Note: I took great liberties with the episode AYNOHYEB, in that Angel had no personal dealings with the Hyperion before, and there was no Judy upstairs.
It was late Thursday night when Xander put in his monthly call to Cordelia. He had spent the evening feeling lonely and depressed, watching God-awful primetime television and drinking beer he had found upstairs in his parents refrigerator. All of these circumstances culminated in his saying yes instead of the usual no when Cordy begged him to come and visit. Somehow Cordelia and LA just didn't seem as bad when you were disgusted with your life and everything in it.
Cordy noticed his mood as soon as he set foot in her apartment on Friday.
"What crawled up your ass and died?" she snapped.
Instantly, Xander regretted making the bus trip to LA. Had he actually thought for a moment that a change of scenery would make him a different person? That getting out of his life for a weekend would change him from the zeppo demon-magnet he was into someone that people respected and wanted around for more than donut duty? Obviously he had been wrong. He might as well turn around and head back to the dank basement, where he would spend his weekend watching television and doing his mother's laundry.
Clearly some of what he was feeling showed on his face, since Cordelia took a step forward and put her hand on his arm. "Hey," she said more softly, "I'm sorry about that, it was just reflex. Like speeding up for a yellow light. What's wrong?"
Xander blinked at her in surprise. Had Cordelia Chase, bitch extraordinaire, just apologized? Apologized to him? Undoubtedly there was something sinister afoot here.
"Are you really Cordelia?" he asked, narrowing his eyes suspiciously.
Now it was the pretty brunette's turn to blink, Xander's question floating through her mind, unable to connect with anything that had preceded it.
"What?" she finally asked.
"You apologized. To me. That's," here he gestured wildly with his hands, unable to find words to describe the inherent wrongness of the situation. "It's really big," he finished lamely.
She blinked again, then smiled. "It's the new me. Wesley was saying something just the other day about how much I've changed from the person I used to be. You know, the bitch?" She raised her eyebrows as Xander nodded reluctantly to that description. "Anyway, I'm not like that anymore. Well," she amended, "not all the time, at least. You know those visions I told you about? Well, they've really made me more aware of the suffering of other people, and less..."
"Self-absorbed?" Xander supplied, then watched in horror as Cordelia's eyes narrowed in a look he remembered only too well from their high school days.
"I was going to say unsympathetic."
"Oh." He attempted a patented Xander grin, only to have it deflate on his face under the crushing weight of his melancholy. As good as he had always been at hiding his true feelings from everyone, he had always felt like Cordelia's sharp eyes had seen through his charade. He felt that now.
"So, are you going to tell me what's wrong or should I get Angel to beat it out of you? Oh wait, he might enjoy that too much. No need to wake up Angelus just to kick your ass. I could probably do it myself anyway."
Xander felt himself drop one more rung down the depression ladder. So even Cordy knew how pathetic and weak he was. That was just wonderful.
Cordelia's face softened as she looked at her former boyfriend, realizing that whatever was wrong had to go pretty deep. Grabbing his hand, she pulled him over to her couch and sat him down, then went into the kitchen to get them some ice cream. Bone-deep depression always cried out for a little Ben and Jerry's Phish Food.
Returning, she handed him a full bowl and a spoon. "Talk," she commanded.
"I don't know what you mean?" he tried, knowing already that it was useless. One way or another, Cordelia was going to get it out of him, and the most painless thing to do would just be to give her what she wanted. He was afraid that if he refused for much longer, the bitch would be back, and he *definitely* was not up to that. Not today.
"I'm waiting," the former cheerleader informed him in her best no-nonsense voice. It was the same voice she used to get delinquent clients to pay up.
Xander took a single bite of the cold, gooey dessert before sitting back on the cushions and sighing. "I just...I just feel like there's no point to me being part of the Scoobies anymore. I mean, Buffy doesn't need me, except to go get snacks and be rescued all the time. I guess nobody told you about my latest feat, did they?" Seeing the blank look on the young woman's face, he continued. "I got put under a vamp's thrall. Dracula - the Dracula, from the book - made me into this bug-eating psycho guy who served him. I was helping him try to kill my friends! Finally Buffy staked him, no thanks to me. I'm so sick and tired of being the guy who's always possessed, or captured, or gets hurt. Talk about your weakest link! I'm completely useless. I'm not even that good at research. Maybe Spike was right - maybe the only reason they keep me around is because they feel sorry for me."
