Secret Slasha – The Buffy the Vampire Slayer & Angel Slash Fanfiction Secret Santa Project
Secret Slasha – The Buffy the Vampire Slayer & Angel Slash Fanfiction Secret Santa Project

By Faithtastic
For k

When Fred opens her eyes she's almost forced to shut them tight again. Everything is so brilliantly white that it hurts her eyes. There's no discernable light source at all, just four white walls, white ceiling, white floor. She takes a few steps forward and reaches out, touching the surface of the wall in front of her. It's cool, smooth, irrefutably and tangibly wall-like.

She looks around, assessing the room, and as she does so a door opens. A moment later a woman steps through, clad completely in white from the trilby hat perched at a rakish angle on her head to the elegantly tailored suit and pumps. For one horrific moment Fred thinks it's Lilah then she peers closer.

"Cordelia?" she says, her mouth gaping.

"In the flesh," Cordelia replies with a dazzling smile. "Well, not literally but let's not get technical."

"Is that really you? I mean, you're not some apparition or a malevolent deity or - "

Cordelia approaches Fred while she babbles and clutches her firmly by the shoulders. "Fred, it's me. Who else besides J-Lo could carry off this look?"

Fred gives a sceptical look. "So this isŠ Heaven?"

"I know. The white décor thing? So cliché. God, even a little splash of magnolia would be an improvement."

"I was expectingŠ" Fred trails off sadly. "Well, rolling fields and flowers andŠ"

"Angels strumming harps on clouds?" Cordelia scoffs and softens a little when she sees Fred's forlorn expression. "Think of this as the celestial waiting room and I'm the welcome wagon. It's all about easing you into the whole afterlife deal before you get to see your relatives."

Fred brightens. "My family? Can I see them now?"

"Sure but I guess I should warn you that they might not look quite like how you remember them."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, here people have an idealised self-image. That's why you won't see a single person over the age of 25. I mean, who wants to spend eternity with wrinkles?"

Fred notices that, other than the outfit, Cordelia looks more or less exactly the same but doesn't vocalise that observation.

"It also explains why you went up at least two cup sizes since I last saw you."

Glancing down at her significantly more substantial chest, Fred gapes.

Cordelia continues on blithely. "Anyway, follow me. Time for the Burkle family reunion."

When they step through the doorway, Fred is greeted by a vision from her childhood: her grandmother's house on the outskirts of San Antonio. The expanse of lawn is so vividly green that it brings a tear to her eye. The smell of freshly cut grass and the tingling heat of the sun on her skin feels so real that she has difficulty convincing herself otherwise.

Cordelia reaches out her hand and Fred takes it, allowing herself to be led up the porch steps and inside the house. In the kitchen her family are gathered. At first she's unable to recognise their younger features but slowly realisation dawns. A dark haired woman opens her arms.

"Grandma?" Fred whimpers and the woman smiles broadly.

Rushing forward, Fred is enveloped in a hug and soon she's surrounded by other arms. She has no inkling of how long she's been in her family's embrace but when she cranes her neck to look over the huddle of bodies she sees Cordelia turn and walk away.

"Cordelia!" she shouts and the other girl pauses, looking back over her shoulder. "Will I see you again?"

Cordelia smiles. "Sure."


As far as Fred's eyes can see there's only unblemished blue sky. Cordelia told her that Heaven can be whatever you want it be. So Fred chose blue skies, the wide open kind that she grew up with.

She's lying on a blanket, staring up into the wide blue yonder and she's never felt so at peace. She glances to her side, at Cordelia, who's pretending to be asleep, her hat shading her eyes. Cordelia never had much tolerance for Fred's ramblings in the previous life, never mind the afterlife.

Fred props herself up on her elbows. "There's something I've been wondering about."

"Mm?" Cordelia replies, only partially suppressing a sigh.

"Why you? I mean, out of everyone, why were you sent to meet me?"

Fred hadn't always been a shy little mouse. 5 years in Pylea made her that way. 5 years of being caked in dirt, referred to as 'cow', being kicked, beaten and spat upon, well, that would've made even the most confident person question their self-worth. So whenever she stood beside Cordelia, she felt invisible. No, more accurately, she felt invisible to Cordelia. Fred was this gigantic nerd and Cordelia was the polar opposite.

