The Phantom Dennis Strikes Back
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I don't own anyone in this story, because that would be slavery, and slavery is bad. They all belong to Mutant Enemy.
Spoilers: Up to season 5, episode 1.
Notes: This is a really short, fluffy piece. I wrote it because I was irritated that nobody ever thought about the feelings of poor Phantom Dennis after Cordy became a "higher being." It takes place after episode 1 of season 5.
* * *
"Are you sure about this?" Wesley asked. He tugged on his coat sleeve as he and Angel stood outside the door to Cordelia's old apartment.
"I told you," Angel said. "I traced the calls back to this apartment. But all I got on the other end were some weird sounds, like furniture moving."
He rattled the doorknob and found it was locked. He looked one way, then the other, and then kicked the door in with his boot.
"You didn't have to do that, Wesley said. "I could have picked the lock."
"Not my style."
The two men stepped into the apartment and looked around carefully. They tiptoed through the darkened interior, shining their flashlights into the corners and closets. It was exactly as Angel remembered it, and a lump formed in his throat. Cordy had been so happy here-after she'd gotten over the homicidal ghost thing. He pushed the thought aside. Once Cordy woke up, she would be happy here again.
"I can't believe no one has snatched this place up," Wesley said. "It's quite a bargain."
"A few people have lived here since Cordy left, but no one has stayed. Apparently Phantom Dennis has been making a pest of himself, scaring off the renters."
"He got along well enough with Cordelia. That couldn't have been easy."
They circled the apartment twice, but nothing looked out of order.
"Dennis, are you here?" Angel called out. "I got your message. What do you want?"
A chair flew across the room, and Angel deflected it with one hand.
"OK, I get it. You're mad."
This time the telephone hurtled across the room, and then a roll of paper towels. Angel blocked both of them and spun around.
"Knock it off!" he yelled. "I'm sorry you're pissed, but what can I do?"
There was silence, and Wesley directed his beam toward the wall. The words "Cordy" had appeared in dark, thick black ink, and Angel sighed.
"She's back," Angel said. "Only not."
He explained everything from Cordelia's return from glowy land to her prolonged coma. When he stopped, a roll of toilet paper hit him in the head.
"It's not my fault!" he yelled. "I'm doing everything I can to bring her back."
The same roll of toilet paper hit him again.
"Not good enough," said Wesley, his voice soft and slow.
"Oh, now don't you start on-"
"ENOUGH!" Wesley yelled. "BRING HER BACK!"
Angel was about to turn his flashlight toward Wesley, but he didn't need to. The area around the other man's head was glowing brightly, and his eyes were milky white.
"I'm sorry, Dennis. I just don't know how. I want her back as much as you do."
Wesley's flashlight clattered to the floor, and he followed it in a slow slide down the wall. A pitiful sob wracked his frame.
"Nobody even bothered to tell me she was back. Or that she was hurt. Maybe I could have helped. You suck." He pulled himself into a ball and continued to sob quietly. Angel squatted next to him.
"You're right," he admitted. "I suck. I should have told you." He couldn't believe he was apologizing to a ghost, but he'd done stranger things. Like have sex with Darla.
"What do I do now?" asked Dennis. "I don't want to live with anyone else. I miss her so much."
Angel hesitated. He didn't know how his next words were going to go over, but he had to throw them out there.
"Maybe you should consider.moving on."
"Moving on?"
"You know, going to the other side, moving into the light, passing over. Whatever you want to call it."
Wesley's hand reached out and smacked Angel upside the head.
"I'm not leaving here without Cordy," he said.
Angel sighed and pressed his back to the wall. How did one reason with a stubborn ghost?
"OK, look, I'll think of something. Just let Wesley go."
"No. Not until you help Cordy."
"C'mon, Dennis, Let him go. He hasn't done anything to you. Besides, if I'm going to get Cordy back, I'll probably need his help."
Dennis looked at him with milky white concentration. "Oh, all right," he said. He exhaled, and a stream of silvery white air shot out of Wesley's mouth and nose. Wesley looked confused for a moment, but then the fog lifted and his eyes narrowed.
"That was distinctly unpleasant," Wesley said.
"I know. Being possessed isn't much fun."
"I was talking about you," he replied. "What did you mean when you said I could PROBABLY help with Cordelia?"
Angel stumbled over a few words and then tossed his hands into the air in defeat. "OK, I'm sorry. I'm sure you'll be instrumental in her return."
"Much better."
A silence hung over the room, to be broken by the sound of the toilet paper thumping against the floor.
"What do we do about Dennis?" Angel asked. "I don't want to just leave him here alone. Again."
"I might be able to help with that."
"You have an idea?"
"Probably."
* * *
A glass full of Diet Coke floated across the room and settled in Lorne's open hand. Lorne smiled down at the beverage and then up at Angel and Wes.
"I think this is going to work out just fine," said Lorne. "I love an assistant who knows exactly what I want. And look at that. He even remembered the lime."
"This sounds great," Angel said, "But what about real job duties? Are you telling me he can type and file?"
"About as well as Harmony can," Wesley answered.
Angel arched his eyebrows but decided to refrain from comment. Instead, he lifted his mug of pig's blood. "Here's to you, Phantom Dennis. You can stay here until we find a way to bring Cordy back."
A handful of loose-leaf paper floated across the room and over the paper shredder next to Lorne's desk. The shredded remains floated to the middle of the room and cascaded down on Angel, Wes and Lorne like confetti.
Lorne said, "Looks like PD approves."
"Yeah," Angel replied. "Just don't let him near the toilet paper."
