Disclaimer: Alas, nothing in the great Buffy-verse is mine. Just the stuff
I create (Angele, ect.) All hail the all-powerful-genius that is Joss! (and
whoever else owns the Buffy stuff, that would be Mutant Enemy wouldn't
it...) So, yeah, don't sue me. All you'd get is $3.78, some lip gloss, and
a bobby pin.
Author's Note: Just before "Long Day's Journey" on Angel and correspondingly on BtVS. Don't worry about pairing in this story. I don't even know what it will be. (Not C/A) "~~~" Is there to separate different scenes/flashbacks from the present. But, you're a smart reader; you didn't need me to explain that. Well, I really don't have anything else to say here, other than I need lots of feedback! Happy readers review so that there are happy writers to make more stuff to keep happy readers happy. Remember! I'm not a real writer, I need help! Constructive criticism rocks! Well, I've rambled long enough, so I leave you with one parting thought: For the love of Smegol, Review!
Oh, and I'd like to dedicate this story to Jessy (Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you for editing this!!!!), Irina, and the roadrunner in my front yard. Oh, now it's gone. (the Roadrunner...beep, beep!)
~~~
Giselle was enforcing her protection spells like she always did first thing in the morning. It was always the same. She walked to the edge of the area she had staked out for herself after accidentally falling into this hell, all those years ago. Though she had no mirror, no clock to tell her the time, she had only to look at her hands, to feel her face, to know that she was no longer the young, naive little girl of the French court, about to be married to some obscure Irish lord.
She could still remember it, every detail of the day she left her world behind forever. It had been Autumn. The leaves that hung on the trees had begun to turn a pale shad of gold, almost tarnished, but sparkling. The Castle glittered with brilliant shades of rust, gold, and saffron. Her dress had been so radiant that it practically glowed with an ethereal glitter that was only revealed in the soft flicker of a candle.
She had felt like a Queen. Or the wife of a lord, which she would soon be, now that she was engaged. Tonight was to be her engagement ceremony. That was the reason for this lavish dress, for this overwhelming party. As much as the prospect of being a lady was exciting, the corresponding prospect of being the wife to some old, ugly, dog-face, Irish lord absolutely repulsed her.
It was about an hour from the start of the ceremony when Giselle found Emilie, her best friend, who was in much the same predicament as she was.
"Do you have the book?" inquired Emilie quietly.
"Yes, I do."
They were secretive. They had to be. This was no girlish fun. They were escaping with their lives to live as women of the world, their own keepers, answering only to themselves.
Sometimes she wondered if she would die here in hell, and if so, why bother to force a living when it's a life of hell?
~~~
Giselle sighed, softly fingering the torn yellow dress. It had once been magnificent. But now it always made her sad. It reminded her of Emilie and of the day they had been whisked off, magically transported to a place, this place, where she had to fight for her life everyday of it.
'This is about a "woman of the world" as you can get' bitterly thought Giselle.
She walked out of her magically enhanced cottage, rickety looking from the outside, but with the interior of a mansion. Rounding the corner outside, she passed the headstone. It was probably the only one in all of Hell. Kneeling closely to it, Giselle laid her hand on top of it's hard, stone surface.
"I'm so sorry."
She'll never know what went wrong that day. All she knew was that it sent them both to Hell, and cost her friend her life.
Giselle stood up. Dusting the dirt off of her apron, she marched determinedly towards her barrier. 'What irony, to escape invisible bars for semi-solid ones.' She muttered resentfully. As she neared the boundary she could see...something. It looked like a woman, writhing in pain.
Giselle hurried closer, fearing it might be a woman in her same predicament. Selfishly she had always wished for someone, anyone to share her long life with. As she neared the woman she was shocked to find her face contorted with hate and malice. Her soft blond hair fell into her face, bringing out the color in her eyes...Giselle peered closer. This was a demon; it's eyes were the classic shade of yellow. Suddenly she lashed out, and grabbing Giselle's ankle, muttered something about 'feeding before she crumbled.'
Suddenly Giselle was free from the demon woman's grasp. As she backed away in horror, she tripped and fell backwards onto the dead, dry ground. The leaves beneath her crinkled like charred flesh and the smell of stale laundry hung heavy in the air around the two of them.
