When She Was Bad
Disclaimer: See Chapter 1
The mouth of hell had nothing on my summer, wait till I tell Harm and the others, they'll be mortified.
How am I expected to hold on to my reputation if my most noteworthy topic of conversation of the summer entailed burying the skeleton of a vampire. Argh! If anyone finds out that I spent one whole evening in the library fighting vampires with all the losers and freaks of this school, it would be worse than that time Daddy took away my credit card for the month.
Those geeks had better not think they're allowed to acknowledge my presence in any other than an awed way. We are by no means friends, or for that matter acquaintances. In fact, they'd better not try and drag me in to any more of their freak-show extra-curricular activities.
I am so over the whole fighting for my life, ruining my clothes thing. Obviously it works for Buffy, she never had any clothes worth a cent anyway, so it's not like it's any loss for her.
Anyway, the nightmare that was last year in no way compares to the nightmare that was my summer.
So here I am, back at school, home of the mouth hell or whatever.
"It was a nightmare, a total nightmare!"
I tell my friends as we walk in to the quad, as usual they hang on my every word, it's not like they have anything to talk about anyway. They live off my life, which is cool with me, 'cause holding in this kind of trauma is not healthy.
"I mean, they promised me they'd take me to St. Croix, and then they just decide to go to Tuscany."
I sigh for dramatic effect.
"Art and buildings? I was totally beachless for a month and a half. No one has suffered like I have. Of course I think that that kind of adversity builds character. Well, then I thought, I already have a lot of character. Is it possible to have too much character?"
None of them respond, apparently it's not impossible to have too little intelligence.
Oh well, at least I'm not in a museum.
For one whole day I managed to avoid the Slayer and her sidekicks. It was bliss, but then today I woke up with this migraine, and then I chipped my nail and daddy refused to let me skip homeroom for an emergency manicure and then this…
There they were in front of me, and with no where to go and no way to avoid them, I was stuck for something to say.
"Oh, look, it's the Three Musketeers" I bite out sarcastically, inwardly I'm cringing. Okay, so it's not my best insult, but I have a chipped nail…it's thrown my whole day out of wack!
"Was that an insult?" Asks the Slayer herself.
"Kind lacked punch" agrees Xander, ever the sheep.
"The Three Musketeers were cool" added Willow.
Yeah, they kinda got me there "I see your point" I acknowledge grudgingly, but hey, if they knew about the nail, they'd be totally with the sympathy right about now.
"I woulda gone with Stooges" advised Xander.
Yeah, like I'd take advise from the King of Geeks.
"Well, I just meant that you guys always hang out together." I explained, really wishing I could begin the day over, this was turning into a horror movie. "So, did you guys fight any demons this summer?" I ask, in a vein attempt to change the subject.
And that is when they begin their geek-talk.
"Uh, yes! Our own personal demons." Says Willow a little too loudly.
I squint my eyes at her, risking wrinkles as I try to translate it into normal-speak.
"Uh, such as, as, as lust and, uh, thrift!" Adds Xander.
What the hell? Thrift? Oh god, the geekness has gotten to them and they've all gone insane!
"I would have to go with Stooges too!" Adds Buffy, obviously not quite with the geek-speak, so pretending like the others hadn't spoken she returns to the previous topic of conversation.
"What are you guys talking about? I'm talking about big squiggly demons that came from the ground? Remember? Prom night? With all the vampires?"
Earth to losers!
How does a sane individual forget the hordes of mutant faces trying to suck all of your blood out?
"Cordelia, your mouth is open and sound is coming from it. This is never good!"
Hey! Where the hell does bad-hair-girl get off with insulting me?
"No. It's, see, we can't mention that stuff in front of other people, Buffy being the Slayer and all."
Yeah okay, touch me again and you die freak-boy!
"You haven't been talking about our little adventure all summer, have you?" Asks Willow…obviously still living in her own little naïve world where I would even spend a millisecond discussing her and her freakish friends and their existence to my friends.
"Are you nuts? Do you think I would tell people that I spent the whole evening with you? Besides, it was all so creepy. That Master Guy? And all the screaming? I don't even like to think about it."
I focus my attention on the leader of the freak pack "So your secrets safe with me!"
Okay, hit me with the grovelling gratitude, I'm ready for it!
"Well, that works out great. You won't tell anyone that I'm the Slayer, and I won't tell anyone you're a moron."
My mouth falls open in astonishment and Buffy storms off, leaving me no opportunity to retort with an insult of my own…which would have been good…better than hers!
"Now, that was a good insult." Remarks Xander, equally as baffled with the temper tantrum.
"A little too good" frowns Willow.
Keeping my cool, I respond casually "what's up with her?" Secretly I'm wondering if little miss destructo-girl has finally gone off the deep-end, 'cause usually I'm the one with the biting remark before flaunting away and she's the one left standing open mouthed with the two geeks.
It's like the twilight zone.
Being back at the Bronze is like…well…last year! Nothing ever changes in this dinky little town.
My gaze wonders around the room and locks on to Buffy as she enters…okay, well some things do change, like super-bitch over there.
Let's not dwell on all thinks freaky. Ooh look, Chocolately-Goodness, oh right I forgot, some things never change like the fact that he has some inexplicable love-thing for Buffy. Argh!
Notice my shock as he glides over to her. That boy has the most uber-sexy way of moving.
