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Author's Chapter Notes:
MY EXAMS ARE OVER! YES! I will be posting far more frequently from now on as until I start college I am free! I will be updating the other FFs I am writing today also. TtG for those interested is just harder to write. Please R&R
It was hard not to feel a twinge of resentment when watching them together. She wouldn’t admit to the other feelings that coursed through her but this sense of anger and bitterness was definitely there. Regrettably it forced Cordelia to compare her ‘relationship’ with that of her best friend… something which she had been trying to evade for as long as humanly possible.

Only problems come when your boyfriend is so terrible that you look at your friend’s and wonder ‘why me’?

Unfortunately for the stunning brunette, it was a question that she couldn’t help but ask.

Why is it that Buffy manages to be busy locked in her room with a man like Spike, while mine gropes another girl?

Cordelia watched helplessly, a twitch in the corner of her mouth the only hint that it hurt her to see the couple which danced basically in front of her. Her face was similar to that of a Greek statue, high cheekbones framed by black thick hair. Her body flowed in natural curves, arms graceful and elegant. Her entire demeanor practically screamed prom queen. At school she was known to be rich and not much else but these people, a gathering of vicious and hard eyed gang members, were aware of all her secrets. Some of the women had given her their clothes to borrow so she wouldn’t be caught by the likes of Harmony wearing the same outfit more than once. Mainly they consisted of leather, plaited and dyed in a variety of shades. The one common link between all of them was their blatantly sexuality, made to be worn in a strip club as opposed to the virgin halls of a high school.

Daddy would not be happy at all.

Nor would be happy to know she was here. Countless pairs of eyes had already rested on the tight mini skirt she wore which constantly rode up her thigh whenever she moved in the chair. The plush cloth of the seat kept her upright when all Cordelia wanted to do was to sink into the floor. Her skirt was complimented by a soft cream blouse, strings at the collar untied. There was little need to appear flirtatious but she would do anything at all to grab attention. It’s the only way Angel will even glance in this direction. Cordelia was painfully conscious of the fact that her attempts at conversation mimicked a child’s when compared to Faith.

Her eyes, almost ebony widened in surprise as she caught a glimpse of Wesley, alone in the corner of the room. The man was almost comical, moodily staring through glasses at the writhing mass of people. The strong jaw and nose appeared less severe by his roguish hair which rather than being combed neatly was at odd angles. He looks pissed… Cordelia noticed that his sight was trained on Fred, a slip of a woman who had all the men in her immediate vicinity salivating at the mouth. Blue tinged her hair tonight, the wilder side of Winifred showing through. Cordy had heard whispers from Gunn; the girl’s on again off again boyfriend discussing her sister Illyria who worked the streets in the heart of LA. Fred had been snatched away from her sister’s pimp Trick who’d been eying her for quite some time. Now little miss innocent Burkle was more lethal then most and quite confident in her ability to play Wes and Gunn off of each other.

And to think I only want one man to notice me.

Cordelia was mindful of the reality that if she didn’t belong to Angel, someone would of already asked her to dance. It was one of the supposed benefits which she had first praised to Willow and Buffy after joining his harem. The gang leader had specific rules in place relating to who could and couldn’t touch ‘his women.’ Xander Harris, a harmless friend of Willow’s had discovered that a little too late. Angel let him live but not without a lifelong reminder. The town had been in an uproar when Angel had stabbed Xander in the eye, permanently removing his sight forever. Cordelia didn’t know where the guy had gone besides the hospital, but knew that Angel probably kept tabs. He always was thorough.

The brunette felt her stomach twist in heartache as Faith’s hips grinded back against Angel. Not once since this party had started, had Angel even bothered to look for her. He’s too busy staring at Faith.

Her parents didn’t really know where she was… or at least that’s what Cordelia hoped. It was a far better option then the notion that they knew and accepted the idea of their only daughter hanging around such a crowd. Mr. Chase was not very polite to any shady characters anymore; at least not after being caught withholding taxes from the IRS. Cordelia was well aware that any mention of her and illegal activity in the same sentence, would so not be appreciated. Her parents’ main focus was on trying to survive and had even encouraged her to look for work in LA. The brunette clasped her hands tightly, nails digging into the skin. She didn’t know whether to stay or not, but knew that irregardless of her decision, Angel would find her. Once an Aurelius girl, always an Aurelius girl she thought sadly, remembering the phrase from Darla’s ‘pep talks.’

