iA big thank you to all who have reviewed. It's good to know I might
have something here. As for the story, I'm still feeling things out. I
expect to introduce the plot in the next chapter (it's forming slowly).
Connor will probably put in an appearance because while I found him
incredibly annoying, he can't just be written out. The ex-Sunnydale Gang
will put in an appearance too. Thank you again. Be forewarned-my chapters
vary in length. Some short, some long. This one is a bit longer than the
first ones.
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Chapter 4: Skepticism
Wesley stood looking at Wolfram & Hart's "wing" of mystical texts. He picked one from the dozen or so that stood on the table. "Ephdan N'gdesh," he said, then opened the book to find that the text was indeed there. After four months it still didn't cease to amaze him.
"Aramaic? Interesting," he commented as he leafed through. While he could call for a translation of the text in any language, he preferred to take his chances. Most of the time the text arrived in its original language, but on occasion it would surprise him.
It was a dream come true having complete access to almost every text that ever existed, still he missed the old, worn books and their tangibility. Time permitting, as it usually was these days, he would go down into the catacombs and seek out the originals.
Since the destruction of the Sunnydale Hellmouth and Sunnydale with it, Wesley had been busy trying to find out what it all meant. Had the First been defeated permanently? Was the Hellmouth really closed? Was there any prophecies or consequences concerning the activation of every potential slayer? Giles periodically called in from Cleveland to see if anything new had been found.
For the most part, things had been quiet. The post-Jasmine chaos had died down and the demon community had, after a brief influx from the Sunnydale exodus, also quieted down. It was quiet boring actually. And then there was the feeling he had that certain events of the past two years hadn't happened exactly as he remembered them. Something seemed to be missing. Or maybe it was the fact that the family was growing farther and farther apart.
"Gee, Wes, if you don't watch it you're going to out-brood Angel."
Wesley's breath caught. The voice was so familiar, but it was one he hadn't heard for awhile. It sounded like Cordelia, but lately Lilah had taken to mimicking his old colleague just for kicks.
"Lilah, I'm really not in the mood for your games today," he sighed. Turning he found Cordelia frowning at him.
~*~
"I've been called some names in my day, but I have to say 'Lilah' is a new one," she smirked, trying not to lean too heavily on Angel. Maybe she should have taken the wheel chair he had offered. But after being comatose for four months and not in control of her own body for over a year, she would walk if it killed her.
"Cordelia?" he blinked.
"Yes, it really is me," she rolled her eyes; this was going to get old fast. Then remembering what had worked on Angel, she looked Wesley over. His style had been slowly improving over the years, trading tweed for more casual then classier clothes. He was wearing a suit now. Definitely not tweed; it was a nice charcoal that fit him quite well. His looks had improved too. Hm, tailored suit. "Armani? Wes, I must say I am pleased."
And like Angel had before him, Wesley crushed her in a tight hug. He'd bulked up too, very interesting.
"So do you think maybe I could get a chair and possibly some air too?" she asked, her legs were feeling quite tired.
"Yes, of course," he said flustered, reminding her that the old Wesley was still there under the altered exterior.
~*~
Once Cordelia was seated, Wesley motioned Angel over into the corner with the pretense of showing him some writing he'd come across. "How long has she been awake?"
"I got the call shortly after noon, so it's been a couple hours."
"Were there any indications that she was coming out of the coma, or did she just wake up?"
"From what little I was able to get out of Janet whose shift it was, Cordy just opened her eyes."
"Hm. Does she remember anything?"
"Everything," Angel said simply. "She thought they were dreams at first."
"She seems to be handling things pretty well."
"I don't think things have sunk in yet."
"True. But are you absolutely certain it's really her. We have been fooled before."
"The sarcasm, the bluntness, and the fashion sense-she's Cordelia. If you think back, Wes, after the amnesia, Cordelia never acted quite like Cordelia."
"I know, but I have to be the skeptic. Too much happened last year for one of us not to be wary," Wesley pointed out sadly.
"You kiss like a fish!" Cordelia called out from her chair across the room.
~*~
Cordelia could only take so much secrecy. Must still have her demon powers because she had heard every bit of their conversation-not that it would have taken a genius to figure out their topic of conversation.
"Or at least you used to," she added.
"What on earth are you talking about?" Wesley turned to her.
