A Day In The Life
Restive Nature (aka Bavite)
Disclaimers & Notes- See part 1.
A/N- When last we left, the fair Miss Chase was just a wee bit distracted while driving. That’s never good news, is it?
The car slid to a stop and I am quite sure I left tread for a few feet. I check my head quickly, just to make sure I didn’t bump my forehead when I collided with, well whatever the heck it was. I can’t help the groan that pours out of me. Daddy is going to kill me. I so don’t need my insurance to go up. And sued. I could be sued. Despite what my panicky brain wants me to do, namely get the hell out of there; I climb out of the car to check on my unintended victim. I step around the car, seeing at once that it’s a person. Oh yeah, it’s really going to hit the fan. Hopefully I can bluff my way out of this. Besides, the light was definitely green. I was in the right.
"Hey!" I call to the person huddled a few feet before my car. "Are you okay?" I kneel down, contemplating whether or not to roll the person over. I think I heard somewhere that you’re not supposed to. But how the hell do you check if someone’s alive if you don’t look at him or her.
But I’m saved from making the wrong choice as the person rolls over under his or her own steam. "Man, that hurt," he mumbles as he sits up.
"Angel!" I exclaim. Oh lord, am I happy to see him. Because if it had been a normal person, I could have done some serious damage. But Vampires, hey, they recover from everything but immolation, beheading and wooden heart transplants, right? "Are you okay?" I ask again. He grins up at me.
"Car hit me," he mumbles. "Could be worse though. I could have hit it. Cause you know, at three o’clock in the morning, with my reputation…" My face twisted in a grimace. Huh?
"Huh?" I gave in. That totally did not make sense. I took a closer look at him. "Angel? Are you drunk?"
"Drunk lassie?" he laughed. "I’m na drunk. I’m Irish. All good Irish boys drink. Especially at three in the mornin’, with my reputation."
"Your reputation?" I repeat, a little worried. Oh God, he had that date with Buffy. What if…? "Angel? Where’s Buffy?"
"Buffy?" his face lights up as he looks around for her. This is not good. So not good. "Where’s my Buffy?"
"She’s not here Angel," I point out, grabbing his chin to pull his face back around to face me. "Do you know where she went?"
"Had a date tonight," he mumbles, his eyes rolling about, unseeing. He leans in closer and I can smell the whiskey on his breath. Well, one thing I’ll say for him, at least it’s not the cheap stuff. "She thinks I canna control myself. Canna kiss her without losin’ my soul. An’ she should worry. ‘Cause at three o’clock in the morning, with-!"
"Your reputation," I finish for him. "Yeah Angel, I get it." Irish indeed! I never really knew that, but I guess it’s true. No one can fake an accent like that. And once again, I realize that my day is still not over. I’m thinking that I’m really starting to deserve a medal here. There’s no help for it though. I’ve seen how Buffy gets when Angel is in trouble. And he’s a walking invitation to have his ass kicked right now. At least he was just drunk, and not Angelus. I smirked to myself. Obviously, Buffy didn’t have a lot of faith in him if she wouldn’t even kiss him. Poor guy was so frustrated that he got wasted after leaving her. Or she left him. I did recall Faith saying that she was meeting up with Buffy tonight.
But right now, I need to get drunken Irish boy out of the street. "Angel, you didn’t break anything did you?" I ask. I’ve already had to haul one guy home. I’m not looking forward to doing so with a guy the size of this one. He gapes up at me, then frantically starts patting down his torso.
"Where is it?" he asks himself, then with a look of relief, reaches into his coat pocket. "Ah, there’s my beauty," he giggles, as he pulls forth a bottle. Great. That’s just what he needs. More booze. "It dinna break." He unscrews the cap and takes a large swig. Then he holds the bottle out to me. And Lord I am tempted. But Daddy would kill me if I came home with liquor on my breath. Speaking of which, it’s getting late and I don’t need more aggravation piled up on top of this. I shake my head and he cradles the bottle to him. He takes another furtive swig as I try to pull him upright.
"Come on Angel," I snap at him. "Get up." He finally allows me to pull him to his feet. He staggers a little as I direct him to the passenger side of my car. I open the door and he stares at me. Oh shoot, I forgot. "Angel, I officially invite you into my car." He tilts his head, leering at me and sinks into the seat. I nudge his feet, well, okay, kick his feet and he pulls them in as well. I slam the door shut and move back to my side, noting that at least he didn’t damage my bumper. I climb in and automatically tell him to buckle up. He gives me another strange look but does it. Duh! I’m not stupid. I know a car crash wouldn’t kill him. But, the law is the law. And speaking of, I reach for the bottle, but he snarls at me. I cringe back a little. There are some things that I just can’t handle. And snarling, drunk Vampires are one of them. But damn, is he going to cry?
"Why does everyone hate me?" he whines, cradling his bottle. "Xander hates me. And Giles hates me. Faith hates me. Willow loves me. But only caused I didn’t let her be struck down by the lightnin’. And Oz hates me. And I like Oz. He’s nice. Does Oz hate me?"
"Oz does not hate you," I sigh, starting the car. If we get pulled over, I’m certainly going to make sure the officer understands that it’s not my open bottle of liquor. Angel will just have to face the music if it comes to that. "And the others don’t hate you. It’s just-!"
