By Kirayoshi
Disclaimers – Buffy, Willow and Giles belong to Joss Whedon who charts their destines, I’m just borrowing them for a little while. No copyright infringement was intended.
Author's note; This is the second part of my three-part "Triptych", an interlude between parts 1 and 2 of "Somewhere I Have Never Travelled". A triptych, in case you were wondering, is a three-piece hinged tablet or portrait, usually of a religious nature. Loosely, it can be applied to a work in three parts.
Buffy and Willow aren't in this story, but it is important to read this if you're following my main story arc. A major plot change is in the offing for one of my favorite supporting couples, and a new player enters the field. As Buffy would say, "Can you vague that up for me?"
Oh, and I lifted the "Buffysexual" line from Pat Kelly's "Woes of Myth and Language", a dynamite read. He had Buffy call herself a "Willbian", and I kinda ran with the concept.
Summary - Xander and Cordy reflect on their past, present and future. But who or what is lurking in the shadows (hey, it's Sunnydale! There's always something lurking in the shadows!) Told from
Xander's POV
Feedback – is like Skittles. Jim_D_Means@prodigy.net
To paraphrase
the line from the movie “The Yellow Submarine”, Sunnydale can be a lonely place
on a Saturday night. And it was only
Wednesday morning.
Actually, that
was a technicality. It had been
Wednesday morning for a grand total of twenty minutes. I had just finished my evening beat,
Wetherly Park, and had just finished my paperwork at the precinct house, and
was on my way home.
I lived in a
studio apartment just over the Bronze, and I could feel the vibrations of the
music and dance below me whenever I went to sleep. I had a salary that couldn’t afford much more in a place, and a
job that, by the latest studies, easily contributed to high blood pressure,
ulcers and gunshot wounds.
Life was good,
actually.
Two nights
ago, I had helped save the life of the bravest, most caring, most heroic person
I had ever known. Buffy Summers was
still in the hospital, under observation, but she was coming home tomorrow. Willow had already cleared out half of her
closet for Buffy, and was excited about having her in her digs, and in her
bed. I think the old me would have made
a joke about her not having gotten any for a year, then she would scowl at me,
then I’d shrink a bit, then we’d laugh and move on. Now, I only felt happiness for her. I know I may have had a problem with homosexuality once upon a
more chauvinistic time, but one look at Buffy and Willow together would
convince even Dr. Laura that they belong together.
Besides, as
Willow once explained to me, shortly after they finally got that party started,
“I’m not a homosexual, I'm a Buffysexual!
I can only do it with Buffy!” She punctuated that remark with the grin
of a cat that had swallowed an entire aviary, so I had no room to argue with
her. Of course, being Xander Harris, I
had to ask if that made Buffy a ‘Willowsexual’, to which Willow looked at me
slyly, and said, “I sure as hell hope so!” dissolving into giggles at the
statement.
Hey, all that
mattered to me now was that Buffy was back, Willow had an epidemic case of the
happies, and life was good. Oh, and
Cordy was back in my life.
Ah, Cordelia
Chase. I hadn’t asked her how her quest
for fame and fortune amid the bright lights of Los Angeles went. I assumed that she hadn’t yet set the world
on fire, or landed her oft-fantasized love scene with Leonardo DiCaprio. I didn't pry, and she didn't volunteer any
information, but we did talk about everything else. She was startled first, amazed second, and finally proud of my joining
the Sunnydale’s Finest, the SPD. She
wistfully said something to the effect of “at least one of us has their life in
order,” which make me worry about her.
I didn’t say anything, just quietly let her know that if she needed me,
I was there.
As I headed
back home, I passed through Whetherly Park, once the popular hunting ground of
Sunnydale’s vamps, but more recently rather quiet. As they say in the movies, ‘too quiet’. Angel and Cordy had said that something big was happening. I didn’t understand these new psychic powers
Cordy had developed (she said she got them from an old boyfriend before he
died), but I
trusted her. She may have been the town
rich-bitch, but she was still my friend.
More than my
friend, really.
