Disclaimer:
Go to television. Turn it on. Find newest episode of Angel. Check
credits. Is my name in there anywhere? And if it was, why would I be
writing fanfiction? This would actually be happening on the show.
Translation: Not mine, never was, probably never will be. Probably...
[evil laughter]. It's all Joss's.
'Nothing Compares to You' is sung by Sinead O'Connor. Oh the cheese.
'All You Want' belongs to Dido
Spoilers:
Pretty much everything up to Epiphany. I haven't seen anything past
The Thin Dead Line, but I've heard the gist of the ones that haven't
aired yet.. I'm not sure if Angel staked Darla, but in my world, he
staked her right after the sex. This is just what I think the
feelings of everyone would be when Angel finally returns to help the
group. With a C/A slant, obviously.
Summary:
Angst that turns fluffy. Little bit of black humour. The aftermath of
the Darla thing, Angel and Cordy realise what's been obvious to us
for SO long.
Status:
Finished
Distribution:
Anywhere that'll take it. I'm coming off as really desperate, aren't
I?
Feedback:
Would really help my confidence issues. As in, I have very little.
Might encourage me to write more, if anyone thinks this was half
decent. Be gentle. Oh, and flames will be fed to Spike. My dog
(coincidence only). I will then sic him on you, and he may be tiny,
but he can be a vicious little terrier.
Notes:
I wrote the first half when I was a bit tipsy, and alcohol makes me
depressed and insightful. It then turned, inexplicably, into fluff.
I've been into lots of different 'ships, but this is the only one
that's actually inspired me to write anything.
Oh, and there is no curse. This is angsty enough without it. Angel
has too many other issues to agonise over to think about that one.
(Actually, I just get bored writing about it.)
Okay, I admit, I have a problem with procrastination. It's a disease.
I'm taking medicine. La-la, the fic!
Smoke was rising the small room, curling up in an enchanting,
hypnotising dance of death. Before he swung the door shut, he could
see the flames rising, enveloping the papers with a strange grace and
beauty. The crackling of wood, the creaks warning of imminent
destruction. The stone walls of the room would prevent the fire from
spreading, but there was no doubt that the contents would be
destroyed, every last item incinerated, absolutely nothing
salvageable. A long while's memories gone, in a matter of minutes. To
some, this would seem distressing. But he watched without sadness.
After all, it wasn't accidental. The flames were cleansing, helping
him to start fresh, to leave this strange, perverse and foolish
obsession behind him. He would make up for these past few months; at
least, he hoped that he would be able to. Possessions could be
destroyed; the pain and grief caused to friends could not so easily
be eradicated.
As the door slammed shut, Angel stared for a second at its blank,
wood veneer finish. After a couple of seconds, he turned around and
walked swiftly down the corridor, never looking back. Without a
glance over his shoulder, feeling strangely light, as if a huge
burden had been lifted, he walked down the stairs and into the lobby
of the Hyperion. He stood, staring blankly.
"Oh, look, it's Sir Broods-a-lot. So, my little pyromaniac, is the
room as charred and disgusting as those steaks that our regular
little Cordon Bleu wannabe attempted to cook last night?"
"It was most certainly not my fault! It said in my new Delia Smith
recipe book to cook the steaks for precisely..."
"Yuh, we get it Wesley. Angel, what did I ask before Master Chef
managed to remind me of his attempt to impress us all with his
culinary expertise?"
"It's all gone. Everything that could ever remind me of..."
"Nu-uh! No, don't say that name! That name is strictly verboten. In
fact, is it even a real name? I never heard it used before. It's a
stupid name."
Angel smiled. "I wasn't going to say it. And yes, she's gone.
Everything about her's gone. And Cordy, Wesley's steaks, they weren't
so bad..."
"Oh, it's alright for you, Mr 'I-have-no-taste-buds-so-there's-really-
no-point-me-wasting-good-food-here-Cordelia-have-mine'!" Cordelia
pulled a face. "From now on, we are only eating in restaurants, or
having take-out. And I will personally specify the restaurant. I
would stick around and discuss Wesley's spectacular failure in the
field of cookery, this time, and believe me, I would LOVE to do that -
it's so much fun, and god knows we need some fun around here, since,
well," she looked pointedly at Angel, who immediately looked away
"But I love shopping more. Sales, sales, sales! Since Angel has been
kind enough, well, actually, felt guilty enough to lend me his credit
card, I thought that I would take it on a little trip to Melrose. Oh,
but wait, what was I thinking? It's April, there are no sales! Oh
well, I suppose I'll have to pay full price. Pity." She grinned
smugly at the vampire in question, who was visibly shaking and
grimacing. "Have fun sitting around and brooding, and reading, and...
whatever else it is you do to keep yourself occupied."
With that she flounced out of the office.
Just as Angel started to turn to Wesley to comment, she was back.
"Oh, and Angel? I'm sure you don't mind me borrowing the car. Okay,
bye!"
She grabbed the keys, and ran out again.
"You know, I've been tortured fairly thoroughly during my unlife,
both physically and mentally, and I'm ashamed to say I've been
responsible for the torture of others, but Cordelia manages to
constantly redefine the notion of total torment. I can already hear
the bank manager's screams for mercy." Angel smiled at Wesley, and
immediately stopped as he saw the look on Wesley's face.
"Angel, I would love for everything to go back to normal immediately -
t'would be a blessing if I had the capacity for forgiveness of a
Saint, that I could smile, forget, and carry on with my life. But
it's not that simple. We all trusted you - with our lives, at that,
and it will be difficult for you to regain that trust."
"I know. Believe me, words cannot express...I so, so sorry. The whole
thing with Darla, it meant nothing to me. I got carried away, swept
up in my past. It's not an excuse, I know that, and I was an idiot, a
blind, unfeeling moron. I'm more than willing to let it become the
past again. I hurt the people I care about most, and I will never let
it happen again. Even if the circumstances arise, I just..."
"I don't believe you. That's the problem. You have no excuse. You
were not Angelus, and yet you behaved in a fashion that your alter
ego would be quite proud of. You hurt us all, Angel, but no-one as
much as that brave woman, who I hope is currently causing irreparable
damage to your bank balance, much as you have caused her irreversible
hurt. You're aware of the facade she wears?"
