Title: Switch In Identities
Chapter Title: Research To Go
Author: Baby Blues
E-mail: purely_blissful@hotmail.com
Rated: R
Disclaimer: Characters are not mine, but the story is.
Summary: Cordelia, Wesley, and Gunn talk to Angel about his mystery girl. A certain vampire makes an unexpected visit.
Dedication: To . . . my dog Liberty, ‘cause she’s the cutest little thing.
Excerpt:
~Wesley: Buffy . . . Sounds oddly familiar.
~Gunn: ‘Demon’ familiar or ‘I met her in a bar once’ familiar?
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“Hey, Angel . . . you’re drooling, man.”
The Demon Hunter quickly sat up, woken by the booming voice that he could only conclude was from Gunn.
He stared at his surroundings and was met by three pairs of curious eyes studying him.
“Wha . . . “
“Must’ve been one hell of a night,” Cordelia commented with a smirk as she took in the rumpled appearance of her best friend: his dark hair a tangled mess, his clothes wrinkled along with it, and his eyes droopy and bloodshot from his lack of sleep.
“What did you do all last evening?” Wesley asked worriedly looking over at the counter where a notepad laid open and a cup of black coffee sat cold besides it.
Angel snapped out of his dormant state and snapped the notebook shut before they could see what he’d been doodling in it all last night. He grinned up at them, blushing a bit. “Nothing . . . just . . . nothing,” he explained.
Cordelia quirked an eyebrow, not buying any of it.
She snatched the notepad and quickly ran out of his reach as she turned to the page he had been writing on.
Angel watched in horror as she gaped at it with wide eyes, smiling impishly. “Well, well, well,” she mocked faintly before looking up at him. “Mr. O’Connor . . . what the hell is a ‘Buffy?!’ “ she asked with a frown.
Angel sighed and dropped back down on the stool. “The girl of my dreams.”
“What? Like a Madonna and Pamela Anderson type of dream girl?” Cordelia asked, turning the page to find a beautiful drawing of a young woman.
“No . . . more like in a literal sense,” he answered and looked at his Watcher, “I saw her again after I called you . . . Her name is Buffy . . . “
“What kind of name is Buffy?” Cordy asked as Gunn came up behind her and began studying the sketches Angel had drawn page after page.
“Buffy?” Wesley frowned, “Sounds oddly familiar . . . “ He reached the shelves of book before anyone could say anything.
“ ‘Demon’ familiar or ‘I met her in a bar once’ familiar?” Gunn asked, seizing the notebook from Cordelia so he could study the drawings a bit more closely.
Both Wesley and Angel glared at him for different reasons.
“Wait . . . is this the girl who saved our asses?” Cordelia asked.
Angel nodded.
“Good choice,” she said with a nod. “Both a bit paranormal . . . so she’s definitely not gonna freak out about the demons and other ghostly beings standing in the living room and/or kitchen,” she said, and then looked over at Angel and his attire and remember the specific color Buffy had worn on the night she had saved them. “And both prefer the color black . . . “ Cordelia added snidely.
Angel glared at her.
“Buffy . . . “ Wesley muttered, running his fingers across the spines of the ancient books that lined the walls. “I know I’ve read of her somewhere . . . Watchers Diaries. But which one?” he asked himself as he grabbed a few books and flipped through the pages.
“While this is all fun and interesting, is there anything we need to kill?” Gunn asked, flopping down on a couch as he looked at the other three expectantly.
Cordelia sat next to him, still flipping through the notebook.
“Good God, Angel,” she said, her face turning into a grimace. “I think your mind went a little ‘overboard-nasty’ at the end of the night,” she commented, looking at the drawings that had suddenly turned nude, even if the private parts of the body were covered with bed sheets or something or another. “It’s Titanic all over again.”
“Let me see that,” Gunn said grabbing at the notebook.
But Angel seized it before he could see the sketches, blushing as he shut the notebook. He smiled awkwardly and quickly bolted up the stairs. “I’m gonna take a shower,” he explained.
“You better not do what I think you’re gonna do in there!” Cordelia yelled after him.
Gunn looked at her with disgust. “Thanks for the mental image, Cordy.”
“Hey, your mind . . . not mine,” she smiled and got up to help Wesley with his research.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
Wesley frowned. “It says here that Doyle, the Demon Hunter before you, Angel, had a run in with a young woman named Buffy in a graveyard and in his first month as a Hunter. She helped him through his first Apocalyptic battle a few months later.”
