AN: Not sure where this is going, just like the other story. But I can tell you it's set sometime after Hero, slightly AU [you'll see why]. The timeline might be a little off but it's a story for cripes sake not a History report! Sorry for any inaccuracies in quotation I tend to write late at night and can't have the television on to wake anyone. Uhm, if you'd like to take a music suggestion go to YouTube or ProjectPlaylist and listen to Nine Inch Nails - Leaving Hope Nine Inch Nails - The Frail [Version] Nine Inch Nails - The Persistence Of Loss Nine Inch Nails - Gone, Still. They are songs that remind me of Angel and his brooding demeanor, all instrumental very beautiful. Hopefully everyone is in character for this, apologies if they aren't. For you Wesley W.P. fans, sorry about the tiny part, there will be more Wes in future chapters, I promise! Read on and please review, it keeps me going. Criticism, love and ideas are always welcome. Flames are gay ;].
Warning: Possible M rating for future chapters. Spoilers for Season One.
Disclaimer: I do NOT own any of these characters from Angel or Buffy the Vampire Slayer, they are trademark and copyrighted to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy. I do NOT profit from or benefit in any way [besides strange personal gratification] from this story. Don't sue me, I have no money or equity for you, it'll be a gigantic waste of time and money.
Chapter One: O Negatory
"Is that it? Am I done?"
The familiar Irish lilt echoed through his dream, startling him into an upright position. It wasn't often he didn't dream about Doyle. Lately the dreams were getting fewer and farther between, something he wasn't ready to let go of yet. They were something he hoped to never let go of. Doyle was his closest friend while he was alive and now his deepest regret. If only he had recognized the look in Doyle's eyes sooner. But he'd never seen that look on him before. If only he'd been at the ready to better anticipate Doyle's actions. But he'd never seen Doyle play the hero before, didn't know what to look for. Angel's life was full of ifs and could have beens, what's one more? One time he wanted things to go right. Just once for all parties involved.
Running a hand through a crusted head he sighed, gripping the sides of the bed. Some days just weren't worth getting up anymore. Staring to his bare feet for a moment he stood, moving to the bathroom. Removing his shirt he stared into the empty mirror, smirking at the memory it brought to him.
"Like it would kill the guy to not see himself."
Cordy. She had spent the week a few months back due to some fumigation errors in her apartment. During which she had gotten peanut butter on his red satin sheets, vehemently blaming him for it. It felt nice to smile, even if it was just for a moment.
Removing his pants he started the hot water up, checking it for temperature as he slid off his boxer briefs. To think, boxer briefs didn't exist for the better part of his life. "God I love the twenty first century." Stepping into the shower he let the hot water calm his nerves and eager muscles. He smirked, eyes closed as he soaped his face, trying to imagine Cordelia alive when he was a young man. Rinsing the soap from his body Angel grabbed the shampoo, a tiny electric shock of excitement traveling to his groin as Cordelia crossed his mind in a variety of promiscuous positions. Physically shaking his mind free of such thoughts he finished washing his hair, standing for a few minutes to get the suds out.
By the time he stepped out it was foggy enough for him to squint lightly while grabbing at his towel. He wasn't squinting out of necessity, merely habit, as his eyesight was better than anyone could imagine. Before he could get the towel properly wrapped around himself he heard the phone ringing upstairs in the office. Silently cursing to himself he took the stairs by two, gripping the railing with one hand, the towel to his side with the other. Racing into the main office he spied Cordelia filing her nails.
"Are you going to get that?" The droplets coming off his body splashed on the flooring, a few bouncing back onto his legs. He hadn't had time to properly dry his hair and it stuck out in a wide array of acute angles accented by some ninety degree ones.
Cordelia peered up at him, one eyebrow raised, "I thought about it yeah." She went back to filing, the answering machine picking up. "Oops?"
Angel threw a hand up in surrender, leaning forward towards the machine as if it would somehow make the message more audible. He never was too good with technology although he did try. Angel's cell phone was currently sitting at the bottom of Los Angeles County's finest sewage processing plant. He figured it would get better signal down there, since it was, in fact, a piece of crap. Alright, he tried sometimes. Heck, he was just glad he was able to master the microwave. Although the popcorn button and preset meat buttons were still rather daunting.
