Title: Praeludere
Rating: PG13
First Posted: June, 2001
Notes: We start off post "Epiphany" and pre "Belonging".
Dedication: The first three chapters are for Nickle because I remember her Giles/Cordelia fics with great fondness.
Disclaimer: The characters in the Angelverse were created by Joss Whedon & David Greenwalt. No infringement is intended, no profit is made.
Feedback: Cherished. admin@florrie-fic.com
Part 1
What on earth was she doing here? No, no he actually knew the answer to that one. She had driven up from Los Angeles to collect some important ingredients for a much needed spell. Fine. But what was she doing here? Why not Wesley? He could talk to Wesley; pick his brains about Glory; exchange lore and methodology ... Or Spike! Spike could have taken Angel’s magical order to Los Angeles. No dangerously huffy Cordelia and an opportunity to get rid of love-lorn Spike for a night. Marvellous!
“Not until tomorrow?”
“Possibly.”
“So is that a definite possibly or more of an I-don’t-have-a-clue-possibly?”
Giles sighed; a close-your-eyes, calming sigh. He let his shoulders relax with the quietly exhaled air and opened his eyes. Cordelia remained where he had last seen her, solidly planted before him, quizing him with that irritated expression darkly sparking in her eyes, curvaceous body tightly jean-clad. Somehow, the counter between them didn’t seem wide enough. He took a breath.
“The potash of Tanganyikan fruit-bat will be here tomorrow. More than likely. As for the eye-of-newt, common as it may be, with the recent full moon and the resurgence of interest in....”
“Giles! I’ve driven all this way and now you calmly tell me ‘tomorrow’?”
Calmly. If only. “Well, probably.”
“Probably? Possibly? Which one is Giles-speak for ‘yes’?”
Giles considered another tension releasing sigh. Unfortunately the effect never lasted. Instead, he took off his spectacles and slowly rubbed a lens against his flannel shirt. She so very obviously did not want to be here; here being a combination of the Magic Shop and the greater experience that was Sunnydale. With an apprehensive glance at her trainer-covered foot - he had an image of her standing, just so, tapping impatiently - Giles launched into a more detailed explanation.
“Assuming Prudence is able to locate another supplier within the next few hours... well, possibly and then, there are the additional requirements Angel called about, so probably....”
“He wants more of this stuff? Who’s Prudence? Where can I find her?”
“Seattle, but there is absolutely no point in haring off cross-country, Cordelia. Angel said there’s no hurry and...”
“What?”
“There were... developments... after you left... Angel said that they have another few days before...” Giles glanced at one fabulously arched eyebrow. He didn’t have to look down at her feet, he could clearly hear the soft-soled pattering. “Apparently. But I wouldn’t know...”
“He could have called me on my cell!”
“I have the box of other items ready packed and you do still need to be here ... sometime... to collect the newt’s eyes and bat potash.”
“If they ever arrive! Geesh, why do magicians have to rely on couriers? Poof!Post! or Magixpress! I needn’t have left L.A.!”
Poof Post? She could have no idea. A glint of a chuckle almost cracked Giles’ bleak expression. He swallowed. “Well, maybe one day.”
“So Mister-Safe-in-LA wants me to hang around the old birthplace? Revisit the joys of my youth? Trip down memory lane arm in arm with my gal pals and ex?” she asked incredulously.
“Ah... um, if you like. I’m sure we will cope... you, I mean you will cope!”
“I’m guessing Angel didn’t call ahead and reserve the best suite at Sunnydale Motor Inne?” Cordelia bent to the floor for her carry-all and grabbing the bag, slung it carelessly over her shoulder.
“I couldn’t say.”
The eyebrow was raised delicately, once more. Had it gone down at all? Giles skimmed over the conversation. What was he missing? Besides salvation. Accommodation? God, no.
“I’m picking up a faint ‘wish-you-weren’t-here’ vibe. Are your overall memories of me not of the good? No? What a surprise. Still wearing those Buffy-coloured glasses, Mister Giles?”
“Buffy-col...? Now that’s not fair, Cordelia! There were times when... times...”
Irritating. Tiresome. Stunningly attractive.
“... there were times when...”
Unwilling. Unwitting. Of her own accord.
“... times when you did ..."
Brash. Resilient. Dazzling.
"... help,” he conceded unexpectedly.
“Times? Huh, times. Wow, thanks! If you’ll excuse me I had better find a cosy roach infested box to sleep in, somewhere I can reflect on all my Sunnydale evil, you know in between the times I was helping.”
Giles felt a small wave of guilt rise in his throat. It was only small, but enough to make him open his mouth and allow an impulsive batch of words to escape. “No, wait... you mustn’t. I, we can find you a place. I have a spare room.”
“Pardon?”
“I have a spare... room.”
“And?”
“Cordelia, really.” Bloody hell, he thought, couldn’t she recognise an invitation when it was offered so willingly?
“No, you have a spare room! You have my congratulations!”
“You are welcome to stay with... at muh-muh-my place.”
“And I can just see the welcoming excitement ooze from every pore!”
“Then don’t,” Giles snapped tartly. He couldn’t care less where Cordelia slept. The cockroaches and she should be extremely happy together at the Sunnydale Motel. It would be a relief not to have to wake up to that face or rather, look at that face over the cereal and coffee, have her move in and take over his flat and his life, wonder what outrageous thing she was going to say next or....
“I’ll accept.”
Oh. So, she was going to stay. “Grudgingly,” he remarked.
“No, with grace,” she said and flashed him a brilliant smile. “Key, please.”
“Key? But.. Why?”
“To unlock the door!” offered Cordelia. Giles winced at the implied ‘duh’ in her voice.
“There’s no need. I’ll be going home in a few hours, you can wait here, or go shopping, or have a coffee.”
“Giles, I’d love to stay and chat and hope that all my buddies drop by, but...”
“Oh. Of course.” He had to agree, albeit from the other side of the fence. Giles doubted any of the group would be delighted with the return of Cordelia in their present frame of mind. “.... here.” Giles held the keys out but hurriedly snatched them back again. “I haven’t, um, tidied up for a few days. I’ve been busy here and with all the Glory...”
“Oh, please!” Cordelia leant forward, forcibly unfurled Giles’ fingers and plucked the keys from his grip.
“Right. Don’t touch any...” The front door slammed. “...thing. Right.”