“That can’t be,” Angel said, shaking his head in denial, “Doyle was called in ‘85. Buffy can’t be more than 25 years old. If the two of them met at that time, she had to have been like . . . seven or eight.”
“So . . . vampire?” Gunn asked.
“No,” Angel said with a frown, closing his book as he brooded, “She fights demons, and I felt no threat when she was here last night.” Angel looked at Wesley pleadingly, wanting answers and wanting them now. Buffy couldn’t be a vampire. Probably an immortal being who worked for the Powers That Be.
Yeah . . . that had to be it.
“Wes, she could’ve killed me, but she didn’t. Explain that,” Angel challenged.
Wesley placed his book on the counter and stared at Angel’s serious eyes. “I’m not quite sure.”
“There has to be some sort of reasonable explanation,” Angel said as he began to pace, “We can’t just rush into any conclusion.”
“Look,” Cordelia said, picking up the book Wesley had been reading, “It says here that Buffy disappeared after helping Doyle out after the battle. His Watcher saw her again when Doyle died in ‘93, placing a single white rose on his grave . . . still looking the same 8 years before.”
Angel closed his eyes. This wasn’t happening. Here he was, finally infatuated with someone and she had to be a God-damned vampire.
He mentally hit himself.
There is still no proof that she is a vampire, his insisted silently.
“I still don’t believe it,” he said, shaking his head.
Wesley sighed. “Angel . . . I know you like this girl . . . “
“I don’t like Buffy,” the Hunter denied hurriedly.
“Fine . . . you’ve become friends with this girl,” Wesley stated instead, “But we have to face some facts here. She could be dangerous . . . she could a be a threat. Maybe not now or at this moment . . . but she can . . . and we’re going to have to take care of it before it gets out of control. Do you understand?”
Angel glared at his Watcher and threw down his book, causing them to all jump in surprise. He felt the cool silver against his chest, hidden form their view, and had more faith that there had to be another reason . . . that Buffy wasn’t a demon or a vampire.
The Demon Hunter grabbed his leather jacket. “I’m going for a walk,” he stated angrily as he opened the door . . .
Only to be met by a pair of familiar blue eyes.
“Oh, God,” Angel groaned, annoyed and more than irritated at the unwanted sight before him, “Not you . . . “
“Hello, Peaches . . . Mind if I have a bit of a talk with ya?” the man said, arrogance written clearly in his British accent.
* * * * * * * * * * * *
The Demon Hunter, the Seer, the Watcher, and the Bounty Hunter stared at the bleach blond vampire who had made himself comfortable on the lobby couch.
“You don’t mind if I smoke, right?” the Billy Idol look-alike asked, and lighted a slim fag before they could answer his haughty request.
“Nice digs, Peaches . . . where’s the tourists?” he laughed, looking around the hotel with a smirk on his handsome and pale face.
“Get to the point, Spike,” Angel said dangerously, “What the hell are you doing here.”
“I need your help to find someone,” Spike said truthfully, blowing out a cloud of gray smoke out of the corner of his mouth.
Cordelia snorted in revulsion as she rolled her eyes in complete disgust. “Druscilla left you again?” the brunette asked mockingly, “ ‘Cause I, for one, will not look for that psycho bitch even if you paid me.”
Spike glared at her. “Dru is dead,” he stated without an ounce of emotion.
“Oh,” Cordelia shrugged and became silent.
“I’m gonna ask again,” Angel growled, “What are you doing here?”
“I just bloody well told you, wanker,” Spike frowned, “I need help to find someone. A very important someone.”
“I’m afraid to ask who this someone would be,” Wesley sighed.
“My sire,” Spike answered, his eyes clouding a bit.
“Your sire? I thought Druscilla was your sire?” Gunn asked, puzzled.
Spike shook his head, flicking the butt of his cigarette on the floor, causing both Angel to glare at him. He was *not* in a good mood for Spike’s bullshit and carelessness in his own home. “No . . . I’m a bit older than her.”
Wesley made a move for the books again. “So . . . who *is* your sire?” the Watcher asked.
“She was known as Eliza in her demon days,” Spike answered, lighting up another cigarette, “She goes by the name Buffy now.”
Silence.
“What?” Angel gaped at him in shock.
Continue to Chapter 6: Pain In the Ass
Back to Chapter 4: The Addams Family