Um. Yes. Again. I am GRATEFULY THANKFUL of your guys' reviews. But, yes,
this is a B/A story (Sorry to the people who wanted C/A.) I like Cordy as
more of a friendly figure toward Angel (they just killed that relationship
in season 3) and... yeah. That's that.
So, on with everything else. - - - - - - - - - -
Chapter 4
Angel had been knocked out quite a few times since he graced himself upon this earth, but God, nothing would have prepared him for the guilt, despair, and emotions that decided to hammer its way into his head when he finally came to some sort of consciousness. His whole body felt like it had been pumped of a major amount of blood. He wanted to throw up everything that was inside his body and shrink away into the bed spread, disappearing into the ether.
Everything, memory or otherwise, started rushing back into his system, guilt soaked and painful. He had failed everyone around him and finally, he failed himself; he lost himself somewhere down the line and it finally collapsed on top of him. There was no turning back and no denying all the self destructive actions that trailed behind him.
Oh God, Darla. He hadn't even had the strength to stake the bitch. He could still hear her lulling voice inside his head, her screams and moans. It had been a night of blind despair, lust, and need. His need to feel and her need for him, or rather, Angelus.
((You don't learn that kind of darkness. It was innate. It was in you before we ever met - you said you could smell me? Well, I can smell you, too. My boy is in there and he wants out!))
He groaned and slowly turned his head to face the digital clock that sat on his dresser. The red numbers flashed 3:29. He closed his eyes, taking in an unnecessary breath, and reopened them again. 3:30. The thought finally dawned on him, he was in his bed. Not in the shower bleeding. Turning his head to look around, Angel didn't see anyone here, but he could hear three faint heartbeats downstairs, they were slow and melancholy. He suppressed another groan, knowing Cordelia, Gunn, and Wesley were the three people down there. They were probably all sleeping; he could picture Cordelia curled around the circular couch, Wesley slumped in his wheelchair, and Gunn slung in one of the chairs, head rolled to one side. Right now there wasn't anything worse than having your friends find you suicidal. Nothing. Angel wanted to die. Maybe if he lay there for another minute he would disappear.
No such luck. He could feel the cuts on his wrists healing, maybe already healed; he didn't really bother to check. He tucked himself deeper into the sheets, thinking about the past events. His friends came to his rescue when he wouldn't come to theirs. God, he shouldn't have been so caught up in his own whirlwind, he should have been helping them. But the past was the past and there was no use dwelling on it.
The door suddenly opened. Lost in his thoughts, Angel didn't realize there was anyone behind the door. He felt himself tense up, afraid to be confronted by the people who he pushed away and yet helped him still. He was ashamed and, evidently, afraid of what had happened, he wanted to wash everything away and start on a clean slate.
It was Cordelia who stepped through the threshold. Angel had become very proud of the woman who she had melted into. Before, in Sunnydale, Cordy was the shallowest and tactless girl you could meet, but now, after moving to Los Angeles and helping Angel, she had grown into this beautiful, strong woman. Of course, there was still a little bit of that Sunnydale cheerleader inside, but that didn't matter anymore. Angel didn't know how he would have gotten through the past two years without her.
"Angel?" her voice rang out through the room.
Angel couldn't bring himself to answer her so he just lay there, blinking back tears, hoping she'd leave, but she walked towards the bed, each step making it harder and harder for him to hold back the sorrow, guilt.
"Angel..." Cordelia said. She saw his eyes were open, but glued to the clock next to him. "Oh, my God, Angel, you're awake." She dropped to her knees and gave him a hug, but he couldn't bring himself to return the gesture. "We were so worried," she sobbed; Angel could feel hot tears slide onto his back.
She leaned her head back; he still couldn't look at her. "I sent Gunn and Wesley over here and they said you..." she paused, not wanting to prod any sore spots, but then decided that right now was time for prodding. "How could you do it? You should have come to us, we would have helped. I mean, it's not so much the physical part, but we're worried about your, you know, mental health, Angel." She sighed. "Are you okay, at least?" she pursed her lips when he didn't answer. "Um, do you want some blood or something? Because Gunn said it looked like you lost a lot of blood..."
"No, it's fine Cordy." His answer was stale and dry. God, his throat was so dry.