Giselle scrambled to get away but paused when she realized that it wasn't coming after her. It was then that she realized that it was a woman and very pregnant. As Giselle watched, the woman flailed about in agony. She mumbled things Giselle couldn't hear, as if she were trapped in a nightmare.
Abruptly, her eyes glazed like she was seeing things only she could see. Like re-living memories. Giselle inched forward to see the woman better, perhaps help her. The woman got a faraway look in her eyes as a piece of soft blonde hair fell into her face. Giselle knelt down and, now that she was no longer violent, tried to administer some herbs from her pocket to ease the woman's physical pain. Reaching into the pocket of her apron, Giselle pulled out some grassroot and zinnia petals and ground it in the palm of her hand. The mush created a cool past in Giselle's hand that she softly applied to the woman's forehead. The woman, in her delirium, reached out to take Giselle's hand. The demon's hand, cold to the touch, rested against Giselle's.
Out of the former calm, she grasped Giselle's wrist.
"Angel" she murmured.
Her grip loosened a bit and Giselle relaxed, exhaling air she hadn't known she'd been holding. She began to administer more herbs to calm the woman. When Giselle looked up, all she saw in the pain-stricken blonde's eyes was fear and...something else Giselle couldn't quite place. Her gaze once more keenly focused behind Giselle, Giselle could feel her own breath and pulse quicken. The demon's eyes grew wide.
"Angelus" she breathed.
Suddenly, the woman's skin began to smolder as if a fire burned within her. Without warning, the entire physical form of the woman collapsed into dust, leaving behind a tiny baby with blonde hair and chocolate eyes.
~~~
"Grand mere! Grand mere!"
A triumphant little six-year-old came running across a pot-marked stretch of land, not far from a small, frail old cottage that looked like it might collapse in upon itself at any moment. A small old woman that looked quite out of place in the surrounding hellish landscape came out of the rickety cottage, wiping the dust off of her hands and onto the apron tied around her waist. She looked up to see the six-year-old, running happily towards her.
Suddenly, almost out of nowhere appeared a menacing demon, huge compared to the little girl, unaware of this new danger. The old lady's eyes widened in terror.
"Angele! Move.Run.NOW!"
Her mind frozen in terror, her voice choked with desperation, she was unable to utter anything other than the jumble of commands she had already said. Her body was stuck in slow motion as she watched one of the few things she held precious to her in her un-life about to be ripped to shreds.
As she looked on, unable to move, the child suddenly became aware of the danger behind her. Twirling around, the small girl stood to confront her attacker, heedless of the cries on the old woman that was now behind her. A jab, an uppercut, and one swift kick later, a certain demon had gone *poof* into a boiling vat of lava.
The young girl, still clutching the treasure she had risked her life for, skipped back to her waiting " grand mere" who was to speechless to do anything but usher the child into her home, and to accept the precious half- flowers the girl lovingly offered with an innocence only children can posses.
~~~
"Grand mere!" a young girl of about fourteen came bounding up a set of stairs with inhuman speed, to appear bedside of her "grand mere" in a blink of an eye...literally. The aged woman turned and, startled let out a short gasp of fear.
"Oh!...Angele, you shouldn't do that to this old woman. You know how that frightens me." The teen just grinned mischievously.
"I know. That's why I do it" she replied gleefully as she slid into one of
the velvet cushioned chairs in their magically enhanced home.
~~~
With moonlight softly illuminating her face, his feelings oscillated between the beginnings of what could be love and the fiery anger that came every time he saw this woman and his son. He had been violated. He had loved them both, and they had thrown it away, thrown it in his face. Thrown away his love and his trust. Sometimes he couldn't even stand to look at her...or him, added Angel almost as an afterthought.
And why not as an after thought? She had seduced his son; she had had sex with his son! Here were the facts, plain and clear. This woman had taken advantage of Connor, a lost and emotionally confused boy. He was a boy. Not a man, not ready for this...for her.
