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Spellbinder, Part Two

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Posted to the RoswellSlash mailing list December 13, 2000

Title: Spellbinder (as suggested by Helen)
Rating: PG-13 to R
Author: Minnie
Disclaimer: Don't own them yada yada yada
Category: UC - Maria/Courtney slash
Note: Courtney POV
Dedication: To Helen, who is my bitch mentor and who badgered me into writing this one. No, Helen, it's still not done but I will finish it, I promise. Eventually. Heh.

I wandered around the front of the café, serving drinks, putting away trays and generally trying to look like a dutiful little waitress. I looked around to see if Maria appreciated my efforts.

Nope, she wasn't there. Frustrated, I squeezed the tray in my hand so hard, it warped from the pressure. What the hell was I doing anyway? It wasn't like Maria would suddenly go, "Oh, Courtney, you serve people so well, come to the back so I could kiss you." I was pathetic. But not anymore. It was time little Miss Pouty Lips and I had a talk. I stalked to the back of the café, intent on confronting her.

Moon Eyes was there, holding court over his clueless gang. They were talking about the missing Tess. She was the only other female in Roswell worth the time of day but Maria hated her. That made me hate her too. Perhaps if I didn't have this overwhelming obsession for Maria, I'd actually dig the curly haired, blue eyed blonde.

"Trust me, nobody's after Tess. All that blond hair and eye shadow? She's like Dolly Parton without the jugs," I barged in on the conversation.

The cook with the floppy dog hairstyle decided that wasn't stimulating conversation enough so her ordered me to refill the ketchups. Fine by me. Maria wasn't there anyway. I took my leave, grabbing a few bottles of the condiment on the way.

I saw Liz and Maria rush through the café and crash into the back area. I followed suit.

"So, the real party's in here," I announced. Now if only the others would leave so Maria and I could have own party.

"Could you, like, go refill the ketchups or something?" she told me. What? Did she and Michael talk about stuff like this beforehand? But I preened, knowing I had already done that job before she even asked me too.

"Done," I announced proudly. Couldn't she see how great and wonderful I was? Was she blind?

Apparently so because she sent me off on another bogus errand. "Sugars, then," she told me. Oh, I would have liked to show HER some sugar. I licked my lips silently but Maria had already turned away to discuss something else with the gang. I shot a hard glare at her back. This was NOT going to go on much longer. I would be dispensing my own brand of sugar on Miss Delicious DeLuca before the night was out.

I heard the sound of the Jetta taking off a few minutes later. Great, now she was gone! I'd have to wait another day.

I contented myself with images of how the revelation would go down. Me telling her how beautiful she was, how hot she looked, how she invaded my dreams, how she was wasting all her time on the lowly cook. A dawning light coming into her eyes, and them dropping to stare at my lips. My lips hovering over hers, licking at them, tasting their sweetness and then delving in. Her lips joining mine and our tongues clashing and rolling.

The images made me break out in a sweat again. How many times was that now? Too many to count. I needed a cigarette to calm myself so I snuck outside to light up.

Floppy Haired Boy whisked the lighter away, interrupting my solitude. What did he want? A hard glint came into his eyes. Oh, he wanted to play at being Mr. Tough Guy. Fine, I'd let him. I could take it.

"Worried about my health?" I drawled.

"Who are you?" he snapped out. I'd had heard him being referred to as clueless Michael before but his accusing statement seemed to indicate he wasn't as dumb as he seemed. Well, bravo for Mr. Guerin.

"What?" I dodged, in effect trying to sound innocent. I smiled inwards. I could get into this clueless thing too.

"You know what I'm talking about," Michael responded. His voice carried more conviction. A slight sliver of panic started rising up but I tamped it down. Michael was grasping at straws. He didn't know anything. Parry that comment, I instructed myself. Thrust it aside.

"Are you, like, high or something?" I replied back. I wanted to see what he did with that. His next action almost drained the blood from my face.

He showed me a picture of myself, a surveillance photo of some sort. Did he know? Would he tell Maria about it? I hoped not. Not until I had time to plan, to talk to her, to make her listen to me. I bit back slight fear. No need to fall apart yet. "Where'd you get that?" I asked.

"From your file in Whitaker's office," he told me. A file? That bitch kept a file on me? Why? I had no idea. Shit, where did my brain go? Probably in the same direction as Maria. I had to be smarter than this. I couldn't let something like this happen without my knowing about it. Shit!

"Get out of my face!" I blew up at Michael. I needed to think. What was Whitaker planning? Whatever she planned on doing, it wasn't good. I knew that bitch was one of my kind, but that's where the similarity ended. She belonged to that other faction, the one whose leader was a pimply faced teen. I smiled at the knowledge. Bah, what was I worried about? She knew nothing. He knew nothing. They knew nothing.

An alarming thought crossed my mind. What if they started watching Maria? What if they were planning on doing something to her to get to me somehow? I told myself to get a grip. No sense in panicking yet. Michael didn't show me a picture of her, it was just a solo shot of me.

"You're gonna tell me exactly what's going on," Michael demanded of me. I blinked. He was still here? He was begging for a slap. "No, I don't have to tell you anything," I snapped back. Silly boy. Did he really think I was going to spill my guts because he raised his voice? The boy was delusional.

"So, you working with her? You spying on us? Is that what you're doing?" he rapped out. I almost laughed at the absurdity. Me working with that power hungry wanna be? I wouldn't lower myself. And after Michael stole that picture of mine in the Congresswoman's office, he had a nerve to implicate that I was spying on them? He wanted to throw weight around , wanted me to crumble and confess. Would he ever learn?

"You're a big man, aren't you?" I hissed. He didn't like that non- answer. Like I cared. But I was getting tired of this Q&A. I wanted time to myself, to plot my next move with Whitaker. And more importantly, with Maria.

I gave him a load of crap about sleeping with the Congresswoman's son and how that got the Congresswoman all riled up enough to essentially stalk me. I felt rather proud of myself for coming up with such an inventive plot on such short notice.

"All right. Thanks," he said. He bought it??!!! I could have laughed myself silly right then and there. This was the guy Maria was all ga-ga about? Someone who swallowed that load of garbage I just shoved down his throat? It was truly comical.

But instead of laughing, I slapped him. "Jerk!" I added for effort. I had been itching to slap him anyway. For Maria. For everything he put her through. For not appreciating what he had right in front of him. For being clueless and stupid. It should be a crime to be THAT stupid.

I was about to lay into him some more but a pair of headlights caught my attention. A red Jetta stopped in front of us. Maria. She was here. She was ... watching me. No, she was watching Michael ... with his hands on my shoulders, his body touching mine closely.

I could have sworn those eyes narrowed and flashed with dagger looks. She looked wonderful.

"Michael, we got to go. Isabel's in trouble," she said urgently, not even acknowledging me. There wasn't even a requisite "back off" comment. Her ex-boyfriend had his hands all over me and she had no comment. Was I going to lose even that? If she couldn't even react to me and Michael, then what chance would I have to get her to react just to me?

To be continued ...

Continue to Part Three

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