"I know," he interrupts. "I know. Just at three in the mornin’, with my reputation…"
"Which way?" I ask tersely. This mantra is getting really old. He gapes at me. "To your place?" I clarify. "Which way." He nods and points out the way to his home. And then continues his litany of people who hate him. Which, if they were ever around him when he was drunk, then I certainly think their hatred was justifiable.
I eventually pull to a stop outside a mansion on Crawford Street. Stupid twit had me driving all over town! If he’d just told me the address, we could have been here in ten minutes. But oh no, just a drunken ‘turn here’ or a ‘you can go left’. But we finally made it. And he still hasn’t shut up!
"An’ Spike hates me ‘cause Dru loved me more," he rambles. "But I don’ love her. And she hates me ‘cause I’m not evil anymore. And Darla hates me. Buts she hates me ‘cause I killed her. Killed her dead. But I know cause I’m dead too. But not as dead as her. But she has good reason to hate me," he grin suddenly. "’Cause she knows my reputation, at three o’clock in the mornin’!"
Argh! I can’t stand it anymore! I smack him lightly upside the head. "Angel!" I yell. He looks at me in shock. "It is not three o’clock in the morning. It’s eleven thirty!"
"It is?" he asks in disbelief. "How do you know?" I roll my eyes and point at the digital clock on the dashboard.
"Because that says so," I point out. He leans in close and stares at the little red numbers.
"Amazin’," he giggles. What is it with men tonight and giggling? It is so not attractive. "But no matter. ‘Cause with my reputation, any hour is three o’clock!"
That’s it! I’ve had it. I wish this whole night would just disappear. Just poof, as if it had never happened. Except of course that I’d remember the look on Willow’s face this afternoon. But that’s not the point. I thought catching Xander cheating on me and having a rebar forcibly exploring my ribcage was the end of my patience. But it’s not. This is! I unbuckled my seatbelt and turned to root around in the back seat. Ah, just like I thought. A smart girl is always prepared. And there was a leftover stake that I’d never bothered to remove from the vehicle. I twist around again, holding it threateningly before me.
"Cordy…" his eyes are wide.
"Get out of my car," I order in a low voice. He hurriedly fumbles with the release and jumps from the car. As I lean over to yank the door shut, I can’t resist one more shot. "And Angel, do us all a favor and dump Buffy. Because if this is what she does to you, then I think we all prefer Angelus." I slam the door shut and get the hell out of there. I don’t care what else comes up tonight. There will be nothing stopping me from getting home and going to bed. This nightmare just needs to end.
With a sigh, Cordelia shut the cover to the latest of her many diaries. Not that they were diaries, per se. More like journals of her many adventures on the Hellmouth. She’d outgrown diaries in seventh grade. But once high school had started up, she’d begun the habit again. More so after Buffy had entered her life. She needed that certain outlet to keep some perspective on her life. Things seemed to have been growing steadily worse, the longer she stayed in this town. She couldn’t wait for the moment graduation was over. Then she was hightailing it out of town. She had no set plan, just some vague ideas of making it big somehow.
She ran through the list in her mind as she readied herself for bed. She stared at herself in the mirror, braiding her long chestnut hair back so it wouldn’t tangle. There was an influential marriage, but the pickings here were slim. She doubted that she’d mysteriously inherit a fortune that was hers alone in the next six months. She could always head to LA. The city of Angels. With a rueful grin, she let her braid drop and ran a hand over the smooth cover of her journal. She picked it up and carried it to the little hiding spot she’d ferreted out in their new home. There was a vague impression that she could make a million with these stories she kept. Surely there were people in LA who would love to make her little stories into best sellers. Purely fictional of course.
She slid the book away and moved to her bed. As she pulled back the covers and slid between the coolly comforting sheets, a smile played over her face as she imagined a life as a best-selling novelist. Appearances on Oprah, book-signings, people clamoring to have their picture taken with her. Except for one thing. She’d always maintained that those who can, do and those who can’t teach. And writing seemed to her a lot like solitary teaching. She shook her head a little, adjusting the pillow beneath. She could always write under an assumed name. Live the high, but mysterious life of an eccentric. Rich in an unknown way. Oh yes, that suited her much better.
Visions of series of books spawned thoughts of movie deals. Which in turn spawned thoughts of television spin-offs. Oh yes, people would adore her stories. If only she could think up a catchy title and an unforgettable alias to write under. What was that name she’d heard the other day. She yawned and let her eyelids flutter shut. Oh yeah, Joss, that was it.
Well, I hope you all enjoyed. As promised, here is the fiction challenge. I know I improvised on a few of them, but that’s the benefit of being the writer! Thanks Sky for the ideas, I hope I did them justice.
Cordelia as a main character
any hetero pairing
Cordy has to slap someone twice, the same person
Giles is trying to find a new look
Angel is very very drunk and mumbles a lot ending each group of
sentences with: at three in the morning with my reputation...
Deven's mic stops working during a performance
Oz suddenly develops stage fright
Willow is forced to dress up as a giant m&m
a vampire attacks Cordy's love interest with a shrimp fork