And now he saw her as a woman. A woman lost in dreams, silent and harmless in her bed, sleeping. She had looked so innocent, laying there, her head softly residing against the pillow; her now short brown hair was strewn about her head. He'd never forget how he felt that day, not too long ago, when he had thought that he had lost her forever. But now he had a hard time putting those feelings into words. So much had changed since then.
Were they even the same people anymore? Some part of Angel wanted to say yes, desperately. She was still a cheerleader at heart, and he was still a souled vampire who helped the slayer. 'No, now is not the right time to throw Buffy into the mix of my emotions' thought Angel. He missed the way things were, the way they used to be. They seemed simpler then. Well, not then, but compared to now, they were so uncomplicated. He loved Buffy...But things are different now. They're always different. They are different people now.
Angel once again turned his gazed onto Cordelia's sleeping form. Something was troubling her in her sleep. He wanted to take her into his arms and let her know it would be all right. He wanted to believe it would all turn out fine. But it won't, and he knew it.
Her face was now peaceful once again. Whatever it was that had been, had passed. Sometimes he just wanted to kiss her...or slap her, he was never really sure. No, things would never be the same between them. It was impossible to go back to the way it was.
~
Cordelia woke with a start. She sat up in her bed, her breath coming in short gasps and she was drenched in sweat. The last thing she remembered before waking was falling. Falling in darkness, spiraling through an abyss of nothingness...
Abruptly her attention was snapped back to the present. Someone, or something, was moving...or slithering... or scampering... or sneaking, ...or... 'Stop it!' She screamed at herself. She had been letting her mind run away with it's self far too often lately. She listened intently for a good three minutes, and, contented with the lack of sound that she heard, laid back down onto her bed. But she couldn't sleep. She lay awake, reflecting upon that dream she had had. Or was it a dream? Her visions had been pervading more and more of her daily life.
'No, this must have been a dream, because no one was in trouble. I mean, why would the powers send me little snippets of random people's uneventful lives? That would be like watching a really bad soap opera with no plot, and then spending hours pondering it' thought Cordelia.
Suddenly she heard it again. Freezing where she was, Cordelia strained her ears to hear the slightest bump in this night. Someone, or something... 'again with the running away with of my mind'... was moving around outside...or inside of her room. Slowly and cautiously, she flipped on the lamp next to her bed.
"Aha!" The soft glow from the small lamp cast a shadow of a silent figure against the wall of Cordelia's room. A slightly embarrassed Angel stepped out of the shadows, not at all embarrassed at his apparent situation.
" I knew you were the one who's been stealing the pickles out of my mini-fridge!" exclaimed an extremely relieved Cordelia.
Angel didn't respond as he moved from the corner he had been standing in towards Cordelia. He unconsciously halted himself before he got too close to her. Something between them just didn't seem right...but that thought was soon forgotten.
"Well, Mr. Thief." she was cut off by a sudden glare from Angel. Ignoring him, she continued "Just what exactly are you doing in my bedroom in the middle of the night, besides pickle stealing?"
"Why would I want pickles? I can't taste food, you know that." Angel paused for a moment, and now it was Cordelia's turn to look slightly embarrassed. "Well, I heard you cry out and I...I came to see what was the matter, but you were asleep."
They were both silent for a moment. These moments of silence seemed to grow longer and longer and occur more and more often lately, and they both were painfully aware of this.
"I wonder who's eating my food?" muttered Cordelia, breaking some of the tension that seemed to hang in the air all around them.
Angel didn't reply. There really wasn't anything to say. Cordelia sat up and, swinging her legs over the side of the bed heaved a short sigh and paused.
Both of them fell into silence and their own thoughts. Angel, of course, failed to mention how after rushing to her side, he had watched her as she slept, trying to sort out his feelings.
~
Suddenly the alarm clock went off, jolting the two, who were formerly deep in thought, out of their musings. Angel was the first one to speak as Cordelia turned off the deafening clatter of the alarm.
"You get up this early?" asked Angel. Cordelia just grinned as she hopped out of bed and headed to her bathroom in the little hotel room.
"It's almost light out." Said Angel, his parting greeting, as he headed for the door. Ducking her head out of the bathroom Cordelia nodded, a blue toothbrush angled precariously out of her mouth, and waved at the retreating form of the withdrawn Vampire.