"I...I don't know what you mean. Cordy and I are fine, really..."
Angel stopped to think. She had been strangely cheerful, all things
considered. But surely, she could begin to forgive him! He was her
best friend... at least, he had been, before the whole Darla
debacle... He had missed Cordelia. He allowed himself to admit that
much. In his little foray into the grey areas, he had ignored and
neglected the girl, the woman, he had become so close to over the
past two years. He needed her. He loved her...
As a friend. He caught himself - Cordelia was his best friend. He was
just getting emotional. Their relationship was purely platonic. What
little relationship was left standing, from before he had managed to
burn almost all his bridges to the ground. But they had talked! He
asked her if she could ever forgive him, and she replied, in that
flippant style she was prone to when... when she was protecting
herself from further pain.
"Angel, don't be such an emotional retard! Of course I'll forgive
you... Naturally, there might be cash, and shopping excursions
involved... you were a total bastard, and it won't be fixed
overnight, but give me time."
Case closed. Cordelia Chase had spoken. Although, he could have sworn
that he'd seen something in her eyes, some conflicting emotion... but
he brushed it off, almost as easily as she seemed to have brushed off
his treatment of her in the previous months...
He was a fool. He believed her when she said that everything was
fine, and he hadn't tried to talk to her. He let her get away with
reverting to the down-trodden Cordelia he had found upon his arrival
in Los Angeles. He longed for the Cordelia he had come to love, his
best friend, his seer, HIS Cordy... there it was again. Snap out of
it, Angel! She's not yours, and never will be! She's far too good for
you. But, his mind amended, you don't want her like that.
His subconscious still whispered to him, like the pixies whispered to
Drusilla. 'You want her, you NEED her...' He even longed for the
Cordelia of Sunnydale. She would tell him exactly what she thought of
him, and he doubted that it would be pretty. More likely scathing, if
he was lucky. Ice Queen Extraordinaire, Bitchiest of the Bitches.
Like the Godfather, if the mafia cared a lot about 'totally important
designers'. That's it, he would never let her make him
watch 'Clueless' again. Not that she'd want to spend any time with
him. Walls had gone up, and he was definitely not on the guest list.
More likely scathing, if he was lucky.
"She hates me, doesn't she?" Angel looked so thoroughly miserable
that Wesley almost felt sorry for him. Almost.
"I think hate is a strong word. However, I doubt that she thinks too
highly of you at the moment. I hope you realise how you wounded her."
"I do. I care about her so much, and when I think of what I've done
to her, I....countless millennia in hell isn't punishment enough, it
really isn't. I've been a selfish, cruel..."
"Thoughtless, egotistical, self-absorbed, maniacal, vicious...all in
all, a heartless prick, really."
"Thank you, Wesley, in my self deprecating diatribe I almost ran out
of vocabulary, you really helped." Angel flinched under Wesley's
glare. "But it's true. I'm all those things, and more. To willingly
and consciously hurt a person, I mean people, I care so much about...
I never deserve redemption. Never."
"Now, Angel, that is a little harsh on yourself. I'll start to think
I'm wasting my time if you feel that way. No, I just think your
little slip over to the dark side should add... well, a few hundred
years onto your sentence," Wesley grudgingly said. He was perhaps
physically injured the most by Angel's departure, in that he probably
wouldn't have gained the huge, gaping bullet hole in his stomach if
the vampire had been around, but realised that as long as Angel was
back on the path to salvation, he was still willing to try and
forgive him.
Angel was touched by Wesley's attempt to make him feel a little
better.
"But, and correct me if I'm wrong, Angel - and I certainly hope I am -
you seem to care the most about a certain person's willingness, or
loath, as it may be, to accept and trust you again, as a person."
Wesley looked carefully at Angel. Although the vampire was trying to
show no emotion, the feelings penetrating his carefully set
expression were of.... Wesley couldn't be sure. "Well?" he prompted.
"I..." Angel struggled "I think, that I..." the truth finally dawned
on him. Finally? He'd known it for a long while, but chose to ignore
it. His feelings towards her had been growing, becoming less
platonic, and more... well, ever since she had told him that she'd
always be with him, after that never ending vision, which thankfully,
chose to end. He was aware how close he had been to losing her, and
was surprised to feel all the emotions that came to the surface when
considering the possibility. Then that girl, the telekinetic...
Bethany, she had thought they were a couple, and he was a little
disconcerted how much that didn't bother him, and more than a little
pleased that it didn't seem to bother her, either. But then along
came Darla, who proceeded to ruin the unlife he had managed to build
for himself here, and alienate the small group of people who cared
for him, not to mention the woman he was growing to... love.
"I think I love her, Wesley." He didn't elaborate further. It would
be unfair for Wesley to know more about his feelings than Cordelia
did.
"Well, I think you really need to talk to her." Wesley didn't even
try to act surprised. He had seen how his two friends had been
behaving. "Oh, and if you ever hurt her, I will force you to bathe in
holy water, then stake your undead arse to a flagpole and leave you
to greet the sun."
"Point taken." Angel would never hurt Cordelia again, he silently
swore that to himself. Even if she didn't feel the same way; he would
still be her best friend, forever.
Wesley proceeded to re-immerse himself in research. Truthfully, he
was glad that his friend had finally seen the metaphorical light.
Even though Wesley had been more than willing, over the last couple
of months, to let him see the literal, natural one. At least Angel
and Cordelia would stop being miserable apart, and be happy together.
If it worked out, that was. Angel could be a difficult sod, and
Cordy... well, she did have a tendency to retreat into her icy shell
when she was hurt. What Wesley wasn't about to tell Angel was that he
was pretty sure that Cordelia had begun to feel the same way about
him. No, she could tell him that herself.
As if on cue, Cordelia suddenly barged back into the lobby, slamming
the door loudly behind her.
"Back so soon?" Wesley enquired. Her shopping trips very rarely only
lasted ten minutes.
