TITLE: Afterworld (1/1) Sequel to Underworld

DISCLAIMER: Everyone belongs to Joss Whedon and all those XF folk who write, produce and direct A:TS, wisely defected to the show that is, from the show that was.

FEEDBACK: is manna from heaven, PLEASE

RATING: PG-13, some sexual content, features a non-consensual scene that may disturb sensitive readers.

SPOILERS: Maybe a little for BTVS season 3: Dead Man's Party.

CATEGORY: D/C, mainly A/C

SUMMARY: Uh...trauma, angst, comfort.

DISTRIBUTION: Anywhere, ask first?

AUTHOR'S NOTES: The event at the end of "Hero" doesn't take place in my universe, hence neither does "Expecting". This is part of a series but works as a standalone too.

DEDICATION: To jras, for calling and for visiting in between larps, and oh 10,000 other little reasons :)

The PG13 version.

"hey you gender nectar

crystalline from the vine

you know you'll drink her

rolling and unrolling

coiling, emerging

running free running through

the afterworld into your room

so she prays for a prankster

and lust in the marriage bed

and he waits til she can give

and he waits and he waits"

Tori Amos "Lust"

----------------------------

"Cordy!"

Xander stumbled down the stairs in his haste to reach his girlfriend.

"Xander"

He gathered her in his arms, checking her over carefully.

"Are you alright? No...no zombie got you did he?"

Cordelia shook her head, settling into his embrace as around them people emerged from the debris that had once been Joyce Summer's pretty home.

"A real Buffy party huh"

At her shaky whisper Xander tightened his arms around her.

"Yeah, pity about the gatecrashers...just when I was starting to enjoy myself..."

He nuzzled her neck to emphasize what he was referring to.

"Now, what were you saying about my Nighthawk gear?"

She giggled, squirming as his lips tickled her earlobe.

Xander smiled and shifted into his sleazy voice.

"Whaddya say we take our own little party back to my place..."

"Xander..."

She started to protest but her words were ignored as Buffy moved into his spotlight. The fight had diffused the tension in the group and they made up as Cordelia hung back. Various acerbic comments jostled to pass her lips but she held her tongue, even when Xander lingered in a hug with Buffy. It was obvious how much the slayer meant to him. A little too obvious. Cordy frowned. These guys were so sappy now it was intolerable, not to mention cold on the fringes.

"I'm bored."

Xander returned to her side as Buffy turned her big doe eyes to her watcher, who puddled as usual. Oh yeah, it was gonna be real hard for Buffy to rule in Sunnydale again, NOT.

Cordelia slid her hand into her boyfriend's.

"Xander what was that you were saying about going home?"

Now she had his attention again, and she smiled up at him, meeting his lust filled eyes with just a touch of trepidation. Xander didn't notice, just hurried her out the door. Or what was left of the door.

-------------------------------------------

They crept into his basement, there was a spare bed down there and it was sound-proof enough that his parent's wouldn't notice his return. They were kinda funny about Xander having girls over at night. Cordelia could see their point, Xander was as horny as they come, and she'd known a lot of horny teenage boys. Of course she always bailed from the relationships before that point, long before they could legitimately even be called relationships. Generally lasting as long as the boy would wait before pressurizing her too much, and with high school boys, it didn't take long. At least with Xander his bedpost was decidedly notch-free and most of the time he didn't push very hard. She knew he was as scared as she was, so it was only when he was really really turned on that his arousal overcame his fear, and he pushed her. Like tonight. She would never have kissed him like that if they hadn't been in public, with lots of people around, including Buffy. That was when she had nibbled his ear, and broke his concentration on the blonde. He had dragged her into a corner and all but mauled her after that, but it had been safe, controlled mauling. Plenty of people, and she had achieved her objective, Buffy was put in her place.

Not that she couldn't control Xander. She could always control men. She ignored the small voice that whispered that some day someone would call her on the yet unfulfilled promise of sex her every batted eyelash and low cut blouse suggested.

"So, you want me to?"

Cordy blanched.

"What?!"

He moved toward her in the dark, his hands finding her hips and pulling her in. His lips closed over hers, silencing her protests. Cordelia stiffened in Xander's arms and he pulled back a little.

"D-do what Xander?"

She had trouble catching her breath after his kiss.

"Get my Nighthawk gear out?"

She breathed.

He moved in again.

"Do a little ravishing...or we could just-"

Cordy interrupted him.

"Yes! Let's do Just. Just whatever. Not the, uh, other thing."