Thanks for reading! Now, Review!!!! Pweeze??? For the Love of Smegol?
Author's Note: Just before "Long Day's Journey" on Angel and correspondingly on BtVS. Don't worry about pairing in this story. I don't even know what it will be. (Not C/A) "~~~" Is there to separate different scenes/flashbacks from the present. But, you're a smart reader; you didn't need me to explain that. Well, I really don't have anything else to say here, other than I need lots of feedback! Happy readers review so that there are happy writers to make more stuff to keep happy readers happy. Remember! I'm not a real writer, I need help! Constructive criticism rocks! Well, I've rambled long enough, so I leave you with one parting thought: For the love of Smegol, Review!
Oh, and I'd like to dedicate this story to Jessy (Thank you Thank you Thank you Thank you for editing this!!!!), Irina, and the roadrunner in my front yard. Oh, now it's gone. (the Roadrunner...beep, beep!)
~~~
Giselle was enforcing her protection spells like she always did first thing in the morning. It was always the same. She walked to the edge of the area she had staked out for herself after accidentally falling into this hell, all those years ago. Though she had no mirror, no clock to tell her the time, she had only to look at her hands, to feel her face, to know that she was no longer the young, naive little girl of the French court, about to be married to some obscure Irish lord.
She could still remember it, every detail of the day she left her world behind forever. It had been Autumn. The leaves that hung on the trees had begun to turn a pale shad of gold, almost tarnished, but sparkling. The Castle glittered with brilliant shades of rust, gold, and saffron. Her dress had been so radiant that it practically glowed with an ethereal glitter that was only revealed in the soft flicker of a candle.
She had felt like a Queen. Or the wife of a lord, which she would soon be, now that she was engaged. Tonight was to be her engagement ceremony. That was the reason for this lavish dress, for this overwhelming party. As much as the prospect of being a lady was exciting, the corresponding prospect of being the wife to some old, ugly, dog-face, Irish lord absolutely repulsed her.
It was about an hour from the start of the ceremony when Giselle found Emilie, her best friend, who was in much the same predicament as she was.
"Do you have the book?" inquired Emilie quietly.
"Yes, I do."
They were secretive. They had to be. This was no girlish fun. They were escaping with their lives to live as women of the world, their own keepers, answering only to themselves.
Sometimes she wondered if she would die here in hell, and if so, why bother to force a living when it's a life of hell?
~~~
Giselle sighed, softly fingering the torn yellow dress. It had once been magnificent. But now it always made her sad. It reminded her of Emilie and of the day they had been whisked off, magically transported to a place, this place, where she had to fight for her life everyday of it.
'This is about a "woman of the world" as you can get' bitterly thought Giselle.
She walked out of her magically enhanced cottage, rickety looking from the outside, but with the interior of a mansion. Rounding the corner outside, she passed the headstone. It was probably the only one in all of Hell. Kneeling closely to it, Giselle laid her hand on top of it's hard, stone surface.
"I'm so sorry."
She'll never know what went wrong that day. All she knew was that it sent them both to Hell, and cost her friend her life.
Giselle stood up. Dusting the dirt off of her apron, she marched determinedly towards her barrier. 'What irony, to escape invisible bars for semi-solid ones.' She muttered resentfully. As she neared the boundary she could see...something. It looked like a woman, writhing in pain.
Giselle hurried closer, fearing it might be a woman in her same predicament. Selfishly she had always wished for someone, anyone to share her long life with. As she neared the woman she was shocked to find her face contorted with hate and malice. Her soft blond hair fell into her face, bringing out the color in her eyes...Giselle peered closer. This was a demon; it's eyes were the classic shade of yellow. Suddenly she lashed out, and grabbing Giselle's ankle, muttered something about 'feeding before she crumbled.'
Suddenly Giselle was free from the demon woman's grasp. As she backed away in horror, she tripped and fell backwards onto the dead, dry ground. The leaves beneath her crinkled like charred flesh and the smell of stale laundry hung heavy in the air around the two of them.