"Hi" she says.
Yeah, good opening line there Buffy.
"Hi" he replies.
Hmm, he says it so well.
"So, is there danger at the Bronze? Should I beware?" Asks little miss highlighted hair.
"I can't help thinking I've done something to make you angry. And that bothers me more than I'd like."
Yeah, more than I like too. Get over her!
"I'm not angry. I don't know where that comes from."
Uh, yeah sure!
"What are you afraid of? Me? Us?"
"Could you contemplate getting over yourself for a second? There's no 'us'. Look, Angel, I'm sorry if I was supposed to spend the summer mooning over you, but I didn't. I moved on. To the living."
As usual, the freak doesn't make any sense, there's definitely something up with that girl, and if she carries on like this, she not even gonna be left with the loser friends she has.
Ugh! Gross! Again!
Who passes up Mr Sex Kitten, for the ultra un-cool Xander? She's even spooning the geek…oh god I've gone blind!
This has got to stop!
I watch as she leaves Xander high and dry on the dance floor and leaves the Bronze and decide to follow her out.
Good, she stopped, now I've just got to make sure she doesn't pull a stick on me.
"You're really campaigning for bitch-of-the-year, aren't you?"
"As defending champion, you nervous?"
Not likely. But okay, this is not about me, this is about her, so take a deep breath Cordy and say what has to be said!
"I can hold my own. You know, we've never really been close, which is nice, 'cause I don't really like you that much, but…you have on occasion saved the world and stuff, so I'm gonna…do you a favor."
Wow, and I managed not to choke as I got that out, yay me!
"And this great favor is…"
"I'm gonna give you some advice. Get over it!"
Oh yeah, I'm really good at this, I should really consider going into counselling…I could council the stars, give Brad advice, comfort Tom…
Oh right, her first!
"Whatever is causing the Joan Collins 'tude, deal with it. Embrace the pain, spank your inner moppet, whatever, but get over it. 'Cause pretty soon you're not even gonna have the loser friends you've got now."
Oh, I'm good.
"I think it's about time you start minding your own business."
Except, when have I ever?
"It's long past." I reply.
"Nighty-night." She says as she takes off…well, I guess I'll just have to leave her with something to stew about won't I?
"I'll just see if Angel feels like dancing."
Before I can pat myself on my back and make good with my word, I'm grabbed from behind and dragged into a building.
They shove me down the stairs as if I'm a sack of potatoes, and if I weren't so scared, I'd really give them a piece of my mind.
Backing away from the vampires I bump into something…a hand…AAHHH, EEWW, oh, Ms Calender, no, no, no!
"Ms., Ms. Calendar? Oh, God, Ms. Calendar?" Please don't be dead, I don't wanna be alone with the blood sucking creeps.
Why does God hate me so much?
That's my first thought as I wake up on a metal platform that hangs precariously over a filthy warehouse.
My second thought is how the hell does Buffy manage to drag me into every one of her stupid fights to the death? I don't recall volunteering for the Demon Club she holds chair over, so how in the hell do I always end up in the middle of it?
Below me, I dimly make out sounds of fighting, oh goody, miss-graveyard-lurker is here to save me from something I wouldn't even be involved in if it weren't for her freakish ability to attract trouble.
And again I wonder to myself what the hell I'm doing here? It's not like the demons could mistake me for one of her geek-pals who clearly are slayer-bait on a regular occurrence. Even the demons have got to see that little miss slayer ain't no way in my league of coolness. So whats up with the kidnapping…and where the hell is my bracelet?
Great, I've been kidnapped by clepto-vampires, what next…Barbie-vampire?
As I struggle to a sitting position, I notice Miss Calendar and Mr Giles watching the fight below, and Xander talking to a groggy Willow.
Below me, Buffy is standing over a pile of crushed bones, whilst she cries into Mr-Tall-Dark-and-Handsomes shoulder.
Hey! What about my pain? This is her life, she's used to dead people and crushed bones, I'm the one who is suffering from unmentionable trauma.
God, she's such a drama-queen, it's all always about her.
Buffy. Buffy. Buffy.
It's a new day, and despite my best efforts, I cannot get over the trauma of the day before.
There's just so much a person can take before the pressure gets to them, and I think I've endured my fair share of ordeals.
Cry-baby Slayer is just lucky I haven't pressed charges, if it weren't for the fact that I'd get thrown into an asylum faster than you could shout 'slayer' I would have made sure the judge signed a restraining order keeping Buffy at least two cities distance from me.
"What an ordeal. And you know what the worst part is?"
"What?" Asks Miss Calendar.
"It stays with you forever. No matter what they tell you, none of that rust and blood and grime comes out. I mean, you can dry clean till judgment day, you are living with those stains."
By now, Buffy and her life of demon goo and blood, have ruined at least half of my wardrobe.
Yet another thing I cannot have her arrested for. God really, really hates me.
"Yeah that's the worst part of being hung upside down by a vampire who wants to slit your throat: the stains."
At least someone else understands. Not that Miss Calendar had anything worth dry-cleaning to begin with, but it's the thought that counts right?
"I hear ya!" I say to her. She's been through enough, I don't need to point out the fact that she's probably better off without the outfit she was wearing yesterday, which really negates the whole trauma thing for her anyway, because it turned out to be a blessing in disguise.