The Road Before Us
By Misty Flores - mistiec_flores@yahoo.com
Rating: R - for violence, sexual situations, and some language
Genre: Angel/Cordelia - Buffy/Angel and Cordelia/Xander implied
Teaser: Years after the death of their true loves, a lonely Cordelia and Angel reunite to stop a new nemesis, and find themselves fighting a mutual attraction as they cling to the memories of their mortal lovers.
--
The Road Before Us: Chapter Sixteen
Sunnydale, CA 2001
He had once eaten a child that looked like this.
Angel sat, carefully still, the child so small it fit into his palms.
Shakily, he looked inside the house, where the others were, with the lights on, talking and laughing and welcoming Willow home from the house.
Leaving him in the darkness, leaving him with the child. trusting him with the child.
Rupert Osborne stared up at him with his dark blue eyes, his head already a mass of red curls, unusual for a newborn.
Alert, he only gave a yawn, before continuing his study of the vampire that held him.
Angel swallowed, giving another panicked look into the house, and then let out a shaky breath, carefully to stay completely still.
It was just a baby. He had handled children before.
Blinking, he shifted it closer, feeling the warmth of it, the new life pulsing through its body.
The heartbeat was small, but fierce, and the little sigh Ruppy gave made Angel almost smile, as he cradled it into his left arm, and hesitantly reached for his face.
With a big finger, too large to handle this tiny face, Angel gently traced the soft cheek.
Bewildered, confused. unquestionably happy.
His eyes moved down to the ring on his third finger.
And married.
"Is this a broody moment for singles or can anyone join in?"
The Immortal made him start, and on impulse, Angel pulled the child closer to him, narrowing his eyes.
"I'm not- I'm not brooding," he began in a lower tone.
Cordelia Chase- now Chase Winters, and also wearing a gold ring on her third finger, only gave a small smirk, as she moved out of the light and into the darkness with him, sitting beside him.
His own wonder for the child was put on pause as he, in turn, studied the Immortal's face, as she intently looked upon the first child borne to Willow and Oz.
Mixed emotions fluttered over her, and he could sense them all. Wonder, joy, sadness, longing, a twinge of grief.
Her eyes were dark as she moved a shaky finger over to grasp the yawning Ruppy's little hand.
"So how much of a big head do you think Giles is going to get when he finds out we named him after him?"
He offered a grim smile. "How much is he strutting like a peacock in there now?"
"Oh, a bit."
Immortal and Vampire fell silent, both watching the child, sitting side by side.
Cordelia's hands were clasped together, her body was rigid.
But her eyes were moist.
"Here. You . uh. wanna hold it?"
He offered the child to her, and she immediately recoiled.
"AUGH! No! I'm no good with children."
He cocked an eyebrow, giving her a passive almost glare. "Cordelia I used to eat them."
"Okay PLEASE don't share that ever again." She fidgeted, glanced at him, and just blew out her breath, motioning quickly. "Come on, before I lose my nerve."
Hiding the smile at her reluctance, he handed the child over. "Careful, the head-"
"I know, you dolt!" He just shrugged, and then fell silent as Cordelia carefully held the child, hazel eyes softening.
The smile on her face was infectious, a welcome contrast to the haunted look she wore during the ordeal with Magdalene, reminiscent of the smile she had given him when she had paid him a visit to his mansion, two years before.
"This is amazing," he heard her breathe.
His own heart soared, and Angel smiled, sitting in the darkness with this Immortal, looking toward the house with all the lights on where his Slayer waited.
Hesitantly, he reached forward, placing a cold hand on her warm shoulder, and squeezed.
She froze, but when their eyes met, she understood.
A slight nod, a gentle smile, and then both members of the darkness looked back down at the child between them.
Nothing else needed to be said.
--
Chase Winters blew out her breath, looking at the bags that she had accumulated during her stay with Angel Investigations.
Now that it was over, the clothing had once again changed.
Hair was long, no longer restrained, free flowing and framing her face in whispy tendrils. The business suit was comfortable, not tight like the black leather. The v-neck of the blazer sunk low, giving an ample set of her cleavage, but the dark blue tank stopped the eyes from seeing any further.
All in all, she looked like Chase Winters again. It was a familiar and disconcerting sight.
Her head was still ringing, and her heart still wore a blanket of somber sadness, but her eyes were unerringly clear as she reached forward, slinging the leather briefcase over one shoulder and picking up the rest, moving toward the door, and down the stairs.
Her steps faltered as she watched the commotion, her face carrying a curious expression when the man with the glasses and the tie looked up, his face lighting up like a Christmas tree.
"Ms. Winters!"
"Terence," she responded, stopping at the foot of the stairs and giving him an amused expression as he cameforward, grinning merrily. "What are you doing?"