Giselle scrambled to get away but paused when she realized that it wasn't coming after her. It was then that she realized that it was a woman and very pregnant. As Giselle watched, the woman flailed about in agony. She mumbled things Giselle couldn't hear, as if she were trapped in a nightmare.
Abruptly, her eyes glazed like she was seeing things only she could see. Like re-living memories. Giselle inched forward to see the woman better, perhaps help her. The woman got a faraway look in her eyes as a piece of soft blonde hair fell into her face. Giselle knelt down and, now that she was no longer violent, tried to administer some herbs from her pocket to ease the woman's physical pain. Reaching into the pocket of her apron, Giselle pulled out some grassroot and zinnia petals and ground it in the palm of her hand. The mush created a cool past in Giselle's hand that she softly applied to the woman's forehead. The woman, in her delirium, reached out to take Giselle's hand. The demon's hand, cold to the touch, rested against Giselle's.
Out of the former calm, she grasped Giselle's wrist.
"Angel" she murmured.
Her grip loosened a bit and Giselle relaxed, exhaling air she hadn't known she'd been holding. She began to administer more herbs to calm the woman. When Giselle looked up, all she saw in the pain-stricken blonde's eyes was fear and...something else Giselle couldn't quite place. Her gaze once more keenly focused behind Giselle, Giselle could feel her own breath and pulse quicken. The demon's eyes grew wide.
"Angelus" she breathed.
Suddenly, the woman's skin began to smolder as if a fire burned within her. Without warning, the entire physical form of the woman collapsed into dust, leaving behind a tiny baby with blonde hair and chocolate eyes.
~~~
"Grand mere! Grand mere!"
A triumphant little six-year-old came running across a pot-marked stretch of land, not far from a small, frail old cottage that looked like it might collapse in upon itself at any moment. A small old woman that looked quite out of place in the surrounding hellish landscape came out of the rickety cottage, wiping the dust off of her hands and onto the apron tied around her waist. She looked up to see the six-year-old, running happily towards her.
Suddenly, almost out of nowhere appeared a menacing demon, huge compared to the little girl, unaware of this new danger. The old lady's eyes widened in terror.
"Angele! Move.Run.NOW!"
Her mind frozen in terror, her voice choked with desperation, she was unable to utter anything other than the jumble of commands she had already said. Her body was stuck in slow motion as she watched one of the few things she held precious to her in her un-life about to be ripped to shreds.
As she looked on, unable to move, the child suddenly became aware of the danger behind her. Twirling around, the small girl stood to confront her attacker, heedless of the cries on the old woman that was now behind her. A jab, an uppercut, and one swift kick later, a certain demon had gone *poof* into a boiling vat of lava.
The young girl, still clutching the treasure she had risked her life for, skipped back to her waiting " grand mere" who was to speechless to do anything but usher the child into her home, and to accept the precious half- flowers the girl lovingly offered with an innocence only children can posses.
~~~
"Grand mere!" a young girl of about fourteen came bounding up a set of stairs with inhuman speed, to appear bedside of her "grand mere" in a blink of an eye...literally. The aged woman turned and, startled let out a short gasp of fear.
"Oh!...Angele, you shouldn't do that to this old woman. You know how that frightens me." The teen just grinned mischievously.
"I know. That's why I do it" she replied gleefully as she slid into one of
the velvet cushioned chairs in their magically enhanced home.
~~~
With moonlight softly illuminating her face, his feelings oscillated between the beginnings of what could be love and the fiery anger that came every time he saw this woman and his son. He had been violated. He had loved them both, and they had thrown it away, thrown it in his face. Thrown away his love and his trust. Sometimes he couldn't even stand to look at her...or him, added Angel almost as an afterthought.
And why not as an after thought? She had seduced his son; she had had sex with his son! Here were the facts, plain and clear. This woman had taken advantage of Connor, a lost and emotionally confused boy. He was a boy. Not a man, not ready for this...for her.
And now he saw her as a woman. A woman lost in dreams, silent and harmless in her bed, sleeping. She had looked so innocent, laying there, her head softly residing against the pillow; her now short brown hair was strewn about her head. He'd never forget how he felt that day, not too long ago, when he had thought that he had lost her forever. But now he had a hard time putting those feelings into words. So much had changed since then.
