Chapter 1: Awakening
Cordelia opened her eyes with some effort. God, it felt like she had been sleeping forever. And the dreams . . . she didn't think she would ever sleep again. Blinking, she took in her surroundings: rich and opulent, but not even remotely familiar.
"Ms. Chase?" a young woman hovered over her. "Ms. Chase? How do you feel?"
How do I feel? Like I've been in a coma . . . Oh no. "Where am I?" she managed to croak.
"We've sent for Mr. Angel. He should be here shortly."
Mr. Angel?! "Where am I?" she asked more forcefully.
"Mr. Angel will explain everything when he gets here," the woman tried to placate her.
Something was as fishy as a pair of Prada shoes in a Payless. Just as she was about to show the woman who she was messing with, Angel came in.
"She's awake?" he asked no one in particular, his tone cautious. Then seeing that Cordelia was indeed awake he just stood and stared, unbelieving. "Cordelia?"
She glared at him like he was some new breed of moron. "Last time I checked."
Still he stood there. That's when she noticed his clothes.
"Angel, are you wearing color? Or is green suddenly the new black?"
He looked down at his suit, and yes the shirt was green. He smiled and in less than a second was crushing her in a massive hug.
"Ugh, yeah, heh, I'm glad to see you too," she patted him uncertainly. "Um. Air. Human. Need air."
"Sorry," he let go sheepishly.
"So, did you suddenly decided to go all interior decorator on me or are we somewhere other than the Hyperion?"
"Wolfram & Hart," he replied, barely audible.
"I'm sorry, but I thought you said Wolfram & Hart."\
He nodded.
"The Wolfram & Hart, evil law firm out to destroy or at least annoy you at every turn."
"And seeing as you're Mr. Angel, I take it this isn't exactly a prison-type dealy?"
Angel just looked at her.
"Did I miss an apocalypse?"
A shadow fell across Angel's features.
"What in the hell happened?"
Cordelia opened her eyes with some effort. God, it felt like she had been sleeping forever. And the dreams . . . she didn't think she would ever sleep again. Blinking, she took in her surroundings: rich and opulent, but not even remotely familiar.
"Ms. Chase?" a young woman hovered over her. "Ms. Chase? How do you feel?"
How do I feel? Like I've been in a coma . . . Oh no. "Where am I?" she managed to croak.
"We've sent for Mr. Angel. He should be here shortly."
Mr. Angel?! "Where am I?" she asked more forcefully.
"Mr. Angel will explain everything when he gets here," the woman tried to placate her.
Something was as fishy as a pair of Prada shoes in a Payless. Just as she was about to show the woman who she was messing with, Angel came in.
"She's awake?" he asked no one in particular, his tone cautious. Then seeing that Cordelia was indeed awake he just stood and stared, unbelieving. "Cordelia?"
She glared at him like he was some new breed of moron. "Last time I checked."
Still he stood there. That's when she noticed his clothes.
"Angel, are you wearing color? Or is green suddenly the new black?"
He looked down at his suit, and yes the shirt was green. He smiled and in less than a second was crushing her in a massive hug.
"Ugh, yeah, heh, I'm glad to see you too," she patted him uncertainly. "Um. Air. Human. Need air."
"Sorry," he let go sheepishly.
"So, did you suddenly decided to go all interior decorator on me or are we somewhere other than the Hyperion?"
"Wolfram & Hart," he replied, barely audible.
"I'm sorry, but I thought you said Wolfram & Hart."\
He nodded.
"The Wolfram & Hart, evil law firm out to destroy or at least annoy you at every turn."
"And seeing as you're Mr. Angel, I take it this isn't exactly a prison-type dealy?"
Angel just looked at her.
"Did I miss an apocalypse?"
A shadow fell across Angel's features.
"What in the hell happened?"