"Mmm...huh?" Cordy looked vacantly at Wesley. "Oh, well, huge traffic
pile-up. So could not be bothered. Also, I was sitting in that car,
and I got to thinking..."
I wonder what about, Wesley thought to himself.
"Well, I'm finished for today. I'll be at my apartment if you need
me. Good bye!" He gave Angel a knowing, hinting look, and walked
briskly out.
"Wesley, you slacker, it's only 2 o'clock in the afternoon, and we've
got that horrible demon to research. Speaking of horrible demons,"
she turned to Angel, "what are you doing up this early...late...
whatever." Angel flinched at her little gibe, then replied:
"Couldn't sleep. Also, with the whole incineration, I don't really
have another room set up."
"Oh. Right. Well, I kinda needed to talk to you, anyway..."
* * *
earlier on...
As soon as she had left the office... hotel... place, Cordy headed
straight for Angel's convertible. Jumping in, she turned the keys in
the ignition, and pulled out of the drive, heading for Melrose. As
she drove, the silence gave her unwelcome time to contemplate events.
Stupid vampiric loser. He had hurt her, badly, and she really needed
to talk about it, but he just seemed to be shut off about the whole
thing. Not that he was pretending that it didn't happen, because it
did... it really did. Bitch Darla. She waltzed in, in all her new-
found humanity, and stole Cordelia's best friend away from her. It
sounded a bit third grade, but it was true.
Forgive him. After a little grovelling, and loss in the financial
department, on his behalf. That's what her brain was telling her. But
her heart... her heart was acting like it was... broken, or
something. She felt just as bad as when she had walked in on that
dweeb Xander Harris kissing another girl, then fell onto a sharp
piece of metal, from a height. But she had loved Xander. Angel was
just...
Snap out of it Cordy! It's not like your're in love with... Nope,
definitely not. Not gonna go there. So what if he was the only person
she'd had as a true friend for... well, ever. Like those sheep
Harmony and Aura and the other Cordettes had been her friends. And
she had never been a part of the exclusive 'Scooby gang'. Not really.
Doyle. Doyle had been her friend. She had started to love him, in
more than a platonic way. He died. Boy, just a little unlucky with
love, huh, Chase? But Angel had been there for her through that.
Wesley. Wesley and Gunn were true friends, friends she would put her
life on the line for, and quite frequently did. See, she wasn't that
pathetic! Not many people could say they had friends who would die
for them, and, in fact, one already had.
It didn't help with the Angel situation. She still felt differently
about him to her other friends. She put the radio on, to try to
dispel the stupid, dumb silence that was making her think these inane
thoughts. Sleep depravation. That was what it was. She hadn't been
sleeping well... because of Angel. Damnit, she couldn't stop thinking
about him! Okay, nice, oldies radio channel. Guaranteed to cheer a
person up.
"It's been seven hours and fifteen days
Since you took your love away
I go out every night and sleep all day
Since you took your love away
Since you've been gone I can do whatever I want
I can see whomever I choose
I can eat my dinner in a fancy restaurant
But nothing
I said nothing can take away these blues
Because nothing compares
Nothing compares to you"
For some reason, the cheesy yet incredibly sad song brought tears to
her eyes. She quickly flipped channels.
"What is wrong with me?" she moaned. Think non-Angel related
thoughts. Hmmm, Tiffany's, mansions, lots of money, rich men,
handsome men, handsome vampires... no, start again. What was on TV
the other night? Oh yeah, Friends, Jennifer Aniston, good clothes,
Ralph Lauren, sounds French, Europe, Ireland, and guess what? Ended
up straight back at Angel, with the added pain of thinking about
Doyle. And those links weren't even tenuous, they were non-existant.
She was such an incredible moron. Her brain told her one thing, her
heart... she wasn't sure what her heart wanted. Actually, yeah, she
was. Her heart wanted Angel back. And so did her head. They were just
at odds as to how they wanted him. Her head was telling what a
crapweasel he was, but that she could forgive him in the end, and be
his friend again. Her soul just hurt. An agonising, scalding,
permanent sinking Titanic style not-so-unsinkable-after-all feeling.
Radio. Listen to the radio, only concentrate on the words.
"I'd like to watch you sleep at night
To hear you breathe by my side
And although sleep leaves me behind
There's nowhere I'd rather be
And now our bed is oh so cold
My hands feel empty
No-one to hold
I can sleep what side I want
It's not the same with you gone
Oh if you'd come home
I'd let you know that
All you want
Is right here in this room
All you want
And all you need
Is sitting here with you
It's been three years
One night apart
But in that night you tore my heart
If only you had slept alone
If those seeds had not been sown
Oh you could come home
And you would know that
All you want
Is right here in this room
All you want
And all you need
Is sitting here with you"
Of all the goddamn songs that could come on, every time it was one
that she could relate to her and Angel. And they were always just
miserable enough to nearly make her cry. Hell, actually, the mood she
was in, she could probably relate Mustang Sally to Angel. And cry
over it. She wasn't sure how, but she'd probably manage.
It felt like she'd been hit with a tonne of bricks. After quickly
checking that she hadn't in fact hit a tonne of bricks with the Angel-
Mobile, she stared in front of her in shock, only still driving
through pure reflex.
"I'm in love with him. I'm completely, utterly, head-over-heels in
love with that jackass! God, girl, you have bad instincts! Shit,
shit, shit!" She was, of course, kidding herself. About the instincts
part. Who wouldn't fall in love with the dark, broody yet sweet,
gorgeous yet still very manly vampire? Even after everything that had
happened, she wanted him. Desperately.
Looking briefly in the wing mirror, she grasped the hand-brake, and,
after making a fairly illegal U-turn, sped back to the office. Screw
shopping. And who'da thunk Cordelia Chase would ever think anything
more important than the spending of money? Then again, she would have
to ask that person, did you SEE Angel?!
* * *
present
After Wesley had pretty much sprinted out of the office, and Cordelia
and Angel had exchanged those few sentences, they just stood, staring
at each other. And it wasn't a good silence, an amicable one. It was
the sort of silence that had tension that you could cut with a knife,
but still managed to be uncomfortable. Angel kept looking at his feet
in the manner of an avid floor-board spotter, and Cordelia twisted
the hair that was supposed to be behind her ears until it almost
started to knot. They both happened to look up at each other at the
same time, and both blurted out:
"We need to talk." Angel smiled a little, and Cordelia laughed
nervously.