Just once Fred would've liked to have gone on a shopping trip with Cordelia, or gone to the movies, or to go get their nails done together. Clearly, Cordelia had never considered that an option. She'd bemoaned her lack of female friends, as if Fred wasn't a girl like her but some kind of asexual, androgynous person on Cordelia's periphery.

They weren't friends, not even anything closely resembling it, so Fred's confused by Cordelia being her tour guide.

"I wasn't. You chose me, at least subconsciously. I guess having a friendly face helps you adjust."

"Oh," Fred says, mulling that over. She gazes again at the sky, shielding her eyes from the sun. "Who was it for you?"

"Randomly, Larry Blaisedale. He was on the football team at high school. Turns out he's gay, which I so never would've guessed." Cordelia's voice softens as she continues. "I guess I always thought it would be Doyle."

Angel had told Fred about Doyle, how he gave Cordelia the visions. "Did you love him?" A moment after she asks, Fred wishes she hadn't. It's not like she and Cordelia had ever shared confidences or asked each other personal questions. "Sorry, you don't have to answer that," Fred adds in a self-conscious rush.

Cordelia sits up, lifting the hat off her head and placing it on the blanket. Her long hair, not quite as long as Fred's, is tied back in a ponytail. There's not a strand out of place. "It's okay. And, no, I didn't love him. Not in the way he wanted." Cordelia looks at Fred, studying her and Fred feels exposed under her steady gaze. "Do you ever think about Wesley?"

Fred's eyes drop to her own hands fiddling with a loose thread on the blanket. "I do," she replies, managing to get those words out beyond the lump in her throat. "But lately not as much. I mean, sometimes I can't fully picture his face. It seems likeŠ well, it feels like it was centuries ago. Is that bad?"

What's worse though is that she mostly feels that way in Cordelia's company. She doesn't think about her old life at all when Cordelia smiles at her like she's doing now.

"No. Just means you're letting go of stuff you have no control over. That's a good thing, trust me."


The last thing she remembers - before - was the pain. She'd never felt anything like it, like her insides were being smooshed and churned inside a blender. She'd glimpsed Wesley, his cheeks streaked with tears, and then it was like a light went out, leaving her in darkness. She could hear him sobbing, as if from a distance until even that dwindled to nothing. For an indeterminate amount of time there was just that utter impenetrable darkness.

But she hadn't been afraid. She'd just thought, "Well, this is it." She'd been brought up Christian so she always believed there would be something after death. She just never thought she'd be spending eternity hanging out with Cordelia.

Cordelia introduces her to other people ("Just because we're dead, doesn't mean we can't have a social life.") There's Joyce, Buffy's mother, and Tara, Willow's former girlfriend. Observing the two of them together it becomes kind of apparent that they're, well, together. Later, Fred broaches the subject with Cordelia as they take a walk.

"Um, Joyce and Tara seem really close," Fred begins awkwardly.

"They're too cute, aren't they? I'm so glad this is an equal opportunities place."

"Doesn't God consider it a sin?" It isn't that Fred believes homosexuality to be wrong because as a scientist she's aware that incidences occur frequently in nature - gay penguins and lesbian seagulls and other documented queer creatures. But her parents and the rest of their congregation had it instilled in her from an early age that it was not the done thing for a respectable Southern girl.

"Pfft. That's just what Jerry Falwell wants you to think. God isn't against homosexuality. Take a look around. There are so many gay people here it's like a Pride parade in West Hollywood!"

"But the Bible - " Fred begins to counter.

"Fred, God has more important stuff to worry about. Who sleeps with who really isn't anything he/she/it loses any sleep over. Unless it's animals 'cause eww gross."

They fall into silence as they walk as Fred considers this. In the grand scheme of things, of good versus evil, she does doubt that same-sex relationships register highly despite what the religious right would have everyone believe. It does seem sort of silly to make such a fuss about it.

"So, people stillŠ y'know, have sex in Heaven?" Fred asks with a blush rising up her cheeks.

"Well, duh. All that fun and no consequences nine months later?" Cordelia pauses slightly. "I mean, it's not like people are rampantly doing it but it's not unheard of."