The celebration party as Jacob had dubbed it earlier was showing no signs of slowing down whatsoever. If Cordelia was a betting person she would even be willing to say it would continue well into the morning.

Very few people remained seated, most of the men leaning against the pale walls while the women danced. Wes still remained in his corner, face twisted into a sneer as Gunn cradled Fred in his arms. That situation is definitely going to explode soon.

Cordelia’s focus shifted back to Faith who finally had stopped her idea of dancing. The woman’s history as a stripper was utterly apparent by the calculated way she moved her hips. Angel stood there, still ignorant of his girlfriend who watched as Faith pulled a phone from her boots. A scared expression crossed her face for just a second, before mouthing the name ‘Parker’ to a hulking Angel.

Uh oh. Looks like someone’s in trouble. Cordelia couldn’t help but feel a malicious delight when Faith scanned the room for her ‘top’. Serves her right that she can’t find it, the skanky ho. Cordy knew that it was most likely one of his lackeys, Warren or Wattle or something similar. If it was Parker himself that had been calling then there would’ve already been a heavily armed guard sent to her retrieve her. The rival gang leader was not stupid enough to dare to come near Aurelius turf himself.

Angel would shoot him on sight.

On the whole Cordelia was certain that the brooding man was not as dark as he liked to appear. It had taken considerable effort to dismiss the image of the man who she made love to, carving with glee his initials into Riley Finn’s chest. Yet she had done it. With considerable effort but she could look at him without seeing a monster.

Cordelia wondered whether she was becoming cold herself, if the idea of Angel shooting Parker in the head only brought a warm feeling of happiness rather than horror.

Oh well.

Her joy at seeing Faith rush out a few minutes later was only slightly dampened by the fact that she wore Angel’s coat to hide her bare chest. Inwardly Cordelia knew she wouldn’t be able to fully look at him tonight when he took her to bed but then what other choice did she have? It had been her idea to entice the ‘dangerous Aureli’ after being warned by Willow and Buffy. It had been her decision to let him take her as ‘practice’ in the bathroom stalls.

You’ve made your bed, now you have to lie in it.

***

The beads of the water pounded down his back, kneading the muscles and helping him to clear his head. Buffy still lay in their bed, blissfully asleep after tossing and turning the entire night. He hadn’t dared to hold her in his arms until she’d finally drifted off, any touches whilst still awake being given the cold shoulder. Her attitude since she had run into the bathroom had been cold and distant.

The heavy thuds of the droplets helped in making the tension slightly dissipate however the Brit knew it was futile. Sooner or latter he would have to go back and face her. Just wish I knew what is bloody well wrong.

His frame shook with a sigh, Spike’s entire body drenched. The water had gone cold from being in there too long and he knew Peaches would not be happy. A small smirk tugged at his full lips for a moment at the thought before descending once more into his customary grimace.

Both palms were placed against the wall, gripping into the tile. His body leaned forward as rivulets of water coursed down his face. The bathroom was a pale blue, meant to be calming when all he wanted to do was smash something.

I just don’t understand her.

Spike had feigned sleep when Buffy had returned from the shower last night, not wanting to cause her unnecessary agitation. Her hair had soaked the pillow beside him and the bleached blond wasn’t sure whether it had been her tears or the soft drips of water that he had heard the night through. The muscles along his arms rippled in frustration as he knocked his head against the tiles. The towels she’d dried herself with had been discarded on the floor but that bloody fuzzy sweater had been put back on. I’m going to burn the sodding thing, vowed Spike.

The chill of the water caused a shiver to course through his lean muscular frame. Smooth alabaster skin was stretched taunt over firm thighs and a well defined chest, Spike being blessed with the rare advantage of being attractive without effort. Angel had been insistent that he gain more bulk but the Brit soon pointed out to the poof he was wrong. In one of their customary fights, which normally stemmed from not killing Parker, the two would smash the hell out of each other. Everyone knew that Spike’s 5”11, athletic body could more than combat against the heavy power of Aureli.

Now all he had to do was get another chance at Parker, without sodding Drusilla getting in the bleeding way.

