Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy: the Vampire Slayer or Angel the Series.
Warning: a bunch of mature and . . . uh, adult stuff going on!
Xander sighed a moment, staring at the phone, like he had been for the last two hours. Finally, he moved and stood in front of it for a few seconds, his hand wavering over the small cellular device, before picking it up. He punched in the numbers he had memorized but never had the courage or audacity to dial.
“Hello, this is Angel Investigations. We help the hopeless! How can we help you today?” Xander opened his mouth, but no sound came out. His voice couldn't form the words his mind was telling it to say.
“Hello? Hello? Is there anybody there? If you don't answer at this precise moment, I will hang up, because this is not funny!”
“Cordelia . . .” Xander rasped out, and then stopped. But Cordelia immediately jumped on the brief, quiet sound.
“Xander? Xander, what's wrong?” Cordelia's voice grew more and more frantic when Xander didn't reply. “Oh my god, are you hurt? What is it? Should we come to Sunnydale? What's happening? Xander? Xander, I need you to answer me.”
“Cordelia . . . Cordelia, I need help.”
Like everything else in my mind, this has been running around for weeks.
Damn plot bunnies . . .
Anyway, more coming, but I'm literally working on twenty things at once. Which, by the way, does not bode well for a sane mind, never mind one that's insane.
Tell me what you think, and thanks for reading!