Were they even the same people anymore? Some part of Angel wanted to say yes, desperately. She was still a cheerleader at heart, and he was still a souled vampire who helped the slayer. 'No, now is not the right time to throw Buffy into the mix of my emotions' thought Angel. He missed the way things were, the way they used to be. They seemed simpler then. Well, not then, but compared to now, they were so uncomplicated. He loved Buffy...But things are different now. They're always different. They are different people now.
Angel once again turned his gazed onto Cordelia's sleeping form. Something was troubling her in her sleep. He wanted to take her into his arms and let her know it would be all right. He wanted to believe it would all turn out fine. But it won't, and he knew it.
Her face was now peaceful once again. Whatever it was that had been, had passed. Sometimes he just wanted to kiss her...or slap her, he was never really sure. No, things would never be the same between them. It was impossible to go back to the way it was.
~
Cordelia woke with a start. She sat up in her bed, her breath coming in short gasps and she was drenched in sweat. The last thing she remembered before waking was falling. Falling in darkness, spiraling through an abyss of nothingness...
Abruptly her attention was snapped back to the present. Someone, or something, was moving...or slithering... or scampering... or sneaking, ...or... 'Stop it!' She screamed at herself. She had been letting her mind run away with it's self far too often lately. She listened intently for a good three minutes, and, contented with the lack of sound that she heard, laid back down onto her bed. But she couldn't sleep. She lay awake, reflecting upon that dream she had had. Or was it a dream? Her visions had been pervading more and more of her daily life.
'No, this must have been a dream, because no one was in trouble. I mean, why would the powers send me little snippets of random people's uneventful lives? That would be like watching a really bad soap opera with no plot, and then spending hours pondering it' thought Cordelia.
Suddenly she heard it again. Freezing where she was, Cordelia strained her ears to hear the slightest bump in this night. Someone, or something... 'again with the running away with of my mind'... was moving around outside...or inside of her room. Slowly and cautiously, she flipped on the lamp next to her bed.
"Aha!" The soft glow from the small lamp cast a shadow of a silent figure against the wall of Cordelia's room. A slightly embarrassed Angel stepped out of the shadows, not at all embarrassed at his apparent situation.
" I knew you were the one who's been stealing the pickles out of my mini-fridge!" exclaimed an extremely relieved Cordelia.
Angel didn't respond as he moved from the corner he had been standing in towards Cordelia. He unconsciously halted himself before he got too close to her. Something between them just didn't seem right...but that thought was soon forgotten.
"Well, Mr. Thief." she was cut off by a sudden glare from Angel. Ignoring him, she continued "Just what exactly are you doing in my bedroom in the middle of the night, besides pickle stealing?"
"Why would I want pickles? I can't taste food, you know that." Angel paused for a moment, and now it was Cordelia's turn to look slightly embarrassed. "Well, I heard you cry out and I...I came to see what was the matter, but you were asleep."
They were both silent for a moment. These moments of silence seemed to grow longer and longer and occur more and more often lately, and they both were painfully aware of this.
"I wonder who's eating my food?" muttered Cordelia, breaking some of the tension that seemed to hang in the air all around them.
Angel didn't reply. There really wasn't anything to say. Cordelia sat up and, swinging her legs over the side of the bed heaved a short sigh and paused.
Both of them fell into silence and their own thoughts. Angel, of course, failed to mention how after rushing to her side, he had watched her as she slept, trying to sort out his feelings.
~
Suddenly the alarm clock went off, jolting the two, who were formerly deep in thought, out of their musings. Angel was the first one to speak as Cordelia turned off the deafening clatter of the alarm.
"You get up this early?" asked Angel. Cordelia just grinned as she hopped out of bed and headed to her bathroom in the little hotel room.
"It's almost light out." Said Angel, his parting greeting, as he headed for the door. Ducking her head out of the bathroom Cordelia nodded, a blue toothbrush angled precariously out of her mouth, and waved at the retreating form of the withdrawn Vampire.
Thanks for reading! Now, Review!!!! Pweeze??? For the Love of Smegol?