Cordelia waited until there was a break in the rant before she broke in. "Xander, your ice cream is melting." As the young man took another bite of the rich and sticky chocolate, she asked, "Have you said anything to Buffy or Willow about this?"
Xander shook his head as he swallowed. "No. In fact, I hardly see them anymore since they went off to college. Guess they don't have time for someone with just a high school education."
It was Cordelia's turn to sigh as she studied her friend. Apparently there was no discouraging him from feeling sorry for himself. "When do you have to be back in Sunnydale?" she asked.
The dark-eyed man shrugged. "I just lost my pizza delivery gig on Wednesday. It seems that the management frowns on drivers who have to go fight demons in the middle of their shifts. I wonder why? Oh, but the best part was that when I got home, Anya was waiting for me. She thinks we should see other people and just get together for sex occasionally. Yup, that sure was a banner day in Xander country, boys and girls."
"Well, why don't you stay here for awhile? Maybe you just need to get away for a little bit, you know, get some perspective on things. Then you can build your life how you want it, with affirmations and everything."
Seeing Xander's blank stare, she added defensively, "Well, that's what Opera says."
Xander thought about this. "I could really stay here? Maybe for a couple of weeks? I have some money saved, so I can chip in with rent and stuff..."
The brunette shook her long hair. "Don't worry about it. Angel already does, so that's no problem."
The slayerette hesitated, then asked, "Angel?"
"Oh yeah. Angel's been staying here. Our office got blown up last week, so until he gets himself a new, sun-proof apartment, he's been sleeping here during the day. In fact, he's out roaming around the city as we speak, so hopefully it won't be too long until he finds a place."
"Angel's been...staying here?" Xander couldn't help the unmanly squeak that came into his voice when he imagined Angel in Cordelia's bed. Cordy and Angel together. Naked together. Naked together and definitely not sleeping.
"Eww, no!" she yelled, understanding suddenly what Xander meant. "Staying here as in on the couch. By himself. Sleeping. By himself." She glared at him.
"Oh." He couldn't help the relief from being evident in his voice. "Wait. If Angel's sleeping on the couch, where am I sleeping?"
"Well, I figured that since you sleep at night, and he sleeps during the day, you could take turns."
Xander considered this. "Was inviting me down here to stay with you part of some master plan to make Angel find his own place faster?" he asked finally.
Cordelia shrugged. "Maybe. Does it really matter?"
Another thoughtful pause. "I guess not."
"Good." She left the room and came back a second later, carrying clean sheets and towels for him. "Anyway, I'm going to bed now. If you see anything weird in the apartment, it's probably just Dennis. Angel will be back before dawn, though, so be prepared to get up early."
Xander gave her retreating back a weak smile, then set about making up his bed. He was very much not looking forward to running into Deadboy in the wee hours of morning. He supposed that feeling to be mutual, too. How was he going to deal with having Angel at such close quarters over the next few weeks?
Part Two
Xander was woken up the next morning by his bladder, which, as happened every morning, was screaming to be emptied. Because all of the apartment's windows had the shades drawn plus blankets tacked up over them, it was impossible to tell whether dawn was just over the horizon or had happened hours ago. He pushed the indiglo button on his watch: 9:45. Well past dawn. The fact that he hadn't been rudely shaken awake by a vampire with an overactive brood gland made him wonder if Angel had come in at all. He certainly hadn't heard the door open, but then he never did with stealth guy around.
Sighing, he pulled the top sheet back and began walking toward where he thought the bathroom was, only to stumble in the dark over the large, dark-haired figure asleep on the floor.
"Oof," Angel exclaimed, as what felt like a million tons of Xander came toppling down on him.
Xander, who had had a relatively soft landing and wasn't hurt in the least, rolled quickly off the agitated vampire and got back to his feet. "Sorry about that. Are you okay?"
"Dandy," the Irishman muttered, rubbing his arm.