Cordelia stops and smirks at Fred. "Why? You thinking of hooking up with somebody?"

Fred blushes harder and keeps walking. "No."

"Ooo, do you have a crush on someone?" Cordelia asks, catching up with Fred after a moment.


"Oh, c'mon. I won't tell a soul. Give me a clue at least."

Fred glares at Cordelia. "Will you drop it please?"

"Alright, alright. But just so you know, whoever it is, I wouldn't make fun of you."

As they continue walking, Cordelia loops her arm through Fred's and that simple, friendly contact makes her stomach do flip-flops. It strikes Fred that this isn't paradise at all but a Hell of her own making.


If Fred's honest, she's always sort of been in awe of Cordelia, her confidence and poise and certainly her beauty. While she's being honest, she acknowledges that a teeny, tiny part of her relished Cordelia's absence during the coma. Suddenly Fred was centre stage for the first time in her life. Then comes the guilt associated with that train of thought. Not that she would ever share any of that with the girl in question. Better that Cordelia's oblivious to that selfish strain in Fred's character.

She observes Cordelia with fascination, every action and word capturing Fred's attention fully. She aims to devote the rest of her afterlife (not that the concept of time exists here) to studying the enigma that is Cordelia Chase.

"Aren't you sick of me yet?" Fred asks once as they sit on the edge of a cliff, their legs dangling in the air, the waves swirling below.

Cordelia gives her a look. "That's a stupid question."

Fred eyes are on the horizon. Today she feels like sabotaging herself, testing Cordelia's patience and this inexplicable bond between them. "I mean, be truthful, you didn't like me much back then."

"No. I just didn't get you and sometimes I was such a bitch that I didn't make time for you." Cordelia touches Fred's arm briefly. "Sorry."

"You know you don't have to stick around to keep me company. If there are other people you'd rather be with I understand."

"Oh," Cordelia says, a little spike of hurt in her tone. "Well, if you'd rather be alone you only need to say." She slowly gets to her feet but Fred seizes her hand, pulling her back down.

"I don't," Fred pleads, her own distress coming to the surface. "I just don't want you to feel obligated or something."

Cordelia interlaces their fingers and squeezes gently. "There is nowhere I would rather be. Except maybe in a Brad Pitt, Angelina Jolie sandwich but, hey, beggars can't be choosers."

Despite herself, Fred giggles. "You like Angelina Jolie?"

Cordelia lets out an incredulous laugh. "Who doesn't? Oh, wait, Little Miss Texan Baptist princess for one."

"One, I'm not a Baptist and, two, Gina Gershon is more my type."

"You know, a casting director once told me I looked like a younger Gina Gershon," Cordelia says thoughtfully, "although I think she was hitting on me."

Fred snorts. "Oh, you're way hotter than her." She backtracks quickly when she realises that Cordelia is staring at her, surprised. "I mean, I would think that if I was a - a lesbian, which I'm not. So let's just change the subject, shall we."

"Ordinarily? I'm not into girls." Cordelia says, following a painfully long silence. With her free hand she reaches across and touches Fred's chin, forcing Fred to meet her eyes. "But I am into dorky, cute, brunettes who talk too much so you tick all the right boxes there. The girl part I could get used to."

"Okay," Fred says dimly, not quite believing what's happening but very happy to go along with it.

Her breath hitches as Cordelia leans over, closing the distance between their lips. When their mouths meet, Fred moans inadvertently, increasing the contact. Her heart is hammering so fast it feels like it's going to explode out of her chest. Every bone in her body is shaking as Cordelia deepens the kiss, tongue sliding warmly against her own, tangling and retreating.

Kissing Cordelia's like a rollercoaster ride, you never can prepare yourself adequately for the thrill of it. Each stroke of her tongue, each increase in pressure makes Fred's stomach flutter and dip a little further. And at the end of it, Fred inevitably wants another go round so she's disappointed when Cordelia pulls away.

Cordelia catches the longing look in her eyes. "Hey, we have all eternity to make out."

Fred nods, ducking her head, unable to smother the smile that now dominates her face. All eternity? She can't think of a better way to while away the time.