"I." He looked back at the chaos, the open books and the clothes and briefcases strewn about. He turned back to her, a blush creeping up his cheeks, as she crossed her arms, an amused eyebrow rising up her forehead. "I'm afraid I can't be your watcher anymore."
Her smile faltered at the husky tone. "What?"
"He can't be your watcher anymore." Katie came forward, pulling on the black blazer, taking the scarf and adjusting it on her neck as she also came forward. "You're not supposed to know, Chase."
"That's Aunt Chase to you," Cordelia said, her eyes narrowing.
Katie managed a grin. "Fine. Aunt Chase. He can't be your Watcher anymore."
"I'm not going to accept some strange man just watching me, Katie."
"You don't have a choice. You are what you are, Chase. And we must do what we must do."
And so it had begun already. Every day, the reminder.
She was frozen in place even as Katie's face softened, as she leaned forward and pressed a kiss on her cheek.
Katie's old face held Faith's beautifully bright eyes, but her grandchild held only her feisty temper, not her understanding.
"I'll see you soon."
"No you won't."
Katie took in a breath, shoulders slumping, sadness clouding her features. "For what it's worth. " she trailed off, and finally she said nothing else, ducking her head. "I chose what I chose."
"And you are what you are."
Her head jerked up, but she nodded.
"Good-bye Katie."
Cordelia's voice was clipped, not unkind, but firm, dismissive, and Katie, true to her calling, obeyed the Immortal.
Turning, she motioned to the other Watchers, and walked out of the door, head held eye, old body straight despite the obvious weight her position carried.
But Terence stayed.
Chase turned, eyes tinged with dew drops of moisture. "Why aren't you leaving?"
"You didn't let me finish." He gave her a shrug. "I'm afraid I do not the pleasure of being your Watcher, Ms. Winters. But I can be your friend. I've quit the council. I'm going to work here, with Angel Investigations."
Long silence followed, as Cordelia processed the words. The glint in her eyes came with the understanding, and his smile broadened.
"I don't want to just watch anymore."
She found herself smiling, reaching over and squeezing his hands, allowing no more emotion than that. "Nice to know you're not a total retard."
"Well I still have much to learn. This scroll in particular." He held it up, waving it. "It's fascinating, and there's even references to the Vampire with a Soul and some word I haven't figured out yet, Shansh-"
The scroll was immediately snatched out of his hands. "We'll take that."
Mr. Weathers was back in his suit, adjusting his four hundred dollar tie and snapping open the thousand dollarbriefcase to drop the scroll into it.
"I believe that belongs to us."
"HEY!"
His eyes were cold as he regarded the pair. "Just business. Ms. Chase?"
Nothing had changed. That was the understanding that he was seeking from her. An acknowledgement that everything would go on as before.
They were not friends. They weren't even business partners. But rivals. Enemies.
And it was just business.
"Just business," she responded. "If you come in here again, I'll let him kill you."
The words made him smile.
He stared at her a beat longer than necessary, before turning away, and in two seconds, he was gone.
"Do you think we'll see them again?"
"Oh, I know it."
Terence blew his breath out, looking at Lorne as he walked through the lobby, jiggling a pair of car keys in his hands. "You ready, Princess?"
"I have a ride."
"Now why on earth would you want an impersonal limo when the Host himself is ready to offer his time?"
There was a numbness that beat inside of Cordelia's chest, bearing down upon her, making her eye the now nearly empty lobby of the Hyperion almost anxiously.
Her heart shuddered within her as the numbness died away, and her eyes blinked back the tears as she realized she was only waiting.
He hadn't come back since early this morning, and some how she knew. he was waiting for her to leave.
Things were too hard.
It was too easy to just say good bye.
Terence shifted, clearing his throat. "Is there any way we can convince you to stay?"
Her eyes shifted toward his, and Cordelia allowed one soft smile of familiarity. "You know more than anyone, Terence, what my life is like. It's in London, not here. I've spent too much time away, as it is." She leaned down, picking up her briefcase and putting it on the counter, snapping it open, brushing back a stray bang as she rifled through the data pads.
"Here." She plucked one out and handed it to Lorne. "It's a copy of my will. Just in case."
Lorne, surprisingly, only took the pad and slipped it in his pocket, reaching up to scratch as his horns again as Cordelia turned to Terence.
"I'm gonna miss my stalker."
"I hope to see you soon, Ms. Winters."
His eyes were red, a little moist, and the emotion he so rarely showed tugged at her soul, as she leaned forward, and pressed a kiss against his forehead. "Terence, do me a favor. Call me Cordelia."
And with that, she picked up her bags, slung the last over her shoulder, and motioned to Lorne, exiting the Hyperion the same way she came in.
As Chase Winters.