When did that happen,
anyway? In high school, we had what
could only be called a ‘volatile’ relationship, which ended badly when she
caught me lip-locking Willow in the library.
Nope, the Queen C didn’t take it well at all. Now she was back in my life, and she seemed to want me back. I was thrilled, I was surprised, now I was
waiting for the other overpriced size six pump to drop.
A sudden snap
of a branch caught my attention; my years as a member of the Scooby Gang
increased my hearing big time. I spun
around, and noticed two young women walking under the street lamps. I recognized them instantly; “Tara, Sandra.
Howya doin’?”
“Hey, Officer
Harris,” Sandra Ogawa greeted me. I
held up my hand, and said, “Please, the name’s Xander." She blushed prettily. I was pleased that the new Slayer was so
polite, but after she had helped anchor us when we dove into the Hellmouth to
rescue Buffy, she earned my respect and my friendship. “So, you two out on
patrol?”
“Yes, Xander,”
Tara said. “I wanted to show Sandra around, and maybe show her some defensive
spells I’ve been working on, but it looks like a dead night.”
“Yeah, things
have been rather quiet lately,” I admitted.
“I kinda like it that way, myself.
Makes for less stress and fewer ulcers.
I like it boring.”
“Not at all
like the old Chinese Curse,” Sandra commented. “ ‘May you live in interesting
times’.”
“Good call,
Sandra. You two take care, now.” I
waved goodbye as the two young Scoobs resumed their vigil.
The new
Scoobs. I felt like I was passing a
torch to the younger set. Slayerettes;
The Next
Generation. It felt good. It was great to know that Sunnydale was in good hands.
I couldn’t
help but notice that they were holding hands.
I started to wonder--then decided to head out to my rendezvous
I had promised
Cordy that I would meet her at the Espresso Pump before calling it a
night. I wasn’t sure that she'd wait up
past midnight for me; I had warned her that the paperwork might take me a
while. I headed for the Pump, and there
she was. No longer wearing designer
fashions, but a simple off-the-rack blouse and skirt combo. I entered the coffee house and waved at
her. She smiled at me, her smile
natural and happy.
"Hey,
Cordy, how’s life?" I asked as I kissed her forehead. At least I aimed for the forehead, to be
polite. But she lifted her head at the
right time, and I caught her lips. We
lingered there for a second, before I backed away. “Sorry about that,” I
started.
“Why,” she
gave me a Cheshire Cat grin, “I’m not.” Yep, she still liked to keep me
guessing.
I sat down
next to her, and noticed her drink.
“Chai tea, decaf” she said.
“Sort of an east
Indian tea,
served latte style.”
“Sounds good,”
I answered. “I’ll do that.” I ordered a chai tea, and sipped at it. Sweet,
but not too sweet, creamy, generously spiced.
I liked it at once. “You’ve still got good taste,” I commented. I noticed the newspaper on the table in
front of her. “Whatcha looking at?”
“Apartment
listings,” she said casually.
I stopped
sipping at my tea and turned to her. “Sunnydale apartment listings?”
“No, Paris,”
she said with sweet sarcasm. Yea,
that's the Queen C I know and lo--did I say that? “I thought I’d do the ‘bum around Europe and try to find myself’
routine.”
I considered
my next statement carefully. Sometimes
talking to Cordy was the conversational equivalent of slow dancing with a
porcupine. She cut me off before I
started; “Before you ask, Xander,” she said, a little weariness in her voice,
“I’ve given up my quest for super- stardom.
I've enrolled in U.C. Sunnydale, majoring in education, minoring in
dramatic arts, I applied for a college grant and I think I’m in, and I just
landed a late-night job here at the Espresso Pump. I start tomorrow on cash-register.”
“Hey,” I said,
“congratulations.” She nodded at me, and smiled a little. “Hey, if you’re
looking for a place to crash, there are a couple of vacant units where I live.”
“You mean,
over the Bronze?” she wrinkled her nose distastefully.
“Hey, it’s not
that loud at night. Besides you’re
working nights too, you won’t notice. Plus, you’ve got a cop living next door.”
