ethrosdemon & Lar ||| Buffy & Angel

Reconfiguration IX
by Lar and ethrosdemon

EMAIL: naturallycalm@yahoo.com =and= HERE
Distribution: List archives, people who ask.
Disclaimer: Not ours - the AI gang, Xander, the supporting cast of BTVS folks or the Hyperion Hotel. We both do own our evil hands though.
Rating: R
Spoilers: Epiphany, The Body
Notes: Ahem, this one kinda took a while It actually took two days to write the fic, but it took us months to get back to writing this series. Alas, we couldn't figure it all out. Now, we are on the triumphant march to the end. The next part is an interlude and is called 'Deconstruction'. If you miss it, you missed the point!
Dedication: To Rabbit and her attack goldfish, long may they rule the nether regions. To Sam and her illness, Katie and her take home work, to Donna who cajoled.

== == == == ==

Edges of the sky fade from indigo to ash as Xander knocks on the door, hand shaking and nerves wound up tight. The approaching daylight makes his skin itch and crawl in the primitive instinct to seek cover, and the weight of what he's done and nearly done draw his nerves out like a bowstring. Knocks again and catches his hand raised in midair when the door swings open and reveals a disheveled and sleepy Cordelia. Hair in a loose braid, t-shirt and cotton pajama bottoms creased and rumpled, heart rate slow and even, she is the most beautiful thing he's seen in hours.

She meets his gaze with eyes that are heavy and half-closed, traces of purple circles under them and sighs. "Great, did Buffy try to kill you?"

"No, I fucked up, but can we not talk about it?" Lifts his hand to brush the hair back from his face, glances over his shoulder and notes that the sky has gone cotton candy pink. He tries not to flinch, but when he turns around she's stepping back from the door with a quick shuffle and a murmured invitation, and he sees the curtains in the living room swinging closed. //gotta get me one of those in-house ghosts//

Cordelia puts a hand on one slim hip and eyes him sternly. Doesn't point the familiar accusing finger at him, but he hears it in her tone. "We can not talk about it *now* because I was out until three killing puss demons in their ever-so-lovely lair, but tomorrow, buster, you will spill all."

Nervous smile and he agrees, anything to just get someplace where he can close his eyes and let exhaustion claim him, fall into the oblivion of sleep, or at least fall to nightmares that end when he opens his eyes instead of dwelling in the one he's currently actually living in. "Whatever, I just need to lay down."

"Don't you have a bed at the Hyperion? Not that I want to know what side of the bed you sleep on and what side Angel sleeps on, but..."

Stab of guilt at the reminder that he really doesn't need, the one thing he's been trying to avoid thinking about. The reason he's here and not there, although he tells himself it's proximity of sunlight that had him turn left instead of right when he hit the boulevard. "Cordy, please, just shut up for now, ok?"

She clicks the lock on the door, speaks over her shoulder to him. "Normally I would slap you, but I'm too tired. You can sleep with me, if you don't hog the covers, the drapes are thin in the living room, don't want to have to vacuum again this week."

She waves off his words of thanks as he follows her into the bedroom and watches her slip into the unmade bed. He shrugs off his jacket, pulls the t-shirt over his head and then stops. Gives serious consideration to the action of climbing into bed with her without his pants on and decides that's not the best idea he's ever had although it's tempting to think of all her warmth right up against his skin. Decides against pissing off the owner of his only haven for the moment, removes boots and socks, literally crawls up the bed and under the shimmery pink coverlet. Listens to the deep and slow rhythm of her breathing, startlingly odd to him after months of total silence and cool arms wrapped around him. Turns to his side as his eyes slide shut and tries to find a way to block out the rushing of her blood, thud of her pulse, sweet scent of her skin-citrus bath-wash, mango lotion, deodorant, a myriad of scents, all hers and enveloping him. Struggles to find that gaping hole of exhaustion that was so ready to tug him down not very long ago. Down to the dreams where he jumps from disjointed reality to blood soaked no-man's land, and he doesn't know if that's a better place than this horrible fear and regret zone in his waking mind.

Cordelia manages to remove the possibility of sleep altogether when she presses herself back against him with a sigh, turning so that her head tucks under his chin, breasts a soft weight against his chest, slim thighs burning him through the leather pants. Xander lets his head slip down, nose buried in her hair, flip frames of memories shuffling behind his eyelids.