Xander raised his eyebrows.

"Well I was going say we could just cut to the ravishing, your wish is my command Princess!"

His hands still on her hips he slowly guided her backwards to the bed.

"No! I mean...uh, I don't see why we have to skip the Nighthawk part, do we?"

Xander smiled in amusement.

"Okay. I'll be right back."

He disappeared, creeping upstairs on tiptoe. Maybe he'd wake his mother and she'd make him go to bed. Or maybe a timely monster would crash through the window. Cordelia glanced over at the little ventilation window. Ok, a small monster. Maybe. She sat down on the bed her hands twisting in her lap. Then thought better of the bed and stood up again, looking this time to the door. She could just leave - take her chances in the night with any stray zombies left over from the party. She shuddered. She knew if she went home Xander would insist on walking her, and then on his way back alone he'd die horribly at the hands of said zombie and she'd be left to feel guilty for the rest of her young life.

"Great Cordy, just great."

She muttered to herself and began to pace. What now? Should she go through with it? She loved him, right? They'd been dating for a while, he was good to her, sweet and kind, and usually gentle, at least physically. He wasn't afraid to take her down verbally, but she gave as good as she got so she couldn't really blame him when he was mean like that.

She sighed, knowing at some sixteen year old cheerleader level of logic that she should sleep with him, that it was overdue really, and should just be gotten over with. And she wasn't afraid of it hurting, she was a Sunnydale girl, devoted her summer to slaying, no stranger to getting hurt, uh uh, no sir.

So why was she so scared?

She jumped when Xander reappeared, clad all in black, upturned collar and stealth gear.

"What have we here? One beautiful young girl, alone and frightened of the Bad Things that Lurk in the Dark. Never fear little one, NightHawk is here!"

She couldn't help herself, she smiled. For all her protestations of equality, she loved Protective!Xander, it was a role in which he was all hers. Buffy had never needed nor indulged his instincts to be The Man.

"Look out! Get back beautiful, an evil vampire is after your tender virgin flesh!"

"Xander!"

Her protest was lost in giggles as he pushed her back on the bed, placing himself between her and an imaginary but nefarious vampire. A fierce battle ensued, Xander wielding an improbable weapon of fabric softener and calling out to her in simulated pants and gasps, with a few exclamations of pain thrown in for good measure.

"Stay back fair maiden...this...evil, ugly...brute won't harm you...not while Nighthawk is around! Get back you demon...all brooding good looks, all sensitive mouth and overhanging forehead...I won't let you have her, she's mine! Take that...and that...AHA!"

Xander staked the air with a clothes peg.

"He's dust sweet girl, fear no more!"

He collapsed onto the bed in mock exhaustion. Unable to resist playing along Cordy managed to stifle her giggles long enough to tend to her wounded hero. She knelt over him and smoothed a dark lock of hair off his forehead.

"My brave boy, all tired out saving my life."

Xander reached out and snagged her wrist.

"Not that tired m'lady."

With that he suddenly flipped her over so that he was on top and she was pinned beneath him. He swooped in and captured her lips with his, sinking into a deep kiss and lowering himself onto her, lost in the moment.

She began to struggle against him, feeling suffocated.

"I get it, sweet maiden, wouldn't be right if you didn't put up a fight."

He smirked lazily. His voice was a thick murmur, his eyes glazed over with lust. He sank back into the kiss. Cordelia tried to turn her face away but his hand entangled itself in her hair at the back of her neck and held her head still as he continued to plunder her mouth. His other hand pushed up her blouse.

Her resistance had been token until then, but apparently the signal that she was uncomfortable was not heeded. Using the arm which wasn't pinned beneath him, Cordelia placed her hand against Xander's chest and pushed with all her strength. He broke the kiss once more.

"Xander stop it!"

He smiled, and lunged. She fended him off, fear rising in the pit of her stomach.

"I'm not playing a game, I mean it Xander, I want you to stop."

He stared at her, his eyes pools of black, and spoke with incredulity and scorn.

"Cordy love, this is what you wanted, you practically begged me to bring you here, and the Nighthawk thing - your idea!"

"I know, I'm sorry, can we stop now? You're scaring me, I want to go home."

Above her Xander's face twisted into an ugly frown, she had never seen his eyes like this, so dark. From somewhere the smell of stale cigarettes mingled with his sweat, cheap aftershave and the aftertaste of the spiked punch from the party. She felt nauseous, and completely out of her depth.

