The Quicksand Years

Title: The Quicksand Years
Author: Emmy (emmy7792@aol.com)
Fandom: BtVS/AtS
Pairing: Cordelia/Spike
Rating: 21/Adult: You MUST be 18 to read.
Disclaimer: I own nothing but the plot; the characters and situations belong to Joss Whedon, et. al. No copyright infringement intended.
Summary: A glimpse at what could have been, what might have been, and how things could have ended up...
Spoilers: Season 5 of Angel, Seasons 2-3 of Buffy in particular, but consider everything from any season fair game.
Distribution: Emerald Illusions, SuFic, Vampire Haven LJ, and anywhere I personally post it. All others please ask. I like to know where my stories live.
Warnings: Character Death ... sorta. You gotta read to understand.
Feedback: Yes, please. It makes me all happy-like.

A/N: The title comes from the Walt Whitman poem Quicksand Years. I've included the entire poem below. Also, the quote at the beginning of the story is from a Whitman poem. The poem is Portals. You can find them both in his book, Leaves of Grass.

Quicksand Years

Quicksand years that whirl me I know not whither,
Your schemes, politics, fail, lines give way, substances mock and elude
me,
Only the theme I sing, the great and strong-possess'd soul, eludes not,
One's-self must never give way — that is the final substance — that out
of all is sure,
Out of politics, triumphs, battles, life, what at last finally remains?
When shows break up what but One's-Self is sure?


This fic is dedicated to the fabulous FemailoftheSpecies for her birthday. Hope you like it, Femail!

Thank you to Gabrielle for the beta. All remaining mistakes are mine.

Enjoy!

***


"What are those of the known but to ascend and enter the Unknown? And what are those of life but for Death?"


L.A., 2004

Cordelia closed her eyes as she shut Angel's door behind her. She hadn't expected the time to go by so quickly. They said she'd have about twenty-four hours, but it had seemed to fly by. Though really, she realized, that shouldn't have surprised her. Time always flew by when you were doing something truly important. Still though, knowing that Angel, her friend, was standing just beyond that door listening to the doctor from the hospital tell him that she had died ... that was just a little bit freaky. Even for her.

She wondered, looking back at the door, if he would see her if he came out now. Or had the Powers already worked their mojo? Was she invisible to him? For that matter, she mused, had she already been taken? Perhaps she really wasn't standing in the hallway still. Perhaps they had already whisked her away to whatever sort of life awaited her. She doubted that though. She still had business to take care of after all, and they had promised her she'd get to settle all of the things she desired to. They owed her that much.

Sighing, she walked to the elevator and hit the down button. Waiting for the doors to open, she thought of all the ways she could have handled the day differently, all the ways she could have done better, and silently hoped that what she had managed to do had been enough. She knew she had failed them ... all of them, when she let Jasmine take over her body, not that she'd had much choice in the matter. She had chosen to ascend, though, and had chosen to listen and believe every word Skip fed her. ‘God, I was so stupid,' she thought as the elevator arrived.

Stepping inside, she tried to shake off all the lingering doubt she felt and shifted her focus to what she had left to do. She'd already seen him. Couldn't have missed him if she tried. He had tried to kill her that afternoon, but she knew he hadn't wanted to. Not really. He was too angry at the thought that some demon could be possessing her body to really think about his actions. She'd seen it in his eyes when he came at her. It was good, she thought, that after all this time she could still stir so much fire in him. It made her feel better about all the things she had done wrong in her life. Made her feel like maybe, just maybe, she'd gotten something right. Because he still cared for her, and that was ... that was something to be thought of as a good thing.

At least she hoped so.

Spike had long been one of her deepest secrets. A secret she'd kept for years and had never, ever told anyone. The relationship she had with the blond vampire was one that would shock and shame most people, but she didn't care. Not anymore. Not when she knew she only had a few hours, at best, left in this life. None of the concerns that had seemed so vivid and real before even mattered now. Nothing mattered except finding Spike. Nothing mattered except being able to tell him goodbye.

Because he deserved that much. They both did.

The elevator doors opened at the lobby and her eyes widened as the subject of her thoughts came into view. He was leaning against the wall, staring up at her, and the brunette suddenly had a hard time catching her breath. ‘So beautiful,' she thought. ‘He is so beautiful.'

Almost running off the lift, she rushed into his arms and sighed contentedly as his lips settled instantly over hers. His taste, so very familiar, mixed with the feel of his hands running over her sides and around her back to hold her closer, had Cordelia quickly falling into to the vortex-like pleasure of Spike's embrace. It was always the same. Always. She had lost herself to him the instant he touched her for the first time. She just hadn't known it then.

Her arms tightened around him as he lifted her and turned around, pressing her back into the wall. Wrapping her legs around his waist, she broke the kiss only long enough to breathe before capturing his lips again. His fingertips digging into her hips, she moaned softly as he slipped his tongue into her mouth, seeking hers out.

"Spike," she breathed as he pulled back slightly.

He grinned. "Miss me?"