"But you've been all... you know, with the suicidal and -"
"I'm so sorry, Cordelia," he whispered. Angel tilted his head toward her, his eyes locked with hers and she hugged him again. This time he hugged her back.
Cordelia closed her eyes and breathed in his scent. Oh God, she almost forgotten what he smelt like. She thought she'd never forget. "Angel it's okay, it's okay. You're going to be okay."
"I... I was falling too fast and I felt like everything just wasn't worth it anymore," he squeezed his eyes shut, trying, but not succeeding, to block out the memories of Darla. He felt so fucking dirty sleeping in the same bed right now. She was his last resort for silence. "I wanted to die; I wanted everything to go away."
"Shhh..." she soothed, not knowing the real reason for his deepest confessions. "It's going to be okay. Everything's going to be okay."
Cordelia felt another sob choke her throat. Just hearing Angel say he wanted to give up made her world want to crumble. He used to be the one who told everyone not to give in and hope for the best, but now he's just been stretched too much and pulled in too many directions. He needed time to recollect himself.
They sat there for a few minutes both. Just sitting. It was something they both needed. Just to sit and... to be. Be Cordy and Angel again. She pulled away and sat herself on the bed, knowing this was going to be the hard part of the reunion. "I know things were bad for you, Angel," she started. "But what you did to us... it hurt. I'm not saying everything that happened was your fault; it's just that... our feelings were crushed. You pushed us away, too far away. I care for you, Angel, but, just to get things straight, I'm not sure if I trust you."
Angel looked away as he felt his heart break. He knew he deserved every single word that came out of her mouth, but it was still uncomfortable to hear it. He had broken their trust, broken the bond that connected the four of them together.
Right now, Angel felt more like a loner than he did in a long, long time.
"But we're not going away this time, whether you like it or not," Cordelia continued, mostly for Angel's sake. Right then was one of those moments where he was soaking in the guilt and turned into taciturn-stoic-guy. "The PTB obviously don't like us being apart because I haven't had a vision in months and plus, I think we make more money when you're around. Not to be rude or anything, but Wes isn't really that macho and Gunn is only so much of a person." She smiled and did the little wrinkly nose thing that only she could pull off.
She got off the bed, readjusting her shirt. "Are you gonna come down?"
Angel looked up at her. "Uh, actually..."
Cordelia nodded, getting his drift. "You don't want to face the people who think you're a complete nut case?" she finished, then winced when she saw Angel look away. "Sorry," she apologized. "Just... come down when you're ready, okay? I won't tell them you're up or anything, so take your time," she said, starting to walk away.
"Cordy," Angel called and she turned around. "Thank you."
"What are friends for?"
- - - - - - - - -
"So is he up yet?" Wesley asked in a half yawn as Cordelia walked down the stairs. He hated being totally confined to this wheelchair, it made him feel partly useless. Being an ex-Watcher, he wasn't used to this feeling yet. It was more of the feeling of being in control and on top of things that he was used to.
"Nope," she shook her head. "He's still knocked out," she looked around for Gunn and found him still asleep. "God, and he sleeps like a rock."
Wesley looked at his watch. "It's been over four hours; you think we should do something?"
Cordelia waved a dismissive hand. "No, he's fine. I guess suicide takes a lot out on a person, huh?" she said, only half joking. A quiet shiver ran down her spine.
"I still think we should bail," Gunn's voice came from the far side of the room. He was up, rubbing the sleep away from his eyes. "We did him enough, right?"
"No," Cordelia said, sitting herself down on the circular couch. "Angel tried to kill himself; doesn't that send of little alarm bells?"
He shrugged, thinking about what had happened through the past few months. "Not really, he's the one who bailed out on us. Had it coming, is what I say."
"Well," Cordelia said, crossing her arms. "When YOU become crazy and then turn suicidal, I'll remember to bail out on you too."
Gunn sighed, looking at the angry seer. "It's not like I don't care about the dude, but Angel fired us. We already did him a favor, it's not like we just left him there," he pointed out. "And plus, he just cut himself, I didn't see no wood or holy water anywhere."
"That's enough," Wesley bit out, firmly. "Once Angel comes to his senses we'll decide what should be done, until then we wait."
"Whatever," they both huffed simultaneously, and then glared at each other.
