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The Rantings of a Madman

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Summary: A simple collection of plot ideas, one-shots, and add-ons to my already existing stories.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Multiple Crossings > General
Miscellaneous > Surprise Crossover
zTiamaTzFR18826,9312188,3567 Jan 117 Nov 11No

Secret Identity

Title: Secret Identity

Author: zTiamaTz


Beta by: Starway Man

Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, and Angel the Series, along with the characters from their respective shows, are owned by Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy.

Disclaimer 2: The movie 'The Expendables', is owned by Nu Image and Millennium Films.

Summary: A descended Cordelia has lost her man, and someone comes along to straighten her butt out.

Continuity: None

A/N: This story will be entirely from Cordelia's POV.

As I parked in front of the place called "Tool's Tattoos", all I could hope for was that I could make things right - somehow.

I'm Cordelia Chase, and I was once the Queen C of southern California. That life is way in the past now though, of course, as is my relationship with my former boss, Angel; as soon as I saw that dumb-ass vampire having sex with that werewolf girl Nina less than two months after our farewell kiss from my position in the higher realms, I'd drawn the curtain over that part of my life. And after descending, I guess you could call it, I'd eventually found a new guy called Lee Christmas.

Lee had left a jacket at my house two months ago, and I'd found a business card for this place in the inner pocket. I thought maybe I'd be able to get a message to him.

It's funny; for the first time ever since I came back to Earth, I had actually been happy. After being screwed over by the Powers with the whole Jasmine thing, someone a lot higher up than them had decided that I deserved a second chance at life.

Problem was, it was almost like witness protection; no connection to what I'd had before. Not that any of my LA family was still alive after the idiotic mass suicide Angel had decided to perpetrate, back in 2004.

Anyway, I was living in New Orleans and going by the name "Lacy Johnson". It may have sounded a little too much like a stripper's name, but for some reason, I liked it. I'd been getting back into the whole swing of things concerning being mortal once more, when I'd screwed up with Lee - big time.

I had gotten into this whole mess when I'd gone on a date with another guy, thinking Lee wasn't coming back. Hey, the guy didn't tell me where he was or what he did for a living, what was I supposed to conclude? When he'd found out, Lee hadn't taken it well, and my entire world came crashing down around me.

Later, after that asshole I'd dated had beaten me up - God, I missed the whole demon powers thing, and while I haven't forgotten the moves Angel taught me my new body's muscle memory sucks! - Lee had returned the favor, kicking the shit out of that lowlife and all of his friends. But after that, Lee had made it clear that we were through. Done. Finished.

Now, here I was hoping that I could somehow make it up to him.

I headed toward the entrance, and hoped I wouldn't need to get a tattoo out of this, or something equally stupid. God, the things I did to snag a decent guy...

"I'm sorry, darlin'; they were the only guys that would take the job, there is no one else to help 'em," the man named 'Tool' explained sadly.

The man was big, with long greasy hair. Even though he looked like the stereotype of a bad-ass biker, he'd been surprisingly nice to me about this whole thing. What he'd told me, though, ranked right up there with finding out that vampires and demons were real.

I was still trying to process what I'd heard. Mister prospective husband-material was a mercenary, being held prisoner on some God-forsaken island after a coup d’état gone wrong?

I was suddenly reminded of a long-ago conversation I'd had with Buffy Summers, outside the Bronze; back when we were teenagers in high school. I'd just gotten out of hospital after catching my boyfriend cheating on me and getting a rebar through my stomach, and I'd asked her: Why me? Why do I get impaled? Why do I get bitten by snakes? Why do I fall for incredible losers?

In a nutshell, why does stuff like this always happen to me, no matter which life I'm living?

Apparently, Lee had thought enough of me before what had happened, to tell Tool what a great lady he thought I was. That was the only reason why he'd divulged what had actually happened to Lee, and the rest of his team.

With a sigh, I'd got up from the stool I'd parked my ass on, and thanked Tool for his trust. I was almost out the door when he spoke again.

"If I hear anything, one way or the other, I've got your number - so I'll let you know."

I gave him a nod, and headed out the door. A mercenary. That's who I'd been dating; someone who risked his life on a daily basis for money. Maybe even killed people for it as well.

This was my life? Unbelievable. I was going home to get drunk.

I sat on the couch alone, bottle in hand. Things had started to get hazy a few minutes ago, but that didn't stop me from finishing off the glass. I was only used to the occasional glass of Cabernet, but Lee liked Jack, and Mister Daniels had looked mighty fine when I got home from Tool's.

"Are you serious?" A somehow-familiar female voice asked out of nowhere.

Unfortunately, I'd been pouring myself another drink at that moment. I dropped the bottle, which knocked over the glass, which spilled across the table, and all over my pristine, white carpet. Oh, someone was going to die for this!

Looking up from my carpet, I saw a woman sitting in the easy chair across the living room. She was wearing a white gown, but I couldn't make out her face. At first, I assumed it was because I was drunk, but then...