Xander raised his eyebrows. Since when had Broodboy learned to be sarcastic?
"Well, is there anything I can do?"
A sigh in the darkness. "No Xander. Go back to sleep."
"Actually, I need to go to the bathroom. It's this way, right?" He gestured in the shadows, wondering if Angel's vamp vision could make out his motions or if he was just waving his hands for no reason at all like an idiot.
Apparently, the older man could see perfectly fine. "Yes, it's right in front of you. Just walk straight and try not to trip over me on the way out, too."
Xander walked straight until he could feel the door frame in front of him. Then he turned back to the figure still on the floor. "I'm actually going to get up and make breakfast now, since I didn't have any dinner and I'm starving. If you feel like getting off the floor, you're welcome to go sleep on the couch. You can just pull my sheet off, if you want. I'm sure Cordy has another set around here somewhere that we can put on instead..."
The young man could already hear the couch groaning under Angel's weight as the vampire lay down. "Xander, these are fine." Left unsaid, but conveyed by tone alone, was the rest of the message, which said plainly, 'get out of here and let me sleep, moron.'
Xander did just that, flicking on the bathroom light and shutting the door firmly behind him.
* * * * * * *
Xander discovered, glancing through Cordelia's cupboards a few minutes later, that there really wasn't much selection for breakfast. The only real possibility was pancakes, since the pancake mix only needed water added to it; a plus since Cordy had neither eggs nor milk. Nor butter, he realized with a sigh. Only margarine. With a grimace, he tossed a pat into the skillet and watched it turn that nice burned-butter brown shade. Hastily, he added a glop of mix and stood over the stove, watching intently as the pancake began to cook. It had been nearly 18 hours since his last feeding and he was ravenous.
Finally, he had several perfect disks, golden brown on each side, fluffy and crying out for syrup. He got a plate and transferred the last flawless specimen of American breakfast traditions onto it, then turned around to get a fork out of the drawer behind him. When he twisted back to his food, he was just in time to witness Cordelia swooping down, like some horrible brown-haired bird of prey, and grabbing the plate.
"Ooh, I *love* pancakes! Hand me that fork, will you? Yum, yum, yum." Taking his fork and his food, she went and sat down at the dining room table, leaving Xander staring after her with such a sense of loss that he felt like someone had just died. Grumbling more than a little, he got out the box of mix again and started the whole procedure over.
The brunette was just sitting down to eat his breakfast as the sharp-eyed pancake-stealer was finishing hers. She rinsed her plate off, put it in the dishwasher, then resolutely stomped into the living room and woke Angel up.
"What?" asked the dark-haired vampire with a hint of grrr in his voice.
"Did you find anything last night?" she repeated.
Angel sighed and sat up on the narrow couch, rubbing his face with his hands. "Actually, I think I might have. It's an old hotel with a pretty cheap lease. I think the place is probably haunted, just from poking around a little. If we decide to take it, we'd have to do an exorcism."
Cordelia's eyes had widened. "A hotel? A entire hotel just for us? How big is it?"
"Big enough," came the reply from the couch. "In fact, once Wesley gets here, I want you guys to go check it out. And do some research on the history, too, see if we can figure out if it's demon or poltergeist that we're dealing with here. I really think this might be the place for us."
The ex-cheerleader made a noncommittal noise, then stomped off to go take a shower. Xander, finishing his breakfast, realized that there was really nothing for him to do, since the television and all of his stuff were in the living room, and he doubted Angel would take kindly to being woken up again. So, stuck in the dining room alone, he idly flipped open one of Cordy's many magazines - he randomly grabbed a Cosmo - and began reading one of the articles.
He was deeply engrossed in taking the quiz ("Are You a Giver in Bed?") when there was a quiet knock on the front door.
Standing in the hall, looking ill at ease but still smiling, stood Wesley. He seemed surprised to see Xander, and since the two hadn't spoken since the class of '99 graduation day debacle, the conversation that followed as they drank coffee in the dining room (Cosmo abandoned for now) was full of awkward little silences.
"I take it you're staying here, with Cordelia?"
Xander nodded. "Yup. At least for awhile. I have some...things I need to work out before I go back to Sunnydale. She's not too big on the houseguests, though, so if this hotel thingy works out I might go stay there."
