Part 4/?
“Rent’s twenty dollars a week—in
advance.” The grey haired lady said in a raspy voice as she turned the key to
the lock and opened the door. “Ain’t much to look at, but it’s furnished.
There’s a bed, you got your bathroom, and there’s a kitchen with an
icebox…” She then waved her hand towards a cast iron frame bed with sagging
mattress, a tiny room revealing a sink with medicine cabinet visible from the
open door, and a kitchenette with small gas stove, tiny card table that served
as a dinner table, a pair of straight backed wooden chairs, and a refrigerator
that looked like it was new in 1950.
“It looks fine, Ma’am.” Angel said as he fished out four twenties, a
month’s rent in advance, from his jeans pocket.
Frowning as she slipped the money into a pocket of her light blue housecoat, the
matronly landlady further instructed, “Now, I don’t want any wild parties
here, or any of that loud rock and roll, no wild women, and no hippies or
drugs—you understand me, young man.”
“Don’t worry, there won’t be any of that.” The ensouled vampire assured
as he smiled inwardly at how the woman referred to him as ‘young man.’
With a snort of disbelief, the landlady handed Angel the keys to his new
apartment. “Just make sure there ain’t.”
After the landlady had left him alone, the cursed vampire, stripping off his
jacket, flopped on to the lumpy mattress. As his eyes closed, his last thoughts
before drifting off into sleep were of the strange and lovely short haired
half-demon woman—who was she? Why was she here? And, most importantly, what
did she want?
***********************************************
“Welcome, Acolytes of the Order of Merovinus!” The large, burly vampire
known only as Luke said in a low, rumbling voice as six hooded figures wearing
grey robes approached.
The lead acolyte, wearing a silver medallion of an upside down pyramid with an
eye inside stepped forward. As he pulled back his hood to reveal his head, the
vampiric nature of the shaven headed acolyte revealed itself to all. “We have
much to do to prepare for the arrival of our Grandmaster.” Then, after
carefully scrutinizing both Luke and the other child of the Master, Darla, he
demanded, “Where is the other—the unclean one? His presence is vital if the
ritual is to succeed.”
“Angelus.” Luke answered, his scorn for the missing child of the Master
noticeable in his voice. “Do not worry. He will be here when the time
comes.”
*****************************************
Squaring her shoulders and taking a deep breath, Cordelia took in the sight
before her—Sunnydale High, 1967. Shaking her head, she chuckled as she saw how
little, on the outside at least; it had changed in thirty years. ‘Except for
us blowing it up after the mayor had turned into a giant snake.’ Her soft
chuckle then turned into a gentle smile as she strode on to the campus, her
barely within dress code, but fashionable, paisley print mini and blonde
highlighted chin length brunette hair drawing more than their fair share of
attention from both male students and faculty as she passed them by.
The former, or rather, future, Queen of Sunnydale High, smiled smugly as she
noticed the boys and men ogling her. ‘Doesn’t matter what decade I’m
in…’ The seer grinned with self satisfaction, ‘I’ve got it.’
While walking down the corridors, Cordelia was struck once again at how
familiar, and yet strange, everything was. The class rooms were all in their
usual places, and the lockers where students gathered to put away and take out
books and socialize between classes still lined the large central hallway. The
former May Queen chuckled as she saw how all the usual cliques were still there.
She quickly spotted the jocks wearing their letterman sweaters and jackets, most
of them with close cropped crew-cuts, swapping dirty jokes with each other, and
as she passed them by, she allowed a slight smile to cross her features as she
made out some of their whispered comments about the new assistant librarian.
Then, as she walked towards her new job in the library, Cordy quickly spotted
the 1967 counterpart, to Harmony—and, she had to admit, to her as well—a
blonde girl, wearing a stylish green mini and sunglasses, holding court,
surrounded by her ladies in waiting, gossiping amongst themselves.
“Rodney just asked me out to the Sweetheart’s Dance.” Miss Popular said
smugly as her court gushed. “And he’s taking me to Renee’s for dinner…so
I told Mom that I just had to have that Mary Quant dress that’s in the Mod
Shoppe. . .”
“You mean that groovy silver and gold one?” A brunette that reminded
Cordelia of Aura asked.
“Yeah.” The Queen said, “But when I got there, I found out that someone
else had already bought it!”
“Bummer.” Another girl chimed in sympathetically.
“Yeah, what a drag.” The Aura type added.
Cordelia smiled smugly as she heard the conversation, deciding right then and
there which dress she would wear to that same dance that she had gotten roped
into chaperoning when the principal had hired her. The seer then frowned as she
saw the predatory gleam on Miss Popularity’s face upon seeing a shy young girl
with mousey brown hair and wearing a plain looking dress standing next to a
locker. Remembering her treatment of Marcie and Willow, Cordelia knew
immediately what the Queen and her court was about to do to the hapless young
student.