Wesley stared hard at the fleet of stairs, wanting so badly to check up on his friend. He did agree with Gunn that Angel didn't necessarily deserve their help, but it would be somewhat selfish of them to turn their heads when their friend was going off the deep end - at least, deeper than where he had already been. He only prayed that every cut and wound would be sewn back together after this stupid -
"Oh my God..." Cordelia whispered and Wesley turned his head. He then saw her expression of horror and quickly started to wheel himself over to her side.
"Vision!" Wesley grunted and Gunn flew up from his chair, taking Cordelia's hand as she jerked and twisted in his arms. She flew forward, holding her temples as images flew threw her mind's eye.
//There was a tower, tall and oddly weird looking. The landscape was familiar... - Oh, great. We're back in Sunnyhell. Cordelia took a better look at the kooky tower and guessed it could have been around 50 to 60 feet high. Lighting and fire lit the sky and rocks flew down from the Heavens(Hell?). God, Cordelia mused, rain of fire much?
Then people, there were people - Buffy and crew! Ew, and Spike? What the hell was Spike doing there? They were all ready for battle, apocalyptic obviously. Cordelia inwardly threw a fit, the PTB had the WORST timing EVER. Send her the vision of Angel's long lost love going into this huge fight right after he's had a major breakdown? Really, guys, you're doing a SWELL job up there!
There was pain and it swelled in her head, it was so hot and painful, crackling and burning, Cordelia thought her skull might split. Sorrow built up inside her as she saw Buffy running down a plank... she looked so terrified and yet, almost.... content. Then there was a flash of light and electricity. Dawn in a deep red dress - what - what was Dawn doing... she was crying, tied to the railing. There was blood, cut from a palm.
A scary looking porthole was thundering beneath them, it was screaming with hell and destruction. Cordelia finally saw both Dawn and Buffy on the plank, Buffy was saying something and Cordelia concentrated to hear what the Slayer was making out.
"Dawn, listen to me," she said, Dawn's eyes were red with tears. "Listen. I love you. I will always love you. But this is the work that I have to do. Tell Giles... tell Giles I figured it out. And, and I'm okay. And give my love to my friends. You have to take care of them now. You have to take care of each other. You have to be strong. Dawn, the hardest thing in this world... is to live in it. Be brave. Live. For me."
Then Buffy started to run and Cordelia tried to lurch for her, grab her and tell her she can't leave because if she left Angel wouldn't have anything to fight for anymore. She was his reason why he fought and without her he was nothing. But the image kept on going and Cordelia watched as the bravest Slayer in history jumped from the ledge and landed in the porthole, her whole body shaking with tremors and then, with a flash of light, it was gone. Only the broken, torn body of Buffy lay on the aftermath debris of the battle. Buffy Summers, the Vampire Slayer, was dead.//
Cordelia cried as her eyes flew open, tears starting to fall as the image of Buffy jumping off the platform kept playing over and over in her head; her blonde hair thrown across her face as she hit the ground. Cordelia cried into Gunn's lap as he stroked her hair.
"Cordelia," Wesley asked gently, he didn't know why she was crying. The visions usually didn't do this to her, it scared him to think about what she might have seen. "What did you see?"
She turned her head to Wesley, eyes red and mascara running. He could already see the worst in her vision burnt irises. "Buffy," she whispered. "She died."
- TBC -
Right. There's a minor thing I want to point out. You can EASILY tell that where the vision is in here. But just for those slow people around here (yes, YOU! Over there in the back!) the stuff between the '//' is Cordelia's vision.
So, on with everything else. - - - - - - - - - -
Chapter 4
Angel had been knocked out quite a few times since he graced himself upon this earth, but God, nothing would have prepared him for the guilt, despair, and emotions that decided to hammer its way into his head when he finally came to some sort of consciousness. His whole body felt like it had been pumped of a major amount of blood. He wanted to throw up everything that was inside his body and shrink away into the bed spread, disappearing into the ether.
Everything, memory or otherwise, started rushing back into his system, guilt soaked and painful. He had failed everyone around him and finally, he failed himself; he lost himself somewhere down the line and it finally collapsed on top of him. There was no turning back and no denying all the self destructive actions that trailed behind him.
Oh God, Darla. He hadn't even had the strength to stake the bitch. He could still hear her lulling voice inside his head, her screams and moans. It had been a night of blind despair, lust, and need. His need to feel and her need for him, or rather, Angelus.