"Only every day," she smiled back.

"Why'd you stop kissin' me then?"

‘Good question,' she thought as her lips claimed his once more.

***

Sunnydale, January 1998

Cordelia was almost ashamed of herself, though she knew that feeling was more her morals telling her how she should feel than how she really felt. She had been dating Xander in secret for weeks now and yet she still dropped everything and went running to Spike's side every time he called. She tried to rationalize it, tried to write it off as something she had to do or risk being killed, but she knew in her heart why she really went to him.

She enjoyed it.

She had enjoyed absolutely everything Spike had done to her since the night he broke into the school on Parent-Teacher Night. And no one knew about any of it. In fact, Buffy and the rest of them ... they all thought Spike was dead. Not that they thought much of the blond vampire after Angelus returned. Cordelia did, though. He rarely left her thoughts, if she was honest. She had been surprisingly relieved to find out he was not dust, though seeing him in the wheelchair came as quite the shock. He healed quickly though, and now the chair was just for show. She didn't really understand why he was pretending, but she didn't question him about it. She knew better than that.

Cordelia was just happy he would be calling on her once more, though she could never admit that to anyone. No one knew what had happened to her after everyone left the school that fateful night. No one knew she had walked home because her car wouldn't start. No one knew that Spike had taken her by surprise, wrapping an arm around her as a hand settled over her mouth, pulling her into the bushes behind the football field. And no one would ever believe that she had somehow persuaded him to let her give him head in exchange for her life. Or that Spike had been so intrigued by how turned on she had gotten by going down on him that he decided it might be worth his while to let her live after all.

He had taken her virginity that night on the cold ground behind the stadium, and even he had trouble believing that she had been untouched before then. Spike had walked her home that night and told her that, if she wanted to live, she would have to come to him whenever he called. What she never told him was that he really didn't have to threaten her ... she would have gone anyway, no matter how stupid she knew it was. She was just that attracted to him.

Their relationship, if you could even call it that, was sexual and nothing more. Cordelia knew that. But she didn't care that he was using her. She loved the way he made her feel, and when it came down to it, she was using him, too. He gave her what she wanted, she did the same for him. They had a nice little arrangement.

That was why she had blown off Xander, and the little twinges of shame, to go to Spike that night. She knocked on the hotel room door and waited for him to open it. She didn't have to wait long. He was wearing nothing but a pair of jeans, the top button undone, and she could tell he'd just gotten out of the shower. Her breathing grew shallow and her body began to tingle in anticipation, and he had smirked arrogantly as he watched -- smelled -- her reaction.

"Cheerleader."

"Spike."

No other words were needed. They never were. He took her by the hand and pulled her to him, kissing her soundly before leading her to the bed. Cordelia didn't close her eyes when he touched her. She didn't have to pretend with him. Not like she did with Xander.

She was exactly where she wanted to be.

***

L.A., 2004

Her legs still wrapped around his body, Cordelia moaned into the kiss as Spike slipped his hands beneath the hem of her shirt. She could feel his growing erection pressing into her and reached down to tug at his jeans. "We don't have much time," she whispered.

Spike blinked at her. "What do you mean?"

Swallowing hard, she said, "They could take me away any minute. They said I had time to settle things, but they're not always good at keeping their word."

"Who? What are you talking about?"

"The Powers That Be."

Spike sat her down. "What?"

"I, um," Cordelia wasn't sure how to even begin. "I never woke up. Not really. The Powers made me a deal. They said I could come back here and settle things, say goodbye, as long as I did my best to set Angel back on the right path."

Narrowing his eyes, Spike shook his head. "That's shit. Don't believe you."

"No, Spike, I'm serious," she tried again. "I was only allowed to come back because I agreed to try to help Angel."

"It's always about bloody Angel, isn't it? Everyone, everything, it's always about him."

Cordelia's eyes filled with tears. "No. No, baby. Not us," she kissed him. "Not this."

"This?" he pushed himself away from her. "This, Cordelia? Sex?"

She closed her eyes. "It's always been more than that and you know it. It's always been more than just sex with us. We just never wanted to admit it."

"Oh really?"

A tear slipped down her cheek. "You're just doing this because I'm going to have to leave for real this time and we can't get around it. Please stop. Spike, please don't let things end this way. Not with us fighting. Please."

A strangled sound escaped him then, and he crushed her to him. Cordelia wrapped her arms around him and kissed his neck, his chin, his lips. "I missed you so much. I need you so much. Always need you."

His eyes flashed yellow as he pulled her into a passionate kiss, and she gripped his hair, pulling him to her, giving as good as she got.

***

Sunnydale, November 1998

She had been in the hospital for what felt like days, though she knew that couldn't possibly be true. Her parents were on their way home from Sacramento and would take her home the next morning, but all Cordelia could really focus on was how alone she felt.

