Chapter 53: Truth’s Out
*hugs* and *squishes* to my wonderful reviewers: CrazyCatLady402, pfeifferpack, Special Squirrel, dmf109, DauntlessGrace, magnus374, -Carrie-Ann-, Meavepagan, ginar369, and kimothyschma. You guys are the best. 
This chapter is unbeated. Also, I’ve been playing around on photoshop all weekend, and made myself a new banner. What do you guys think?
“Next week?”
“That’s what she said,” Angel confirmed with a nod.
“But…” Spike struggled to find the right words, any words, to respond to that piece of information with. “But what about school?”
That’s exactly what Angel had asked her, and had expected Spike to ask the same. “She’s already been re-enrolled into her old High School. After her recent swimming achievements they were thrilled to have her back.”
A week… A god damned week!
How could things happen so fast?
“He must’ve been plannin’ this all along,” Spike surmised.
“I agree,” Angel nodded.
“What about Joyce? Does she know?”
Angel shook his head. That was probably the worst part about it. Hank Summers was effectively holding his daughter hostage to his demands, forcing her to leave, and her own mother didn’t know a thing about it.
“He can’t get away with that,” Spike exploded, kicked at one of his tires. “He can’t just kidnap her like that.”
As much as he agreed Angel didn’t see any way around it. “But she’s agreed Spike, so it’s not kidnapping. Not really.”
“But there’s a process for these things. Buffy’s almost eighteen, more than old enough to decide who she wants to live with. The courts would side in her favour.” Spike ran a hand through his hair as he vented his frustration. “She has to stand up to him.”
“And cost her mother her house?” Angel reminded questioningly. “She would never do it.”
He was right. The full seriousness of the situation hit him and he staggered against its weight. He was going to lose her. Not because she wanted to leave, or because he pushed her away. All this time he’d thought she was running from him, from their relationship, when in reality she was being taken against her will.
He’d follow her. There was no other alternative in Spike’s mind.
“So I move too.”
“Won’t work, man,” Angel argued. “He’s thought of that. He’ll just take an intervention order out on you, banning you from coming within a certain distance of her. You break it and you’ll find yourself locked up.”
“He can’t do that,” Spike denied.
“Buffy seems to believe he can.”
Spike paced away from the car, trying to wrap his brain around the sheer megalomania of the man.
“Then there’s that whole blackballing thing again to contend with,” Angel pointed out.
“I don’t care about college.” Okay, so that wasn’t the whole truth. He had been planning on going to college, but put Buffy or college against each other as alternatives and she’d win hands down, every time. She was his priority.
“But she does, man,” Angel reminded. “She wants the best for you, and she thinks college is part of that.”
Moving to the gutter Spike sat down, his hopes for the future sinking with him.
“He had scouts at the meet there to watch her swim, and has scholarships lined up for the East Coast once she completes senior year. In six months he’s shipping her across the country and as far away from you and her mother as possible.” Angel took a seat beside Spike. He was genuinely sorry for the situation he was in.
“Why wouldn’t she talk to me ‘bout it?” Spike mumbled.
“Come on, Spike. That one’s crystal.”
It really was. “I wouldn’t give up, I’d try to make her fight to stay.”
“And then her mom would lose the house.”
When it came down to it that was the real ace up Hank Summers had up his sleeve. The threat of selling the house from under them. Fighting for custody, blackballing him from college, they were minor in comparison. But as a combination he could see how Buffy would think the whole situation was futile.
What they needed to do was steal that ace.
“What if the house was off the cards,” he thought out loud, his confidence growing as the idea took shape. “What if we could find a way to ensure Hank Summers couldn’t take it from them?”
Angel thought about it for a moment, his eyes widening as he came to the same understanding. “Without the house his threats would be almost empty.”
“Exactly.”
“So, how do we do it?”
“We?” Spike echoed.
“Yeah, man.” Angel punched Spike in the shoulder, his raised brows clearly saying don’t argue. “You think I want to have to drag your sorry ass out of the gutter if she up and leaves?”
Spike shook his head wryly, because wasn’t that the truth. They needed a plan. A good plan. One that her bastard father couldn’t fight. And they needed it fast.
“We can’t do this alone,” he said, thinking out loud again. “A scheme like this, we need people with connections. People with money, people with connections…” An idea struck, the realisation lighting up his face. “People with money, connections, and that are interested in fine art.”
Picking up on his train of thought Angel nodded, a smile stretching across his face. “People who let their wallets do the talking… and I know just the girl to talk to and get this ball rolling.”
They looked at each other, the name leaving their mouths at the exact same time.
“Cordelia.”
~*~*~
They’d driven separately to Spike’s, since his father was off on business, and got to planning. In under an hour they had a plan. Not a great plan, not even a really good plan, but a workable one. A plan that could work, might work, if they played their cards right.
It all came down to the initial request.
Cordelia wasn’t exactly the most agreeable person but—for the right price—they might be able to pull it off. They had an idea of what that price might be, but hopefully it wouldn’t go that far. It might gain them nothing, but they had everything to lose, so it was definitely worth a try.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Spike asked, as he reahed for and grabbed the landline phone.