"In the library, over the Hellmouth, four and a half years ago-a brief little interlude between a student and a watcher. You might have been forgettable, but I know I wasn't."
Wesley's cheeks began to redden.
Angel couldn't help laughing. "Tell me again you don't believe that's really Cordelia."
Chapter 4: Skepticism
Wesley stood looking at Wolfram & Hart's "wing" of mystical texts. He picked one from the dozen or so that stood on the table. "Ephdan N'gdesh," he said, then opened the book to find that the text was indeed there. After four months it still didn't cease to amaze him.
"Aramaic? Interesting," he commented as he leafed through. While he could call for a translation of the text in any language, he preferred to take his chances. Most of the time the text arrived in its original language, but on occasion it would surprise him.
It was a dream come true having complete access to almost every text that ever existed, still he missed the old, worn books and their tangibility. Time permitting, as it usually was these days, he would go down into the catacombs and seek out the originals.
Since the destruction of the Sunnydale Hellmouth and Sunnydale with it, Wesley had been busy trying to find out what it all meant. Had the First been defeated permanently? Was the Hellmouth really closed? Was there any prophecies or consequences concerning the activation of every potential slayer? Giles periodically called in from Cleveland to see if anything new had been found.
For the most part, things had been quiet. The post-Jasmine chaos had died down and the demon community had, after a brief influx from the Sunnydale exodus, also quieted down. It was quiet boring actually. And then there was the feeling he had that certain events of the past two years hadn't happened exactly as he remembered them. Something seemed to be missing. Or maybe it was the fact that the family was growing farther and farther apart.
"Gee, Wes, if you don't watch it you're going to out-brood Angel."
Wesley's breath caught. The voice was so familiar, but it was one he hadn't heard for awhile. It sounded like Cordelia, but lately Lilah had taken to mimicking his old colleague just for kicks.
"Lilah, I'm really not in the mood for your games today," he sighed. Turning he found Cordelia frowning at him.
~*~
"I've been called some names in my day, but I have to say 'Lilah' is a new one," she smirked, trying not to lean too heavily on Angel. Maybe she should have taken the wheel chair he had offered. But after being comatose for four months and not in control of her own body for over a year, she would walk if it killed her.
"Cordelia?" he blinked.
"Yes, it really is me," she rolled her eyes; this was going to get old fast. Then remembering what had worked on Angel, she looked Wesley over. His style had been slowly improving over the years, trading tweed for more casual then classier clothes. He was wearing a suit now. Definitely not tweed; it was a nice charcoal that fit him quite well. His looks had improved too. Hm, tailored suit. "Armani? Wes, I must say I am pleased."
And like Angel had before him, Wesley crushed her in a tight hug. He'd bulked up too, very interesting.
"So do you think maybe I could get a chair and possibly some air too?" she asked, her legs were feeling quite tired.
"Yes, of course," he said flustered, reminding her that the old Wesley was still there under the altered exterior.
~*~
Once Cordelia was seated, Wesley motioned Angel over into the corner with the pretense of showing him some writing he'd come across. "How long has she been awake?"
"I got the call shortly after noon, so it's been a couple hours."
"Were there any indications that she was coming out of the coma, or did she just wake up?"
"From what little I was able to get out of Janet whose shift it was, Cordy just opened her eyes."
"Hm. Does she remember anything?"
"Everything," Angel said simply. "She thought they were dreams at first."
"She seems to be handling things pretty well."
"I don't think things have sunk in yet."
"True. But are you absolutely certain it's really her. We have been fooled before."
"The sarcasm, the bluntness, and the fashion sense-she's Cordelia. If you think back, Wes, after the amnesia, Cordelia never acted quite like Cordelia."
"I know, but I have to be the skeptic. Too much happened last year for one of us not to be wary," Wesley pointed out sadly.
"You kiss like a fish!" Cordelia called out from her chair across the room.
~*~
Cordelia could only take so much secrecy. Must still have her demon powers because she had heard every bit of their conversation-not that it would have taken a genius to figure out their topic of conversation.
"Or at least you used to," she added.
"What on earth are you talking about?" Wesley turned to her.
"In the library, over the Hellmouth, four and a half years ago-a brief little interlude between a student and a watcher. You might have been forgettable, but I know I wasn't."
Wesley's cheeks began to redden.
Angel couldn't help laughing. "Tell me again you don't believe that's really Cordelia."