Xander had come to see her, but she hadn't even been able to look at him. She was so very angry at what he'd done to her, she couldn't even think about looking at him without cringing. In her heart she knew she had no right to blame him, to be angry at him, but she still was. Even though she had cheated on him, fucked Spike, so many times since they'd gotten together that she had lost count. That didn't make what Xander had done to her hurt any less. It just proved that neither one of them had ever truly committed to the relationship.

She sighed softly as the door to her hospital room opened and closed. She heard someone come in and closed her eyes. "Just leave me alone, please."

"No."

Her eyes snapped open. "Spike?"

She tried to sit up, to roll over, but he was at her side instantly, his hand on her shoulder. "Don't move. You'll hurt yourself."

Cordelia looked up at him, surprised to see the concern in his eyes. "They said you were gone, that you'd left town."

He shrugged. "Came back."

"Why?" she couldn't help but ask.

"I wanted to see you. Make sure you were really all right."

She blinked. "Really?"

Spike nodded before settling himself on the bed beside her, gathering her body gently in his arms. "You are my girl, aren't ya? What kind of bloke would I be if I didn't check in on you?"

She didn't say a word, choosing instead to kiss him briefly before allowing him to press her head into his chest. They lay there like that, in silence, for hours, it seemed. Spike stroked her hair as Cordelia drifted in and out of sleep, and if any of the nurses came in while he was there, she never noticed.

He loved her tenderly that night, his mouth licking and sucking at her skin. He traced every single one of her stitches with his tongue and loosened one with his teeth, causing blood to begin to ooze from her wound. She moaned softly as he lapped at the liquid as his fingers slipped inside of her. He sent her over the edge time and again, first with his fingers and then with his mouth, and never once did he even suggest she reciprocate. That's why watching him come as she stroked him felt almost as good as the things he did to her ... he hadn't expected it.

Sleep found her easily later, her head pillowed on his shoulder. She slept soundly and wasn't surprised when she woke to find him gone. The slight ache between her legs and on her side where he'd pulled out her stitch the only physical signs that he'd been there at all. Or so she thought until she found the rose. A purple rose with a note, the words "feel better, luv," written in neat script sat on the table beside her bed. That was the only flower out of all the blossoms given to her during her hospital stay that she kept.

***

L.A., 2004

She didn't know how long they had been kissing, or whose office they had invaded, but Cordelia moaned loudly as Spike finally unbuttoned her shirt and lowered his mouth to her lace covered breast. She slipped her fingers into his hair and shivered as his tongue circled her hard nipple. Pressed against the office door, her body tight with tension and need, she looked down at him. "Spike," his name was a whisper and he lifted his head.

Lowering her lips to his, she kissed him tenderly. "Make love to me ... just this once, make love to me."

They both knew what she was asking, and her eyes shone bright with unshed tears as he lifted her into his arms and carried her to the couch on the other side of the room. Neither of them rushed through the motions as they always had before. There was nothing frantic about this encounter. They took their time, building the pleasure up inside of both of them, stroking and kissing themselves into a quiet, tender frenzy. They held tight to each other, their eyes locked together, as Spike slipped into her.

The harsh sound of Cordelia's breathing mixing with the soft noises she made echoed off the walls. Spike moaned, too, into her neck as he thrust into her. She met each movement with her hips, taking his cock as deeply inside her as she could. They rocked together, their bodies entwined in passion, and Cordelia cried out her release as Spike sank his fangs back into the wound he'd made earlier, both of them coming as her blood poured into his mouth.

He held her tight as they came down, and Cordelia ran her hands over his muscular back. "Thank you for coming to see me."

Spike stilled. "You knew I was there?"

She nodded, looking up at him. "I knew when everyone came by ... Angel and Wesley came about once a month. Gunn and Fred less than that, but I didn't mind. I thought they were all getting on with their lives. I had no idea they had sold their freakin' souls to this place."

"That was a fucked-up decision on Peaches' part."

She smiled. "Yeah. I think he's getting that."

"You knew I was there, though?" Spike asked, steering the conversation back to him.

Her smile widened to a grin. "You always brought me roses, purple ones. I always wanted to smell them ... to say thank you, or to just be able to squeeze your hand when you held it. Something to let you know I knew you were there."

He kissed her gently before moving off of her. "You're telling me now."

"Yeah."

They got dressed in silence, the inevitable time when she would have to leave looming over them. She sat next to him on the couch and leaned into his embrace as he wrapped an arm around her. "I hated it, being trapped inside my own body. Today, tonight, this is the first time I've been me in a really long time."

"I know."

"I'm going to miss you."

"I know."

Her eyes filled with tears for what felt like the hundredth time that day. "I love you, Spike. You know that, right?"

He brushed a kiss along the side of her head. "Yeah, Cordelia. I know."

It was time and she knew it, but suddenly she wished she could take it all, the entire day, just so she could relive these last moments with Spike. She turned his face toward hers and captured his lips, kissing him. She poured as much of herself as she possibly could into the kiss and, as the Powers That Be began to pull her from the world, she wondered whose tears she felt on her cheeks. But whether they were hers or Spike's, it really didn't matter.

There was no turning back now.

End fic.