When his dreams were plagued with dark scenarios, convoluted and twisted in their predictions, Dru always made an appearance. The narrow slant of her cheeks would curve into a deadly smile, one lean finger crooking in a beckoning gesture. That infernal waist of hers, small and framed by jutting hips would bend, her gasping mouth just caressing his brow. It was a hideous replay of the last time he had truly loved her.

Right before she ripped my heart out.

Spike had been ready to shoot Parker, hands not even trembling with the thought that he was ending yet another person’s life. A part of the Brit, bitter over his dark goddess’ betrayal, had reminded him that Abrams was no more a man than he was innocent. The gun he held was black and stained with the blood of the pillock who sat on the ground weeping like a poor girl. Parker had attempted to grab his weapon and put a bullet in Spike’s back, despite their agreement on fists. The Brit wondered why he wasn’t surprised.

He’d smashed the bastard across the jaw as a warning not to try something else.

Drusilla stood in between their cars, having refused both of the males request to stay away. Her hair blew in the wind, whipping across her face with frenzy. She’d stared at them for over an hour as they beat at each other.

Or to be more correct and honest: as Spike bashed Parker into the ground.

She hadn’t protested once, lips covered in thick cherry red lip gloss even giving him the hint of a smile. It was a common method of hers to be neither disapproving nor supportive when he acted out a command or desire. It left her the option of rebuking him later which led to much groveling.

She always loved to call me a dog…

At that time he had still been love’s bitch and despite all her betrayal, lies and callousness, would have taken the crazy bint back.

Perhaps she had done him a favour by choosing Abrams.

Spike took one last look at Parker’s tear streaked face, covered in bruises and barely recognisable. Dru left me for this? He wanted to turn and ask her what she’d been thinking when crawling into the wanker’s bed. Abrams is nothing but a fucking pansy when it comes to the brawl. His finger tightened on the trigger, imaging vainly that once Parker was gone, Dru would come to her senses. Maybe even give up on the drugs.

Instead he stumbled forward, bullets grazing the dry ground just a few feet away from Parker. The bleached blond awkwardly reached out, trying to brace his fall when a sound kick knocked him onto his face.

Fuck!

Looking up Spike could only see the laughing eyes of Dru, a giggle threatening to escape her ruby lips as she clutched a bat.

So that’s why my bloody back is on fire.

The stitches which crossed over his eyebrow burst open, blood coating one side of his face. He ignored it.

The only thing he could focus on was the ebony hair which fell around her shoulders, stray strands dancing wildly. Her finger beckoned him closer, Spike leaning forward against his better judgment.

Why is Dru protecting him? Spike’s face was one of amazement and also incredible betrayal. The woman had not once shown him pity in their time together, demanding that he be as cold and ruthless as possible. Any sign of weakness, whether physical or intellectual was ridiculed…sometimes in front of the entire gang. For her to save Parker’s worthless hide meant that she cared more for a fucking shell of a man than she ever had for him.

The brush of a kiss against his temple felt like ice and made him shudder further.

Drusilla didn’t want him anymore.

Even worse: she had never loved him.

Spike had turned to his side, blood dripping down his nose and splashing on the dry cracked dirt. He made no comment or attempt to reach his gun. letting them leave peacefully. Parker, whipped and pathetic had managed to get into the driver’s seat, flipping him the bird with a fractured hand.

It was the last time he’d felt something when being touched by a woman, other than hate and resentment. The bleached blond was well aware that if not for Buffy he’d still be empty. Her presence forced emotions, unheard of for what felt like eternity to be present.

Spike’s hand curled into a fist. He hated feeling like this. Buffy had the power to utterly destroy him in a flash.

This is what you get for being in love , thought Spike bitterly. Pain, misery and the fucking odd sensation of poncy little butterflies in your gut. He snorted in a moment of dark humor. Lucky me.

He didn’t admit that it also caused a warm glow to flow through him whenever he saw Buffy.

That would be a nancy boy confession…

The Brit groaned, knowing that he really needed to get out of the sodding shower and talk to Buffy. At this rate he’d be as barmy as Dru within a week. Talking to yourself is definitely a wanker like characteristic.

He stood upright, shaking his head as the white peroxide locks clung to his scalp. There was still the blond chit's speech from last night to think about but right now all he wanted was to hold her. I wonder whether Buffy is awake? His hand moved forward to turn off the shower when the familiar voice of the cheerleader came from just outside the bathroom door.

What in the bleeding hell is Cordelia doing in here?





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