"After you," she said.
"No, I insist, ladies first". She smiled, a little too shyly
considering that the man in front of her had been her closest friend
for a good couple of years.
"Okay. Well, um, there was no traffic. In case you hadn't guessed. I
was just... thinking, as I was driving, and I thought... this thing,
between us, it's... yeeurch." Seeing Angel's confused look, she
clarified: "I mean, the whole not talking, not being friends,
basically wanting to stab each other, or stake, whatever, to death
thing. Actually, I think that's just me. But I wanted to, to tell you
that, um... I want us to be friends again. I miss you." Tell him,
tell him, tell him, her mind whispered. She stayed quiet.
Angel was, at this point, grinning. He was still suffering from the
inner turmoil of what he should say, so he just replied:
"I miss you too." Cordelia needed more than that.
"Elaborate." He smiled.
"That whole thing with..." she held up a finger, gesturing, nu-uh,
not the name, "her, I want to put that behind me. I care about you,
Cora. I mean, I really care about you, and I need you." Cordy could
feel the emotion welling up inside of her, a tense feeling,
excitement, and also dread that he wouldn't feel the same as her.
"I think..." Angel stuttered, terrified of scaring her, or making her
laugh if she didn't... feel like he did. "I think... I care about you
in a way... that's more than platonic, just friends." He looked
carefully at her face. He wasn't sure what the emotion there was, but
he didn't see disgust or revulsion. He decided to go on.
"I... love you, Cora. I love you so much, and when I realised, I knew
that that's why I was so worried about talking to you about Darla.
And I'll say her name, because I know that she's nothing to me.
Nothing compared to you."
Cordy was choked up. He'd managed to make the most talkative, mouthy
girl in Los Angeles speechless. She coughed to clear her throat.
Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry...
"Well, look at you, managing to quote cheesy 80s pop songs," she said
smiling through her tears. Seeing the crushed look on his face, she
realised that he took her comment the wrong way. "But that's what I
love about you. Well, part of it. Pop culturally challenged. I mean,
there's a whole lot left to love after that." She giggled at his face
as he tried to sift through what she'd said.
"I mean, you're caring, considerate, at least if it doesn't involve a
certain 400 year old blonde, you're handsome, you listen to me crap
on about different things that you couldn't ever be interested
in....unless you're gay, and...you're not, are you?" He shook his
head, smiling. "You cook for me, even though you don't eat, you were
always there to talk when I needed, you support me with the acting,
even though I suck... oh, come on, now honesty? Not so much your
strongest trait. At least Angelus was honest. I kinda like that in a
man, but not too much. Some white lying's okay, y'know, 'no sweetie,
you don't look fat in that rubber catsuit' kinda thing. I also like
some demon in my man." He raised his eyebrows.
"That does not mean I have a kinky thing for your demon self, because
I don't. I mean, it's your body, and I suppose it wouldn't be too bad
because I'm into you, but that doesn't mean I just want you for your
body; the whole package is great, and I love it all, and you're
supposed to stop me when I do this. Colour me a redhead, and call me
Willow Rosenberg." She smiled, and he started to smile back again,
after the bemusement that accompanied her babbling.
"Wait, um, are trying to say that you, you love me?" he asked
tentatively.
Instead of replying, she grabbed the back of his head, and pulled him
towards her to kiss him. At first, the kiss was tentative, but it
grew more and more passionate as they poured more and more of their
feelings into it, the sexual tension suddenly resolved. It was as if
they had been hit by lightning, that once-in-a-lifetime feeling that
just tells you that you are supposed to spend the rest of your life
with a person. Angel would certainly spend the rest of his
unnaturally long existence with her. He wasn't sure how, but he knew
they'd find a way.
Pulling away from her, Angel looked into her teary eyes.
"Y'know, I'm gonna have to make you say it, because, although that
was a very good answer..."
"A VERY good answer," she interjected, breathlessly.
"Yes, but I need to hear the words," he said, as he thought how
beautiful she was, as he stroked her hair.
"I love you, Angel. Well, duh! More than I knew it was possible to
love someone."
He pulled her back towards him for another, longer, tender kiss.
Which quickly turned into a very passionate one, as their bodies
seemed to merge as one. Cordelia ran her fingers through his hair, as
he held her to him, his hand at the small of his back. She wrapped
her legs around his waist, and he wrapped his arms around her.
Pulling away, between kisses she said "You remember that... the thing
with... psycho bitch..." He nodded his head as well as he could under
the circumstances. "Yeah, I'm... I'm gonna stick a... a pin in
that... just for now, 'kay?"
"Okay", he replied, then pulled her in for another long kiss,
carrying her towards the stairs, and up to his bedroom, all the while
bumping into doors and knocking over ornaments, due to the slightly
compromised vision.
As he opened the door, he remembered what he had done to the room.
Slowly, he put her down, and they both stood in the doorway,
surveying the smouldering wreckage. He was afraid that Cordy would
suddenly decide that this was wrong, that they couldn't be together,
but she just held onto his hand.
"Ashes to ashes..." she murmured.
"Dust to dust," he said. The room was a burnt out shell. The pictures
were all gone. the furniture; well, it wasn't furniture any more. The
wrought iron bed had barely kept it's shape.
He slowly pulled closed the door, and led Cordy up the hall. They
were standing in the doorway of another room, a room that Cordelia
knew had been made up as a guest room. With a double bed and
everything.
Angel stared into the eyes of his beautiful seer, who, without
flinching under his penetrating gaze, stared right back at them. They
stood, for what seemed an eternity. Angel was waiting for her to
rebuff him, she realised. For an attractive guy, he was kinda
paranoid and insecure when it came to his sex appeal. Although,
that's what hundreds of years without a mirror will do to you. She
finally spoke.
"New room... fresh start.... new memories?" she asked hopefully.
Angel leaned down and captured her lips, picking her up and carrying
her across the threshold.
"New memories."