//Cordelia pressed against him in some anonymous closet, clutching hands and wet mouth and throaty moans of pleasure as they kiss and rub against each other. Front seat of Cordelia's car, passenger seat reclined, weight of her body as she lies on him and lets him touch her anywhere he can reach. One hand under her sweater and the other on the curve of her ass while she pants in his ear and urges him on.//

Xander drags himself back to the present with an extreme force of will. He tries to push her away, but at the touch of his hand on her hip she snuggles up closer, slips her arms around his waist and lets her head roll against his bicep. Her calf slithers in between his own, and he's trapped. Ignores the heavy tug of want that pools in his abdomen, shifts his hips to will away the beginnings of an erection and relaxes tense muscles as best as he can.

Within minutes he's asleep, and Cordelia is drooling on his arm. His body finally gives up on him after an hour of tensed muscles and attempts to dislodge himself. He rolls into that place that use to hold nothing and now flings Willow's face at him through-out the morning.

== == == == ==

He teases her about the droolage later in the day when she wakes him, and she threatens to have Dennis toss his undead, white ass out on the balcony. The familiarity of their bantering soothes him as they head over to the Hyperion, Cordelia driving the rented car and him lying on the backseat under a blanket.

His body thrums when he steps into the building, every cell on alert, and he knows Angel is there, upstairs and still sleeping. It tears at him, need to just go up there, be with him and heed the blood call, which is buffeted by the unmitigated shame of all the shit that he's gotten himself into since he left. Xander follows Cordelia up the steps from the basement and over to the phone on the desk, sees the little light on the answering machine blinking. He wonders who the call is from, Willow or Giles or Buffy, someone reporting him so that they can all take up stakes and crosses, because he's gone and proved himself to be evil and stupid in one fell swoop. All his own doing, and he considers the lost possibility of explaining to Cordelia what happened as soon as she opened her door. Didn't even consider it, and he thinks that means something, the need to confess gone, but he doesn't know what.

Cordelia presses play, listens to Willow's high pitched voice stutter out her message and turns to Xander with one eyebrow raised. "I'm willing to bet that is about you, huh?" She hits the erase button, and he feels a swell of gratitude as the robotic voice announces that they have no new messages.

He rubs the back of his neck, looks down at the tips of his boots and then peers up at her from the corners of his eyes. "Could we..."

"Not talk about it? You're like a skipping cd. Whatever you did, everyone will find out sooner or later. Not a lot of secrets around here. It's you're funeral...uh..." Stutters to a stop with the hint of a blush on her cheeks as she realizes what she's said, and he just grins at her.

"Right. I'm gonna get a cup of coffee, extract your foot from your mouth anytime." Saunters off to fetch himself as many blood bags as he can stuff into the microwave.

Cordelia calls after him as he disappears into the kitchen. "I'm not the one Willow is leaving messages about." She jumps a foot when the voice comes from behind her, more from guilt than from surprise.

"What was Willow's message about?"

"God, Angel, stop with the stealth thing." She huffs over to the desk, heels clicking on the tile and tries to compose himself. Turns and sees him standing with arms crossed, waiting for her answer. She flips her hand at him. "Oh, you know, nothing. I called her the other day to find out how Xander was. No big."

"And he's currently in the kitchen? He arrived during daylight?" His expression is carefully neutral, voice betraying none of the emotions that rage through him -anger, hurt, eagerness to see Xander again.

"Take that one up with him." She sits at the desk, scoots the chair up to the computer and boots it up, ignoring him completely, willing him to just go away and let her get on with her routine.

Angel watches her, restrains himself from going over and grabbing her by the arm, shaking her until she squeals. Heaves a sigh and mutters, "Sometimes I feel like I have four children," as he pads down the hallway towards the scent of blood and his childe.

Stands in the doorway and watches as Xander rinses out his cup, coppery tang of reheated blood heavy in the air. He notes six empty bags lying stacked on the counter before he speaks. "Xander?"

He half turns from the task which has now extended past the amount of time needed to clean one cup and tips his chin at Angel. "Hey."

"That's all I get?" Angel comes closer, nostrils flaring as he picks up the layers of scent surrounding Xander, physical and emotional rolled together into something thick and almost tangible. He gets a dizzying whiff of Cordelia-smell wound all around Xander's own, and the mental image that fosters causes his steps to falter. Incredibly clear visuals hit him, Xander flat on his back, hands gripping Cordelia's hips as she slithers down the length of him. Both of them naked, Cordelia flushed, hair tousled and mouth swollen, Xander's eyes heavy -lidded as she licks her way down his chest, pink-tipped nails trailing behind, scratches appearing and disappearing in the pale alabaster of Xander's skin. Envisions her mouth as she takes him between her lips, swallows him down, can hear so clearly the sighs and moans of pleasure that Xander makes, the sounds that Angel thought were his alone, the same way he believed he owned the expression Xander makes as he approaches orgasm, eyes wide, bottom lip between his teeth.