"I don't want to make a potato, I just want to microwave a nice, normal mug of pig's blood! … It says press reset, what the hell does that mean?! I'll give you reset!" He began furiously shaking the machine, the few things he'd had stored on top of it now decorating the floor. "Reset that!"
Cordelia smirked, stepping into the kitchen, "The Dark Avenger avenging the microwave? Let me tell you, it gives a whole new meaning to Rage Against The Machine."
He froze, eyes wide as the realization he'd been caught sunk in. "I don't get it, I can survive a hell dimension, but I can't get my microwave off the potato preset? What ever happened to the ones with the two dials?"
"Uhm, the 1970s ended and avocado went out of style." She moved towards the microwave, stepping over a few containers and cooking utensils on the way. Bending slightly she pressed the clear button, smirking as the small screen said a flashing HELLO!
He sighed, defeated by technology again. "Every time there's some piece of technology I get used to, it becomes obsolete." He turned, frowning at the mocking 'HELLO!'. "Now, how do I do this?"
"Maybe if it didn't take you a decade to learn how to use something, that would happen less. Just saying." Punching in a minute and twenty seconds she pressed start. "Think you can handle that fang boy?"
"Angel?" The voice on the answering machine brought him out of his memory and into the present. He knew the voice, grabbing the phone up almost too fast for Cordelia to see. "Hello?"
Cordelia's brows knotted together, taking in the half naked form of her employer for the first time [today, anyways]. One brow raised slightly as she tried to peer past the desk, tuning him out completely.
Angel put the receiver to his chest, knowing full and well what she was up to. "Cordelia, what are you doing?"
Her gaze flashed quickly to his face as she folded her hands and plastered a trademark smile on her face. "Trying to guess the thread count on that lovely ensemble."
The front door rattled open as Angel began talking into the phone again.
Cordelia peered at her nails, the daily paper tossed onto her desk causing her to jump a little.
"I see your very hard at work today, Cordelia." The British accent filled the room with a strange warmth nobody could replicate.
Cordelia rolled her eyes, "Unlike you, I take pride in my appearance instead of taking pride in looking like some frumpy little librarian. And my works already done, buster!"
"My aim is to take up the looks of a," Wesley placed his hands at his hips, puffing out his chest slightly, "Rogue Demon Hunter." His gaze traveled off towards the window, trying his best to hold a straight face. His outfit on the other hand did scream librarian; dark blue button down and khaki pants surely to be found filing away volumes between towering shelves.
Cordelia's lower lip quivered to hold back an outburst of laughter and instead she snorted, "Yeah, I see that's working for you Wes."
Wesley visibly pouted at this, his chest deflating. "I can recall a time when you found my boyishly good looks and librarian wardrobe sexy and irresistible."
One eye closed slightly as if in thought, the nail file pausing to rest on her pinky nail. "Now all that comes to mind is frumpy and annoying."
"Yeah, I'll be there. Just… I don't know, lock yourself in the bathroom or something." The voice on the other end was agitated at his lack of emotion to their situation. "B- uh, I have to go." Angel hung up the phone before he could hear the others reply, "Cordelia, librarians can be sexy." He would've flushed at the thought if he could. "Paris, huh?" The other two obviously had no idea what he was referencing and probably wouldn't like to know the number of Kama Sutra positions involving a red headed librarian Angel had couitus-ing through his mind just then. "Morning Wesley." Gripping the towel a little tighter he moved towards the elevator, sliding the gate closed. "Try to answer the phone when it rings, Cordelia." He pushed the button to start the descent, speaking over the working mechanism, "Even if you are taking pride in your appearance." 'Which suits you so- NO. BAD. ANGEL!'
He wasn't sure what they were bickering about, but he could hear them from all the way in his bedroom. Shutting the door behind himself he went to the armoire, taking out a fresh pair of black boxer briefs and black ankle socks. His fingers ran over the neck of a bottle, smiling at the memory it brought him. "Double malt scotch. You cheap Irish bastard." Bending slightly he slid the briefs on first in case Cordelia decided to accidentally get a better look. Closing the double doors he opened the top drawer getting a pair of black slacks and tossing them onto the bed. Shutting the drawer he moved to the closet grabbing a dark red button down and shrugged it on. Putting the socks on he had in his hand he went to the bed, shoving his legs into the pants. He zippered them half way and cursed, going back to the closet for a belt. He finished zipping and fastening the hook to the dress pants as he slid the belt through the loops finally closing it around his hips.