FIN
Go to television. Turn it on. Find newest episode of Angel. Check
credits. Is my name in there anywhere? And if it was, why would I be
writing fanfiction? This would actually be happening on the show.
Translation: Not mine, never was, probably never will be. Probably...
[evil laughter]. It's all Joss's.
'Nothing Compares to You' is sung by Sinead O'Connor. Oh the cheese.
'All You Want' belongs to Dido
Spoilers:
Pretty much everything up to Epiphany. I haven't seen anything past
The Thin Dead Line, but I've heard the gist of the ones that haven't
aired yet.. I'm not sure if Angel staked Darla, but in my world, he
staked her right after the sex. This is just what I think the
feelings of everyone would be when Angel finally returns to help the
group. With a C/A slant, obviously.
Summary:
Angst that turns fluffy. Little bit of black humour. The aftermath of
the Darla thing, Angel and Cordy realise what's been obvious to us
for SO long.
Status:
Finished
Distribution:
Anywhere that'll take it. I'm coming off as really desperate, aren't
I?
Feedback:
Would really help my confidence issues. As in, I have very little.
Might encourage me to write more, if anyone thinks this was half
decent. Be gentle. Oh, and flames will be fed to Spike. My dog
(coincidence only). I will then sic him on you, and he may be tiny,
but he can be a vicious little terrier.
Notes:
I wrote the first half when I was a bit tipsy, and alcohol makes me
depressed and insightful. It then turned, inexplicably, into fluff.
I've been into lots of different 'ships, but this is the only one
that's actually inspired me to write anything.
Oh, and there is no curse. This is angsty enough without it. Angel
has too many other issues to agonise over to think about that one.
(Actually, I just get bored writing about it.)
Okay, I admit, I have a problem with procrastination. It's a disease.
I'm taking medicine. La-la, the fic!
Smoke was rising the small room, curling up in an enchanting,
hypnotising dance of death. Before he swung the door shut, he could
see the flames rising, enveloping the papers with a strange grace and
beauty. The crackling of wood, the creaks warning of imminent
destruction. The stone walls of the room would prevent the fire from
spreading, but there was no doubt that the contents would be
destroyed, every last item incinerated, absolutely nothing
salvageable. A long while's memories gone, in a matter of minutes. To
some, this would seem distressing. But he watched without sadness.
After all, it wasn't accidental. The flames were cleansing, helping
him to start fresh, to leave this strange, perverse and foolish
obsession behind him. He would make up for these past few months; at
least, he hoped that he would be able to. Possessions could be
destroyed; the pain and grief caused to friends could not so easily
be eradicated.
As the door slammed shut, Angel stared for a second at its blank,
wood veneer finish. After a couple of seconds, he turned around and
walked swiftly down the corridor, never looking back. Without a
glance over his shoulder, feeling strangely light, as if a huge
burden had been lifted, he walked down the stairs and into the lobby
of the Hyperion. He stood, staring blankly.
"Oh, look, it's Sir Broods-a-lot. So, my little pyromaniac, is the
room as charred and disgusting as those steaks that our regular
little Cordon Bleu wannabe attempted to cook last night?"
"It was most certainly not my fault! It said in my new Delia Smith
recipe book to cook the steaks for precisely..."
"Yuh, we get it Wesley. Angel, what did I ask before Master Chef
managed to remind me of his attempt to impress us all with his
culinary expertise?"
"It's all gone. Everything that could ever remind me of..."
"Nu-uh! No, don't say that name! That name is strictly verboten. In
fact, is it even a real name? I never heard it used before. It's a
stupid name."
Angel smiled. "I wasn't going to say it. And yes, she's gone.
Everything about her's gone. And Cordy, Wesley's steaks, they weren't
so bad..."
"Oh, it's alright for you, Mr 'I-have-no-taste-buds-so-there's-really-
no-point-me-wasting-good-food-here-Cordelia-have-mine'!" Cordelia
pulled a face. "From now on, we are only eating in restaurants, or
having take-out. And I will personally specify the restaurant. I
would stick around and discuss Wesley's spectacular failure in the
field of cookery, this time, and believe me, I would LOVE to do that -
it's so much fun, and god knows we need some fun around here, since,
well," she looked pointedly at Angel, who immediately looked away
"But I love shopping more. Sales, sales, sales! Since Angel has been
kind enough, well, actually, felt guilty enough to lend me his credit
card, I thought that I would take it on a little trip to Melrose. Oh,
but wait, what was I thinking? It's April, there are no sales! Oh
well, I suppose I'll have to pay full price. Pity." She grinned
smugly at the vampire in question, who was visibly shaking and
grimacing. "Have fun sitting around and brooding, and reading, and...
whatever else it is you do to keep yourself occupied."
With that she flounced out of the office.
Just as Angel started to turn to Wesley to comment, she was back.
"Oh, and Angel? I'm sure you don't mind me borrowing the car. Okay,
bye!"
She grabbed the keys, and ran out again.
"You know, I've been tortured fairly thoroughly during my unlife,
both physically and mentally, and I'm ashamed to say I've been
responsible for the torture of others, but Cordelia manages to
constantly redefine the notion of total torment. I can already hear
the bank manager's screams for mercy." Angel smiled at Wesley, and
immediately stopped as he saw the look on Wesley's face.
"Angel, I would love for everything to go back to normal immediately -
t'would be a blessing if I had the capacity for forgiveness of a
Saint, that I could smile, forget, and carry on with my life. But
it's not that simple. We all trusted you - with our lives, at that,
and it will be difficult for you to regain that trust."
"I know. Believe me, words cannot express...I so, so sorry. The whole
thing with Darla, it meant nothing to me. I got carried away, swept
up in my past. It's not an excuse, I know that, and I was an idiot, a
blind, unfeeling moron. I'm more than willing to let it become the
past again. I hurt the people I care about most, and I will never let
it happen again. Even if the circumstances arise, I just..."
"I don't believe you. That's the problem. You have no excuse. You
were not Angelus, and yet you behaved in a fashion that your alter
ego would be quite proud of. You hurt us all, Angel, but no-one as
much as that brave woman, who I hope is currently causing irreparable
damage to your bank balance, much as you have caused her irreversible
hurt. You're aware of the facade she wears?"