All of this in a split second as he breathes in the odor and his mind colors it red with hurt and betrayal, jealousy whipping his temper up to frighteningly higher peaks with every inhalation. But he just can't seem to stop himself from doing it, anymore than he can lose the image that's burned into his brain - Cordelia riding Xander, and Xander calling her name as he comes. He flashes on whether it's Xander with another that pisses him off so badly or it's this one particular other.

"You want a hug?" Xander finally puts the cup down, twists the handle to stop the flow of water and turns to face him.

"No, more like an explanation as to why you arrived out of the blue and during the day." Angel stops at the table, one hand extended and flat against the scarred surface.

Xander can see the way he's holding himself still, he knows Angel is both irritated and confused; his body language and pheromones proclaim it loud and clear. "I got back last night." Casual lift of one shoulder, almost a shrug but not quite, attempt at nonchalance to mask the screeching in his head that this is the time, the one where he meets the otherside of this reality. And he can't remember being this scared. Not when Angel busted him before, not when he realized he'd almost turned Willow, not when he thought the Master had killed Buffy. He's learned to control his scent some, though, so he concentrates on that. Keeps as much of the fear in the back of his mind as he can, puts indifference to his fate at the front. He brought it all on himself anyway.

"Strange, I didn't hear you come in or feel your side of the bed sink down." Grit under velvet, and Xander's heard this voice so many times, for informants and Wolfram and Hart employees and only once before for him.

"Probably because I went over to Cordelia's." Angel's closer now, right up on him, and Xander wants to hang his head, bare his neck, anything to achieve a lessening of his own guilt, a lightening of the expression on Angel's face to get it down and over, the fight to keep his emotions in check is burning up the blood he just devoured, and he knows he won't be able to keep it up long. When Angel gets the terror vibe, the game's over.

"Which I would have known anyway since you smell like her double." Small sniff to enhance the statement.

"Probably."

"What's going on?" One hand on either side of Xander, not quite touching him but effectively pinning him against the countertop.

"What're you talking about?" Lets Angel assess him, steal his space and hem him in. Almost wants to laugh that this conversation seems to make as little sense to him as it does to Angel.

"Why did you go over to Cordelia's instead of coming home?" Flick of a pink tongue over a jutting bottom lip, and Xander knows that means focus, and he's the point where the lines meet.

Another of those half shrugs and Xander swallows hard. "Just did."

"Why do you smell like you were rolling around with her?" And the facade is dropped, there's no more pretense in either expression or voice, there's hurt there and it hits Xander like a physical blow. Hurt was not an option he expected, not from Angel, not again. Files it away for later.

"She must have drooled on me." His own voice breaks before he can help it, and even though he's not lying, the stress of concealing all that has sent him running back to here is almost on the surface. He doesn't know how to react to the Cordelia issue being what has him in trouble, relieved beyond measure that Angel's absorbed with that instead of asking about the trip, but all the same he's freaked.

"Xander. I am willing to make concessions for you being a little off because you must've had a hard time in Sunnydale, but what I'm getting here is that you came back to LA and had another trip down memory lane with Cordelia, and I'm not beating the hell out of you right now because I'm waiting to hear you tell me differently." Voice rising as he ends the speech, hands clenched into fists whether he realizes it or not, and Angel takes one step back, allows himself some space to swing and waits to hear the explanation.

"I slept with Cordelia...." That's all he manages before he's on the floor, face numb from the force of Angel's blow, lip cut and bleeding. He sits there, blinking stupidly and staring up at Angel as Cordelia rushes in, Wesley on her heels. They skid to a stop as Cordelia spies Xander on the floor, Angel looming over him, one fist still clenched at this side, the other hand splayed on the counter as if to steady himself.

She puts her hands on her hips, one foot thrust out in front of her, hair swaying as she looks back and forth between the combatants. "You two are like an after school special! Give it a rest!"

Wesley peers over her shoulder, concern for them both written on his face. His eyes linger on Xander where his lip still bleeds and skitter up to Angel who has begun to breathe through his open mouth. Considers adding something to the conversation but cannot imagine what would be helpful other than removing himself and Cordelia from what is apparently a serious Sire/childe matter. And one he is not desirous of learning the details of.

