.” Cordelia leaned forward on her elbows and frowned. “And she hasn't left her room at all?”
“That's impossible!” Wesley jumped at her outburst and Cordelia just shook her head. She really couldn't believe it, “She hasn't gained a pound!” She stared at him in disbelief, “Not one!”
Taken aback at the sudden turn of this conversation, Wesley looked up at Cordelia with a look of disbelief. Honestly though, he shouldn't have been that surprised. It was Cordelia after all.
Chocolate colored eyes turned to him. Cordelia's hand cut through the air towards the stairs in a gesture that only Cordelia Chase could pull off, “How is it possible that she's eaten all those tacos and hasn't gained any weight?!” She lowered her arm and scoffed, “If that were me, I'd be morbidly fat and rushing to find some Denise Austin workout videos just so I could show my face again.”
“Well,” Wesley adjusted his glasses, “Maybe she's not eating them right away.” He leaned back and crossed his arms, “Maybe she's stashing some away for later.” He pushed himself out of his seat and grabbed his file, “She was a starved for the better part of five years, it's just another survival skill that she picked.”
“Yeah,” Cordelia frowned, “But she doesn't need to anymore. Why doesn't she just stop?”
“Because she's not use to having food whenever she pleases. Just like she's not use to having friends in the next room.” Wesley pulled open a drawer and slipped the file back under S. The Stantons were worried about a ghost haunting their house. After spending a night investigating, Wesley had discovered that it was just a leaky pipe and a miswired light fixture. Predictably, the family refused to pay, not that he could blame them really. “She could be worried that this is all just a dream or that something will happen and she will have neither food nor friends.” He turned back to Cordelia, who was staring at him blankly, “It's all very basic psychology.”
“Yu-huh.” Was Cordelia's response, “I still think she should have gained at least a pound.” Wesley rolled his eyes in response, but Cordy just ignored it. She hopped off her stool and walked around the counter, “I think I'm gonna go catch a movie. That movie starring Brad Pitt just came out and I am dying to see it. Wanna come?”
“I think I'll pass,” Wesley searched through the filing cabinet under the letter H, “The Hendricks believe that their six year old daughter is possessed by a demon. I promised them Gunn and I would stop by and investigate around 8 o'clock.”
“Ah, one of those.” Cordelia nodded and stared at nothing as she remembered the last possession she had dealt with, “Yeah, the last one is still a little too fresh in my mind.” She shook her head and smiled, “I think I'll pass on that whole backwards language and green spew thing.” She grabbed her purse from the round couch in the lobby of the Hyperion and started towards the door, “Have fun!”
“Oh, yes.” Wesley's sardonic remark flew out, “I much enjoyed when that little boy set my hair on fire. I hope little Andrea Hendricks will be just as much fun.”
The end of the comment hit deaf ears as Cordelia had already walked out. Wesley didn't really expect her to stay while he had muttered to himself. Glancing at the clock – 7:00 – Wesley decided it was time to leave and head to the Hendricks' home. Gunn had already agreed to meet him with a few of the supplies they would need if it was in fact a possession. The Ex-Watcher grabbed a black bag sitting on the desk behind the counter and walked out to the lobby. He was about to head out the door that Cordelia had walked through just seconds before when he heard it.
The familiar sound of Cordelia's scream echoed throughout the Hyperion hotel. Without thought, Wesley dropped his bag and ran out after her. She was lying on the sidewalk, dangerously close to traffic, writhing on the ground and holding her head. Immediately, Wesley was by her side and struggling to pull the resistant girl closer to the hotel and away from traffic. Cradling her close to him, he tried to do everything he could to make her as physically comfortable as possible and reduce any physical pain her writhing could cause her.
Finally, she snapped up with a gasp and a sweaty brow. Her brown eyes were wide and she paid no attention to the cool Californian night air on her sweaty skin.
What she had seen was like something out of a bad nightmare. Like usual. There had been metal tables and people strapped down to them. Doctors had been cutting into them. Some people had been in what looked to be cages. Not all of the victims were human either. At least not anymore. There had been bodies, body parts, and gallons of blood.
She felt very queasy.