A/N: I only recently started (and finished!) watching Angel after having ignored it during it's entire television run, curious about David Boreanaz's career prior to Bones. Of course, now I know what I was missing, and I was extrememly sorry to see it all end. Unlike a lot of people, though, I really liked the way the series concluded, even with all the questions hanging in the air. There was just one little thing missing, and that is what inspired this piece here. It's meant to be just a simple little sketch, to fill in what I wanted most to see during season 5 and didn't really get. So read, review--take it easy on the new girl!--and enjoy :-)

He thought he was dead.

For a long while Angel felt nothing—not hunger, not fatigue, not worry or anger or sadness. Just…nothing. When he realized that he wasn't feeling the fiery wrath of hell, either, his brain kick-started again and he discovered that he had not, in fact, been dusted. That's when every sensation came flooding in: the rain pouring down on him, the rocky pavement beneath him, the dry, cottony feel of his mouth, the throbbing pain that had invaded every inch of his body.

He tried to open his eyes, but his eyelids would only flutter slightly and remain closed. He struggled with them again but the result was the same. Sighing internally, he concentrated instead on what he could hear, searching for any clue as to his whereabouts.

"…Angel…"

The voice sounded far away, and he strained his ears to their limits trying to catch it again.

"…Angel…"

It was closer this time, more urgent and filled with concern. The voice was familiar, as was the warm wave of happiness it brought. He felt a hand slide under the back of his head and one take his hand, caressing it gently as he heard his name once more.

"Angel…"

He forced his lids open with all the strength he had left in his body, suddenly recognizing the voice. His dark eyes went wide as they focused on the woman beside him.

"Cordelia."

She smiled back, squeezing his hand reassuringly. "Yeah, it's me."

"It can't be," he croaked, barely managing to shake his head. "You died…"

"I did," she replied softly, pulling him closer to her and resting his head carefully in her lap, trying to shield him from the elements. "I died two months ago, and now I'm back."

His eyebrows drew together as he tried to wrap his mind around what was happening. "But…how…? You said then that the Powers That Be owed you one…they let you come to me to put me back on the right path…"

Tears formed in her eyes at the memory. "And I did."

"Then how are you here now?

She held his hand tighter in hers and clutched it against her chest. "You took on the Senior Partners…you fought the Apocalypse… And you won."

"Won?" It was all too much for his exhausted brain. He was lying in Cordelia's arms—Cordelia who was supposed to be dead—and she was telling him that he had been the victor in the Great Battle?

"Well," she hedged, sniffling a bit and smoothing his wet hair with her thumb, "won this one. I get the feeling there will be plenty more to come on the end-of-the-world front. But—for the moment at least—you did it. You vanquished a lot of evil things and sent 'em all runnin' for their mamas."

He smiled momentarily at her words, then became serious again. "But that doesn't explain why you're here."

"Silly man," she grinned. "You fought the good fight and came out on the other side alive. Or at least as alive as a vampire can be. According to that Shanshu Prophecy, you were supposed to be made human again for your trouble, but you went and signed that away."

Then he remembered. The careful planning, the massive fighting, the loss of his friends all came back to him. "I didn't think I'd survive," he grunted.

"But you did," she reminded him, her voice faltering at the thought of the alternative. "You fought and you survived, so the Powers had to come up with a different reward."

"They sent you."

The tears began to trickle down her cheeks and mix with the rain still beating down on the two of them, but she barely noticed. "They knew you needed me," she replied quietly.

His eyes shone brightly as he spoke, and he brought their clasped hands to rest against his chest. "I do need you. More than I've ever needed anyone else."

She leaned down, her fingers combing through his hair, her eyes mirroring the light in his even as the cold rain dripped from her lashes. Her lips pressed tenderly against his forehead, then his temple before they formed a joyful smile. "And now you have me," she whispered in his ear. "We didn't miss our moment after all."

His grin was a mixture of relief, contentment, and utter bliss. "It's about time something went right for us."

Her laugh peeled out like little bells as she closed the remaining distance between them, finding his cracked, bleeding lips with her warm ones. She kissed him gently, lovingly, as she had two months ago, this time with hope for the future instead of heartbreaking farewell.

All too soon she was pulling away, straightening up and moving to stand.

"No, wait…" he protested as forcefully as he weak body would allow.

She halted his objection with another, smaller kiss. "Shhh, it's okay—I'm not leaving you. But we can't stay here in this alley in the rain."

She got to her feet and helped him up very slowly, very painfully. He was so battered and bruised he could hardly bear his own weight, but somewhere she found the strength to support him. He's done the same for me—literally and figuratively—more times than I can count, she knew. Now it's my turn.

"Come on, bubba," she smirked, wrapping an arm around his waist and draping his across her shoulders. "Let's get you home so you can heal up and get well. This fight ain't over yet."

The contentment returned to his features as he leaned down, kissing her hair softly. "But now we're fighting together again."

"Yeah." She allowed herself to absorb that statement and all its meaning, and her smile softened. "Together."