--
The plane was barely visible on the dark night, and Cordelia stared at it, the wind ruffling through her hair, making more bangs come loose, hands in her pockets and she studied the world she was leaving.
"You sure you know what you're doing, kitten?"
She swallowed hard. "Butt out, Lorne."
"Just saying. You're looking back an awful lot."
She blew out her breath, pushing through a long sigh. "Lorne I've been looking back my entire life."
"Take one more look, sweetie."
Her hazel eyes were questioning as she met his eyes, and obediently she turned, and her heart jolted within her.
The figure came out of the darkness, stepping into the light of the Photon lamppost, which, faded and old, gave a dim illumination, but it was enough.
The numbness and acceptance gave way to a heart beat that began to race, to a breathing pattern that was erratic at best, and to a mind that seemed to splinter at just the view.
When Lorne moved away she didn't know, her eyes instead stayed trained on the vampire's haunting dark orbs as he came forward, meeting her halfway in the half light that was only bright enough to remove the shadow from her expression.
"Hey."
"Hey."
Awkwardness led a descent into silence, and Cordelia looked away, looking anywhere but the eyes.
"I don't know what to say."
"You don't have to say anything."
Two souls, entwined at first by choice, thrown together by chance, and for one brief moment, lost in the depth of the other, now reached out, and found the wall that had kept them apart from the beginning.
In the past they had shared lay the road that had brought them to this point, and in the road ahead was the certainty that it would never be the same ever again.
"It's never really over, is it?" Her eyes connected with his as he watched her, hands buried in his trenchcoat.
"No," he said after a moment. "It never is."
For some reason the words brought tears to her eyes, and disgusted with her own fraility, she took in a shortbreath, and looked away.
"So- I'll call you when I have a vision. Or I'll download it and send it."
"Okay."
"Okay."
The chirp from her coat pocket signaled it was time, but her feet wouldn't move, as again she kept being drawn into his eyes.
Death was in his eyes.
Death was in her heart.
Buffy. Xander. Willow. Faith. Giles. Oz. Travis. Katherine. Mr. Bellows. Spike. Drusilla. Nick.
And here they were, standing in barely visible light.
Her heart jolted, and two seconds later she was buried in his arms, pushing her face against his trench coat and just breathing in, body trembling as she gave a short whimper.
She allowed one second of warmth in his cold arms, before releasing her hold.
He wouldn't let her.
Instead his arms kept her close, and his hands cradled her face, thumb tracing her jawline in a tender caress.
Her eyes drifted closed as his lips brushed hers, once.
The chirp came again and she pulled away, and this time, he let her.
Angel stood still, almost a statue, eyes never wavering from hers as she backed away, reaching to grab her luggage and finally, in a jolt of discipline, she moved quickly, jogging up the stairs and into the jet that would take her halfway across the world in less than one hour.
--
The silence was curious.
Los Angeles was never silent, but it seemed that at this moment, even the birds that were left were holding their song, waiting with baited breath as the place lifted off, not needing a runaway, before zipping away from sight.
He continued to hold his stance, long after the plane was gone, and had nearly forgotten about the Host when the green-skinned demon nudged him.
"Hey."
"Hey yourself," Lorne said, watching him carefully. "You realize you're an idiot for letting her get away. I told you she can't run. She's your seer. An Immortal seer. Ring a bell? Gonna be around for a while."
"I know," Angel said, never taking his eyes off the spot where the plane had risen.
"Then why exactly did I bring her here and why exactly did you let her go?"
"I'm not letting her go," Angel said finally. "We're going to the same place. We just took different paths to get there, that's all."
He moved away from Lorne, and put one foot in front of the other, in exactly the opposite direction.
--
Sunnydale had suffered with the lack of the Slayer.
The small little town was desolate, quiet. The remaining compatriots had taken it upon themselves to fight, but with no Slayer.
But the little town had stood.
Evil came in droves, but so did the good.
It had survived.
He walked, one foot in front of the other, to the familiar spot, the spot he had once haunted, a shadow, darkness, afraid to be seen, afraid to admit the weakness to her.
That he had failed her.
Hesitancy made him almost turn back, but he took an unneeded breath, and continued forward, moving past buildings and trees, corners, swing sets, and gardens where Buffy had once patrolled.
Memories of a little blonde with the heart of a lion, a heart so open and free and a soul so strong, a light so bright at times the demon inside of him cringed.
But the soul. oh how the soul lived for the light in Buffy's eyes.
The gravestone was almost hidden by the weeds, and carefully, he cleared away the brush, working quickly, pulling at the weeds, until the stone that held the words 'She saved the world a lot' appeared clear and for everyone to see.
He stepped back, studying the grave, the welt of emotion that splintered into him painful at first, as the tears welled up and he blinked at them, wiping at his eyes to keep his vision clear.