Suddenly, I realized that the gown looked very familiar, a lot like the one I'd worn several years ago. That's all it took - I grabbed the now empty bottle by the neck, and stood up. "What the hell do you want?!"

I'd heard of her kind when I was Up There, they were sort of like guardian angels. To keep the stupid 'balance' they had to remain anonymous, though, hence the blurry features.

The woman simply snorted at me, not impressed at all by my attempt at a threatening voice.

"It's just that I never took Cordelia Chase for a lush." the woman then said, casually crossing one leg over the other.

Uh-oh, nobody up there was supposed to know I was here - except him. "Screw you, no-face, my name is Lacy Johnson-"

"Sure it is. And you've done such a great job with the whole new identity thing, haven't you? Nice house, high-end car, decent job...and yet here you are on a Tuesday night, drinking yourself into a stupor."

She acted like the high and mighty "queen of cool" I'd once been, which just pissed me off even more.

Normally, I would have been more rational about the whole thing, but I was totally buzzed thanks to the liquor and I had most likely lost my boyfriend permanently. So, I did the first thing that came to mind; I threw the damn bottle at her stupid head.

The woman snatched it out of the air with absolute ease. She gave the label a quick once-over, and tsk'ed. Then she placed the bottle down on the floor beside her, and brought her attention back to me.

Lady No-name then said, "Is that the best you can do? If only Harmony and your Cordettes could see you now. Even the Cordelia Chase that went to Hollywood to become a movie star wouldn't drink this stuff on general principles. She'd have said that this is what Xander Harris, and his loser family would eventually end up pickling their livers with."

Fear started crawling up my spine - I had given up my only weapon, and I just knew this woman had her own agenda. I simply wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing yet. "Why are you here?"

"And to top this whole mess off," The woman in white said, ignoring my question. "You sleep around on the guy you supposedly love. Hypocrite much? At least Harris had the excuse of being a horny teenager, back in high school."

That was it - nobody talked to me that way. I stepped around the coffee table and charged the woman. I was so going to beat her ass for the last wisecrack, as it brought back memories of a time I'd much prefer to forget.

She grabbed my right wrist as I threw a sloppy punch at her, and then wrapped her other hand around my neck. Before I could fight back, there was a bright white flash, and suddenly, I was falling flat on my ass.

I looked up to see the woman standing over me, but she made no further move to attack. Then I realized I was actually thinking clearly, I could move my arms and legs again without that floaty feeling.

"And here I thought you got over the spoiled princess act years ago. No wonder you can never keep a guy." She said evenly, as I got to my feet.

That just made me angry all over again. "Rude much? You're the one that came into my house without an invite, remember?!"

"Which only goes to prove that I'm not a vampire. Tell me, what would you be doing right now if I hadn't shown up? Finding some other loser to bone, after getting completely plastered?"

This was getting us nowhere, so I decided to simply swallow what little pride I had left. "Fine. I get it, my bad," I told her with a sigh. "Now what do you want?"

"Finally," My unwelcome house-guest said with exasperation. "Now I'm going to have to make this quick, since I have a white-lighter to meet up with soon. Kinda funny how we didn't get that tag, huh?

I just stared at her, she had the nerve of accusing me of acting like a drunk? What the hell was her excuse? "What. Do. You. Want?"

"There are people from your former life in Sunnydale you can call to help you straighten your new life out - that is, if you're willing to take the risk on them finding out just how you managed to come back from Up There."


"Or, you can start your new collection of pussy cats instead; I'm sure you haven't forgotten what your Aunt Helen's house was like when you were a kid. I saw a great stray tabby a couple of blocks over-"

"I wouldn't know where to start," I cut that train of thought right off. "I haven't been in contact with any of them for six years!"

She put her hand up to her 'face' with a sigh. "There are a 'lot' of Slayers in this world nowadays, which I'm sure you haven't forgotten. And this city is full of cemeteries, so how hard could it be if you actually got off your formerly drunken ass and tried to look up an ex-boyfriend? One who, by the way, was the only member of the Sunnydale crowd to ever visit your gravestone in LA." Then, she turned around and walked away.

"Hey, where are you going?!" I called out, as she opened the front door. She may have been an unwelcome nag, but sue me if I didn't want to be alone right now.

"Have you ever had your brand new hairdo chopped to pieces by a ceiling fan?" The woman asked dismissively.


"Let's just say, I prefer open sky." With that said, she closed the door behind her.

I ran to the front door, opening it up straightaway. Looking outside, all I could see was Old Man Tyson walking that little leg-humper dog of his.

Of course, I should have known she'd pull something like that; it's what her kind did, after all.

I slammed the door shut and growled at the ceiling. Stupid higher beings.

Still, at least now I had something better to do than just sit on the couch and drink myself into a coma on a Tuesday night...

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