Disclaimers: Joss Whedon and WB own everything.

Author's note: I was left shattered by Cordy's death. This is just my little tribute, it also happens to be my first Angel fic. So please review. Danka.

"Thank you." Angel whispered into his empty office. He sank into a chair and put his head in his hands. She was gone. Forever. He could never hear her laugh or see her smile again, never listen to her stupid jokes or making fun of Wesley. He would never kiss her again, never hold her, never breathe in the scent of her hair. She was gone. His beautiful Cordelia was gone.

Angel didn't know how long he'd sat there, minutes, days, it could've been years and it would not have made a difference. There was a sharp, stabbing pain where his heart should've been. It hadn't been like this when Buffy died, there had been pain, and grief, but nothing like this. With Buffy there had been no feeling of utter loss, of complete and total hopelessness. That's because with Buffy there had been no hope of a future, of a life. She had been his first real love, and he had missed her terribly, but he'd had Cordelia to comfort him. He'd had Cordy to shop for while he'd been away. He'd had Cordy's welcoming arms and bright smile to return to. He didn't have that anymore.

He stared at the place where she had been standing, kissing him, moments ago.

"Say goodbye to the gang for me. Once you understand yourself." Her words echoed in his mind. The gang. He'd have to tell his crew. He'd have to tell Wesley. Another wave of anguish washed over Angel as he tried to think of what to say. They were waiting for him, he remembered, down at the bar. What could he say that would make everything make sense? What could stop them from feeling what he was feeling? Nothing, he answered himself, nothing at all. A breath that he did not need fought itself up into his throat and Angel realized for the first time in a very long while that he wanted to cry. He could not remember the last time he'd cried. Running his hands over his face, the vampire discovered that although he wanted to, he could not cry. He was numb. That phone call had rendered him with no feeling but for the sense of having a large whole through his chest.

You have to tell them. A voice inside his head, most likely his conscience, whispered, softly. He knew the voice was right; it was with heavy footsteps and a stony expression that Angel rose from his chair and left his office.

He didn't remember driving to the bar, or getting out of his car, but when he blinked and refocused his eyes, there he was. And there before him, with their backs to him, sat his crew- his friends, at the bar. Laughing, drinking, talking, it was obvious they had been waiting for him to join them before finding a seat. Waiting for him and Cordy to join them. Fred turned around first, a bright pink Cosmopolitan in her delicate hand. She grinned when she noticed him, waving him over unnecessarily. He managed to take two steps in their direction before he stopped, unable to bring himself to do it. Fred's bubbly grin faded as she slid off her barstool and made her way over to him, setting the drink down as she did. Lorne, Gunn, and Wes followed suit, concerned.

"Where's Cordy?" Fred asked, looking behind Angel, in hopes of seeing her only gal pal breezing through the doorway any moment.

"Is everything all right?" Wes asked, observing his friend with a curious eye. Angel shook his head, incapable of the words to tell them all what they all would need to hear.

"It's Cordy." He murmured finally, looking at the ground. He couldn't watch their reactions, he didn't even know if they understood the gravity of the words. He hoped they did, not sure if he could choke out the rest of the sentence. If he had been looking at them, Angel would've seen the effect that two simple words could have on the quartet. Fred's face fell immediately, and she put a hand to her mouth, holding back a sob; Gunn's expression turned stony; Lorne reached out and took Fred in his arms, letting her cry into his bright blue silk shirt.

"She can't be." She managed to get out, between tears. "We just saw her. I hugged her, she was real…we didn't all just imagine it," she looked from Angel to Lorne, "did we?"

"No, Sugar pie, not really." Lorne told her, rubbing her arms. "She just," the demon's voice became constricted and tears took over his red eyes, "she came back…to-"

"To say goodbye." Wesley spoke up, making Angel look up. Their eyes locked, everyone fell silent. Angel watched helplessly as Wesley pursed his lips together and blinked several times, trying to keep a stoic expression, trying to appear stronger than he felt. Wesley had known Cordy just as long as Angel, but they two of them had had a very special bond. Cordy was the sister he'd never had, his constant companion in research and in the line of duty. She was his reason for smiling, his opponent in sarcasm competitions, and one of the only people who had no problem making fun of Angel with him. Cordy was a part of Wesley, a part of his soul, the luster that made his otherwise dull life sparkle. Without another word, Wes turned from the group and headed outside. Fred made a move to follow him but Gunn grabbed her hand,

"Fred, just…let him go."

"He shouldn't be alone." She protested helplessly, with a gesture toward the retreating Englishman. "None of us should be alone." The words hung in the air once she'd said them. No one said that they weren't alone, that they had each other. It was just silent between the four that remained. What else was there to say? They were alone. All of them together.