((You don't learn that kind of darkness. It was innate. It was in you before we ever met - you said you could smell me? Well, I can smell you, too. My boy is in there and he wants out!))
He groaned and slowly turned his head to face the digital clock that sat on his dresser. The red numbers flashed 3:29. He closed his eyes, taking in an unnecessary breath, and reopened them again. 3:30. The thought finally dawned on him, he was in his bed. Not in the shower bleeding. Turning his head to look around, Angel didn't see anyone here, but he could hear three faint heartbeats downstairs, they were slow and melancholy. He suppressed another groan, knowing Cordelia, Gunn, and Wesley were the three people down there. They were probably all sleeping; he could picture Cordelia curled around the circular couch, Wesley slumped in his wheelchair, and Gunn slung in one of the chairs, head rolled to one side. Right now there wasn't anything worse than having your friends find you suicidal. Nothing. Angel wanted to die. Maybe if he lay there for another minute he would disappear.
No such luck. He could feel the cuts on his wrists healing, maybe already healed; he didn't really bother to check. He tucked himself deeper into the sheets, thinking about the past events. His friends came to his rescue when he wouldn't come to theirs. God, he shouldn't have been so caught up in his own whirlwind, he should have been helping them. But the past was the past and there was no use dwelling on it.
The door suddenly opened. Lost in his thoughts, Angel didn't realize there was anyone behind the door. He felt himself tense up, afraid to be confronted by the people who he pushed away and yet helped him still. He was ashamed and, evidently, afraid of what had happened, he wanted to wash everything away and start on a clean slate.
It was Cordelia who stepped through the threshold. Angel had become very proud of the woman who she had melted into. Before, in Sunnydale, Cordy was the shallowest and tactless girl you could meet, but now, after moving to Los Angeles and helping Angel, she had grown into this beautiful, strong woman. Of course, there was still a little bit of that Sunnydale cheerleader inside, but that didn't matter anymore. Angel didn't know how he would have gotten through the past two years without her.
"Angel?" her voice rang out through the room.
Angel couldn't bring himself to answer her so he just lay there, blinking back tears, hoping she'd leave, but she walked towards the bed, each step making it harder and harder for him to hold back the sorrow, guilt.
"Angel..." Cordelia said. She saw his eyes were open, but glued to the clock next to him. "Oh, my God, Angel, you're awake." She dropped to her knees and gave him a hug, but he couldn't bring himself to return the gesture. "We were so worried," she sobbed; Angel could feel hot tears slide onto his back.
She leaned her head back; he still couldn't look at her. "I sent Gunn and Wesley over here and they said you..." she paused, not wanting to prod any sore spots, but then decided that right now was time for prodding. "How could you do it? You should have come to us, we would have helped. I mean, it's not so much the physical part, but we're worried about your, you know, mental health, Angel." She sighed. "Are you okay, at least?" she pursed her lips when he didn't answer. "Um, do you want some blood or something? Because Gunn said it looked like you lost a lot of blood..."
"No, it's fine Cordy." His answer was stale and dry. God, his throat was so dry.
"But you've been all... you know, with the suicidal and -"
"I'm so sorry, Cordelia," he whispered. Angel tilted his head toward her, his eyes locked with hers and she hugged him again. This time he hugged her back.
Cordelia closed her eyes and breathed in his scent. Oh God, she almost forgotten what he smelt like. She thought she'd never forget. "Angel it's okay, it's okay. You're going to be okay."
"I... I was falling too fast and I felt like everything just wasn't worth it anymore," he squeezed his eyes shut, trying, but not succeeding, to block out the memories of Darla. He felt so fucking dirty sleeping in the same bed right now. She was his last resort for silence. "I wanted to die; I wanted everything to go away."
"Shhh..." she soothed, not knowing the real reason for his deepest confessions. "It's going to be okay. Everything's going to be okay."
Cordelia felt another sob choke her throat. Just hearing Angel say he wanted to give up made her world want to crumble. He used to be the one who told everyone not to give in and hope for the best, but now he's just been stretched too much and pulled in too many directions. He needed time to recollect himself.
They sat there for a few minutes both. Just sitting. It was something they both needed. Just to sit and... to be. Be Cordy and Angel again. She pulled away and sat herself on the bed, knowing this was going to be the hard part of the reunion. "I know things were bad for you, Angel," she started. "But what you did to us... it hurt. I'm not saying everything that happened was your fault; it's just that... our feelings were crushed. You pushed us away, too far away. I care for you, Angel, but, just to get things straight, I'm not sure if I trust you."