"I...I don't know what you mean. Cordy and I are fine, really..."
Angel stopped to think. She had been strangely cheerful, all things
considered. But surely, she could begin to forgive him! He was her
best friend... at least, he had been, before the whole Darla
debacle... He had missed Cordelia. He allowed himself to admit that
much. In his little foray into the grey areas, he had ignored and
neglected the girl, the woman, he had become so close to over the
past two years. He needed her. He loved her...
As a friend. He caught himself - Cordelia was his best friend. He was
just getting emotional. Their relationship was purely platonic. What
little relationship was left standing, from before he had managed to
burn almost all his bridges to the ground. But they had talked! He
asked her if she could ever forgive him, and she replied, in that
flippant style she was prone to when... when she was protecting
herself from further pain.
"Angel, don't be such an emotional retard! Of course I'll forgive
you... Naturally, there might be cash, and shopping excursions
involved... you were a total bastard, and it won't be fixed
overnight, but give me time."
Case closed. Cordelia Chase had spoken. Although, he could have sworn
that he'd seen something in her eyes, some conflicting emotion... but
he brushed it off, almost as easily as she seemed to have brushed off
his treatment of her in the previous months...
He was a fool. He believed her when she said that everything was
fine, and he hadn't tried to talk to her. He let her get away with
reverting to the down-trodden Cordelia he had found upon his arrival
in Los Angeles. He longed for the Cordelia he had come to love, his
best friend, his seer, HIS Cordy... there it was again. Snap out of
it, Angel! She's not yours, and never will be! She's far too good for
you. But, his mind amended, you don't want her like that.
His subconscious still whispered to him, like the pixies whispered to
Drusilla. 'You want her, you NEED her...' He even longed for the
Cordelia of Sunnydale. She would tell him exactly what she thought of
him, and he doubted that it would be pretty. More likely scathing, if
he was lucky. Ice Queen Extraordinaire, Bitchiest of the Bitches.
Like the Godfather, if the mafia cared a lot about 'totally important
designers'. That's it, he would never let her make him
watch 'Clueless' again. Not that she'd want to spend any time with
him. Walls had gone up, and he was definitely not on the guest list.
More likely scathing, if he was lucky.
"She hates me, doesn't she?" Angel looked so thoroughly miserable
that Wesley almost felt sorry for him. Almost.
"I think hate is a strong word. However, I doubt that she thinks too
highly of you at the moment. I hope you realise how you wounded her."
"I do. I care about her so much, and when I think of what I've done
to her, I....countless millennia in hell isn't punishment enough, it
really isn't. I've been a selfish, cruel..."
"Thoughtless, egotistical, self-absorbed, maniacal, vicious...all in
all, a heartless prick, really."
"Thank you, Wesley, in my self deprecating diatribe I almost ran out
of vocabulary, you really helped." Angel flinched under Wesley's
glare. "But it's true. I'm all those things, and more. To willingly
and consciously hurt a person, I mean people, I care so much about...
I never deserve redemption. Never."
"Now, Angel, that is a little harsh on yourself. I'll start to think
I'm wasting my time if you feel that way. No, I just think your
little slip over to the dark side should add... well, a few hundred
years onto your sentence," Wesley grudgingly said. He was perhaps
physically injured the most by Angel's departure, in that he probably
wouldn't have gained the huge, gaping bullet hole in his stomach if
the vampire had been around, but realised that as long as Angel was
back on the path to salvation, he was still willing to try and
forgive him.
Angel was touched by Wesley's attempt to make him feel a little
better.
"But, and correct me if I'm wrong, Angel - and I certainly hope I am -
you seem to care the most about a certain person's willingness, or
loath, as it may be, to accept and trust you again, as a person."
Wesley looked carefully at Angel. Although the vampire was trying to
show no emotion, the feelings penetrating his carefully set
expression were of.... Wesley couldn't be sure. "Well?" he prompted.
"I..." Angel struggled "I think, that I..." the truth finally dawned
on him. Finally? He'd known it for a long while, but chose to ignore
it. His feelings towards her had been growing, becoming less
platonic, and more... well, ever since she had told him that she'd
always be with him, after that never ending vision, which thankfully,
chose to end. He was aware how close he had been to losing her, and
was surprised to feel all the emotions that came to the surface when
considering the possibility. Then that girl, the telekinetic...
Bethany, she had thought they were a couple, and he was a little
disconcerted how much that didn't bother him, and more than a little
pleased that it didn't seem to bother her, either. But then along
came Darla, who proceeded to ruin the unlife he had managed to build
for himself here, and alienate the small group of people who cared
for him, not to mention the woman he was growing to... love.
"I think I love her, Wesley." He didn't elaborate further. It would
be unfair for Wesley to know more about his feelings than Cordelia
did.
"Well, I think you really need to talk to her." Wesley didn't even
try to act surprised. He had seen how his two friends had been
behaving. "Oh, and if you ever hurt her, I will force you to bathe in
holy water, then stake your undead arse to a flagpole and leave you
to greet the sun."
"Point taken." Angel would never hurt Cordelia again, he silently
swore that to himself. Even if she didn't feel the same way; he would
still be her best friend, forever.
Wesley proceeded to re-immerse himself in research. Truthfully, he
was glad that his friend had finally seen the metaphorical light.
Even though Wesley had been more than willing, over the last couple
of months, to let him see the literal, natural one. At least Angel
and Cordelia would stop being miserable apart, and be happy together.
If it worked out, that was. Angel could be a difficult sod, and
Cordy... well, she did have a tendency to retreat into her icy shell
when she was hurt. What Wesley wasn't about to tell Angel was that he
was pretty sure that Cordelia had begun to feel the same way about
him. No, she could tell him that herself.
As if on cue, Cordelia suddenly barged back into the lobby, slamming
the door loudly behind her.
"Back so soon?" Wesley enquired. Her shopping trips very rarely only
lasted ten minutes.
"Mmm...huh?" Cordy looked vacantly at Wesley. "Oh, well, huge traffic
pile-up. So could not be bothered. Also, I was sitting in that car,
and I got to thinking..."