The foursome sat silently at a booth, not drinking, not talking, and once Fred's initial tears had dried, they weren't even crying. They were just sitting, remembering to breathe occasionally. At some point, a redheaded waitress came by and gave them a questionable look,

"Hate to break up the crazy-whirligig of fun that is you guys, but last call. Anything?" When she got no answer, the waitress shrugged and moved on, glad at least that she did not share their problems.

Suddenly, Lorne raised his half finished Sea Breeze, solemnly. Gunn and Fred glanced at one another before clinking their glasses with his. "For Cordy, the best of us all." The green man declared in a voice that seemed empty without its usual rich tenor.

"Guys, I can't drink! I have to be up at four-thirty in the morning, for the shoot! But please, continue with the toasting and praising." Another painful memory of Cordelia from nearly three years ago resurfaced in Angel's mind. He swallowed deeply and nodded to his friends.

"I'm going home." He said quietly, standing up. Fred quickly got up too, but he took no notice of her. "We can talk about this later." He left the bar without another word, still oblivious to Fred's presence behind him, hot on his heels.

"Angel, please. Stop." She called before he reached his car. He stopped. "I…" he turned toward his flabbergasted scientist,

"You what, Fred?"

"I'm sorry." She said, finally. "I'm sorry you lost her." Angel considered her words for a minute, not knowing how to respond. He wasn't sure of anything anymore. "I'm sorry you lost her." Fred repeated, hanging her head. Angel took a step toward her and touched her skinny shoulder,

"We all lost her, Fred." He told her in a soft voice. She nodded and looked into his eyes, dark brown pools of pain.

"Please check on Wesley." She pleaded gently enough that Angel nodded, "and please, be careful." He nodded again, got into his car, and drove away.

Angel had not intended to end up here. He had no solid idea how he'd ended up at Cordy's apartment. But he knew that he was there, and that the door was ajar, just slightly. He pushed it open further, his eyes adjusting quickly to the dim lights. The apartment was immaculate; all of Cordy's personal belongings were in their rightful place. Nothing, it seemed, had been touched. It seemed Phantom Dennis was lost without his resident to look after- she'd once said that he was an excellent housekeeper. Angel had been paying the rent monthly on the apartment so that Cordy would have some place to go when she woke up, if she didn't want to stay in his penthouse. Only, she wasn't going to need some place to go. Wherever she'd been going, she was there now.

Memories of years past filled his cluttered mind, "Why can't we work out of Wes's?" She would ask whenever they broke something.

"Cordy, we need to get you out of here." Angel had demanded when she'd moved in, to find that the place was haunted.

"I'm not leaving!" She'd exclaimed.

"Cordy, it's haunted."

"It's RENT CONTROLLED!" Angel almost smiled at the memory of how shallow she had once been. It seemed like eternity had passed since he'd seen that side of her. Filled with sudden anger, Angel picked up the nearest object- a book she had been reading a year ago- and threw it against the wall. Quickly, the book was snatched off the ground and floated across the room back to where it had been before.

"Throwing things does no good. He only puts them back." An unmistakable British accent spoke up from the living room. Angel jumped; surprised he had not realized he was alone. Wesley sat on the couch, staring at something he held in his hands.

"Wesley," was all Angel could get out, slowly making his way toward his friend. When he was close enough, he could see that Wesley held a picture of the three of them in his hand. Angel remembered the day the photo had been taken- when Fred was taking pictures to send to her parents of the group. Gunn had suggested a photo op of the original three: Cordy in the middle, sitting on the countertop of the Hyperion lobby's desk, Angel standing on her right, an arm around her waist, Wesley to her left, leaning against the desk, her arm around his shoulders.

The ex- Watcher smiled sadly, "those were good days," he observed with a nod that Angel matched.

"Yeah, they were." He agreed in a constricted voice.

"I'll miss her."

"Me too." They were quiet, sitting in the dark, staring at the picture.

"But I'll never regret it. Not for a moment." Wesley added with conviction. Angel must have looked surprised, because he continued as though he felt the need to explain. "She doesn't."

"How can you tell?" Angel asked, swallowing hard. Wesley turned his attention back to the picture.

"Just look, you can see it. Cordelia lived her life, the best she could, I would never want to take back a moment of her self-sufficiency, or her accomplishments. She took what she was given, and I dare say she kicked ass with it." The two men smiled to themselves, sadly. There was another moment of silence. "She's the bravest person I've ever met."