"Uh. wow." He swallowed, hands knotting into fists in his trenchcoat. "I don't even know how to- God Buffy. Talking. I was never good at talking, was I?" Pushing the air out his dead lungs, he reached forward, hesitantly, until his palm lay flat against the stone. "You made me promise to take care of them. And I ran. I let you down, I'm sorry. I didn't know what you meant then. about her. About then. A hundred and thirty and I still didn't figure it out. But you know. Twenty five and you knew." He sucked in the unneeded breath as his eyes teared, and his voice began to crack. "I have no idea what you saw in me, Buffy. But I know what I am. And I'm grateful. And I love you. And I know. I don't know what I know, Buffy, but I know it's okay."
When his eyes fell on his hand, he could see the digits trembling, and the indrawn hiss that was barely audible made her presence known.
He caught her scent, and he turned, unashamed of the glistening eyes, as Cordelia stepped back hesitantly, looking almost scared.
"I didn't know you'd be here, I swear."
"I knew." She paused, gave him an uncertain look, but he only shook his head, holding out his hand.
Her gaze pinned on the outstretched fingers, and for a full second, she didn't move, until he moved back, reaching her and placing his hand against hers, tightening his fingers around her palm, leading her forward.
She was quiet as she stared at the graves, first at Buffy's, and then to one Xander Harris's, the gravestone tall and just a little lopsided, an accidental testament to her dead husband.
More than a hundred years since she had buried him, and he felt the emotion as her body began to tremble, and suddenly her hand was pressed to her mouth and she was visibly shaking, eyes clouding up as the tears began to spill.
The torrent of sobs came, overwhelming Cordelia's smaller body. Instinctively, he held her, as she pressed into his side and continued to sob, crumpling against him.
The moistness dripped down his own cheeks as she pulled away, never letting go of his fingers, her free palm pressed against the gravestone, and with a whimper, pressing her lips against the cold marble.
"I love you," he heard whispered against it.
He waited, respectfully, kneeling at his own dead wife's gravestone and placing a bouquet of orchids at the site.
It was respect, and love.
He knew, somewhere, she was happy.
"I love you." The words were clearer, more enunciated, and the clarity in them made him turn, his own form freezing as he realized she was looking directly at him.
"Cordy-"
"It just. it seems WRONG to say it here." she was fidgeting, her voice was hoarse from the crying but her old hazel eyes were never more clear. "But I don't know where else to do it." Her eyes flickered over the graves, her palm still on Xander's stone.
"Cordelia." His voice was firm, but his smile was gentle, and it seemed odd, to smile here, but . it seemed. okay.
It was more than okay.
His eyes flickered to the heavens, and then back to the Immortal standing opposite him, conflicted and standing in darkness.
The moonlight was shining through the trees, and moving forward, he took her hand, pulling her into it, so suddenly her eyes shone more brilliantly than before, and her hair glinted with her highlights, and she never looked more beautiful.
In this light, in this graveyard, in this past, he chose to kiss her, pressing his lips to hers, gentle, soft, loving.
Wind flowed through their black coats, as her fingers slid through the short spikiness of a hairstyle that neverchanged, her body pressing against his as her mouth moved against his, sighing, breath warm against his cold, dead lips.
When she pulled back, needing air, his fingers gently brushed back her offending bangs, and he smiled, and as she stared back with tear stained eyes, he knew she understood.
Hands tangled together, Cordelia gave one last look at the graveyard, and finally allowed herself to smile.
Small, conflicted, but it was there.
"Let's go home."
She nodded, and he turned, sliding his hand around her waist, allowing her to rest her head against his shoulder as they walked away from the graves, and onto the open road that stood before them.
The lonely road they had each taken to arrive at this understanding looked smaller somehow, and that was okay.
The gravel crunched under their feet, the wind swirled around their bodies, and the heavens above them where unerringly clear.
It was more than okay.
--
London, England 2111
On the bridge, she was alone.
But never had one person looked so intimidating, and never had Angel been so afraid of confronting one person.
His hands were clammy, sweaty, as he moved forward, taking in her prone form that he had only seen from shadows for years.
As he walked, memories flitted over him, some painful, all involving her somehow.
This was the road not taken.
This was the one road he had not wanted to take.
Not the one that would lead to her.
Not the one that would lead to unlocking the pain that he had kept so successfully buried all these years.
But there was no choice, and inside his head, were the words, that could have come from Faith, or from Buffy, or even the Cordelia he once knew.
It had been long enough.
Licking his lips, he pushed the words out of his throat.
"Cordelia?"
Her body went completely rigid, and he waited, dead nerves on end as her hair swung forward, her eyes connecting with his, pure, unfiltered surprise in her hazel eyes.
"Angel?"