I wonder what about, Wesley thought to himself.
"Well, I'm finished for today. I'll be at my apartment if you need
me. Good bye!" He gave Angel a knowing, hinting look, and walked
briskly out.
"Wesley, you slacker, it's only 2 o'clock in the afternoon, and we've
got that horrible demon to research. Speaking of horrible demons,"
she turned to Angel, "what are you doing up this early...late...
whatever." Angel flinched at her little gibe, then replied:
"Couldn't sleep. Also, with the whole incineration, I don't really
have another room set up."
"Oh. Right. Well, I kinda needed to talk to you, anyway..."
* * *
earlier on...
As soon as she had left the office... hotel... place, Cordy headed
straight for Angel's convertible. Jumping in, she turned the keys in
the ignition, and pulled out of the drive, heading for Melrose. As
she drove, the silence gave her unwelcome time to contemplate events.
Stupid vampiric loser. He had hurt her, badly, and she really needed
to talk about it, but he just seemed to be shut off about the whole
thing. Not that he was pretending that it didn't happen, because it
did... it really did. Bitch Darla. She waltzed in, in all her new-
found humanity, and stole Cordelia's best friend away from her. It
sounded a bit third grade, but it was true.
Forgive him. After a little grovelling, and loss in the financial
department, on his behalf. That's what her brain was telling her. But
her heart... her heart was acting like it was... broken, or
something. She felt just as bad as when she had walked in on that
dweeb Xander Harris kissing another girl, then fell onto a sharp
piece of metal, from a height. But she had loved Xander. Angel was
just...
Snap out of it Cordy! It's not like your're in love with... Nope,
definitely not. Not gonna go there. So what if he was the only person
she'd had as a true friend for... well, ever. Like those sheep
Harmony and Aura and the other Cordettes had been her friends. And
she had never been a part of the exclusive 'Scooby gang'. Not really.
Doyle. Doyle had been her friend. She had started to love him, in
more than a platonic way. He died. Boy, just a little unlucky with
love, huh, Chase? But Angel had been there for her through that.
Wesley. Wesley and Gunn were true friends, friends she would put her
life on the line for, and quite frequently did. See, she wasn't that
pathetic! Not many people could say they had friends who would die
for them, and, in fact, one already had.
It didn't help with the Angel situation. She still felt differently
about him to her other friends. She put the radio on, to try to
dispel the stupid, dumb silence that was making her think these inane
thoughts. Sleep depravation. That was what it was. She hadn't been
sleeping well... because of Angel. Damnit, she couldn't stop thinking
about him! Okay, nice, oldies radio channel. Guaranteed to cheer a
person up.
"It's been seven hours and fifteen days
Since you took your love away
I go out every night and sleep all day
Since you took your love away
Since you've been gone I can do whatever I want
I can see whomever I choose
I can eat my dinner in a fancy restaurant
But nothing
I said nothing can take away these blues
Because nothing compares
Nothing compares to you"
For some reason, the cheesy yet incredibly sad song brought tears to
her eyes. She quickly flipped channels.
"What is wrong with me?" she moaned. Think non-Angel related
thoughts. Hmmm, Tiffany's, mansions, lots of money, rich men,
handsome men, handsome vampires... no, start again. What was on TV
the other night? Oh yeah, Friends, Jennifer Aniston, good clothes,
Ralph Lauren, sounds French, Europe, Ireland, and guess what? Ended
up straight back at Angel, with the added pain of thinking about
Doyle. And those links weren't even tenuous, they were non-existant.
She was such an incredible moron. Her brain told her one thing, her
heart... she wasn't sure what her heart wanted. Actually, yeah, she
was. Her heart wanted Angel back. And so did her head. They were just
at odds as to how they wanted him. Her head was telling what a
crapweasel he was, but that she could forgive him in the end, and be
his friend again. Her soul just hurt. An agonising, scalding,
permanent sinking Titanic style not-so-unsinkable-after-all feeling.
Radio. Listen to the radio, only concentrate on the words.
"I'd like to watch you sleep at night
To hear you breathe by my side
And although sleep leaves me behind
There's nowhere I'd rather be
And now our bed is oh so cold
My hands feel empty
No-one to hold
I can sleep what side I want
It's not the same with you gone
Oh if you'd come home
I'd let you know that
All you want
Is right here in this room
All you want
And all you need
Is sitting here with you
It's been three years
One night apart
But in that night you tore my heart
If only you had slept alone
If those seeds had not been sown
Oh you could come home
And you would know that
All you want
Is right here in this room
All you want
And all you need
Is sitting here with you"
Of all the goddamn songs that could come on, every time it was one
that she could relate to her and Angel. And they were always just
miserable enough to nearly make her cry. Hell, actually, the mood she
was in, she could probably relate Mustang Sally to Angel. And cry
over it. She wasn't sure how, but she'd probably manage.
It felt like she'd been hit with a tonne of bricks. After quickly
checking that she hadn't in fact hit a tonne of bricks with the Angel-
Mobile, she stared in front of her in shock, only still driving
through pure reflex.
"I'm in love with him. I'm completely, utterly, head-over-heels in
love with that jackass! God, girl, you have bad instincts! Shit,
shit, shit!" She was, of course, kidding herself. About the instincts
part. Who wouldn't fall in love with the dark, broody yet sweet,
gorgeous yet still very manly vampire? Even after everything that had
happened, she wanted him. Desperately.
Looking briefly in the wing mirror, she grasped the hand-brake, and,
after making a fairly illegal U-turn, sped back to the office. Screw
shopping. And who'da thunk Cordelia Chase would ever think anything
more important than the spending of money? Then again, she would have
to ask that person, did you SEE Angel?!
* * *
present
After Wesley had pretty much sprinted out of the office, and Cordelia
and Angel had exchanged those few sentences, they just stood, staring
at each other. And it wasn't a good silence, an amicable one. It was
the sort of silence that had tension that you could cut with a knife,
but still managed to be uncomfortable. Angel kept looking at his feet
in the manner of an avid floor-board spotter, and Cordelia twisted
the hair that was supposed to be behind her ears until it almost
started to knot. They both happened to look up at each other at the
same time, and both blurted out:
"We need to talk." Angel smiled a little, and Cordelia laughed
nervously.
