A/N: This fic takes place right after "You're Welcome", however it won't talk much about Cordelia's death, since no one but Angel knows, at least at this time. It was inspired by one of Spike's line before they go out for drinks.

Disclaimer: I don't own Angel or any of its characters, it's that simple.

This Path

By Tigeress419

Between our lies and our truths

Is the path that we choose -- My Grandmother

His friends, or at least his company, had left a long time ago. Their laughter had gradually become more unease sincere there was obviously someone missing.

"I'll try Angel on his cell, just to see where he and Cordy are," a brunette who went by the name of Fred said some hours earlier.

There was no response. Many of them decided to head home, while a British man named Wesley agreed to stop by Wolfram & Hart to see why Angel and Cordelia never showed.

He, however stayed, and was now starting on yet another drink. He ran his fingers through his platinum blonde hair as he stared at his own reflection in the liquid. He was obviously deep in thought.

I sat on the stool next to him, other than a few men to drunk to go anywhere in the corner, we had the place to ourselves.

"Why such the long face?" I asked.

Being somewhat intoxicated, his guard was down, "You would too if you had been duped by some cowboy pounce in to thinking that you had a destiny."

The bartender gave a strange look at him as he walked away to the other end of the bar, but that was to be expected.

"You don't think you have a destiny?"

"What he said made sense of why I was back, but now I know he was just lying, that bloody bastard. I haven't got a clue why I was brought back. I don't really see the point anymore," he took a long sip from his glass.

"So you wish that you never came back?"

"Yeah, it better to be dead than not to have a purpose," he slurred.

"You know how they say be careful for what you wish for?"

"Yeah, what about it?" he gave me a suspicious glance.

"Well, whoever 'they' are don't know what they are talking about,"

He nodded, too drunk to speak, and passed out there on the counter.

Let it begin, I thought to myself.