Part Two

Black was a color that gave Cordelia mixed feelings. It was the
stereotypical representation of evil - the black hat. It was the color
of the shadows of the night that hid everything that she and her
friends had fought against since highschool. It was Angel's favorite
color. The color black was something she hated and loved, because it
reminded her of the things she hated and the vampire she loved. Yes,
she loved Angel, damn him, but it's not like she could do anything
about it. She was dead. Dead and surrounded by Angel's favorite
color because apparently the Powers That Be had forgotten to pay the
power bill and there was no light at the end of her tunnel.

She was going to Heaven. Demon DNA or not, Cordelia Chase belonged in
Heaven. Sure, she had been a supreme bitch for most of her life, but
the fighting vampires and demons, helping to stop the apocalypse on
her graduation, and enduring the skull-cracking visions more than made
up for a few catty comments. And the being part demon thing, that was
for a good cause - a selfless act - no one could have endured the pain
and confusion of the visions like she had. Okay, so maybe someone else
could have and she had been a little bit selfish in her decision.
Maybe she liked it when Angel would comfort her and hold her after a
vision or the guilty/grateful look in his eyes. Maybe she liked being
needed by him, by everyone in their family. She still didn't belong in
this dark void for the rest of eternity. This was not her destiny.
Any minute someone would come and get her and take her to wherever you
went you were dead. Then she could watch over Angel and Connor. Lorne
and Fred and Gunn. And Wesley. She would watch over Wesley too. Any
minute, there would be light and a guide to take her away from this
awful blackness. Any minute.

*****

Dawn was approaching. The first rays of light would be threading pink
through the twilight gray of the sky. Lorne, Fred, and Gunn would
return. They would talk and Angel would have no choice but to listen.
He would have to give her up and they would expect him to get on with
his life without her. Connor whined from in between them. He woke up
and struggled to get out of Angel's arms. Angel let him go and the
boy scuttled into a corner and glared at him. He wiped at his nose
angrily and sniffled. Angel dropped his gaze from his son's harsh
glare to Cordelia's beautiful face. He didn't want to waste what
little time he had left with her in a staring contest with his son who
hated him.

Without Connor between them, Angel had an unobstructed view of
Cordelia. It was strange to see her so still. He traced his
fingertips across her brow and along the curve of her cheek. "I love
you," Angel whispered. He waited. He waited for her eyes to blink
slowly open, her hazel orbs unfocused and confused. It didn't happen.
She lay there still as stone a trail of dried blood marring the
startling paleness of her cheek. He couldn't stand it anymore. Angel
growled and gripped the stake, wrenching it from her body. The dark
red congealed blood made a pool in the wound. The light wood of the
point of the stake was stained red with that blood. Angel held it
between them, the stake pointed at his dead heart. It had been meant
for him.

"Angel!" Fred's startled cry made him look up. Her hands were
covering her mouth and her eyes were wide. Then angry as her hands
clenched into fists. "What do you think you're doing?" She stalked
toward him and took the stake out of his hand. "This is not what
Cordelia would want. Especially in front of Connor." Fred walked over
to the boy and scooped him up in her arms. She cuddled him close and
rubbed his back.

"He meant to stake me." Angel watched Fred comfort his son, her back
turned to him. Over her shoulder, Connor still glared at him. "I
should be dust."

"Well you're not," Fred snapped. She turned around to face Angel. It
was clear that her purpose was to be the strong one now. Cordelia had
always been the one Angel had shared his grief with - first when Buffy
had died and then when they had lost Connor. Now it would have to be
her. She would have to take care of Cordelia's 'boys' - including
Wesley, she hadn't given up on him yet. Fred's voice gentled. "We
gave you time with her, Angel. Now you have to let her go."

A growl escaped from Angel's lips and he instinctively pulled Cordelia
closer to him. He relaxed a bit when he realized that no one was
going to try and take her away from him. They were going to let him do
that on his own. What if he couldn't do it?

"What are we going to do about..." Gunn shrugged uncomfortably and
shuffled his feet. "We can't call the cops."