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: I don't own anyone in this story, because that would be slavery, and slavery is bad. They all belong to Mutant Enemy.
Spoilers: Up to season 5, episode 1.
Notes: This is a really short, fluffy piece. I wrote it because I was irritated that nobody ever thought about the feelings of poor Phantom Dennis after Cordy became a "higher being." It takes place after episode 1 of season 5.
* * *
"Are you sure about this?" Wesley asked. He tugged on his coat sleeve as he and Angel stood outside the door to Cordelia's old apartment.
"I told you," Angel said. "I traced the calls back to this apartment. But all I got on the other end were some weird sounds, like furniture moving."
He rattled the doorknob and found it was locked. He looked one way, then the other, and then kicked the door in with his boot.
"You didn't have to do that, Wesley said. "I could have picked the lock."
"Not my style."
The two men stepped into the apartment and looked around carefully. They tiptoed through the darkened interior, shining their flashlights into the corners and closets. It was exactly as Angel remembered it, and a lump formed in his throat. Cordy had been so happy here-after she'd gotten over the homicidal ghost thing. He pushed the thought aside. Once Cordy woke up, she would be happy here again.
"I can't believe no one has snatched this place up," Wesley said. "It's quite a bargain."
"A few people have lived here since Cordy left, but no one has stayed. Apparently Phantom Dennis has been making a pest of himself, scaring off the renters."
"He got along well enough with Cordelia. That couldn't have been easy."
They circled the apartment twice, but nothing looked out of order.
"Dennis, are you here?" Angel called out. "I got your message. What do you want?"
A chair flew across the room, and Angel deflected it with one hand.
"OK, I get it. You're mad."
This time the telephone hurtled across the room, and then a roll of paper towels. Angel blocked both of them and spun around.
"Knock it off!" he yelled. "I'm sorry you're pissed, but what can I do?"
There was silence, and Wesley directed his beam toward the wall. The words "Cordy" had appeared in dark, thick black ink, and Angel sighed.
"She's back," Angel said. "Only not."
He explained everything from Cordelia's return from glowy land to her prolonged coma. When he stopped, a roll of toilet paper hit him in the head.
"It's not my fault!" he yelled. "I'm doing everything I can to bring her back."
The same roll of toilet paper hit him again.
"Not good enough," said Wesley, his voice soft and slow.
"Oh, now don't you start on-"
"ENOUGH!" Wesley yelled. "BRING HER BACK!"
Angel was about to turn his flashlight toward Wesley, but he didn't need to. The area around the other man's head was glowing brightly, and his eyes were milky white.
"I'm sorry, Dennis. I just don't know how. I want her back as much as you do."
Wesley's flashlight clattered to the floor, and he followed it in a slow slide down the wall. A pitiful sob wracked his frame.
"Nobody even bothered to tell me she was back. Or that she was hurt. Maybe I could have helped. You suck." He pulled himself into a ball and continued to sob quietly. Angel squatted next to him.
"You're right," he admitted. "I suck. I should have told you." He couldn't believe he was apologizing to a ghost, but he'd done stranger things. Like have sex with Darla.
"What do I do now?" asked Dennis. "I don't want to live with anyone else. I miss her so much."
Angel hesitated. He didn't know how his next words were going to go over, but he had to throw them out there.
"Maybe you should consider.moving on."
"Moving on?"
"You know, going to the other side, moving into the light, passing over. Whatever you want to call it."
Wesley's hand reached out and smacked Angel upside the head.
"I'm not leaving here without Cordy," he said.
Angel sighed and pressed his back to the wall. How did one reason with a stubborn ghost?
"OK, look, I'll think of something. Just let Wesley go."
"No. Not until you help Cordy."
"C'mon, Dennis, Let him go. He hasn't done anything to you. Besides, if I'm going to get Cordy back, I'll probably need his help."
Dennis looked at him with milky white concentration. "Oh, all right," he said. He exhaled, and a stream of silvery white air shot out of Wesley's mouth and nose. Wesley looked confused for a moment, but then the fog lifted and his eyes narrowed.
"That was distinctly unpleasant," Wesley said.
"I know. Being possessed isn't much fun."
"I was talking about you," he replied. "What did you mean when you said I could PROBABLY help with Cordelia?"
Angel stumbled over a few words and then tossed his hands into the air in defeat. "OK, I'm sorry. I'm sure you'll be instrumental in her return."
"Much better."
A silence hung over the room, to be broken by the sound of the toilet paper thumping against the floor.
"What do we do about Dennis?" Angel asked. "I don't want to just leave him here alone. Again."
"I might be able to help with that."
"You have an idea?"
"Probably."
* * *
A glass full of Diet Coke floated across the room and settled in Lorne's open hand. Lorne smiled down at the beverage and then up at Angel and Wes.
"I think this is going to work out just fine," said Lorne. "I love an assistant who knows exactly what I want. And look at that. He even remembered the lime."
"This sounds great," Angel said, "But what about real job duties? Are you telling me he can type and file?"
"About as well as Harmony can," Wesley answered.
Angel arched his eyebrows but decided to refrain from comment. Instead, he lifted his mug of pig's blood. "Here's to you, Phantom Dennis. You can stay here until we find a way to bring Cordy back."
A handful of loose-leaf paper floated across the room and over the paper shredder next to Lorne's desk. The shredded remains floated to the middle of the room and cascaded down on Angel, Wes and Lorne like confetti.
Lorne said, "Looks like PD approves."
"Yeah," Angel replied. "Just don't let him near the toilet paper."