“Aha, so the
ulterior motive rears its ugly head,” she grinned at me again, and we both
found ourselves laughing briefly. “I missed you, Xand.”
“Why do I find
that hard to believe?” Don’t get me wrong, I was glad to have her back too, I
just wanted to know why she wanted me in her life again.
“You’re not
like the jerks I met in LA. The only
real guy there was Angel, and, you know, happiness clause. You’re real. You’re basic.”
“Hey, hey,
hey,” I stopped her. “You just quoted Ione Skye in ‘Say Anything’.”
“Hey, I liked
that movie,” she defended herself. “I
used to fantasize about John Cusack standing outside my bedroom window,
hoisting a boombox over his head, playing ‘In Your Eyes’ by Peter Gabriel--”
“Would you
settle for ‘Planet Claire’ by the B-52s?” She dimpled at my words. I then serioused up, saying, “Of course, I
figured I got more out of our old relationship than you did. I mean, here I was,
going out with Cordelia Chase, while you were stuck with Xander Harris. Hardly bragging rights there.”
“Stop that
now, Xander,” she suddenly placed her hand on mine. “You’re still the nicest
guy I ever met. Braver than most guys,
I mean, you’ve joined the police force, not to mention going to Hell to save
Buffy. You've done some good, you’ve
made something of yourself. That’s what
I want. It wasn’t working with the
acting, I figured out that I wasn’t going to be accepting an Oscar any time
soon, and I sure as hell wasn’t going to drop my pants for some made-for-video
sexfest. You know, my last five offers
were for soft-core parodies of ‘The Blair Witch Project’? That’s when I knew I had to get out of
there.”
“Hey,” I gave
her hand a reassuring squeeze. “I’m sorry it didn't pan out.”
“I’m not,” she
said ruefully. “I’m just glad I got out with my sanity intact. That’s why I’m
back here in Sunnydale. After Daddy got
arrested for tax evasion--another point I have in common with Ione Skye from
‘Say Anything’--I thought I needed to get away, to redeem myself on my
own. But being here, with my
friends--not Harmony and the other sheep that followed me in high school but my
real friends, Willow, Buffy,” she dropped her eyes slightly and added shyly, “you,
it gelled for me. I was trying to live my life by what everyone thought of me,
not what I thought of myself. Now, I got a chance. I’d like to teach, maybe
drama, maybe something else. And hey,
if I can land a few roles in some local community theater, just enough to feed
my ego, I can be happy with that.”
“Okay,” I
grinned, “who are you and what have you done with Cordelia Chase?” We both
laughed at that. “Seriously, Cordy,” I
added, “I know what you’re going through. I spent the first year out of high
school in a void, just hanging out in my parents’ basement, drifting from job
to job, having Anya screw my brains out--” I stopped her before she could say
it, “I know, no challenge. Y’know, I
don’t think I even noticed when she finally walked out on me. But once I realized that she was gone, it
was like a splash of cold water. It
woke me up. That’s when I started to
turn it around, to get my life back on track.
That’s when I decided to become a cop.
Maybe it’s wish-fulfillment, but it's something that matters to me. Besides, it’s about time at least one cop in
Sunnydale wasn’t clueless.”
Cordy regarded
me thoughtfully for a few seconds, and said, “Looks like you finally found it.”
“It? What ‘it’?”
I asked.
Cordy sighed
lightly as she explained it to me.
“That night I called you the team Zeppo, you had asked me what it was
that decided who was cool and who was not.
You’re exact words were, ‘What is the essence of cool?’ I never quite understood it myself until
recently. Self-confidence. That’s the
essence of cool. If you have that, then no matter who you are, what you do, how
you dress--” she appraised me up and down, “yeah, even your God-awful Hawaiian
shirts, you’re cool.”
I glanced at
my watch. “Lesse, twelve-forty-three a.m., June 28, 2001. Cordelia Chase called Alexander LaVelle
Harris cool.” I stood up and announced
to the otherwise empty espresso bar, “Let this be recorded for all posterity,
she who used to decide all matters of coolness at Sunnydale High has declared
me to be cool!” Cordy whooped with laughter as I continued my rave.
