Title: Without Spirit Or Cause (1/?)
Author: Stef (Or Ignited. Whatever)
E-Mail: (ignitedangel@aol.com)
Category: C/A friendship, definite angst
Rating: PG-13, for now
Spoilers: All of Buffy Season 5 and all of Angel Season 2
Summary: After a tragedy hits the Fang Gang, they try to deal with the aftershocks
Disclaimer: Angel, Cordy, nor anyone related to the Angel/Buffy verse are mine. They're Joss Whedon's, Mutant Enemy's, Twentieth Century Fox, etc.
Distribution: Those with permission, and list archives. Others can ask.



Prologue

Cordy: "Look, you don't have to be Joe Stoic about his dying, I mean, I know that you have this 'unflappable' vibe working for you, but you don't have to do that for me."

Angel: "I'm not unflappable."

Cordy: "Great. So flap!

June 28

"You seen Angel, yet?" Gunn raised an eyebrow in Wesley's direction as he sat across from Wesley's desk. After receiving a shake of the ex-Watcher's head, Gunn rubbed his eyes, letting out a sigh.

"He hasn't come out since... I'm worried about him," Wesley mumbled. He looked up from his filing, hair ruffled, glasses off, looking like he hadn't slept in days.

"I'd be the same way, man. But...I gotta deal." Another sigh. Gunn leaned back in his chair. "Everything's just been bad lately."

"Yes. But you see Angel feels that he's fully responsible for these occurrences. I tried to have a talk with him, but he doesn't seem to be responding to my wishes."

"Well, Angel better listen 'cause this is just like what happened a few months ago, right? And if Cordelia was here..." Gunn trailed off, looking at the chair beside him.

She wasn't there.

Standing outside Angel's door, Wesley sighed. Angel had been in there for two days, and it didn't look like he was coming out soon. Not even to eat.

Wesley tried the doorknob, but it was still locked, as he expected. He listened closely at the door for some signs of life. Yet there was none, as he knew there would be none.

"Angel? Can you... Can you please - come out?"

Wesley heard some shuffling, then all was silent.

"I know this is a hard time for you to deal right now, as it is for all of us. Do not be afraid to come out and - talk. Angel... It's - It's not your fault."

More silence.

Giving up, Wesley turned on his heel and went downstairs.

"Angel... It's - It's not your fault."

Angel stood right by his door, listening to his friend's somewhat comforting words. He waited until he heard the last of Wesley's footfalls before leaning against the door.

So many things had occurred within the past few months. His epiphany, after a night of empty sex with Darla. The Fang Gang's journey to Pylea, and the addition of Fred to their family'. Buffy's... Buffy's death.

Looking back on the event of empty passion with Darla, the vampire didn't know what he saw in his sire anymore. Darla never really loved him, as she never had a soul. But he'd given up, ready to become one with the darkness that plagued his body and dreams. Angel had no hope left, after realizing that Hell was, in fact, here on Earth.

He lost his friends.

He lost her.

"Just so we understand each other? You and I? We're not friends."

His undead heart broke when she said that. But it mended once he saw the look on her face, in her eyes, after he bought he all those clothes to make up for his actions. Slowly, but surely, he was regaining her trust. It would take a while, but Angel knew that he couldn't stay away from her... She was his best friend, after all.

Angel slid down to the floor, dark and haunted eyes looking about the room. The furniture was in shambles, curtains ripped, dressers overturned. It seemed as if a hurricane had hit this room.

Don't say anything. Not a word.

The vampire took in the sight of this destruction, this chaos he had caused, and from his cramped position on the floor, Angel wept.

Because it was his fault.

"It is," Angel rasped. "She's - she's gone... Because of me."

He could clearly remember the events of two days before, the night especially.

Because it was the night Cordelia Chase died.

Part 1

Cordy: "Who loves guilt like you love guilt? You know what you need? You need to go to work. We just got an exciting new case: could be aliens could be adultery. It's a corker!"

June 26 - 11:58 P.M.

Angel kept humming an old symphony of Beethoven. It wasn't bad enough that the four of them were traipsing up the seven or so flights of stairs. And not to mention they were also lugging various demon killing equipment. That seemed relatively easy. But bad? No.

