Fool of the Devil II-10C

Episode 10C: Snake Boys III

Women… can’t live with them.

The thought circled back for like the fifteenth time since they'd sat down, one arm over Will’s shoulder as he stared at the pain in his ass across the table from him. As much as he wanted to pay attention to the conversation, he was busy, too busy, trying to figure out why Cordelia wasn't... doing what Cordelia should be doing. 

He’d expected a lot from the Evil Queen; blackmail, threat, tears, maybe. She was pretty good at the whole damsel thing when it suited her.

He hadn’t expected this, though. Definitely not this.

Cordelia Chase was not patient. Cordelia Chase was not quiet. Cordelia Chase was not watchful. Especially not watchful this way; the way her eyes kept landing on him, sliding off, and then landing again like he was a math problem she actually cared about solving.

The air in the Bronze was thick with stale coffee and teenage sweat, the ghost of old cigarettes from the smokers outside lingering under all of it. The music was loud, basic grunge wailing up from the speakers.

Xander’s head bobbed off-beat, listening to the music as much as he was the conversation in front of him, too deep in his head to even care. The snake demon from a couple days back was still the number one thing rolling around in there; not the snake-vampires, the snake demon that the frat boys had apparently been sacrificing girls too for who knows how long.

Buffy had gone in, and done her thing, using all the extreme prejudice the Slayer could muster for the greatest purpose of all; making frat boys suffer. Granted, Xander had been surprised to hear all about it, especially when it came from the mouth of a still-frazzled Cordy.

…speaking of Cordy.

Yeah, Cordelia knew.

She’d seen him covered in dust and blood and green Culebra blood. Hell, she’d definitely seen him dust at least two of the tequila-smelling leeches. 

Cordelia had screamed again, Xander had said something stupid back, she recovered from her shock to insult him, and then they’d done a little back and forth that was pretty pointless, honestly.

In true demanding Cordelia fashion, she did not let things go. 

In response, he had… well, to say threatened wouldn’t be entirely accurate.

No, Xander had wanted to try, but Cordy was so annoying they just ended up bickering back and forth for almost a full ten minutes in a back alley.

It would have been so much easier if she had just exploded or cried, threatened to call her daddy’s lawyer or something, or whatever it was rich girls did when they were having a crazy fit or whatever.

But noooo…

Cordy had asked the questions, sure; the hows, the whats, the whys. The who was pretty obvious since she’d already seen him. He’d been ready to do his thing, to talk around it, to joke, and deflect as best he could.

He didn’t need to do any of that, though, after he mentioned that Buffy and Willow had zero clue about any of this. 

For some reason, Cordelia perked up right after that. Happy, even.

She’d looked happy.

“Older guys are so ooooverrated,” Cordelia’voice cut through the music as she adjusted her skirt, her and her little satellites finding a new orbit around the Gang for whatever reason. All the Cordettes sat a couple tables away, Harmony included; each one of them like little hostages, clearly confused by the fact that Cordy was around them but he doubted any of them would speak up if their life depended on it. “I mean, who even needs frat guys when there are perfectly decent high school guys around?”

Sour grapes from the whiner. Xander bit back the snort, and took a long pull from his soda as ice rattled against his teeth. “You tell ‘em, Cordy.”

Her eyes snapped over to him, not the usual glare. That one said you’re an idiot, and occasionally I hate you. This one was more…

Well, he wasn’t sure, but he didn’t like it.

Actually, scratch that; he didn't understand it. 

Especially, because she’d been doing this for days now, the vaguely agreeable thing, with her Cordettes close behind her. 

Harmony’s smile was as vacant as ever, the others doing their best impressions of people who knew what was happening. He had to wonder how loyal they actually were. To Queen C, to the whole social hierarchy thing.

…Not my problem.

Unfortunately, it kind of was, given how Cordelia knew things now.

Dangerous things, things that could get him staked if Buffy found out and didn’t suddenly have a pressing desire to get in his custom-fitted denim pants. 

Xander shook his head, eyes roaming high as he took in the lights of the Bronze; Cordelia’s hair caught a purple-blue ray that made it look as black as his instead of brown.

Unsurprisingly, she was still looking at him.

“Hmpf.” He didn’t even need to look to know that Willow’s mood was half-way to cottage cheese, the redhead next to him doing her best to pretend Cordy wasn’t even around. “Hmpf.”

"What?" Cordelia raised one perfectly plucked eyebrow high and proud. "No more snark from the King of Cracks?"

King of Cracks. His eyes rolled before he could stop them, hand already reaching for the newspaper he'd been half-reading for the last ten minutes. Must have been busy in the Writer’s Room with that one.

"Seems like Delta Zeta Kappa's officially done." He rustled the paper loud enough for everyone to hear, even Buffy’s attention perking up, before he slid it across the table. It landed just by Buffy’s hand, Willow leaning in to look with his other hand still on her shoulder. "Looking at consecutive life sentences for all of them, more than likely." His finger tapped the headline, the cheap newsprint leaving ink smudges on his skin. "Oh, and they found bodies dating back fifty years. So all the old fogies are going down too."

Fifty years of dead girls in a basement. Five fingers tightened around his knee, a grip tight enough to shatter wood.

"And deserved,” Cordelia huffed.

Buffy's head dropped back against the booth, that worn pleather making a soft thud-squeak sound. "Ugh, can we not talk about frat guys? Old or young? I think I've met my lifetime quota of toxic guys for, like, ever."

Doubt that, Buff. The snort tried to escape, he swallowed it. Angel's still walking around, so...

"Seriously." Willow nodded fast, red hair bouncing with the motion, "It must have been so gross. All that chanting and... snake-ness."

There's a word. "Hey, some snakes are cool," Xander offered, soda at his lips again. "Like in Conan. Big snake. Very cool."

The look Buffy sent him would have killed lesser men. "You think everything's cool if it's from a comic book or an old movie."

"How often am I wrong?" The grin slid its way across his face. "Besides, you slayed it. Why the complainy?"

"No complainy," The heat from before in Buffy’s voice sputtered out like a lighter running low on butane. "I'm... processing. There's a difference."

"Riiight." Xander nodded slow. "Processing how you totally kicked its scaly butt all over that basement?"

"No, processing how I almost became a human sacrifice for a bunch of rapey jocks."

…Idiot move, Harris.

"Sorry." His gaze dropped to the table, to the ring of moisture his soda can had left on the cheap wood finish.

"It's okay." Buffy's voice softened a little more. "It's just... a lot. You know?"

Yeah. His smile quirked up.

"I know."