"After you," she said.
"No, I insist, ladies first". She smiled, a little too shyly
considering that the man in front of her had been her closest friend
for a good couple of years.
"Okay. Well, um, there was no traffic. In case you hadn't guessed. I
was just... thinking, as I was driving, and I thought... this thing,
between us, it's... yeeurch." Seeing Angel's confused look, she
clarified: "I mean, the whole not talking, not being friends,
basically wanting to stab each other, or stake, whatever, to death
thing. Actually, I think that's just me. But I wanted to, to tell you
that, um... I want us to be friends again. I miss you." Tell him,
tell him, tell him, her mind whispered. She stayed quiet.
Angel was, at this point, grinning. He was still suffering from the
inner turmoil of what he should say, so he just replied:
"I miss you too." Cordelia needed more than that.
"Elaborate." He smiled.
"That whole thing with..." she held up a finger, gesturing, nu-uh,
not the name, "her, I want to put that behind me. I care about you,
Cora. I mean, I really care about you, and I need you." Cordy could
feel the emotion welling up inside of her, a tense feeling,
excitement, and also dread that he wouldn't feel the same as her.
"I think..." Angel stuttered, terrified of scaring her, or making her
laugh if she didn't... feel like he did. "I think... I care about you
in a way... that's more than platonic, just friends." He looked
carefully at her face. He wasn't sure what the emotion there was, but
he didn't see disgust or revulsion. He decided to go on.
"I... love you, Cora. I love you so much, and when I realised, I knew
that that's why I was so worried about talking to you about Darla.
And I'll say her name, because I know that she's nothing to me.
Nothing compared to you."
Cordy was choked up. He'd managed to make the most talkative, mouthy
girl in Los Angeles speechless. She coughed to clear her throat.
Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry...
"Well, look at you, managing to quote cheesy 80s pop songs," she said
smiling through her tears. Seeing the crushed look on his face, she
realised that he took her comment the wrong way. "But that's what I
love about you. Well, part of it. Pop culturally challenged. I mean,
there's a whole lot left to love after that." She giggled at his face
as he tried to sift through what she'd said.
"I mean, you're caring, considerate, at least if it doesn't involve a
certain 400 year old blonde, you're handsome, you listen to me crap
on about different things that you couldn't ever be interested
in....unless you're gay, and...you're not, are you?" He shook his
head, smiling. "You cook for me, even though you don't eat, you were
always there to talk when I needed, you support me with the acting,
even though I suck... oh, come on, now honesty? Not so much your
strongest trait. At least Angelus was honest. I kinda like that in a
man, but not too much. Some white lying's okay, y'know, 'no sweetie,
you don't look fat in that rubber catsuit' kinda thing. I also like
some demon in my man." He raised his eyebrows.
"That does not mean I have a kinky thing for your demon self, because
I don't. I mean, it's your body, and I suppose it wouldn't be too bad
because I'm into you, but that doesn't mean I just want you for your
body; the whole package is great, and I love it all, and you're
supposed to stop me when I do this. Colour me a redhead, and call me
Willow Rosenberg." She smiled, and he started to smile back again,
after the bemusement that accompanied her babbling.
"Wait, um, are trying to say that you, you love me?" he asked
tentatively.
Instead of replying, she grabbed the back of his head, and pulled him
towards her to kiss him. At first, the kiss was tentative, but it
grew more and more passionate as they poured more and more of their
feelings into it, the sexual tension suddenly resolved. It was as if
they had been hit by lightning, that once-in-a-lifetime feeling that
just tells you that you are supposed to spend the rest of your life
with a person. Angel would certainly spend the rest of his
unnaturally long existence with her. He wasn't sure how, but he knew
they'd find a way.
Pulling away from her, Angel looked into her teary eyes.
"Y'know, I'm gonna have to make you say it, because, although that
was a very good answer..."
"A VERY good answer," she interjected, breathlessly.
"Yes, but I need to hear the words," he said, as he thought how
beautiful she was, as he stroked her hair.
"I love you, Angel. Well, duh! More than I knew it was possible to
love someone."
He pulled her back towards him for another, longer, tender kiss.
Which quickly turned into a very passionate one, as their bodies
seemed to merge as one. Cordelia ran her fingers through his hair, as
he held her to him, his hand at the small of his back. She wrapped
her legs around his waist, and he wrapped his arms around her.
Pulling away, between kisses she said "You remember that... the thing
with... psycho bitch..." He nodded his head as well as he could under
the circumstances. "Yeah, I'm... I'm gonna stick a... a pin in
that... just for now, 'kay?"
"Okay", he replied, then pulled her in for another long kiss,
carrying her towards the stairs, and up to his bedroom, all the while
bumping into doors and knocking over ornaments, due to the slightly
compromised vision.
As he opened the door, he remembered what he had done to the room.
Slowly, he put her down, and they both stood in the doorway,
surveying the smouldering wreckage. He was afraid that Cordy would
suddenly decide that this was wrong, that they couldn't be together,
but she just held onto his hand.
"Ashes to ashes..." she murmured.
"Dust to dust," he said. The room was a burnt out shell. The pictures
were all gone. the furniture; well, it wasn't furniture any more. The
wrought iron bed had barely kept it's shape.
He slowly pulled closed the door, and led Cordy up the hall. They
were standing in the doorway of another room, a room that Cordelia
knew had been made up as a guest room. With a double bed and
everything.
Angel stared into the eyes of his beautiful seer, who, without
flinching under his penetrating gaze, stared right back at them. They
stood, for what seemed an eternity. Angel was waiting for her to
rebuff him, she realised. For an attractive guy, he was kinda
paranoid and insecure when it came to his sex appeal. Although,
that's what hundreds of years without a mirror will do to you. She
finally spoke.
"New room... fresh start.... new memories?" she asked hopefully.
Angel leaned down and captured her lips, picking her up and carrying
her across the threshold.
"New memories."
FIN