Angel could feel the pang of hunger, the need to replenish and he moved to the kitchen, smiling at the spot in the linoleum that was peeling. Cordelia never did come clean about it, but he was almost positive she'd taken a knife to it. He wasn't sure why he hadn't bothered to get it fixed. To be perfectly honest he didn't plan on it either. Angel found that objects held memory sometimes more vividly than he and he found beauty in their wear as the years passed. Even with a photographic memory the pictures tended to fade around the edges, their every detail becoming unclear.
Opening the fridge he frowned, "Dammit." Shutting it harder than he'd wanted he ran his hands through his damp hair. "CORDELIA!" He heard her chair move, sandals flopping across the floor to the stairs and finally to stand before him. "There's no blood."
"Remember I told you I had a thing the other afternoon and I couldn't pick it up." She swayed a little bit, causing the white knee length skirt to bustle about her slightly.
"What thing?" Desperation. "I'm pretty sure you didn't mention it."
"Yeah your what? Two hundred and fifty-"
"Forty seven!"
"Right, whatever," She pushed past him moving to the fridge and grabbed her lunch bag out. "how am I supposed to trust the memory of an aging, supernaturally old vampire?" Putting her bag on the counter she began to take things out, her back to him.
He had no problem remembering anything else recent in his life, especially not things pertaining to his survival. "Cordelia you don't even remember to make coffee in the morning."
Cordelia turned, half of a bologna and cheese sandwich pointing at him like her pointer would be. "It's not because I forget, I just don't want to." Taking a bite from the half she turned back around, her skirt whirling to catch up with her.
Angel watched her bite into it, "Oh that is so unfair."
"But, lucky for you," She turned, a plastic bag in hand, held out towards him. "Cordelia Chase happens to be the best secretary in L.A."
He raised a brow and took the bag. It felt heavier than it needed to be. Peering inside he raised a brow, "You brought me a bag full of other bags."
She rolled her eyes moving to stand next to him, mouth full of food threatening to fall out or fall down her esophagus. "NO you big ass head!" Cordy punched him in the chest.
He touched his forehead at that, wishing so badly he could see his reflection. And later, rubbed his peck lightly, "Ow, hey!"
"Take the bags out!"
Taking a few steps closer he placed the parcel on the table. Several plastic bags later he found himself staring at a water bottle that had been duct taped shut, filled with pigs blood. "Huh… maybe you are a pretty good secretary after all."
Cordy smiled wide at this, punching him again in the chest.
"Ow!" He rubbed lightly, his feelings hurt more than he actually was. "Why is it when your mad at me I get punched and then when your smiling at me… I also get punched?" Staring at the water bottle for a moment he returned his gaze back to a wide smiling Cordelia. "What's with the duct tape?" He raised a brow, putting his hands up should she decide to punch again. That was odd, he had to admit. Cordy punching? He'd brood about it's hidden meanings at a later time.
"Ew, Angel I can't believe you even have to ask me that." Moving back to the counter she took up the other half of bologna and cheese. Since she'd been working for Angel the pay had been little, but at least she could eat.
"And the ten thousand bags?"
"Please," She physically shook herself at this, pushing herself up to sit atop the counter, "if that would've spilled in my lunch, ugh! Make me vomit while I'm eating." Pausing a second she nearly inhaled the second half, grabbing her juice box afterwards. Sipping from the straw she swung her legs a bit, fixing her gaze on the slight blur of color her toenails made moving at this speed.
Pouring the contents of the stained water bottle into a coffee mug he placed it into the microwave and selected the appropriate time. Leaning against his side of the counter with his arms crossed over his chest he took a moment to finally admire Cordelia's outfit while she wasn't paying attention. Tight black tank top that showed off her, ahem, upper features and just enough belly button to make him wonder what her skin would taste like. Something close to sunlight he imagined. The non setting him on fire kind, of course. The shirt was accompanied by a knee length white skirt to show off her tan legs and perfectly manicured toes in black platform sandals. The microwave beeped, causing him to jump slightly before retrieving the mug. Putting it to his mouth he sipped at it. Pigs blood was certainly an acquired taste for the ensouled vampire.