"Get away from me." Angel turns towards them both, eyes glinting golden at the outer rings of brown, but his words are for Cordelia.

Xander sighs from his place on the floor, wipes the back of his hand across his mouth and chin, crimson smears staining white skin. "Angel..."

"Shut UP!" Head swivels back towards Xander , eyes completely golden but still somehow telegraphing as much pain as anger.

"Angel, really, I think it best if you calm down." Wesley speaks quietly, takes a tentative step towards Angel and halts when he turns to look at him this time, brow furrowing as all the interruptions in his need to deal with this immediate situation begin to make him lose the focus of his anger.

Cordelia takes the opportunity to run over to Xander, kneels down and touches his face hesitantly. Xander looks past her to address Angel again. "I slept with her as in SLEEPING. As in NOT sex."

Cordelia's eyes go wide and she jumps to her feet. Steps right on up to Angel, puts a hand on his chest, fingers spread as she pushes him "You thought I had sex with Xander? Ewwwww! Can you say over it?"

"Why did you go there instead of here then?" Angel's voice drops, tightness falling out of it, eyes shimmering back to brown.

"It was almost dawn, and it was closer, I thought I might get caught out in the light." Xander strives to match the tone, stays quiet, keeps himself still. He can't bring himself to be angry at the blow, knows he deserves it and more for past transgressions that Angel is all too unaware of. Makes it easier for him to stay calm here, ease the situation along to a conclusion where no more blood is spilled and no more beatings occur. Plus, Angel will be contrite and guilty, not too probing about the separation.

"Why did you leave so late?" Moving forward tentatively, roll of his shoulders in the small steps, and Xander knows if Angel were less of a stoic, he might start crying any minute.

"Bad planning on my part." Xander considers this the truth, bad planning on his part all around, from the minute he got to Sunnydale it was all bad spiraling into worse. Shouldn't have gone alone; shouldn't have gone at all.

Wesley clears his throat. "Well, now that everyone's sex life is cleared up, Cordelia, why don't we see about those files?" He takes her upper arm and guides her out, door swinging closed behind them with a rush of air.

Angel finishes the walk over to him, head down. "Are you ok?"

"Been better." Runs his hand along his jaw, feels the soreness already lessening, the cut on his lip closing.

Angel crouches with a sigh of regret, and he shakes his head. "I'm sorry, I..."

"Had a complete break down? Yeah, I noticed."

"Sometimes I don't think before I act." Fingers reaching out to hover over the cut on Xander's lip.

Xander bites down on his initial response //yeah, I noticed that, too// and instead asks, "You're that jealous of Cordelia?"

Angel manages to look contrite and embarrassed in equal measures. "You did have something with her in the past, and she's welll..."

"Stacked?" Xander supplies helpfully, definitely *not* thinking about her pressed up against him this morning, rounded softness and feminine heat everywhere.

"Pretty much." Ghost of a grin as he acknowledges the accuracy and falls the rest of the way to the floor to his knees. Xander spreads his own, forgiveness in the gesture as Angel settles on the ground.

"Did you miss me?" Wanted to go for a comical tone after the recent scene, but there's a crack in his voice on the delivery.

Angel considers him, head cocked to the side. "You want a poem?"

"Maybe some flowers, chocolates, you know the routine." Xander swallows as Angel comes closer, arms reaching out to pin him against the wall.

"This routine?" he asks, tip of his tongue visible between parted lips, and Xander nods.

Angel unfurls his legs to cock them over both of Xander's, traces the cut on Xander's lip as his eyes fall shut and his mouth opens. No way to resist the offer of what he is barely willing to admit himself - that he *has* missed this, and as he kisses the boy, he wonders how wrong it is to have allowed this to be. That he's grown used to the companionship, the company. And more than that, more than just the hard body that's writhing against his, responding to his touch. He's missed Xander, in all his quirkiness and anger, his rebellion and wit. His weight in the bed, his mess in the bathroom, Xander's mouth under his own or trailing down his body to suck and lick and bring him arching off the bed in climax after climax. Possessiveness only part of it, and recognizing that it's growing towards more than that doesn't even give him a second's pause.

Angel shimmies closer, gets their pelvises aligned just right, and savors the luxury of reclaiming what he's been thinking about every unoccupied minute since Xander left him behind and went off to Sunnydale and the old life Angel was afraid of losing him to. Pulls back when Xander yanks at the back of his hair.