“Yeah.”
Spike shook his head. “You realise you’re potentially opening yourself up to a whole new level of harassment? You’re pimpin’ yourself.”
Angel shrugged. “If it works, then it’s worth it.”
A laugh burst from Spike’s mouth as he shook his head in disagreement. “I don’t think I believed you really cared about Buffy, until just now.”
When Angel scowled Spike laughed even harder. “If I were a better man I’d step down. Anyone who’d submit themselves to the wrath of Cordelia is a better man than me. Cos you know when she finds out, she’s gonna want to kill you.”
“Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,” Angel muttered. The truth was he did care enough to play his part in their little charade. And if it meant putting up with Cordelia until they got the job done? So be it. It would make things so much better for Buffy, make her happy, and that’s what really mattered, not whether or not he got the girl in end. “Let’s get this over with already.”
“You sure? Last chance to back out.”
“It’s all we’ve got. Gimme the phone.”
Angel snatched the phone from Spike’s outstretched hand and dialled.
~*~*~
Cordelia was busily painting her toenails an electric shade of fuchsia, and couldn’t decide if it was her colour or not. Of course, every colour looked great on her, but there was just something a little… not right with this particular shade. And it certainly didn’t match the ensemble she had planned. With a sigh, she returned the brush to the bottle.
She was just about to go searching for the midnight blue, with metallic flecks, when the phone rang beside her. Picking it up she wedged it against her face with her shoulder. She retrieved her bottle of polish remover and returned to the task of beautifying her feet.
“Hello?”
There was silence down the line.
“Hello?” she said again impatiently.
“Cordy, hi.”
The voice was masculine, and Cordelia immediately straightened. She sat up so quickly the phone fell from her shoulder. Dropping the polish remover to the bedspread she snatched her fallen phone, lifting it to her ear once more.
If it was who she thought it might be, then this call was long overdue.
“It’s Angel.”
She fought of the immediate desire to squeal. She was right! It was Angel, and he had finally called her.
With a calming breath—to ensure her voice sounded indifferent—she replied. “Angel, hey.”
“Is everything alright?”
“Everything’s great!” she chirped, a beaming smile both on her face and in her voice. “I just dropped the phone is all.”
“Oh, okay.”
Silence.
When the silence lasted a couple more seconds Cordelia frowned.
He’d called her, so obviously he had something to say to her. And didn’t that just bring another huge smile to her face. She knew that it would only be a matter of time before he lost interest in Buffy and realised that she was the girl he should be with.
Perhaps that was why he was calling now, to finally ask her out?
“So how was your weekend?” she asked, when it seemed he needed a nudge.
“Good, thanks. Listen—”
Cordelia held her breath and waited.
“I was wondering if I could ask you a favour.”
A frown furrowed her brow once more. That wasn’t exactly what she’d been expecting. But okay, she could work with that. A favour put him in her debt, and you can guarantee she would be collecting. “Ask away.”
“I need help with a little money issue, and the first person I thought of, was you.”
“You want money from me?” Cordelia asked as her confusion solidified. This call was so not going to way she thought it would. He was asking about money? From her? What was this all about?
“No! I would never—”
Quickly losing patience Cordelia sighed. “Then spit it out, you’re not making any sense.”
“I want you to ask your dad to help a friend’s mom buy out her mortgage contract. But make it seem like my friend’s dad is selling it out from under them.”
“Go on…” Her interest was sparked. Something like this would be right up her dad’s alley, and if she were the one to bring it to him, then bonus for her.
“Well, what’s the incentive for my dad. There’s gotta be something in it for him if he’s going to buy out an existing mortgage, and then issue a new one—I’m assuming at the same cost price?”
There was silence again. Cordelia thought she heard muffled talking, as if Angel’s phone was covering the receiver and he was talking to someone else.
But that couldn’t be right, surely.
Angel’s reply came as moment later. “Yes, at cost price. If possible.”
“Well, like I said. Incentive away. If I’m to convince daddy to help me with this, there needs to be some sort of enticement for him.”
“The contract is with Mr Kendall’s bank.”
Now Cordelia’s interest was really piqued. There was nothing her dad loved more than stealing business from the Kendall’s, even though they were close friends. It was like how the two of them bonded, or something.
“Anything else?”
“My friend’s mom runs an art gallery, and I’m sure a piece or two could be donated as a token of appreciation.”
Well, that pretty much sold it. Her father adored collecting art. Especially free art.
“Sounds do-able. I’ve got a pen, jotted down the details. Just let me know the name the mortgage is in and we’ll see if we can get the ball rolling.”
The phone went silent again.
“Angel, you still there?”
“Yeah, uh. It’s for Mrs Joyce Summers.”
Cordelia repeated the name out loud as she began writing it down. “Mrs Joyce Sum— are you freaking kidding me?”
“What?”
Scrunching up the paper Cordelia threw it across her bedroom, anger quickly consuming her. “You called me… you called me, Cordelia Chase, to talk about another girl?”
“No, I—”
“Ugh!” With that inelegant noise, she hung up the phone.