"So, who was on the phone before?"
Angel coughed, a bit of blood sticking in his throat causing him to clear it before speaking. "No one. It was nobody." He took another sip, hoping she'd drop it.
"Somehow I have a hard time believing you spent ten minutes on the phone talking to nobody, Angel." She finished her juice box, tossing it in the direction of the garbage can and clapped lightly as it went in. "Besides it sounded like Buffy."
Dammit. He should've known better by now. "No it wasn't."
"Pfft!" She hopped down from the counter, walking to stand directly in front of him. "Look mister! I can tell when your lying to me, your forehead does this little crinkly thing and your nose twitches! And I can tell when I hear Buffy's voice on the answering machine! Even if it is just 'Angel?' it had that horrible mopey cry Buffy sound to it."
He put the mug down on the counter, loosing interest in it and pushed past her. "It's none of your business Cordelia." He heard her flopping after him as he made his way to the bedroom.
"Oh it is SO my business since you're my boss and would totally come to rip my head from my beautiful body once you've gotten your jollies in!" She stood in the center of the room, hands fixed on her hips like they were crazy glued there.
He sighed, resting his forehead on the armoire to momentarily gather his thoughts. Why can't things with Cordelia ever be simple. 'Go away Cordelia.' 'Okay.' Not likely. Turning he flexed his jaw muscles a bit, something he had unintentionally picked up from Doyle. "Look, she wanted to know if I had a book Giles could use for reference. But I don't have it, I told her to check out some of the local shops and for something that is none of your business I sure am giving you a lot of information. Huh…"
"Angel." Her eyes narrowed, fixing on his now darting gaze. She moved her position, at times very awkwardly, to meet his gaze at all times. "I know you better than you think, Angel. Every time you talk to Buffy you lock yourself up in this room all day drawing free hand pictures of her."
"I do not…" He almost pouted and stomped his foot on the floor like and indignant child. But he'd had a few years to properly harness self control. Kind of.
Cordelia took a step forward, pressing herself against him, keeping her gaze locked with his. Reaching behind him on top of the armoire she grabbed a notepad and opened it up, exposing a random page filled with sketchings of Buffy. "Yeah? What's this?"
At first her closeness caused him to stiffen his frame, hold in a nonexistent breath. But now with the sketches thrown in his face he turned his gaze away, moving to sit on the bed. "Your right, but I deny it."
Cordelia tossed the book carelessly onto the armoire, moving to sit next to him. "I know little cry Buffy was your biggest love, Angel, but you have to let go." What was she doing? Cordelia Chase giving somewhat nice advice? "Or you'll die alone." That's more like it. "Dust. Poof… whatever it is you do, you'll do it alone."
Angel smiled at her attempt to appear concerned and stayed silent for a moment, picking lightly at his thumb. "I can't. She will never remember it."
"Yes you can, Angel. And Buffy will always remember you." She placed a hand in his to stop his nervous movements. It wasn't often Angel talked like this with anyone, let alone her. "Wait, you said it. What it?!"
Angel had hoped she'd miss his slip. He always had hated Freud. He was a really weird guy and that was just the tip of the iceberg. Sighing greatly he realized he couldn't brood his way out of this one. "I had the Oracles erase a day from history so that no one will remember it except for me." Receiving a confused stare from her he continued. "Buffy showed up, we killed a demon but some of its blood mixed with mine making me human. Me and Buffy had a day together, filled with food and…" His gaze darted nervously, if he could blush he would. "…things and then I had it erased."
Cordelia's eyes looked as if they were watering, her voice crackling a bit as she spoke. "Why Angel?"
My, my his little Cordy was growing up. Very slowly. And sometimes backwards. "I couldn't fight to defend myself none the less save anyone. I'd be putting too many innocent lives at stake."
"Wow, that's…" She took her hand from his, using her thumb to wipe under a bit of running eye liner, "So… sucks!" She returned her hand to his, giving it a little squeeze. "I'm sorry Angel, I didn't know."
And yet so the same she was.
"So am I." Wesley was leaning in the doorway, Angel had heard him arrive just as he'd begun telling the story. Glad to not have to repeat himself, Angel had just continued on.
He nodded and stood. "Get to work, both of you."