Wesley's eyes registered surprise. "Hotel?"
"Yeah. Angel said something about finding a hotel last night that you guys can use as your new offices."
"Did he? I didn't think we had the capital to afford an entire hotel."
"He said something about it being cheap because it's haunted. You'll have to do an exorcism."
Wesley nodded slightly, the surprise sliding off his face and being replaced by a look of tired acceptance. Hauntings and exorcisms were familiar ground, after all. He should have known there was nothing that could happen to them that *didn't* somehow involve paranormal occurrences.
Any further conversation was interrupted by Cordelia softly padding into the room wearing a robe with a towel wrapped around her head. "Hey Wes, did you hear about our new digs?"
"Yes, Xander was just filling me in. It's certain, then, that we're taking them?"
The brunette moved a stack of books off a chair and sat down, vigorously toweling her hair. "No. We don't know what's doing the haunting yet. We'll go over there today and look around. He wants us to do research, too."
"Of course." Wesley folded his hands on the table, already deep in thought. "I don't suppose Angel informed you of any of the characteristics of this haunting? We can try to narrow the possible suspects by looking at the pattern of the manifestations..."
"A big nope. He only said haunted." She turned to the young man on her right. "Xander, if you want to take a shower now, the bathroom's all yours."
* * * * * * *
When he emerged from the large bathroom, steamy tendrils trailing after him into the living room, he found a fully-dressed Cordelia reading aloud the details of several grisly murders committed at the hotel from the Los Angeles Times web archive.
After she had finished, Wesley shook his head. "It still doesn't give us a very clear picture of what we're dealing with. We'll have to go there and attempt to experience the negative energy for ourselves."
As the two employees of Angel Investigations prepared to leave, Xander suddenly realized that he would be left alone in the apartment. Alone with Angel. Possibly for hours. Although the brunette had been looking forward to having some time to think about the mess his life was, having that time spent with Angel - even a sleeping Angel - was suddenly very unattractive.
"Can I come, too?" he asked, feeling ridiculously like a small child.
His ex-girlfriend shrugged. "Sure, but don't you get enough of this stuff in Sunnydale? Ghosts and demons, I mean."
"Hey, you can never get enough of the forces of darkness, that's what I always say." He followed the others out, shutting the apartment door behind him securely.
* * * * * * *
The place was a mess. It was filthy, grimy, dirty, mucky, soiled, dusty, grubby, unclean, polluted, squalid, foul, nasty, run-down, unkempt, and completely unlivable. Xander resigned himself to spending the next two weeks sleeping on Cordelia's couch, knowing that eventually she would revert to her former ways and eviscerate him with a word, as was her style. Two weeks was just too long for anyone to live in such close quarters with such a volatile personality. He began to wonder if he'd actually survive.
He wandered around, touching the various furnishings left over from some by-gone era, and was suddenly overwhelmingly depressed about his life. He really was in a dilemma over what he should do, and abruptly he began to realize that two weeks in LA weren't going to fix the basic problem, which was that he was essentially useless. There was no one in the world who was able to love or care for him, no one who even wanted to be with him, including his parents. He lived in a dank, smelly basement; he couldn't even hold a minimum wage job; his friends only kept him around as someone for themselves to feel superior to. Really, it made much more sense for him to just kill himself and get out of everyone's way. It wasn't like anyone would even miss him anyway.
Looking up, he realized there was a perfect noose hanging from one of the hotel's supporting beams. A tall stool stood just under it. Smiling at the convenience of it all, he stepped up on the stool and set about adjusting the noose around his own neck. He almost had it fitting snuggly enough when Wesley wandered into the room. The ex-Watcher stared, then ran forward and knocked the teenager off the stool and away from the noose.
"What the HELL are you doing?!" Xander demanded, irate.
"What am *I* doing?" the older man sputtered, "you're the one attempting suicide!"
"I was not! I was just..." Xander's eyes were drawn back to the noose, which was swinging slightly, oh-so-invitingly. Realization slammed into the dark-haired man, and he looked at Wesley with wide eyes. "We have to get out of here! Now!"
