Following his usual late afternoon
ritual, Angel sorted through the mail. Bills, bills, junk mail, credit
card applications--and one large, cream-colored, very formal-looking envelope,
return address Las Vegas, Nevada.
Laying aside the rest of the mail,
Angel reached for the letter open. Carefully, almost reverently, he
slit open the envelope.
and
Cordelia C. Chase
Request the honor of your presence
As they join their hearts as one…
"Goodness. Nothing serious,
I hope."
Angel jumped at the sound of Wesley's
voice. He'd been so focused on the invitation he hadn't heard the other
man approach. He composed himself quickly.
"Wedding invitation," he said.
Wes perked up. "Really?
Who's getting married?"
Angel handed him the card. "Cordy."
"Oh." Wes glanced at Angel as he
took the invitation and read it over. "This is in two weeks," he said.
"At dusk."
"It sounds like they might want
you to come."
Angel nodded. He didn't know
how he felt about that. "It's addressed to all of us."
"Are you going?" Wes prodded.
Angel stared at the invitation.
There were so many reasons why he shouldn't go, and one very good one why
he should. "Maybe," he said finally, and laid the invitation on the desk.
Cordelia was beautiful,
but then Cordelia always had been. Superficial beauty at first--the stylishly
slim body and dazzling smile--then deeper and deeper beauty as she had grown
and transformed before his eyes.
Angel stood next to a tree, a good
distance from the actual wedding, watching. He could see well enough from
here, could hear the minister's voice as he spoke the homily.
They weren't quite married yet.
Cordy and Xander stood in front of the minister, holding hands and smiling
at each other as the minister talked about their love for each other, which
had grown between them in high school and had never died, but returned to
blossom again those few years later.
Angel remembered when Cordelia and
Xander had been a couple. He'd been on the fringes of things then,
first because of the whole Angelus debacle, then because of the fallout of
the whole Angelus debacle. But he remembered. And he remembered
her early flirtation with him, when she'd been so obviously trying to wedge
herself between him and Buffy, with no clue about the reality of the situation.
He'd found her--not really annoying
so much as just there. He hadn't had much thought for her one
way or the other. But she'd always smelled nice.
Then the time in LA,
of course, when they had become such good friends. She'd been an anchor
for him, and a catalyst for his own change. With Buffy, he'd had a
haven. Cordelia had thrown him to the wolves of semi-regular social
interaction, and he was a better man for it.
The minister read a scripture, then
turned to the waiting couple. "We gather here together to join this
man and this woman in holy matrimony…"
He remembered training her, the
lithe movement of her body against his as he'd corrected her stance.
The smell of her sweat--she'd worked harder than he'd ever imagined she could--the
tautness of his own arousal as they'd worked. Kyrumption, Lorne had
called it, the coming together of two champions.
He loved her. There was no
question about that. But he loved easily. He'd realized that about
himself. He loved them all, Wes and Gunn and Cordy, Willow and Faith
and Fred. And Buffy.
Connor.
There were some things he just couldn't
think about right now.
Yes, he loved Cordy, but what did
it mean? When he'd been in love with her, what had that been?
"Were we in love?"--"We were."
Had that even been her? Had
she been possessed even then?
"I'm only alive when you're inside
me."
That definitely hadn't been her.
They'd both been possessed by spirits then, and still he'd squirreled away
the memory of her mouth on his, the soft skin of her belly under his lips….
"Deep down, I think I've always
known."
His own hallucination, that one,
brought on by sensory deprivation and starvation. Yet it had seemed
so real…
"Angel, haven't we waited long
enough?"
And that only a spell, a construct
meant to take him where he needed to go, to release his soul and bring Angelus.
"If anyone here objects to this
union, let them speak now, or forever hold their peace."
Angel's eyes burned. In front
of the minister, Xander held Cordelia's hand, cradled it. Xander loved
her, of that Angel was certain. He would take good care of her, keep
her safe.
Angel had loved her, but she had
never been his. And she never would be.
"Do you, Alexander Harris, take
this woman, Cordelia Chase…"
Of course he did. He'd be
a fool not to. And Angel watched, trying to be happy for them, as
Xander lifted the veil and kissed her, and made her his.
He had made arrangements
to meet with Xander after the wedding, away from the rest of the guests.
The reception hadn't quite gotten underway yet, and from his place behind
the tree, Angel watched the others.
Willow was there with a girl Angel
didn't recognize. They both looked happy, comfortable in each other's
company. Giles and Wesley held a staid conversation near the hors
d'oeuvres table. Dawn--God, how she had grown--was startlingly adult
and lovely in a gauzy floral dress. Buffy was there, too. He had seen
the golden flash of her hair out of the corner of his eye but had refused
to seek out her face.