FIN
By Misty Flores - mistiec_flores@yahoo.com
Rating: R - for violence, sexual situations, and some language
Genre: Angel/Cordelia - Buffy/Angel and Cordelia/Xander implied
Teaser: Years after the death of their true loves, a lonely Cordelia and Angel reunite to stop a new nemesis, and find themselves fighting a mutual attraction as they cling to the memories of their mortal lovers.
--
The Road Before Us: Chapter Sixteen
Sunnydale, CA 2001
He had once eaten a child that looked like this.
Angel sat, carefully still, the child so small it fit into his palms.
Shakily, he looked inside the house, where the others were, with the lights on, talking and laughing and welcoming Willow home from the house.
Leaving him in the darkness, leaving him with the child. trusting him with the child.
Rupert Osborne stared up at him with his dark blue eyes, his head already a mass of red curls, unusual for a newborn.
Alert, he only gave a yawn, before continuing his study of the vampire that held him.
Angel swallowed, giving another panicked look into the house, and then let out a shaky breath, carefully to stay completely still.
It was just a baby. He had handled children before.
Blinking, he shifted it closer, feeling the warmth of it, the new life pulsing through its body.
The heartbeat was small, but fierce, and the little sigh Ruppy gave made Angel almost smile, as he cradled it into his left arm, and hesitantly reached for his face.
With a big finger, too large to handle this tiny face, Angel gently traced the soft cheek.
Bewildered, confused. unquestionably happy.
His eyes moved down to the ring on his third finger.
And married.
"Is this a broody moment for singles or can anyone join in?"
The Immortal made him start, and on impulse, Angel pulled the child closer to him, narrowing his eyes.
"I'm not- I'm not brooding," he began in a lower tone.
Cordelia Chase- now Chase Winters, and also wearing a gold ring on her third finger, only gave a small smirk, as she moved out of the light and into the darkness with him, sitting beside him.
His own wonder for the child was put on pause as he, in turn, studied the Immortal's face, as she intently looked upon the first child borne to Willow and Oz.
Mixed emotions fluttered over her, and he could sense them all. Wonder, joy, sadness, longing, a twinge of grief.
Her eyes were dark as she moved a shaky finger over to grasp the yawning Ruppy's little hand.
"So how much of a big head do you think Giles is going to get when he finds out we named him after him?"
He offered a grim smile. "How much is he strutting like a peacock in there now?"
"Oh, a bit."
Immortal and Vampire fell silent, both watching the child, sitting side by side.
Cordelia's hands were clasped together, her body was rigid.
But her eyes were moist.
"Here. You . uh. wanna hold it?"
He offered the child to her, and she immediately recoiled.
"AUGH! No! I'm no good with children."
He cocked an eyebrow, giving her a passive almost glare. "Cordelia I used to eat them."
"Okay PLEASE don't share that ever again." She fidgeted, glanced at him, and just blew out her breath, motioning quickly. "Come on, before I lose my nerve."
Hiding the smile at her reluctance, he handed the child over. "Careful, the head-"
"I know, you dolt!" He just shrugged, and then fell silent as Cordelia carefully held the child, hazel eyes softening.
The smile on her face was infectious, a welcome contrast to the haunted look she wore during the ordeal with Magdalene, reminiscent of the smile she had given him when she had paid him a visit to his mansion, two years before.
"This is amazing," he heard her breathe.
His own heart soared, and Angel smiled, sitting in the darkness with this Immortal, looking toward the house with all the lights on where his Slayer waited.
Hesitantly, he reached forward, placing a cold hand on her warm shoulder, and squeezed.
She froze, but when their eyes met, she understood.
A slight nod, a gentle smile, and then both members of the darkness looked back down at the child between them.
Nothing else needed to be said.
--
Chase Winters blew out her breath, looking at the bags that she had accumulated during her stay with Angel Investigations.
Now that it was over, the clothing had once again changed.
Hair was long, no longer restrained, free flowing and framing her face in whispy tendrils. The business suit was comfortable, not tight like the black leather. The v-neck of the blazer sunk low, giving an ample set of her cleavage, but the dark blue tank stopped the eyes from seeing any further.
All in all, she looked like Chase Winters again. It was a familiar and disconcerting sight.
Her head was still ringing, and her heart still wore a blanket of somber sadness, but her eyes were unerringly clear as she reached forward, slinging the leather briefcase over one shoulder and picking up the rest, moving toward the door, and down the stairs.
Her steps faltered as she watched the commotion, her face carrying a curious expression when the man with the glasses and the tie looked up, his face lighting up like a Christmas tree.
"Ms. Winters!"
"Terence," she responded, stopping at the foot of the stairs and giving him an amused expression as he cameforward, grinning merrily. "What are you doing?"