“Sit down,
Xander,” she admonished me. “I always thought that you were cool. I was just
too afraid that I’d be uncool if word got out. That brings me back to that
self-confidence thing. You think I’d
hang out with Harmony and those others if I had any self-confidence? I needed them to boost my ego, not because I
liked them.” She patted my hand, and added, “And for what it’s worth, I never
thought of you as Zeppo. You may not be
the Slayer, or a Witch or anything like that, but you kept us together as much
as anyone else. I always envied your
ability to take what the Hellmouth threw at you and still crack a bad joke
about it. And I always admired
that. And loved that about you.” She touched my cheek with her hand, and
said, “I love you, Zeppo. It took me
two years in Lala Land to figure it out, but I do.” She leaned forward and kissed me on the lips.
I had not
expected her confession, the depth of emotion she demonstrated, but as her lips
met mine, I knew it was right. I,
Xander Harris, knew that she wasn’t holding anything back, she wasn’t hiding
behind the mask of Queen C, that Queen C was as dead as the Zeppo. And it felt good.
As our lips
parted, I could feel the silence build between us. I needed to say something, either a trademark wisecrack or my own
confession of my feelings for Cordy. I
had to say something, just so that something was said.
“Marry me.”
Cordy looked
at me, dazed. “What?”
I realized
what I had said, and blushed. “I said that out loud, didn’t I?” Cordy glanced away from me, and lowered her
head. I had to regroup fast. “Look, Cordy, I love you too, and yeah, I do
want us to be together. But before we
go any further, I need to warn you. I’m
a cop now. That’s dangerous work, and
not the best paying job on the planet.
I’d hardly be able to afford the lifestyle you were used to with your
dad.”
“Neither could
he,” she observed. “That’s why he's in
Club Fed.”
“Okay, good point.
But the thing is, I’m saving what I can, and I’m sure I’ll get paid more as I
advance in the department. Besides, you
just got back in town, and we should take this slow. Not dead stop, just slow. So here’s what I propose; we go out, we
date, and the earlier marriage proposal is still there. It’s on the table, it still stands. If after a while you decide that it’s what
you want, then fine. If not, then, not
fine, but at least we tried, okay?”
She looked at
me as though I had grown a second head.
“Are you finished channeling Willow?” she asked. She then took my head in her hands and
pulled it toward hers for another kiss, more urgent than the last one. She pulled me away again and said, “Yes,
Xander Harris, I will marry you!”
You could have
knocked me over with a feather. I
stared at Cordy for a full five seconds before I said anything. “You said yes. Right?”
She nodded
enthusiastically.
“You do
understand the idea of going slow, right?”
“Yes,” she
nodded again. “I also know when something is right, and when to go for it. We, Xander Harris, are right. I know we won’t be able to get married right
away, but I do want to share my life with you.
You got a problem with that?”
I felt the
blood rush to my brain and started feeling a little light headed. I managed to
say something like, “Uh, yeah, no, no prob, problem not here, you marry, I
will, I--” At least that’s probably what emerged from my lips; I had planned
something eloquent and romantic, but the interface between my brain and my mouth
tends to get disengaged in situations of extreme stress. Like when I’m caught in the shower belting
out James Brown in my underwear. Or
when my girlfriend catches me kissing my best friend in the library.
Or when the
girl of my dreams says that she wants to be mine forever.
I managed to
stop stammering like an idiot long enough to kiss her again, and that seemed to
say everything that I wanted to. We
held each other and kissed repeatedly, just happy to have found each other
again. I was able to look at her for a
few moments, and say, “I know I didn’t say it well before, but I do love you,
Cordelia Chase-Harris-to-be.”
“I love you
too, Xander Harris,” she whispered to me.
We noticed the night manager of the Espresso Pump looking at us, and we
tried to compose ourselves, but still had this compulsion to hold hands
constantly. I made motions to pay for
our chai lattes, but the manager
stopped me; “Hey, it’s on the house tonight.
Congratulations you two.”
