(no subject)
Jul. 23rd, 2005 09:58 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lostakashaDress Rehearsal
Written for btvsats love
Rated G
Pairing...none, really, just Angel and Xander, considered.
Word Count: 3,850
Disclaimer: It's all Joss and ME, always. Just hope to do them slight justice.
Dress Rehearsal
It struck him somewhere between In Salah and Algiers, not an awareness as much as a vague impulse to set things to rest.
As he stared down at the face of a long-lost lover, the choice seemed right. No less baffling, but absolutely the thing to do.
Cordelia’s hand was cool and heavy in his, and she looked unlike any coma victim he could imagine. Gravity had plasticized her skin, but she looked the same as he’d remembered, if a little waxy. He’d leaned in close to her ear and told her of Sunnydale’s fate, of recent trips across continents, of his wish to drive what was left of Route 66. She didn’t need to hear about loss, he decided. Better to share the oddities, the fun stuff. The triumphs. Coma patients had their own troubles, didn’t they?
Now, he waited.
After the shock of actually entering Wolfram & Hart, and the trippy sensation of holding a one-sided conversation with an artificially-preserved ex-girlfriend, his reaction to the sumptuous surroundings seemed as muted as the pewter suede on which he sat.
Still, he was wholly unprepared for the sight of Angel in a pinstriped suit and slicked-back hair. He seemed larger, somehow, heftier. Menacing. Exhausted. Corporate. For what seemed to be the first time in ages, Xander was speechless.
“What do you want?” Not a challenge. Just a query.
“I’m good thanks, apart from some depth-perception issues. You?”
Angel stood still, maintaining eye contact as Xander rose and crossed the room, hand outstretched in greeting. As he neared, the vampire turned his back and stared out the window, suddenly fascinated by the crimson L.A. dusk.
“Gee, don’t know why I thought this would go well.”
“You have nothing to say that I want to hear, Harris.”
“That may be true, but it’s not going to stop me.”
Angel snorted. “Spit it out.”
Xander’s mouth was drier than the Kalahari, but he forced himself to speak. “I owe you an apology. Several, probably. Several, definitely. But this…”
In less than a heartbeat, Angel had turned from the window and closed the distance between them.
“Fine. Now get out.”
Unfazed by the height difference and icy glare, Xander stayed put. As Angel attempted to move past him, he grabbed his bicep and yanked him back, hard. It was like pulling an expensively clothed monument, rock solid. Stone cold.
“You want to lose that hand?”
“Okay, the fact that I’m in your evil sandbox hasn’t escaped me. But I didn’t come all this way to drop off a tribal carving and another body part. You don’t owe me jack shit, Angel, but I’m still asking you to listen.”
With silence as the only acceptance proffered, Xander took a breath.
“I’m the reason Buffy sent you to hell. I knew Willow was casting a spell to restore your soul. She told me to tell Buffy that it was working, so that she wouldn’t have to kill you. But I didn’t.”
For a single, stunning second, Xander thought Angel chuckled. “What did you tell her?”
“I told her to kick your ass.”
Inanely, Xander wondered if it was possible for a vampire’s skin to change color. Angel’s complexion suddenly seemed ruddier, as though he was lit from the inside, yet he didn’t move or attempt speech. After an eternal moment, Angel looked away and shrugged.
“Is that it?” he asked.
Check me out, neck deep in a profoundly bad idea, he thought. “In a nutshell, yeah. Like I said, I owe you an apology.”
Instead of seeming flushed, Angel’s skin suddenly seemed moon pale.
“Is this supposed to mean something to me?”
“Angel, I…”
“Gee, Xand, thanks for fessin’ up. I feel better, how about you? Let’s put the past behind us and be best buds. How about we hug, maybe pound a few brewskies and talk about the good old days, how much you hate me. That’ll be fun.”
Brewskies? Where did he pick that up? Swallowing deep, Xander pushed the unbidden question from his mind. “I don’t know. I just know it means something to me. These past few years have been so…”
“Are you working on your 21 day chip? Scheduling a visit to make amends for some schoolyard jealousy crap that was over years ago? Don’t waste my time.”
It was actually going better than Xander had anticipated. He was still upright and his throat hadn’t been ripped out. Despite the bluster, Angel seemed more weary than angry.
“Nice, coming from Mr. Atonement. I thought you of all people would get what I’m trying to do, but I guess not.” Xander stepped toward the door.
“I’m not the one who’s owed an apology.”
The floor undulated beneath his feet, and Xander found himself surfing a wave of unexpected, unwanted feeling. He turned to watch Angel moving out of the living room and into the room beyond.
“Tell her,” he said, over his shoulder. “Consider this a dress rehearsal.”
end
Written for btvsats love
Rated G
Pairing...none, really, just Angel and Xander, considered.
Word Count: 3,850
Disclaimer: It's all Joss and ME, always. Just hope to do them slight justice.
Dress Rehearsal
It struck him somewhere between In Salah and Algiers, not an awareness as much as a vague impulse to set things to rest.