"You're right, Wes. She was the real champion." This sunk in for a minute before Wesley stood up. In the moonlight, Angel could see the tears that streaked his face. He looked around the room, taking everything in again,

"Goodbye, Princess. I hope you've found yourself some peace." He addressed the room, and Cordelia's memory. With no more acknowledgement of Angel, Wesley pressed his lips to his palm and sent a farewell kiss into the apartment. "I'll see you soon." He said, as he left. Angel knew he hadn't been talking to him.

Left alone in the apartment with Dennis, Angel looked around. Everywhere he looked, he saw Cordy. Her coat, her books, her clothes, her things, her laugh, her stupid songs, her sarcasm, her heart, her soul…it all became too much for Angel, he picked up a throw pillow and hugged it to his chest, burying his face in it. Hidden deep in the pillow, though, was the faintest scent of her perfume. It hit him. The love of his life was gone. For good. He had known it before, but it had not sunk in until he had caught the traces of her perfume. She would never be here again. A tear rolled down Angel's cheek. Followed by another, and another until the vampire was holding the pillow close to his face, bawling like a child. He cried and cried until there were no tears left, and then he lay his head on the pillow and tried to sleep. He'd just about dozed off when the creak of the floorboards jolted him awake,

"You're doing it again." An impossibly beautiful voice addressed him from the armchair across the room, he looked. There Cordelia sat, shaking her curly head, just as beautiful as when he'd seen her that day.

"Doing what?" He asked, sitting up.

"Brooding. Well, technically it's pre-brooding. Sorry babe, this is a brood-free zone. You're in my territory now." Angel almost smiled.

"Are you…?"

"A ghost?" He nodded. "No, sorry. I'm just…me." She smiled sadly.

"But you're-"

"Yep. I am." They were silent, until Cordy smiled again, "but hey, no worries, no tears. Right?"

"Cordy, what happened? Why-" Angel implored, searching her eyes in the darkness. She got up and joined him on the couch,

"Why? Because it was my turn. My story was over."

"But, I don't understand."

"Oh, Angel. There's so much you don't understand. There's so much that you can't understand. I don't understand it. There are just things that are so much bigger than us, bigger than champions and prophecies…I mean, in the grand scheme of things, we're just…people." She smiled at him again. "Wesley was right, you know. I don't regret any of it. Not a bit." Angel nodded with understanding. "Except one part."

"What's that?" He asked. Cordy took his hands in hers,

"The part where I don't get to see you anymore." She leaned in and kissed him gently, her tears falling on his cheeks. "I'm really gonna miss those eyes of yours." Cordy whispered as she pulled away. Outside her window, a white light grew bright and then went out. "Well that's my page." She went to stand, but Angel pulled her back down.

"I'm not ready to let you go yet." He confessed, terrified that she would leave and he would be all alone again. Cordelia touched his cheek,

"I know. But someday, we'll be together, like we should've been." She wiped her tears away and stood up, pulling Angel up with her.

"Cordy, before you go," she turned to face him. "What's Heaven like?" He asked, with child-like naiveté. Cordelia smiled,

"I love you, Angel. Forever." She kissed him again, with more passion and emotion that she could ever find the words for. Letting him go, she smiled, "it's like that- but better." Angel smiled too. "You'll see." She squeezed his hand once more and turned from him.

"I love you, Cordelia. Always have." The wall turned to a shimmery white, and just as she disappeared into it,

"I know." He smiled. Cordy always had to have the last word.

Angel awoke to the sound of traffic on the streets outside. It was still nighttime, four a.m. according to his watch. He sat up quickly looking around in hopes that Cordelia would be there, asking him why he was on her couch. But there was nothing. No sounds of life, but for his own, unnecessary shallow breathing. It had been a dream. Of course, it had been a dream. He stood up and put on his coat, which he had no memory of taking off.

As he walked toward the door, something on the table caught his eye. It was another picture. This one of only himself and Cordy. It was of the two of them, on the lookout point where they had agreed to meet so long ago. Where they had both been on their way to tell each other how they felt. Except, in the picture he held in his hands, they were kissing, arms around one another, oblivious to the rest of the world. It wasn't until then that Angel noticed it was a postcard, and that the word 'Heaven' scrawled across the corner. He turned it over, not surprised to see the words "Wish you were here" in Cordy's handwriting. He smiled to himself, tucked Cordelia's gift away, gave the apartment one last look, and locked the door behind him.

He had a long way to go before he could see himself the way she'd seen him, Angel knew. But he'd had a glimpse of Heaven that night. Of course, he'd always known what heaven was like. It was like kissing Cordelia. He'd see for himself one of these days.

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A/N: Au revior, Cordelia. You'll be missed.