"Wes's outside." Whispered in the almost unspoken manner that comes naturally to the undead. He smiles back at the boy, shakes the hand out of his hair.

"Yeah, you noticed that?" Leans back in, but Xander turns his head to the side.

"You think he's spying on us?" So close to make-up sex, Angel's even more annoyed than usual with this untimely interruption.

"I think he probably wants a cup of tea. More importantly, should I be caring?" Is about to grin at his own remark when Xander shoves him back with two hands on his chest.

"Can we go upstairs? I really don't want Cordelia clearing the path for him to get to the stove." He starts a scramble to get up, untangling his legs from the longer ones pinning him down. Angel pitches forward in a blur, pinning Xander to the ground. His control is slipping and his voice raises in volume.

"I don't want to wait until we get upstairs. I missed you. I can't believe you're making me beg for a cuddle, but I guess you deserve it for the hook to the jaw. Just a few minutes." Xander relaxes under him, brings one hand up to stroke the backs of his fingers against the side of Angel's face.

"You missed me?" So choked and needy, Angel is surprised.

"Every minute of every day."

== == == == ==

Wesley steps away from the door, embarrassment at having overheard the interlude taking a backseat to his growing concern about what was said. There was excitement in those voices, obviously, want and need in the tone. But wasn't there also the most definite sound of...affection?

His heart rate gives a jump, adrenaline washing over him in a wave of heat turning to numbing cold. The hand holding his mug begins to tremble, and Wes stares at it as he tries to gather his thoughts and remain calm. Certainly affection between even casual lovers is to be expected, and one needn't assume that there would be more than that. Sire and childe, one would assume *something * between them, some spark of family bond. Surely there is nothing to be worried about, the curse is so non-specific about the precise definition of 'perfect happiness.' And after all, would Angel ever be able to feel true happiness knowing the burden of the curse itself was hovering over him every moment?

//Right, I'm going to have some tea and help Cordelia with those files and that's enough of that. Of course, no harm in checking the Codex again. A bit of research is in order, just to see what prophecies are coming to pass, perhaps double check the Scrolls one more time. Cross referencing is highly under rated. Yes, that's it, I'll get on that as soon as I've had my tea.//

Wesley hears the murmuring of vampires' voices, sounds of bodies shifting, weight on the floorboards creaking as they leave the kitchen with hurried steps. Thankful that they've taken the back stairs, he enters the blissfully empty kitchen and stops short at the microwave. Notes the stack of blood bags that haven't managed to find their way into the trashcan yet, counts them slowly, plastic rippling under his fingertips. Sets his mug in the sink, tosses the stained containers into the bin underneath and moves a little quicker on his way back to the office.

//Perhaps the tea can wait...//

== == == == ==

//Wesley and brown water. It must be some kinda addiction, not a normal one, like for coffee. I wouldn't even go in the kitchen now for a caffeine fix. Right, there's caffeine in tea, like there's nutrition in Little Debbie's. Maybe he'll have to wait in the hall while Brood Boy and Junior get it on…yeah, it's my chance to call Willow on Angel's dime. Find out the dealio…no, can't hear Wes beating a hasty retreat…//

"Hello? Angel?"

"You get caller ID?"

"Cordelia?"

"The one and only, except not, the only me, not the only one with that name."

"Is there something wrong? Not that I mind you calling or anything…"

"There's nothing wrong with ME, what's wrong with you?"

"What makes you think something's wrong with me?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe the spazz call."

"You check the messages. I thought that could be the case."

"Getting back to the topic you're avoiding, why did you call?"

"Uh, did Xander maybe show up there last night?"

"Sure did."

"And?"

"And he slept at my apartment because it was almost morning AND then Angel belted him in the face for it when he found out."

"He hit him for sleeping at your place? Not for, I don't know, something else?"

"Like not calling?"

"No. Something else?"

"Something else, huh? You gonna tell me what that would be?"

"Xander didn't say anything?"

"If he did, would I be asking you? I'm not tricky like that."

"Well, I don't know if I should…"

"Shit, Wes's coming, gotta go, bye!"

*click *

"Cordelia, what're you doing?" Wesley rounds the check-in desk and starts picking up every book in sight.

"Not talking on the phone long-distance or anything sneaky, if that's what you mean." She flips her hair and acts like she was connecting to internet.

"What? You say the most bizarre…at any rate, I need you to help me locate some books."

== end part IX==

Interlude: Wesley and Gunn



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