Acting quickly, before the feeding frenzy could commence, she interposed herself
between the clique and its helpless prey. “Excuse me. . .” She said, smiling
down at the young woman. “I’m kinda new here and I was wondering if you
could help me find my way to the library?”
“Sure.” The soft-spoken young teenager, grasping gratefully at the lifeline
offered her by the stranger standing before her, smiled shyly.
“Cool.” Cordy grinned back as she decided then and there to take the bookish
young girl under her wing. “So, what’s your name?”
“Jenny. . .Jenny Brookes.” The girl said hesitatingly as the approached the
library.
“Well, Jenny.” Cordelia said with a smile as they reached the library doors,
“I’m Cordy. Thanks—if you ever need anything, just give a shout, ok?”
“Ok. . .Cordy.” They young girl said bashfully as she looked up at her new
friend.
Then, giving the young lady a quick once-over, the fashion expert in Cordelia
came out. “You know, Jenny. . .if you’d wear your belt like this. . .and
take those sunglasses and wear them like so. . .you know, kinda push them up on
your hair, like you’ve seen on the movies and in the magazines. . .you get
Cosmo and Vogue, don’t you?”
“Ummm. . .” The young girl stammered, “My mom and dad won’t let me read
them. . .they say they’re. . .uhhh. . .unladylike. . .”
“Pfft!” Cordy waved her hand dismissively. “I’ll bring you mine tomorrow
and you can look at ‘em in the library during your free period.”
“Thanks!” Jenny smiled, and then, curious as to why the new teacher was
taking such an interest in her, asked, “Ummm. . .if you don’t mind me
asking, Ma’am. . .why?”
“Why what?” Cordy replied with a broad grin on her face.
“Why are you doing this? I mean. . .we’ve just met and all. . .” Jenny
inquired tilting her head slightly to the left.
Jerking her head just slightly towards the popular clique, Cordy flashed a sad
smile. “I knew someone when I went to school just like you and someone like
her too. . .”
“I see—I guess.” Jenny smiled back. “Thanks again, Miss Chase. I guess
I’ll see you tomorrow.”
”Groovy.” Cordelia grinned back. “Well, I better let you go on to class. .
.I’ll catch you later.”
As she opened the door to the library, the librarian, a dignified, matronly
figure wearing wire rim glasses that complemented her conservative pale blue
dress looked up. “You must be the new library assistant.” She said as she
carefully scrutinized the younger woman, clucking her tongue disapprovingly at
her short skirt and bobbed hair. “You young people today...” She sighed,
“In my day, if someone had worn a dress that short, everyone would have
thought she was a tramp. . .but now, all of you are doing it.”
Cordelia, realizing that she needed this job, and not just for the money, bit
her tongue and held her peace while the older woman ranted about how the younger
generation with their protests and wild ways were opening the door for the evil
communist Russians and Chinese to come in and take over the country. Upon
finishing her rant, the older woman sighed, “I bet you haven’t paid
attention to a single word I’ve said—you young people never listen—it just
goes in one ear and out the other.” Then, pointing to a stack of books sitting
on the middle table, she instructed, “You can begin by shelving those books
over there, Miss Chase, and after you’ve finished that, I’ll instruct you in
what you’re supposed to do at the Circulation Desk. And don’t forget—year
book pictures are this afternoon.”
“Yes, Mrs. Snyder.” The time traveling seer said through clenched teeth as
she began her first day of work.
**********************************************
“The books you asked for should reach you by the end of next week, Miss
Chase.” The cheerful voice at the other end of the phone said.
“Thank you.” Cordelia said politely as she inwardly cursed the fact that the
internet wouldn’t be invented for another twenty years or so. ‘It’s taking
me a week to get something I could have gotten online in two minutes.’ She
snarled inwardly and then rolled her eyes in exasperation as she saw Tony Harris
walk in, his t-shirt hanging loose and his leather jacket slung over a shoulder.
“Hey, babe.” He smirked as he checked out the form of the older woman.
“Why ain’t you hanging with your mod friends?”
“What do you want, Harris?” The young brunette sneered, and then reverting
momentarily to Queen C mode, quipped, “Aren’t you a little old to be in high
school? What, did you fail a grade or two?”
“Don’t have a cow, chick.” The Harris boy smirked, not showing any
reaction at Cordelia’s cutting, and accurate, remark. “Gotta book report to
do…where’s the cars section?”
“Third stack to the left, young man.” The reedy voice of Mrs. Snyder
interjected. “And from now on, when you talk to my assistant, you’ll refer
to her as Miss Chase.”
“Yes, Ma’am.” Daniel answered back with sulky bravado, muttering under his
breath as he made his way to the stacks, ‘Stuck up old bitty and her skag…’
Attempting to be nice to the older lady, Cordelia flashed a slight smile,
“Thank you, Mrs. Snyder.”