"Not a chance darling. Not til I've got what I want from you."

Cordelia woke up.

She was in Doyle's bed.

In LA. Not in the basement, not in Sunnydale. There was no pain, only the thud of her too-fast heart beat in her chest.

She sat up, still trembling, tears on her cheeks. Beside her, Doyle slept on, the smell of alcohol seeping from his pores.

Cordelia shivered and a tremor of revulsion ran through her. She climbed out of the bed, grabbed her shoes, and left the apartment in a hurry, responding only to need to get away from the man in the bed.

Continued in part 2

Afterworld

Part 2/3

Disclaimer in part 1

Cordelia slid into her car and locked all the doors. She was still shaking but not as badly now. The chill of the night air focused her a little. She took a deep breath. A dream. Just a dream. A stupid stupid _messed up_ dream, maybe the tension of the events earlier that evening had got to her or something, but it was Just a Dream. She had to get out of here. Go home. No, too empty, perversely she was too scared to be alone, but too scared to stay near Doyle. Now would be a nice time to have some female friends she mused.

"Get a grip Cordy."

She muttered to herself to fill the silence. Turn on the radio, Tori Amos singing about Barbados, turn OFF the radio.

She closed her eyes and replayed in her mind what had actually happened that night in Xander's basement, years ago now. She was hoping that veridical memory would wipe the dream-theater's depraved improvisation, or at least weaken the terror in which the nightmare still held her.

~~~

She remembered the knot in her stomach as he fell on the bed beside her. But she was good at hiding her unease and she badly wanted to give Xander what he needed, make him happy and not fear it. She had stroked his hair and spoke about his brave manliness in rescuing her, when he had suddenly flipped her over. He had kissed her and lowered himself onto her, his hand gently tracing the curve of her cheek. She had kissed him back until his hand started moving up her leg. She had frozen then, trying to relax and not panic while his lips planted butterfly kisses across her throat, lost in the moment.

But not so lost he didn't notice when she began to struggle against him a little and he pulled back.

"You okay?"

Hating herself for being weak, she shook her head.

His voice was a thick murmur, his eyes glazed over with lust. But her token resistance signaled something was wrong and Xander made himself stop, though it took all his self control to do so. He lifted his body from hers and tenderly took her hands in his, helping her sit up beside him so they'd be on the same level.

"Cordy?"

"I- I'm sorry Xander, I don't want...can we slow down?"

He stared at her, then spoke with unusual tentative gentleness.

"Cordy, I'm sorry, I thought this is what you wanted, you asked me to bring you back here, and the NightHawk thing - your idea."

His thumbs caressed her palms as he continued to hold her hands in his.

"I know - I'm sorry...I thought I could go through with this, I know I led you on..."

She dropped her eyes. Xander delicately placed a fingertip under her chin and raised her face to meet his. Her eyes were so big, luminous in the near darkness, and full of fear. Something tugged at his heart. He knew then how much he loved her, how precious she was to him. All thoughts of sex were the farthest thing from his mind.

// ok, Cordelia thought, slipping out of the reverie for a moment, she didn't actually know what he had been thinking then, she was just projecting, a little wish-fulfillment like when she dreamed he had taken her into his arms after the zombie threat when in fact he had barely glanced her direction and concentrated on complimenting the slayer, but regardless, she knew what he had said next was real, she treasured the memory in her heart//

"I love you, Cordelia Chase. We don't have to do anything you aren't comfortable with, I'll never hurt you - I'm just me, just good old Xander, there's no evil vamp version, there's no scary-me, I promise."

She had started to cry then. He had held her and whispered reassurances, and he was shaking too, out of his depth in the emotional tumult, but not letting her go.

He had told her she was his sweet, beautiful girl. His sweet, beautiful, silly girl. Told her that it was okay if she was _never_ ready to do that thing, that it didn't matter, he loved her anyway. And that next time she should just talk to him about it, not get all worked up and hide her fears, that he would listen and understand, and he would never push her again.

Somewhere near dawn he had offered to walk her home but instead they fell asleep in each other's arms, sleeping right through first period, tumbling into French class late and sharing secret smiles all morning.

It was one of Cordelia's favorite memories from that time. She deeply resented it's violation by a macabre dream. She needed to understand it. She jumped at a shadow in front of her car. Just a cat. And she needed to not be alone right now. She started the engine and drove.

-------

"Angel?"

