Drive
The Angel Chronicles #2
new (!) Buffy fanfic by the BuffyOtaku
Rating: PG
Summary: Cordy gets a ride into L.A. with Angel.
Disclaimer: The characters of “Cordelia” and “Angel” are owned by Joss Whedon, the WB, and other people who are not me. Don’t sue. The song “Drive” is, of course, by the Cars.
Author’s note: So I’m adding new stories to the long-awaited update of CnS. Hope you like this one...
can’t go on
thinking nothing’s wrong
well
who’s going to drive you home tonight?
The Cars play on the fading radio station -- our last contact with Sunnydale. My foot presses down harder on the gas pedal, and I pull out into the far left lane of the highway. There’s no traffic out tonight, and the humidity would make my breath steam on the windows, if I had any.
Cordelia sleeps in the seat next to me, her deep brown hair spread out on the headrest like a rich veil. Her chest rises and falls with each breath, and her brow furrows occasionally. She’s dreaming, I can see, but when her expression is not dark with her dreams, her face is peaceful, almost serene.
Buffy, when she sleeps, always looks like an angel. I find myself smiling at the thought of her peaceful face as I whiz past the darkened shops lining the highway. A gun shop, an “adult” video store, a McDonald’s. I pull off and swing the red sedan into the drive-through window.
“Cordelia.”
“Hmmm?” Her eyes open slowly and she sits up, stretching.
“Hungry?”
“McDonald’s? Are you trying to kill me?”
“It’s McDonald’s or another hour before we get to L.A.” I sigh, running a hand through my hair. She can be so tiresome at times.
“I’ll have a salad and a diet coke.” She smiles at me. “Want me to take over driving?”
I shake my head and order her food. I’m content to drive, and watch her sleep and eat and be human. She smiles again, looking out the window as we wait for the salad.
“Cordelia.” She looks over at me. “Penny for your thoughts.”
She shakes her head, her smile fading. “It’s nothing,” she says. The cashier hands me the food, and I pay her. We get back on the freeway, no one speaking. This is the quietest I’ve ever seen Cordelia, whose mouth normally runs faster than Jackie Joyner-Kersee.
Forty-five minutes pass, and we start hitting the far outer suburbs of Los Angeles.
“Angel, what are we going to do?”
“What do you mean?” I say. There’s a new note in her voice, a subtle sorrow that she doesn’t seem to notice. (Trust me. Two hundred and forty-three years make you observant.)
“Without them. I mean, the rest of the gang. Without Buffy.” A pause. “Or Xander.”
I smile a little. I won’t miss Xander.
My smile widens as I remember my fist hitting his jaw.
I say, “You loved him?”
“I still do.” She says, leaning her elbow on the armrest and cradling her chin in her hand. “Horrifying, isn’t it? He can do whatever he wants, and I’ll still love him. Dammit.”
She sounds disgusted with herself. “You sound disgusted with yourself.”
“I am!” She pouts and blows air out of the side of her mouth, lifting a wisp of hair that’s come out of her careful coif. “He cheated on me with Willow. Willow! Sweet, innocent little geeky Willow.”
I don’t know what to say to her.
“I knew it was coming.” She says.
“Everyone knew it was coming.” I say. “It was just a question of when.”
“Did you know,” Cordelia says acerbically, “The Willow cried when she found out he had sex with Faith?”
“Xander and Faith?” I thought so. “When did that happen?”
“Right before Wesley came here.”
“And Willow cried.”
“Yeah.”
“Did you?”
She looks over at me, incredulous, then sighs. “Yeah. A lot.”
“Why?” I ask, suddenly moved by the sorrow in her voice.
“I wish I knew,” she replies. “I’m sorry Buffy told me.” Cordelia turns away, looking out the window again at the rows of condos whizzing by.
I don’t want to think about Buffy. It’s still very hard for me to imagine my life without her in it, and I’m sure she feels the same way.
I almost wish I hadn’t spoken to her that first night in the alley, when she decided that I was annoying. I almost wish I could go back to just watching her, loving her from afar, the way it was when she was first called to her duties as a Slayer.
But I know in my heart that I wouldn’t have, couldn’t have, stayed away from her. She was too bright, overwhelming in her strength of heart, mind, and body. That “better to have loved and lost” thing really applies to us. And I’m sorry it has to, I’m sorry I have to leave her...but it’s better this way.
“Do you think they’ll be okay?” Cordelia asks, still looking out at the cluttered landscape.
“I’m sure they’ll be fine.” I say.
“You promise?” She turns toward me again, her eyes begging for assurance and searching mine for it.
“I promise.”
“What about us?” She says, smiling.
“We’ll be fine too.” I smile back. I don’t think I’ve ever genuinely smiled at her before. It’s...nice.
“Isn’t this our exit?” she asks. I nod and pull off into Los Angeles.
We’ll both be fine, I think to myself. We’d better.
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