"We have to find a doctor who will sign off on it as an accidental
death. And a funeral home that won't ask questions or report us to
the authorities." Fred paced the office, the stake and Connor still in
her arms. "Cordelia deserves a proper service."

Again Angel couldn't stop voicing his disapproval in the form of a low
growl at the plans to take his love away from him. They were already
planning her funeral. She would be buried in the ground where he
wouldn't ever see her smile again. He would never hear her laugh.
Hold her while she cried. Angel combed his fingers through Cordelia's
hair. This was just her body, his Cordy was gone. He had to convince
himself of that before he could let her go. Her soul was gone. It
was gone and it wouldn't be coming back. "Willow." Angel looked up,
a sudden hope lighting his eyes. "Willow brought Buffy back from the
dead. We have to call her."

"Sorry, Angel, but that isn't possible. Your little witchy friend
can't bring Cordelia back." Lorne grimaced as he delivered the bad
news.

"Why not?" Angel demanded. "Because Buffy was the Slayer and Cordelia
just a Seer? She fought for the Powers too. She's not insignificant."

"No, no, of course not." Lorne held out his hands in a placating
gesture. "Cordelia was an important warrior for the Powers, but the
kind of magic it takes to resurrect the dead is dangerous. It's not
something a witch can do everyday or even twice in her lifetime without
major consequences. It could cost this Willow her life and I don't
think our sweet Cordy would want that."

"She wouldn't." Angel hung his head. It had been stupid to hope.
Everyone he loved was eventually destroyed. Buffy. Cordelia. Connor.
The little boy had wrapped himself around Fred and had started to cry
again. Every once in a while he would snuffle a 'sorry, Momma' and
reach out toward Cordelia. He was hurting. He thought this was his
fault, but it was Angel's. It was because of him that Holtz had
stolen Connor and then sent him back filled with hate and the urge to
kill him. It was because of him that Cordelia had become half-demon
and given up a normal life. She should have been a famous sitcom star.
This was his fault and he couldn't let his son wallow in guilt. He
stood up with Cordelia still cradled in his arms. "Do you know a
doctor that specializes in demons, Lorne?"

"Yeah, I know a guy. He can get us death certificate and I know of a
demon funeral home that can handle the arrangements. We'll plan a nice
midnight service." Lorne crossed over to the phone and started to make
some calls.

Angel just nodded. He would have to go to Cordelia's apartment and
pick out something nice for her to wear. And he would have to tell
Dennis. Cordelia's ghostly room-mate wouldn't be worried yet. She had
spent the odd night here at the hotel. And he would have to call some
one in Sunnydale. Hopefully one of them would know how to contact
Cordy's parents. There was so much to do, but he would do it for her.
He loved her.

*****

The apartment was dark. The curtains were drawn tightly to keep out
the afternoon sun. Wesley felt it was appropriate. He was in a dark
mood, a dark place. He sat on his couch repeatedly brushing his thumb
over the healing scar on his throat. He had almost died in that park.
Cordelia was dead. She hadn't visited him in the hospital. She hadn't
even called. Not that he had expected her to. Cordelia was loyal to
her friends and she expected that same loyalty in return. She had been
loyal to him and Gunn when Angel had betrayed them - had refused to
even speak the vampire's name. It would have surprised Wesley if she
had behaved differently during his own 'beige' period.

"I'm sorry, Cordelia," Wesley whispered hoarsely. He wished he had
been able to tell her in person. Although he doubted that Angel would
have allowed him to get near her. He knew that he wouldn't welcome at
any funeral service that they would have either. It didn't matter. He
wasn't going to prostrate himself and beg for their forgiveness. He
had done what he had done with the best of intentions. If it landed
him in hell, than so be it.

A timid knock on the door prompted a frustrated sigh. It was probably
Fred. The girl wouldn't give up on trying to reunite him with his
'family.' She had already left messages asking him to call. Wesley
got up and crossed over to the door. She wouldn't leave until he
answered it and told her to go away. He pulled open the door. "Fred,
I..." There was no one there. A tug on his pant leg made Wesley look
down. A ten year old boy smiled up at him through the tears that
rolled down his cheeks. "Connor?"

"Uncle Wesley, Momma's dead."

To be continued....