Silence. Good. It was nearing dawn, she figured Angel to be downstairs, asleep already, since he'd been awake most of the day before as well as tonight's adventures. This was where she was most comfortable, no demons here. At least not the kind that wanted to hurt her. And knowing Angel was downstairs if she needed him made it a haven right then.

"Cordelia."

She jumped, her heart racing. It was just Angel, watching her from the top of the stairs, where he _hadn't_ been a second ago, she was sure of it.

"What's going on, why aren't you with Doyle?"

He left the doorway and walked toward her. She balked at his nearness and took a step back.

"Uh...well, since I slept in the other day and was late for work, I thought I'd make up for it and come in a little early today."

She smiled brightly. It didn't work. Angel continued his slow approach and she took another step back, her legs coming up against the chair. He stopped a few feet away, as if preternaturally aware this was as close as she could handle right now.

"You're wearing the same clothes as last night, and your make up is smudged. Tell me what's wrong, Cordy."

He kept his tone soft and he didn't add that he could still smell Doyle on her, or that he knew she'd been crying. His hooded eyes gave away his intensity however, and Cordy crumbled under it. She sat down heavily on the chair. Angel followed her down until he was crouched at her feet. Looking up into her tear-stained eyes he reached out and gently touched her cheek.

"Angel...I can't talk about this right now, I'm sorry. I n-need..."

Her voice wavered and Angel moved his hand to tenderly cup her cheek.

"Anything."

His whisper promised he would do anything for her, get anything, kill anything that had hurt her. Anything to take that sadness from her dark eyes.

"I need a shower."

He was a little taken aback, his fears by no means assuaged.

"Okay."

In the elevator he instinctively stayed in the opposite corner from Cordelia.

While she showered he made them some coffee, then some eggs, then some toast, then he just stood, unable to think of anything else to make to keep his hands busy. Why was she taking so long?

She came out eventually, wrapped up in his robe. Angel mentally cursed himself for not realizing sooner that she wouldn't want to dress again in her old clothes.

He found her a t-shirt, sweatpants and his softest sweater and went back to waiting while she got dressed.

Finally Cordy joined him on the couch, although at the opposite end. She tucked her legs under her and wrapped her hands around the mug of coffee he had given her. She had demurred at the eggs.

"Feel better?"

She nodded.

"Last night was the first night I spent with Doyle since we started dating."

Angel just looked at her, holding himself very still.

"Nothing happened between us, not really, he'd had a few drinks at the club...he tried to- well, y'know, but I said no and he fell asleep - he was pretty out of it anyway, it wasn't like he gave me a hard time or anything. I mean, I guess I was a little unsettled, but not cause of anything Doyle did, it was just the situation I guess."

She risked a glance at Angel. He looked worried for her, but any other emotion he kept hidden. Cordy took a breath. She owed Angel an explanation, that it was just a dream, and she was hoping that saying it aloud would dispel her lingering fear and feeling of being unclean. But she needed Angel to understand why it was an uneasy situation for her, that she had had the dream because she had a teensy-tiny hang up in this area, not because of anything Doyle had done.

"It's just that, Xander was my only real boyfriend and we never..."

Angel closed his eyes. "I know."

"But I had this dream, that Xander....but it was Xander, but it smelt like Doyle, and had kind of a Doyle-ness to it, but it was definitely Xander...but it wasn't either of them because neither would ever, um..."

She stopped, the tears had come into her voice and she didn't want to cry. She was shaking. Angel leaned over and lifted the coffee cup from her hands before she spilt it. He set the mug aside and returned to her hands, cradling them in his own and looking at her with his brow furrowed.

"He hurt you. In the dream."

Cordelia couldn't even nod, she just gazed into Angel's eyes, longing for understanding without clumsy words. It was there. She gave up trying to hold back the tears and the story poured out of her. Angel held her as she sobbed into his chest, unable to meet his eyes as she spoke of it.

"...and I begged him to stop Angel, but he- he didn't care, and it *hurt* and he wouldn't stop and I c-couldn't breathe..."

Dream or not Angel was devastated. The thought of his Cordelia going through this, and waking up in terror without him there...it was too much. No-one could be allowed to touch her, she was too fragile, too pure, he had to look after her, it was the only thing that mattered. He should never had left her alone with Doyle, he had known Doyle's intentions, and even though they were not directly the cause of Cordy's suffering it still was a bad situation to leave her in.