"I." He looked back at the chaos, the open books and the clothes and briefcases strewn about. He turned back to her, a blush creeping up his cheeks, as she crossed her arms, an amused eyebrow rising up her forehead. "I'm afraid I can't be your watcher anymore."
Her smile faltered at the husky tone. "What?"
"He can't be your watcher anymore." Katie came forward, pulling on the black blazer, taking the scarf and adjusting it on her neck as she also came forward. "You're not supposed to know, Chase."
"That's Aunt Chase to you," Cordelia said, her eyes narrowing.
Katie managed a grin. "Fine. Aunt Chase. He can't be your Watcher anymore."
"I'm not going to accept some strange man just watching me, Katie."
"You don't have a choice. You are what you are, Chase. And we must do what we must do."
And so it had begun already. Every day, the reminder.
She was frozen in place even as Katie's face softened, as she leaned forward and pressed a kiss on her cheek.
Katie's old face held Faith's beautifully bright eyes, but her grandchild held only her feisty temper, not her understanding.
"I'll see you soon."
"No you won't."
Katie took in a breath, shoulders slumping, sadness clouding her features. "For what it's worth. " she trailed off, and finally she said nothing else, ducking her head. "I chose what I chose."
"And you are what you are."
Her head jerked up, but she nodded.
"Good-bye Katie."
Cordelia's voice was clipped, not unkind, but firm, dismissive, and Katie, true to her calling, obeyed the Immortal.
Turning, she motioned to the other Watchers, and walked out of the door, head held eye, old body straight despite the obvious weight her position carried.
But Terence stayed.
Chase turned, eyes tinged with dew drops of moisture. "Why aren't you leaving?"
"You didn't let me finish." He gave her a shrug. "I'm afraid I do not the pleasure of being your Watcher, Ms. Winters. But I can be your friend. I've quit the council. I'm going to work here, with Angel Investigations."
Long silence followed, as Cordelia processed the words. The glint in her eyes came with the understanding, and his smile broadened.
"I don't want to just watch anymore."
She found herself smiling, reaching over and squeezing his hands, allowing no more emotion than that. "Nice to know you're not a total retard."
"Well I still have much to learn. This scroll in particular." He held it up, waving it. "It's fascinating, and there's even references to the Vampire with a Soul and some word I haven't figured out yet, Shansh-"
The scroll was immediately snatched out of his hands. "We'll take that."
Mr. Weathers was back in his suit, adjusting his four hundred dollar tie and snapping open the thousand dollarbriefcase to drop the scroll into it.
"I believe that belongs to us."
"HEY!"
His eyes were cold as he regarded the pair. "Just business. Ms. Chase?"
Nothing had changed. That was the understanding that he was seeking from her. An acknowledgement that everything would go on as before.
They were not friends. They weren't even business partners. But rivals. Enemies.
And it was just business.
"Just business," she responded. "If you come in here again, I'll let him kill you."
The words made him smile.
He stared at her a beat longer than necessary, before turning away, and in two seconds, he was gone.
"Do you think we'll see them again?"
"Oh, I know it."
Terence blew his breath out, looking at Lorne as he walked through the lobby, jiggling a pair of car keys in his hands. "You ready, Princess?"
"I have a ride."
"Now why on earth would you want an impersonal limo when the Host himself is ready to offer his time?"
There was a numbness that beat inside of Cordelia's chest, bearing down upon her, making her eye the now nearly empty lobby of the Hyperion almost anxiously.
Her heart shuddered within her as the numbness died away, and her eyes blinked back the tears as she realized she was only waiting.
He hadn't come back since early this morning, and some how she knew. he was waiting for her to leave.
Things were too hard.
It was too easy to just say good bye.
Terence shifted, clearing his throat. "Is there any way we can convince you to stay?"
Her eyes shifted toward his, and Cordelia allowed one soft smile of familiarity. "You know more than anyone, Terence, what my life is like. It's in London, not here. I've spent too much time away, as it is." She leaned down, picking up her briefcase and putting it on the counter, snapping it open, brushing back a stray bang as she rifled through the data pads.
"Here." She plucked one out and handed it to Lorne. "It's a copy of my will. Just in case."
Lorne, surprisingly, only took the pad and slipped it in his pocket, reaching up to scratch as his horns again as Cordelia turned to Terence.
"I'm gonna miss my stalker."
"I hope to see you soon, Ms. Winters."
His eyes were red, a little moist, and the emotion he so rarely showed tugged at her soul, as she leaned forward, and pressed a kiss against his forehead. "Terence, do me a favor. Call me Cordelia."
And with that, she picked up her bags, slung the last over her shoulder, and motioned to Lorne, exiting the Hyperion the same way she came in.
As Chase Winters.
