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?

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“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.”

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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...