He rocked her gently, whispering that everything was ok, that it was all over and she would be safe now.

When her sobs subsided, and the words faded away, Angel slowly leaned back until Cordy, collapsed against his chest, was lying on top of him. She was exhausted, and with the story out, her breathing soon became regular. He pulled a blanket from the back of the couch over their bodies and she curled into him as he wrapped his arms around her.

Continued in part 3

Afterworld

Part 3/3

Disclaimer in part 1

Doyle stood over the sleeping forms of his girlfriend and his best friend.

Now he understood those bizarre love triangles on Rikki Lake where people wound up brutally murdered.

Angel opened his eyes.

"Doyle."

"Angel."

On his chest Cordy began to stir.

"What was it this time sweetheart? Roach in your bed? Oh wait - that must have been me."

"Back off Doyle, leave her alone, there's an explanation."

Fully awake now, Cordelia stared wide-eyed at Doyle. Then she realized how she and Angel must look to him and she scrambled off of Angel's chest, backing up with the blanket to the other end of the couch. The vampire sat up and swung his feet to the floor. Ignoring Doyle and his growing fury for a moment, Angel gazed intently at Cordelia.

"You okay?"

She nodded and returned her frightened eyes to her boyfriend as he came closer and loomed over her. Angel stood.

Doyle ran through a hundred sardonic comments and insults but was too taken aback by Cordelia's expression to use a single one.

"Your hair is wet." he finally said.

"She came here from your place, and she had a shower to get cleaned up."

Doyle breathed, his anger rising. He gave Angel a black look before focusing in on Cordy again.

"*I* have a shower. Is it not good enough or something?"

He continued to direct his questions to Cordelia and Angel continued to field them for her.

"Nothing's wrong with your shower, Doyle. You're overreacting."

"Okay." Doyle pressed his lips together, keeping a measured tone. "Okay. But usually it's customary when you spend the night with your boyfriend and wake up and have no clean clothes, to prance about in your *boyfriend's* shirt in the morning. Not some other bloke's. _Tell me how I'm supposed to react_."

"Take it easy Doyle," Angel interjected.

In response Doyle finally turned to Angel, eyes narrowing.

"Are you the reason my girlfriend won't let me touch her?"

The tension filled the room as the two men stared at each other. Cordelia looked down at Angel's sweater which she had nervously twisted her hands in, and finally found her voice.

"I had a dream. A nightmare. I couldn't stay."

His face softened and he reached out to take her hand. Angel backed away from them.

"A bad one."

Cordelia nodded.

"Why didn't you wake me? I could have helped. I could have listened. You didn't give me a chance."

She lowered her head, and answered him quietly.

"I couldn't."

Doyle paused but she didn't continue.

"Why not?"

"Because...because...."

Cordelia glanced desperately at Angel, where he hung back in the shadows, not wanting to leave her, not wanting to intrude. It was Doyle who finished the sentence for her.

"It was about me."

She looked at him then, shaking her head, not trusting herself to speak without more tears, not sure if she could deny his statement. Sensing her distress Angel came forward.

"He needs to know Cordy. I can talk to him."

He was asking her permission and she nodded mutely.

Angel nodded to Doyle and they headed upstairs. Cordelia dropped her head to her knees and hugged herself.

-----------------------------

In the office Angel sat on the edge of his desk while Doyle paced. Angel related what Cordelia told him, skipping over some of the finer details, he could see how hard this was for Doyle to deal with. When he had finished Doyle's aggression against him had dissipated, and he had sat down heavily in Angel's chair, his shoulders slumped, his face ashen.

"Jesus."

He looked up at Angel.

"Last night...I was pretty out of it but I never touched her man, I swear...we just, I kissed her I think, she was a bit on edge, said the events at the club had weirded her out. She put me to bed, I asked her to stay...I don't remember much after that...but I didn't... I don't get it Angel...it's not like we're kids - she's had relationships before..."

"Not sexual."

"You're kidding!"

Doyle swore again and dropped his head in his hands.

"She told you that?"

"She didn't have to."

Doyle's eyes narrowed.

"How? How come you know that Angel?"

"It doesn't matter now. What matters is the young girl on the couch down there who thinks you're still mad at her."

His words had the desired effect and together they returned to Cordy. Doyle was surprisingly gentle and soon she was relaxed enough to let him hold her. Later she would be able to tell him herself about the dream. The crisis had passed. Angel took consolation in knowing that at least Doyle would call a halt to the campaign to get Cordy to sleep with him.

~~~~~~~

The end for now, continued in a sequel soon, thank you so much for reading the PG13 version, I'd be very interested in hearing your reasons for that choice.

Tinklepaw