As he stared down at the face of a long-lost lover, the choice seemed right. No less baffling, but absolutely the thing to do.
Cordelia’s hand was cool and heavy in his, and she looked unlike any coma victim he could imagine. Gravity had plasticized her skin, but she looked the same as he’d remembered, if a little waxy. He’d leaned in close to her ear and told her of Sunnydale’s fate, of recent trips across continents, of his wish to drive what was left of Route 66. She didn’t need to hear about loss, he decided. Better to share the oddities, the fun stuff. The triumphs. Coma patients had their own troubles, didn’t they?
Now, he waited.
After the shock of actually entering Wolfram & Hart, and the trippy sensation of holding a one-sided conversation with an artificially-preserved ex-girlfriend, his reaction to the sumptuous surroundings seemed as muted as the pewter suede on which he sat.
Still, he was wholly unprepared for the sight of Angel in a pinstriped suit and slicked-back hair. He seemed larger, somehow, heftier. Menacing. Exhausted. Corporate. For what seemed to be the first time in ages, Xander was speechless.
“What do you want?” Not a challenge. Just a query.
“I’m good thanks, apart from some depth-perception issues. You?”
Angel stood still, maintaining eye contact as Xander rose and crossed the room, hand outstretched in greeting. As he neared, the vampire turned his back and stared out the window, suddenly fascinated by the crimson L.A. dusk.
“Gee, don’t know why I thought this would go well.”
“You have nothing to say that I want to hear, Harris.”
“That may be true, but it’s not going to stop me.”
Angel snorted. “Spit it out.”
Xander’s mouth was drier than the Kalahari, but he forced himself to speak. “I owe you an apology. Several, probably. Several, definitely. But this…”
In less than a heartbeat, Angel had turned from the window and closed the distance between them.
“Fine. Now get out.”
Unfazed by the height difference and icy glare, Xander stayed put. As Angel attempted to move past him, he grabbed his bicep and yanked him back, hard. It was like pulling an expensively clothed monument, rock solid. Stone cold.
“You want to lose that hand?”
“Okay, the fact that I’m in your evil sandbox hasn’t escaped me. But I didn’t come all this way to drop off a tribal carving and another body part. You don’t owe me jack shit, Angel, but I’m still asking you to listen.”
With silence as the only acceptance proffered, Xander took a breath.
“I’m the reason Buffy sent you to hell. I knew Willow was casting a spell to restore your soul. She told me to tell Buffy that it was working, so that she wouldn’t have to kill you. But I didn’t.”
For a single, stunning second, Xander thought Angel chuckled. “What did you tell her?”
“I told her to kick your ass.”
Inanely, Xander wondered if it was possible for a vampire’s skin to change color. Angel’s complexion suddenly seemed ruddier, as though he was lit from the inside, yet he didn’t move or attempt speech. After an eternal moment, Angel looked away and shrugged.
“Is that it?” he asked.
Check me out, neck deep in a profoundly bad idea, he thought. “In a nutshell, yeah. Like I said, I owe you an apology.”
Instead of seeming flushed, Angel’s skin suddenly seemed moon pale.
“Is this supposed to mean something to me?”
“Angel, I…”
“Gee, Xand, thanks for fessin’ up. I feel better, how about you? Let’s put the past behind us and be best buds. How about we hug, maybe pound a few brewskies and talk about the good old days, how much you hate me. That’ll be fun.”
Brewskies? Where did he pick that up? Swallowing deep, Xander pushed the unbidden question from his mind. “I don’t know. I just know it means something to me. These past few years have been so…”
“Are you working on your 21 day chip? Scheduling a visit to make amends for some schoolyard jealousy crap that was over years ago? Don’t waste my time.”
It was actually going better than Xander had anticipated. He was still upright and his throat hadn’t been ripped out. Despite the bluster, Angel seemed more weary than angry.
“Nice, coming from Mr. Atonement. I thought you of all people would get what I’m trying to do, but I guess not.” Xander stepped toward the door.
“I’m not the one who’s owed an apology.”
The floor undulated beneath his feet, and Xander found himself surfing a wave of unexpected, unwanted feeling. He turned to watch Angel moving out of the living room and into the room beyond.
“Tell her,” he said, over his shoulder. “Consider this a dress rehearsal.”
end
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2005-08-26 01:34 am (UTC)I enjoyed this, in a twisted, hurty way.
Nice.
(no subject)
Date: 2005-10-09 06:13 pm (UTC)At last just rhetorical question; Should Buffy apologise to the family and friends that Angelus killed after Buffy more less let him go, in the episode where Buffy blow up the Judge?
And yes, I do apologize for my English
(no subject)
Date: 2005-10-10 12:26 am (UTC)Thank you for reading, and for caring enough about the story to comment.
Your points are interesting, and I agree that Xander probably had many reasons to tell the lie. And in response to your rhetorical question -- yes, I think that she should. But she's not the type to ever say she's sorry, so we'd never see it.