“Don’t thank me, young lady.” The older woman all but sneered. “If you
young women didn’t dress like trollops, this wouldn’t happen.”
“Yeah, whatever.” Cordelia said under her breath as she returned to her
work.
**********************************************
Opening the door to her apartment, Cordelia sighed audibly as she dropped her
purse and packages on an end table.
“Hey, Cordy!” Felicia, sitting on the sofa and watching television, called
out as she heard the door open. “Bad day?”
“Yeah. . .a real bummer.” Cordy answered back as she made her way into the
kitchen.
“Must have been, working late like that.”
“Yeah. I couldn’t get away for lunch, so I stopped off at the Doublemeat
Palace. . .”
“Eeewwww. . .” Felicia made a face at her roommate’s mentioning of the
fast food restaurant.
“Tell me about it!” Cordelia wrinkled her nose in disgust. “When I found
out from Willow that Buffy was working there I almost totally freaked out”
“You know someone working there?” Felicia asked, surprised.
“Not at this one.” Cordelia, realizing that she had slipped up, quickly
explained. “Buffy’s someone I knew from high school back in LA. . .her
mother died recently and she’s got a teenage sister and her father’s never
there, so she needed a job like, yesterday.”
“Bad scene.” The strawberry blonde commiserated. “I know I’d never work
there unless I absolutely had to.”
“Tell me about it.” Cordelia chuckled wryly as she opened a pastry shelf.
“You in the mood for some popcorn, Licia—we’ve still got plenty of Jiffy
Pop.”
“Sounds good to me.” The other woman said with a smile. “Hurry up though,
Secret Storm’s about to come on.”
“Ok.” Cordelia said, amused as she went into the kitchen to fix their snack.
As the two women settled down to watch their soap opera, they both groaned as,
instead of the crashing of waves and theme music that would normally mark the
beginning of the show, there was the white lettering on black background
reading, ‘CBS NEWS BULLETIN’, and then the somber face of Walter Cronkite,
the most trusted man in America, looking into the camera. “At 6:31 Eastern
Standard Time, the crew of Apollo 1—Virgil I. ‘Gus’ Grissom, commander ;
Edward White, lunar module pilot; and Roger Chaffee, command module pilot; were
killed when their Apollo 1 command module caught fire during a routine plugs out
test. As more details are released, we will keep you informed.” Trying bravely
to hold back his tears, the venerable newsman said, “They’re all gone
now.”
Cordelia and Felicia both listened to the news, dumbstruck, for several minutes
not able to react. Then, tears rolling down her cheeks, the strawberry blonde
turned towards her roommate and hugged her. Cordy, somewhat surprised to find
that she was crying as well for men that, before now, lived only as pictures in
a textbook to her, returned her friend’s embrace as both women remained on
that couch hugging each other for dear life, crying rivers of tears for three
men they never even knew.
As Angel heard the news on the radio, he looked up at the ceiling of his little
apartment and sighed mournfully. 210 years of life and unlife, and what did he
have to show for it? Liam was a wastrel—taking only, never giving. Lives cut
short, bereaved families, widows, widowers, and orphans, death and destruction
were the legacy that Angelus had left in his wake. And as for Angel—all he had
to show for himself was over sixty years of wandering the earth suffering in
lonely penance for what he had done as Liam and as Angelus. But these three
men—mere mortals—had sacrificed themselves on the most glorious funeral pyre
he could imagine. In their short lives, those heroes had left their mark on the
world in a very real way—how could someone—some. . .thing. . .such as he
even think of looking men such as those in the eye.
Later, as the sun set, Cordelia, feeling her roommate’s gentle breathing,
realized that she had fallen asleep. Gently breaking from their embrace, the
time traveling seer laid her friend out on the couch, and, fetching a blanket,
covered her with it. “I think I could go for a walk right now.” She said to
herself in a soft voice as she left a note for Felicia, and then, after slipping
a stake into her boot and grabbing an umbrella to protect herself against the
falling rain, slipped out of the apartment into the night.
Angel, recognizing that he needed to replenish his blood supply and wanting to
search for that strange woman who was rapidly becoming an obsession to him had
also slipped out of his apartment. Returning from the butchers’ shop with a
couple of bags of fresh pig’s blood, the cursed vampire looked up as he caught
her scent. The rain dropping down, the cursed vampire impulsively decided that
it was time to find out who and what this stranger was. Hiding in a side alley,
he waited patiently as she approached, then, once she had come close to where he
hid, he stepped out in front of her.
As soon as she saw the strange figure clad in jeans and leather jacket who
blocked her path, the cautious seer reached towards her boot. Recognizing what
she was doing, the tormented vampire shook his head and raised his hands,
showing that he meant her no harm. Then, as the streetlights revealed his face,
the time traveling seer gasped in both surprise and relief, “Angel!”
The tormented vampire, shocked and surprised by her use of his name, asked in a
low, yet demanding tone, “Who are you?”
TBC...