Cordelia chose to wear heels. That was bad.

Angel now resorted to singing. That was worse.

"Must you do that?" Cordelia muttered as she clattered up the staircase. The Fang Gang were unhappily cavorting up a seedy apartment building staircase, the sight of her most recent vision. And because of Cordelia's marvelous luck, the fighting and killing had to happen on the roof. Plus, the elevator wasn't working.

Angel was already enthralled with some low humming of- was that Three Doors Down?- when Cordelia lost her balance, windmilling, about to fall. Angel turned quickly and grabbed her arms, steadying her.

"What is it? Another vision?" Gunn asked, holding up his battle-axe used for seriously kickin' some ugly demon ass!'

"No. Heels," Cordelia responded, nodding towards her black shoes. Not exactly appropriate for demon fighting, but those Prada heels looked lovely with her black pants, and short, dark gray top.

"Yeah, uh, can you point that - somewhere else?" Angel raised an eyebrow, referring to the crossbow Cordy was holding, inadvertently aimed at his chest because of her sudden loss of balance.

"Sorry." She straightened, continuing up the staircase, while the others followed.

"Seems pretty quiet t'me," Fred murmured, holding her stake like it was an ice cream cone. She was wearing one of Cordy's simple outfits, a tee shirt and some jeans, since they hadn't exactly had time to go on a shopping spree after the Pylea incident. Cordy just kept having her ever debilitating visions as usual, and Angel's money reserves were already dry from buying Cordelia all those clothes.

"Shh. Listen." Wesley nodded as they approached the exit door, which led to the roof. Looking like an escapee from medieval England, he raised his sword. "Even I can hear that. Angel, can you..."

"Already working on it." Angel moved to the front of their small group, head leaning gently against the door. He paused, listening to the hushed whispers outside the door. Giving a glance to his friends, Angel whispered, "Sounds like five. Six of them, maybe. Three... Three humans. They're afraid. I can smell the fear coming from them."

"Handy skill," Fred supplied, getting a 'shh' from Cordy.

"Sounds like Kaligar demons to me. They shouldn't be much of a problem."

"Oh, you mean those big, gray, scaly things I saw in my vision?"

"Those. Wesley..."

"All right." Wesley glanced to Gunn, then to Angel, and finally, Cordy and Fred. "We go in on the count of ...three."

Angel's fingers flexed on his antique sword, while the others also took a step forward.

"One. Two. - Three!"

Slamming the door off its hinges, Angel pushed through the shoddy remains, a grim snarl on his game face. The rest of his friends followed through the doorframe, each hefting their own weapons.

Looking about an empty roof.

"Um, Angel? Are you sure that because of your old age...you might be going...deaf?" Cordy said, pointing her crossbow at the shadows of the roof. Random garbage and house fixing tools had been strewn about the roof, mixed with a collection of dirt and leaves. The moon shone down like a bright beacon, the only stars in the sky were that of the not so far away office complexes. In the distance, Cordelia could hear the sounds of street life and car horns far below on the ground. A typical night in LA, glamorous setting, but only on the surface.

"No! I - I heard them here. They were - just..." Confused, Angel looked around. Gunn was already walking a few feet away, checking the shadows behind some air conditioners. Fred moved closer behind Angel, a frown appearing on Cordelia's face.

Wesley lowered his sword, an eyebrow raised. "Yes, well, they were here, but where are they *now*?"

"I - don't.... know."

"Well, maybe Cordelia's right. Maybe you are gettin' deaf." Fred tapped Angel's arm, shrugging. "Ya know, I had a uncle who used to hear things. Very interestin'. Except we all thought–"

"Shh."

Angel looked up, four pairs of eyes following his line of sight. A cluster of dark gray robes hung there, up in the sky, nearly two dozen individual bodies could be seen. The moon shining like a beacon in the darkness behind them, the demons turned, bodies suspended in the air like puppets. Their eyes flashed a deep ocean blue, mouths opening to reveal rows and rows of needle sharp teeth.

Then they fell to the roof.

"–he..was...crazy."