Disclaimer – I don't own the characters of Angel: The series.
Summary – Angel can't seem to let go.
Spoilers – Everything up to "You're Welcome"
Rating – T/PG13.
.oOOo.
A/N – I hated how in the show they seemed to kill off Cordelia, then just skip to the next episode without even mentioning her. I'm trying to make sense of that.
This has some flashbacks in it, just to let you know. I don't think that I wrote this as well as I could have, but you be the judge. :)
A quick note on my other fic's – I'm doing my eleventh grade research project. It's taking up a lot of my time, not to mention my typing and writing energy. :) I'll try to get chapters out, but I'm not sure how many will be out before the end of the year (June 27). I wrote this one in fourth period Study Hall, but didn't get to post it because my school's annoying computers block a hell of a lot of websites.
.oOOo.
Not Like This
Angel couldn't believe it. She couldn't be gone. He had thought that she had come back, woken up from her coma. She had just wanted to say goodbye. That hurt more than he could ever explain.
She had kissed him. He had kissed her back. As much as he had known it was wrong, he had kissed her back. What was wrong, and what was right? He didn't know anymore. Sure, he still would fight the demons and the humans who decided to cause trouble. What was the difference between a close friendship and love?
He hadn't wanted to be her real friend the first time he saw her in Los Angeles. He had seen her as a reminder of Sunnydale, a reminder of what he was trying to leave behind. In some strange way, she had reminded him of Buffy. They had both gone to the same high school, after all. He had needed something from Sunnydale to hold onto, and Cordelia Chase had been that one thing that kept him from forgetting.
They hadn't really become friends until after Doyle died. Sure, he had thought of her as more than just a reminder by that point, but their unique friendship hadn't really started until after they had already lost someone close to them.
Their friendship had strengthened even further when she had started to get the visions from the Powers That Be, given to her through the kiss she had shared with Doyle. He had watched, helpless as she had nearly gone insane. He had wanted to stop it. He just didn't know how. He had done all that he could – he had been there when she literally had fallen.
Soon, Wesley had joined them. He had been a man who had no purpose other than to try to be the Watcher that he couldn't become.
They had all struggled to become a close group. It had finally seemed to work, with the inclusion of Gunn.
He had nearly destroyed his friendship with Cordelia when he had fired her. He had just been so confused and worried over the Darla situation, and he hadn't seen any other way in protecting her and his other friends. She was the most important person to him, other than Buffy.
But where did Buffy fit into all of this? Sure, she was supposed to be his one true love, his soul mate. But, she wasn't anymore. He wasn't sure when it had happened. It just had, and he had felt his feelings for Cordelia changing into something completely different. He had been ready to tell her, then all the crazy stuff with Connor had put a pause on his plans.
After that, she had ascended to a higher plain of existance. She had come back changed, without her memory and a demon controling her every move. Of course, they hadn't noticed until it was too late.
She had fallen into her coma, and she had supposedly come back, alive and well.
'I should have known that everything was going too smoothly,' Angel thought sadly. He was slipping further and further into his 'brood mode', as Cordelia had always called it.
Heart heavy, he stood up from his Wolfram and Hart office chair, stretching his tired muscles. He had to get out of here for a little while. He didn't want to think of the funeral plans that had to be made, or the fact that once they were over, his best friend and love would be gone forever.
He ignored Harmony as she tried to tell him something that he didn't want to worry about. He hated Wolfram and Hart. He hadn't realized just how much until Cordelia had told him exactly what he was doing, and how wrong it had seemed to her.
He left the building, picking one of his favorite cars to drive in. The cars were almost worth working in Wolfram and Hart. Almost, but not really.
.oOOo.
After doing a short patrol, he just drove. With no one to tell him who was in trouble, he had to look for himself. He wondered who would get the visions now. Now that he was in charge of one of the most evil law firms in the world, he wasn't sure if he had to help the helpless. He still wanted to, of course he wanted to. He couldn't just stop helping... even if he wanted to, sometimes.
He ended up outside of one of Los Angeles' many malls, one of the ones that Cordelia had went to whenever she could get his credit card.
He parked the car, ignoring the little voice in the back of his mind that demanded to know what the hell he was doing.
He entered the mall, ignoring everyone and everything around him. He could almost see Cordelia dragging him to one of the clothing stores, trying to get him to wear something other than just black. He walked swiftly, still ignoring the humans around him. He didn't need to see them to know that they were there – his demon kept him well informed. He passed one of those clothing stores now, and stopped to stare, unseeing, at the rows upon rows of outfits lined up for show.
"See that one, Angel?"
Angel froze.
'God, no.'
"Doesn't it look so cute?"
He turned, disbelieving, only to see someone he didn't know talking to a man that he had never seen before in his unlife.
'Angel,' he thought, disgusted at his reaction. 'of course. That's just a happy couple, looking at clothes...'
He felt so stupid. He had overreacted, thinking that that woman – and that man – were anything to be concerned about.
He had thought that the woman, however unlikely it had seemed, to be Cordelia, back from the dead. He felt so completely miserable.
.oOOo.
He had made the funeral plans. It had been hard, painful to think about and even more painful to actually do. The funeral was set for the next day. He was not looking forward to it one bit.
.oOO.
It was over. Everyone had left, gone back to Wolfram and Hart like he had asked them to. He needed this time to himself – to say goodbye.
How could he say goodbye to one of the constants in his life? How could he say goodbye to someone who had been there since he had come to Los Angeles, through the good and the bad? He didn't know, but he had to try.
"Hey, Cordy." he said quietly. "I guess you already know what's happening. You're probably watching this entire thing, watching us mourn you. You were a good person, Cordelia. Even without the visions, you would have still been one of the most important things in my life. You were my best friend. You saw me at my worst, and you tried to help me through it. I hope you can find some kind of peace up there. I hope you can find it in your heart to move on. If Doyle's up there... try something. Be happy. Be happy for me. Continue to be the wonderful woman who left this world."
Angel knelt beside the grave, running his cool fingers over the engraved words.
Cordelia Chase – 1980-2004. Beloved friend."
Gathering his remaining strength, Angel stood and went back to his car, giving one last long, loving look to the newest grave.
He got in his car, and hoped that he could find the strength to go on.
.oOOo.
Cordelia smiled. Angel would be fine, with time and her guidance.
THE END