I've been thinking of this story for a long time, but I needed a catalyst, "Birthday" was that catalyst. Please read and review. Oh, and I don't own any of the characters or anything, all rights to the WB.
Cordelia's Dream
Cordelia pulled away from the kiss and took a deep breath. He smelled like whisky, and she didn't mind. It was actually a comfortable smell, like pine trees and ginger bread at Christmas time. She missed that smell more than she could tell.
"Oh I missed you," she muttered, moving her head to the side and speaking to the nape of his neck. "I missed you so much. I didn't realize until . . ."
"Hush now," he said with his gentle Irish brogue. He tilted his head slightly and kissed her temple. "You're brave and strong, braver 'n stronger than any one I've ever known. Braver 'n stronger than any 'a us could imagine."
"I don't wanna be strong," she said, tears started slipping out of her eyes as she buried her head in his shoulder. "I'm tired of being strong."
He laughed and kissed the side of her head again, "Cordelia," he said, letting her name role of his tongue, making it wholly different and new and lovely. "You don't know, you have no idea, I can't begin to tell you. You did bravely wha' no other mortal has ever done. You chose, bravely, that which you most feared, that which you most hated. You gave up what you always thought you wanted for what was right. De'ya'know how few people could do that?"
"I want you," She said softly. "Nothing more, just you."
"You've got me," Doyle said. "Right now."
"But you'll leave."
"Never, I'm part of you."
"I use to know that," Cordelia said, pulling herself away from him so she could look him in the eye. "But I forgot."
"Now you can remember."
"I wish you hadn't died."
"If wishes were horses. . . "
"What does that mean?" Cordelia asked, crunching her nose in that little girl way that always made Doyle smile.
"I'm so sorry for all the pain," he said, pulling her back to him so that their foreheads meet and he streamed his hands through her hair and her fingers played with his dark wiry locks.
"I'm not."
"You don't know how proud of you I am. I'll always love you."
"Doyle," she said softly, pulling herself away just a little. "I can't . . ."
"What?" he asked, smiling genuinely. "Pine for me? Oh, Darlin' I don't expect you to."
"But, you said . . ."
"I said I'd always love you, and I will. But you're alive, and what kind'a friend would I be if I asked you to stop livin' just because I died."
Cordelia laughed and leaned forward, hugging him tightly. "Oh, I love you. And I'll never stop loving you."
"That's more than I deserve."
"No," Cordy said, leaning forward and kissing him. "You deserve all that's good, and you didn't get it." She kissed him again. "I'm sorry."
"I lived my life, no regrets," he laughed softly. "Well, maybe a few, but not many, and none concerning you."
"I'll still miss you."
"An' I'll still be with you."
They kissed, one last, sweet, time and then he disappeared, and the world faded to gray, and Cordelia took another deep breath and smelled not whisky, but ocean scented air freshener. When she opened her eyes she realized she was in her bed, at home. Doyle was dead and she was the one with the visions, she was the half demon. She sat up in bed and curled her knees up to her chest and did something she had not done in a very long time, she cried. But it wasn't from the pain or from the fear, she was crying for Doyle, not herself. And it felt really good.
The End