He heard a rustle behind him.
He knew it was Xander without looking, in spite of the thick cologne he
wore. Angel turned.
"You're really committed to that
skulking creature of the night thing, aren't you?" said Xander.
"I don't skulk." He saw no
need to rise to Xander's bait anymore. Xander insulted him reflexively,
he'd come to realize. Over the past few months, since Angel had sent
Cordelia to Las Vegas, he and Xander had come to an uneasy but satisfactory
understanding.
"You look good," Angel said grudgingly.
Xander smiled. "Hell, even
you would look good in one of these monkey suits."
"I've been told I look devastatingly
sexy in a tux." He'd opted for something more casual today--no tie,
but a shirt and jacket that had passed Fred's outdoor wedding etiquette
inspection.
"Well, of course you do, you big,
gorgeous bastard."
Angel smiled. "Gee, Xander,
I didn't know you found me attractive."
"I don't. But I do find you
big. And a bastard."
"Sorry if I've given that impression."
Angel withdrew an envelope from the inside pocket of his jacket and held
it out to Xander.
"What's this?" Xander eyed it warily.
"A wedding gift."
Xander lifted a hand. "No
way, Angel. I told you I didn't want anything from you."
"I have as much right to give her
a present as anybody else here. Besides, I owe her this."
Xander still eyed the envelope warily.
"It's all her back pay, from when
she fell into the coma to when she woke up."
Xander seemed a little less dubious,
but not much. "That's a lot of money."
"Not as much as you might think.
I hear her boss was a real skinflint."
Finally, Xander smiled. "All
right. That seems fair." He took the envelope and looked at
the check inside. "Damn, you are cheap." But he looked
up at Angel with some measure of gratitude. It was a decent sum, Angel
knew. He'd hoped the paycheck approach would convince Xander to accept
it. "Thank you," Xander added.
Angel nodded. "Take care of
her."
"You know I will." Xander
started to go, then paused. "You should go mingle. A couple
of people have said it's kind of weird you're not here."
"I don't know. It doesn't
seem like a good idea."
"Buffy already knows you're here."
"Damn. I was afraid of that."
He sighed, resigned. "How much have you told Cordy? Has she
remembered anything?"
"I told her she went to LA to work
for you, and had an accident that gave her amnesia. As far as I know,
she still doesn't remember anything past mid-Senior year."
"Okay." Angel steeled himself.
"Well. Here I go, then."
He went through
the receiving line, saw Cordy, held her hand, embraced her, kissed her cheek.
It didn't hurt as much as he'd feared. Perhaps because she was so
obviously happy, her eyes warm and bright, her smile brilliant.
"Thanks so much for coming, Angel,"
she said. Maybe he imagined the warmth in her eyes, or maybe she'd
remembered, if only in her heart, something of what they'd shared.
It didn't matter. It was over
now, and he had to move on. As he always did. So he turned to
leave her--
And there was Buffy.
He froze, staring at her, his voice
caught in his throat.
"Hey," she said, smiling.
"I was wondering if you were going to show yourself."
"You knew I was here."
She sobered a little, an odd weight
in her eyes. "I always know."
He just stared at her stupidly,
with no more words. This--the energy between them, the sure knowledge
of each other--this was real. More than anything he'd ever experienced.
And, dammit, it just would not go
away.
Finally, she tilted her head a little,
regarding him with some of the old warmth, though he could tell she was
holding it back. "Dance with me?"
He took her hand, led her to the
patio area where the others were dancing. The band was playing a slow
song; he folded her gently into him, remembering the last time they had danced
like this. The only other time.
So many things they'd only been
able to do once.
He took a long, steadying breath,
and she craned her neck to look up at him. "Are you all right?"
"Yeah." He touched her lips
to her hair, not quite kissing her. "Just…sad."
"It's a wedding. You should
be happy."
"I'm happy for Cordelia."
He was, honestly. It was just hard to feel it past everything else.
"You guys worked together a long
time."
"We did." He didn't know how
much he should tell Buffy. His relationship with Cordelia had gone
past friendship, but they hadn't been lovers. Besides, this wasn't
the place.
"I guess you were pretty close,
huh?"
"We were."
"It's good you came, then."
She nestled back into him and he
cradled her. There were so many things he wanted to ask her--was she
single again, did she miss him--but he set them all aside. Right now
she was here in his arms, soft and warm and welcoming, and not far away, Cordelia
danced with Xander, her eyes bright with happiness. For now, it was
enough.
It would have to be.
END.