As we left the
Pump, we chatted aimlessly about everything and nothing. We didn’t decide anything major beyond the
actual fact of our engagement, but it didn’t matter. Cordy asked me if I wanted
to start on wedding plans right away, but I was happy to just live with the
idea for a while. Besides, there was
one thing I had to do before anything else.
“The first thing I do once I have the money scraped together,” I
announced, “is get you an engagement ring.
A nice fancy one.”
“Hey,” she
smiled at me, “you don’t have to go too far there. Just a nice simple gold band, solitaire, five carats.”
“Hoo-boy,” I
breathed, “I think I can afford five carrots right now, if you’re wild about
produce--”
“Kidding,”
Cordy laughed. “Tell you what, once you and I both scrape together enough, we’ll
go to the jeweler’s together and pick out something nice. Believe me, two years working for Angel has
taught me to economize, and shouldn’t you be listening to your fiancee now?”
“Shh,” I
motioned to her. “I thought I heard something.” I stepped forward, hoping it
was just Sandra and Tara wrapping up their patrol. Cordy and I stood quietly for a few seconds, until I heard the
rustling of leaves behind us.
We turned and
saw a man standing behind us. My first
thought was “Barnabus Collins.” Tall,
gaunt, sunken cheeks, but he still held his form high, and his eyes gleamed
with intelligence, with determined fire.
Wavy brown hair crowned his head, and he leaned stiffly against a brass
tipped cane. He regarded me with
obsidian eyes, and said to me, “Alexander LaVelle Harris. Greetings.
And you,” he bowed formally at the dark-haired girl who clamped down on
my arm, “must be Cordelia Chase.” He
tipped his hat toward her.
“Hello,” I
said to the stranger, as I started to reach for the crucifix I kept in my
pocket. “Do we know you?”
“Not at this
time, Mr. Harris,” he said civilly, “but you will soon enough. And yes, I am a
vampire, but you have no reason to fear me.” Cordy gasped beside me, and I
echoed her sentiment. “I, like your
associate Angel, am possessed of a soul.
I do not regard you as my enemy.
Whether you regard me as your enemy is up to you.”
I had managed
to grab the crucifix, and held it in front of the stranger. He stepped back at the sight of the cross,
but still didn’t leave yet. “I didn’t
expect to win your trust this night,” he said, and I could hear a hint of
sadness in his voice. “But I do need
you to warn your friend the Slayer that there is a power afoot. Inform your Watcher, Rupert Giles I believe,
that Mister Beltaine must speak to him.
I will contact him in time. Good
evening, and congratulations on your engagement.” He tipped his hat to us again, turned and started to walk away.
“May you live long enough to see your wedding day.”
I started to
chase after him as he walked away, but I was stopped by a sudden mist that
arose out of nowhere. When I blinked,
the mist disappeared, taking Mr. Beltaine with him.
Cordy rushed
up to me, as I looked around for this strange vampire. “What was that about?” she asked, clearly
shaken.
“I don’t know,
Cordy,” I answered. I was as shaken as
she was, but more than that, I was angry.
This Beltaine person ruined a perfect evening, and took the luster off
of my engagement to Cordy. But seeing
her, looking at me with her worried eyes, put things in a little more
perspective. She was looking to me to
make her less scared, and I think hoped to make me less scared as well. We both held and calmed each other, as we
wondered what we were going to do about Mr. Beltaine.
We agreed to
speak to Giles tomorrow. We figured
that he was asleep by now, and besides, there was nothing we could do about it
tonight. At any rate, I wanted to spend
a little more time alone with the woman I was going to marry. We were still happy just to be together, but
the sense of dread that this new vampire left behind still wouldn’t let us go.
So, where do I
stand now? I lived in a studio
apartment just over the Bronze, and I could feel the vibrations of the music
and dance below me whenever I went to sleep.
I had a salary that couldn’t afford much more in a place, and a job
that, by the latest studies, easily contributed to high blood pressure, ulcers
and gunshot wounds. I had met someone
who could be as great a threat as Acaltha, Adam or the Master was. And Cordy and I were at this time the only
people who were aware of this new development.
And an angel
named Cordelia Chase had agreed to share her life with me.
Yeah, life was good.