--
The plane was barely visible on the dark night, and Cordelia stared at it, the wind ruffling through her hair, making more bangs come loose, hands in her pockets and she studied the world she was leaving.
"You sure you know what you're doing, kitten?"
She swallowed hard. "Butt out, Lorne."
"Just saying. You're looking back an awful lot."
She blew out her breath, pushing through a long sigh. "Lorne I've been looking back my entire life."
"Take one more look, sweetie."
Her hazel eyes were questioning as she met his eyes, and obediently she turned, and her heart jolted within her.
The figure came out of the darkness, stepping into the light of the Photon lamppost, which, faded and old, gave a dim illumination, but it was enough.
The numbness and acceptance gave way to a heart beat that began to race, to a breathing pattern that was erratic at best, and to a mind that seemed to splinter at just the view.
When Lorne moved away she didn't know, her eyes instead stayed trained on the vampire's haunting dark orbs as he came forward, meeting her halfway in the half light that was only bright enough to remove the shadow from her expression.
"Hey."
"Hey."
Awkwardness led a descent into silence, and Cordelia looked away, looking anywhere but the eyes.
"I don't know what to say."
"You don't have to say anything."
Two souls, entwined at first by choice, thrown together by chance, and for one brief moment, lost in the depth of the other, now reached out, and found the wall that had kept them apart from the beginning.
In the past they had shared lay the road that had brought them to this point, and in the road ahead was the certainty that it would never be the same ever again.
"It's never really over, is it?" Her eyes connected with his as he watched her, hands buried in his trenchcoat.
"No," he said after a moment. "It never is."
For some reason the words brought tears to her eyes, and disgusted with her own fraility, she took in a shortbreath, and looked away.
"So- I'll call you when I have a vision. Or I'll download it and send it."
"Okay."
"Okay."
The chirp from her coat pocket signaled it was time, but her feet wouldn't move, as again she kept being drawn into his eyes.
Death was in his eyes.
Death was in her heart.
Buffy. Xander. Willow. Faith. Giles. Oz. Travis. Katherine. Mr. Bellows. Spike. Drusilla. Nick.
And here they were, standing in barely visible light.
Her heart jolted, and two seconds later she was buried in his arms, pushing her face against his trench coat and just breathing in, body trembling as she gave a short whimper.
She allowed one second of warmth in his cold arms, before releasing her hold.
He wouldn't let her.
Instead his arms kept her close, and his hands cradled her face, thumb tracing her jawline in a tender caress.
Her eyes drifted closed as his lips brushed hers, once.
The chirp came again and she pulled away, and this time, he let her.
Angel stood still, almost a statue, eyes never wavering from hers as she backed away, reaching to grab her luggage and finally, in a jolt of discipline, she moved quickly, jogging up the stairs and into the jet that would take her halfway across the world in less than one hour.
--
The silence was curious.
Los Angeles was never silent, but it seemed that at this moment, even the birds that were left were holding their song, waiting with baited breath as the place lifted off, not needing a runaway, before zipping away from sight.
He continued to hold his stance, long after the plane was gone, and had nearly forgotten about the Host when the green-skinned demon nudged him.
"Hey."
"Hey yourself," Lorne said, watching him carefully. "You realize you're an idiot for letting her get away. I told you she can't run. She's your seer. An Immortal seer. Ring a bell? Gonna be around for a while."
"I know," Angel said, never taking his eyes off the spot where the plane had risen.
"Then why exactly did I bring her here and why exactly did you let her go?"
"I'm not letting her go," Angel said finally. "We're going to the same place. We just took different paths to get there, that's all."
He moved away from Lorne, and put one foot in front of the other, in exactly the opposite direction.
--
Sunnydale had suffered with the lack of the Slayer.
The small little town was desolate, quiet. The remaining compatriots had taken it upon themselves to fight, but with no Slayer.
But the little town had stood.
Evil came in droves, but so did the good.
It had survived.
He walked, one foot in front of the other, to the familiar spot, the spot he had once haunted, a shadow, darkness, afraid to be seen, afraid to admit the weakness to her.
That he had failed her.
Hesitancy made him almost turn back, but he took an unneeded breath, and continued forward, moving past buildings and trees, corners, swing sets, and gardens where Buffy had once patrolled.
Memories of a little blonde with the heart of a lion, a heart so open and free and a soul so strong, a light so bright at times the demon inside of him cringed.
But the soul. oh how the soul lived for the light in Buffy's eyes.
The gravestone was almost hidden by the weeds, and carefully, he cleared away the brush, working quickly, pulling at the weeds, until the stone that held the words 'She saved the world a lot' appeared clear and for everyone to see.
He stepped back, studying the grave, the welt of emotion that splintered into him painful at first, as the tears welled up and he blinked at them, wiping at his eyes to keep his vision clear.
