"Let's go to work."
The battle raged for hours. Gunn was the first to fall, followed by Spike. Illyria held her own against a battalion of demons but eventually succumbed. Finally, the last demon had been vanquished, felled by Angel's sword.
Angel slumped against the wall, completely exhausted. He squinted up at the sky, noting with dismay the first glimmer of daylight. Suddenly, a glowing white figure blocked his view of the lightening sky. It took several moments for him to recognize his visitor. It was Cordelia. She was radiant.
Angel gazed at her, unable to speak for several minutes. Cordelia stood before him, her hands on her hips, waiting for him to say the first word. Angel finally managed to croak out, "Cordy? Is that really you? What happened?"
"The Powers That Be sent me here to tell you that its time," Cordelia said.
"Time? Time for what?" Angel asked, hope beginning to stir.
"For your Shanshu, you nitwit. Don't tell me you forgot about that," Cordelia said with a trace of exasperation.
"But . . . I signed away my rights to the prophecy," Angel said.
Cordelia rolled her eyes. "Are you nuts? Do you really think you can sign away your destiny like that?" she said. "Angel, I love you, but sometimes you can be the biggest idiot that ever lived. . . died, I mean."
Angel nearly fainted. "I don't believe it," he said.
"Just take my hand Angel, and walk into the daylight with me," Cordelia said, extending her hand to Angel.
As he was about to grasp her hand, he heard a voice say, "Jesus Christ! There's a body in there."
"Let me look," the captain said, elbowing the others aside. He pulled several strands of seaweed off of the box's surface, revealing a small window. A rag covered skeleton could be seen floating inside the box. The men stepped back.
"Ugh," one sailor said.
"You think it's from a mob hit?" the first mate said.
"I doubt it. I don't think the mafia goes to the trouble of putting their whackees into fancy waterproof coffins. Nah, I think somebody just wanted to be buried at sea," the captain said.
"Wonder how long it's been down there?" another sailor said.
"Judging by the barnacles, probably at least two years," the captain said. "Funny, the stiff looks like he's waving at us."
"What do you want to do with it," the first mate said.
The captain paused. After several moments' reflection, he said, "dump it back overboard and forget we ever saw it."
The men obeyed his order, shoving the box over the side of the ship where it quickly sank to the bottom of the ocean.
The end.
The battle raged for hours. Gunn was the first to fall, followed by Spike. Illyria held her own against a battalion of demons but eventually succumbed. Finally, the last demon had been vanquished, felled by Angel's sword.
Angel slumped against the wall, completely exhausted. He squinted up at the sky, noting with dismay the first glimmer of daylight. Suddenly, a glowing white figure blocked his view of the lightening sky. It took several moments for him to recognize his visitor. It was Cordelia. She was radiant.
Angel gazed at her, unable to speak for several minutes. Cordelia stood before him, her hands on her hips, waiting for him to say the first word. Angel finally managed to croak out, "Cordy? Is that really you? What happened?"
"The Powers That Be sent me here to tell you that its time," Cordelia said.
"Time? Time for what?" Angel asked, hope beginning to stir.
"For your Shanshu, you nitwit. Don't tell me you forgot about that," Cordelia said with a trace of exasperation.
"But . . . I signed away my rights to the prophecy," Angel said.
Cordelia rolled her eyes. "Are you nuts? Do you really think you can sign away your destiny like that?" she said. "Angel, I love you, but sometimes you can be the biggest idiot that ever lived. . . died, I mean."
Angel nearly fainted. "I don't believe it," he said.
"Just take my hand Angel, and walk into the daylight with me," Cordelia said, extending her hand to Angel.
As he was about to grasp her hand, he heard a voice say, "Jesus Christ! There's a body in there."
"Let me look," the captain said, elbowing the others aside. He pulled several strands of seaweed off of the box's surface, revealing a small window. A rag covered skeleton could be seen floating inside the box. The men stepped back.
"Ugh," one sailor said.
"You think it's from a mob hit?" the first mate said.
"I doubt it. I don't think the mafia goes to the trouble of putting their whackees into fancy waterproof coffins. Nah, I think somebody just wanted to be buried at sea," the captain said.
"Wonder how long it's been down there?" another sailor said.
"Judging by the barnacles, probably at least two years," the captain said. "Funny, the stiff looks like he's waving at us."
"What do you want to do with it," the first mate said.
The captain paused. After several moments' reflection, he said, "dump it back overboard and forget we ever saw it."
The men obeyed his order, shoving the box over the side of the ship where it quickly sank to the bottom of the ocean.
The end.