The two men took off at a dead run, pausing only to collect Cordelia in their hasty retreat from the premises.
"It's a Thesulac demon," Wesley informed them once they were safely driving away. "It induces depression and suspicion in people, usually leading to suicide or murder. That explains the string of murders that have occurred there since the 1950's."
"Can we stop it? We can stop it, right?" Cordelia asked.
"Yes, yes I think so. It's a fairly intricate ritual that will kill the demon, but I'm quite certain that we can perform it successfully." Wesley paused at a stop sign, then made a quick and very illegal U-turn, heading for an occult supply store. "We just need to pick up a few things in order to perform the exorcism," he told his passengers.
* * * * * * *
The three of them arrived back at Cordelia's just before sunset to find a slightly cranky Angel awake and drinking cup after cup of black coffee. Once the vampire had been informed of the day's happenings, Wesley hunted in the books until he found the spell that was needed for the exorcism. Spells, actually, since each person who would take part in the ritual would need to have a protective ward placed around them to repel the demon's negative energy.
Finally ready, the foursome headed back to Los Angeles' version of the Overlook. Cordelia was the first to walk inside the old building, sighing as she did so.
"So glad we had to come back after dark," she muttered sarcastically, "because this dark and smelly building really just wasn't creepy enough during the day." Angel didn't even glance over at her. "Sorry about that, but I really didn't feel -"
" - like bursting into flames today. I know, I know. I've heard it before."
Cordy and Xander were in charge of setting up the candles, salt and other ritual implements while Angel and Wesley would be the ones actually performing the incantations and chants, since none of them were in English.
Once everything was prepared, the two Sunnydale High graduates stood just beyond the confines of the circle and watched the rest of the ritual unfold. It was intricate, as Wesley had warned, and took nearly an hour. At the end, though, there was a brief manifestation of the demon, whose corporal form then crumpled into a mass of white light, which quickly dissipated. After that had happened, there was a shift in the entire building, as if a great weight had been lifted. Even the air seemed lighter.
"So," Cordelia said brightly, "when do we move in?"
The Englishman grimaced. "I think we need to give it an extensive cleaning first," he answered, fingering a dusty seat-cushion.
"Bleh. Tomorrow, okay? Tomorrow we can wallow in dirt and a few gallons of bleach. And roach hotels. And...omigod, do you think this place has rats?" She asked shrilly, her gaze skittering around the room.
Angel stood at the other end of the room, oblivious to the drama unfolding behind him. "We can put a desk here with the computer on it, and my office can be in here, and I can have one of the rooms upstairs..." he began to head up the broken staircase, only to be stopped by Cordelia's yell.
"Angel, what are you doing? We're leaving!" The dark-eyed vampire's face fell like a kid who was told that he hadn't gotten any Christmas presents at all. Muttering to himself, he stomped back down the stairs (being careful not to actually stomp through any of the stairs) and rejoined the three humans, all of whom were only too ready to leave.
* * * * * * *
The next evening, through the haze of dust and grime that covered him from head to foot, Xander sought out Angel. The Irishman was surprised at being addressed by the slayerette, who normally avoided him like the plague, unless he was insulting the vampire.
Xander fiddled with the cover to the bottle of cleaning solution he held in his other hand, nervously trying to think of a way to ask a favor from the one man who had good reason to hate his guts.
"Umm. So. I guess you'll be staying in one of the rooms upstairs, once we get around to cleaning it out, right?" When the older man nodded, Xander went on quickly, "So there's going to be room here. I mean, if you ever wanted to have guests. Not like you have to have guests, because you're sort of a solitary guy, but if you wanted to, you could have guests. I mean, it's not like you don't have any friends, because I'm sure - "
Angel held up a hand, silencing the babbling youth. "Xander, are you asking if you can stay here for awhile?"
"Yeah. I mean, if you have room. And if you think we could do it without bloodshed, because I gotta tell you, Dea- Angel, I have trouble picturing us getting along."
The vampire shrugged. "It's a big hotel. I'm sure we could work something out."
Xander's eyes shone with exhilaration. "Really? Good. I mean, thanks. A lot. I really appreciate this."
As the teenager turned and walked away, Angel wondered what he had just gotten himself into.