"Uh. wow." He swallowed, hands knotting into fists in his trenchcoat. "I don't even know how to- God Buffy. Talking. I was never good at talking, was I?" Pushing the air out his dead lungs, he reached forward, hesitantly, until his palm lay flat against the stone. "You made me promise to take care of them. And I ran. I let you down, I'm sorry. I didn't know what you meant then. about her. About then. A hundred and thirty and I still didn't figure it out. But you know. Twenty five and you knew." He sucked in the unneeded breath as his eyes teared, and his voice began to crack. "I have no idea what you saw in me, Buffy. But I know what I am. And I'm grateful. And I love you. And I know. I don't know what I know, Buffy, but I know it's okay."
When his eyes fell on his hand, he could see the digits trembling, and the indrawn hiss that was barely audible made her presence known.
He caught her scent, and he turned, unashamed of the glistening eyes, as Cordelia stepped back hesitantly, looking almost scared.
"I didn't know you'd be here, I swear."
"I knew." She paused, gave him an uncertain look, but he only shook his head, holding out his hand.
Her gaze pinned on the outstretched fingers, and for a full second, she didn't move, until he moved back, reaching her and placing his hand against hers, tightening his fingers around her palm, leading her forward.
She was quiet as she stared at the graves, first at Buffy's, and then to one Xander Harris's, the gravestone tall and just a little lopsided, an accidental testament to her dead husband.
More than a hundred years since she had buried him, and he felt the emotion as her body began to tremble, and suddenly her hand was pressed to her mouth and she was visibly shaking, eyes clouding up as the tears began to spill.
The torrent of sobs came, overwhelming Cordelia's smaller body. Instinctively, he held her, as she pressed into his side and continued to sob, crumpling against him.
The moistness dripped down his own cheeks as she pulled away, never letting go of his fingers, her free palm pressed against the gravestone, and with a whimper, pressing her lips against the cold marble.
"I love you," he heard whispered against it.
He waited, respectfully, kneeling at his own dead wife's gravestone and placing a bouquet of orchids at the site.
It was respect, and love.
He knew, somewhere, she was happy.
"I love you." The words were clearer, more enunciated, and the clarity in them made him turn, his own form freezing as he realized she was looking directly at him.
"Cordy-"
"It just. it seems WRONG to say it here." she was fidgeting, her voice was hoarse from the crying but her old hazel eyes were never more clear. "But I don't know where else to do it." Her eyes flickered over the graves, her palm still on Xander's stone.
"Cordelia." His voice was firm, but his smile was gentle, and it seemed odd, to smile here, but . it seemed. okay.
It was more than okay.
His eyes flickered to the heavens, and then back to the Immortal standing opposite him, conflicted and standing in darkness.
The moonlight was shining through the trees, and moving forward, he took her hand, pulling her into it, so suddenly her eyes shone more brilliantly than before, and her hair glinted with her highlights, and she never looked more beautiful.
In this light, in this graveyard, in this past, he chose to kiss her, pressing his lips to hers, gentle, soft, loving.
Wind flowed through their black coats, as her fingers slid through the short spikiness of a hairstyle that neverchanged, her body pressing against his as her mouth moved against his, sighing, breath warm against his cold, dead lips.
When she pulled back, needing air, his fingers gently brushed back her offending bangs, and he smiled, and as she stared back with tear stained eyes, he knew she understood.
Hands tangled together, Cordelia gave one last look at the graveyard, and finally allowed herself to smile.
Small, conflicted, but it was there.
"Let's go home."
She nodded, and he turned, sliding his hand around her waist, allowing her to rest her head against his shoulder as they walked away from the graves, and onto the open road that stood before them.
The lonely road they had each taken to arrive at this understanding looked smaller somehow, and that was okay.
The gravel crunched under their feet, the wind swirled around their bodies, and the heavens above them where unerringly clear.
It was more than okay.
--
London, England 2111
On the bridge, she was alone.
But never had one person looked so intimidating, and never had Angel been so afraid of confronting one person.
His hands were clammy, sweaty, as he moved forward, taking in her prone form that he had only seen from shadows for years.
As he walked, memories flitted over him, some painful, all involving her somehow.
This was the road not taken.
This was the one road he had not wanted to take.
Not the one that would lead to her.
Not the one that would lead to unlocking the pain that he had kept so successfully buried all these years.
But there was no choice, and inside his head, were the words, that could have come from Faith, or from Buffy, or even the Cordelia he once knew.
It had been long enough.
Licking his lips, he pushed the words out of his throat.
"Cordelia?"
Her body went completely rigid, and he waited, dead nerves on end as her hair swung forward, her eyes connecting with his, pure, unfiltered surprise in her hazel eyes.
"Angel?"
FIN