Angel looked away as he felt his heart break. He knew he deserved every single word that came out of her mouth, but it was still uncomfortable to hear it. He had broken their trust, broken the bond that connected the four of them together.
Right now, Angel felt more like a loner than he did in a long, long time.
"But we're not going away this time, whether you like it or not," Cordelia continued, mostly for Angel's sake. Right then was one of those moments where he was soaking in the guilt and turned into taciturn-stoic-guy. "The PTB obviously don't like us being apart because I haven't had a vision in months and plus, I think we make more money when you're around. Not to be rude or anything, but Wes isn't really that macho and Gunn is only so much of a person." She smiled and did the little wrinkly nose thing that only she could pull off.
She got off the bed, readjusting her shirt. "Are you gonna come down?"
Angel looked up at her. "Uh, actually..."
Cordelia nodded, getting his drift. "You don't want to face the people who think you're a complete nut case?" she finished, then winced when she saw Angel look away. "Sorry," she apologized. "Just... come down when you're ready, okay? I won't tell them you're up or anything, so take your time," she said, starting to walk away.
"Cordy," Angel called and she turned around. "Thank you."
"What are friends for?"
- - - - - - - - -
"So is he up yet?" Wesley asked in a half yawn as Cordelia walked down the stairs. He hated being totally confined to this wheelchair, it made him feel partly useless. Being an ex-Watcher, he wasn't used to this feeling yet. It was more of the feeling of being in control and on top of things that he was used to.
"Nope," she shook her head. "He's still knocked out," she looked around for Gunn and found him still asleep. "God, and he sleeps like a rock."
Wesley looked at his watch. "It's been over four hours; you think we should do something?"
Cordelia waved a dismissive hand. "No, he's fine. I guess suicide takes a lot out on a person, huh?" she said, only half joking. A quiet shiver ran down her spine.
"I still think we should bail," Gunn's voice came from the far side of the room. He was up, rubbing the sleep away from his eyes. "We did him enough, right?"
"No," Cordelia said, sitting herself down on the circular couch. "Angel tried to kill himself; doesn't that send of little alarm bells?"
He shrugged, thinking about what had happened through the past few months. "Not really, he's the one who bailed out on us. Had it coming, is what I say."
"Well," Cordelia said, crossing her arms. "When YOU become crazy and then turn suicidal, I'll remember to bail out on you too."
Gunn sighed, looking at the angry seer. "It's not like I don't care about the dude, but Angel fired us. We already did him a favor, it's not like we just left him there," he pointed out. "And plus, he just cut himself, I didn't see no wood or holy water anywhere."
"That's enough," Wesley bit out, firmly. "Once Angel comes to his senses we'll decide what should be done, until then we wait."
"Whatever," they both huffed simultaneously, and then glared at each other.
Wesley stared hard at the fleet of stairs, wanting so badly to check up on his friend. He did agree with Gunn that Angel didn't necessarily deserve their help, but it would be somewhat selfish of them to turn their heads when their friend was going off the deep end - at least, deeper than where he had already been. He only prayed that every cut and wound would be sewn back together after this stupid -
"Oh my God..." Cordelia whispered and Wesley turned his head. He then saw her expression of horror and quickly started to wheel himself over to her side.
"Vision!" Wesley grunted and Gunn flew up from his chair, taking Cordelia's hand as she jerked and twisted in his arms. She flew forward, holding her temples as images flew threw her mind's eye.
//There was a tower, tall and oddly weird looking. The landscape was familiar... - Oh, great. We're back in Sunnyhell. Cordelia took a better look at the kooky tower and guessed it could have been around 50 to 60 feet high. Lighting and fire lit the sky and rocks flew down from the Heavens(Hell?). God, Cordelia mused, rain of fire much?
Then people, there were people - Buffy and crew! Ew, and Spike? What the hell was Spike doing there? They were all ready for battle, apocalyptic obviously. Cordelia inwardly threw a fit, the PTB had the WORST timing EVER. Send her the vision of Angel's long lost love going into this huge fight right after he's had a major breakdown? Really, guys, you're doing a SWELL job up there!
There was pain and it swelled in her head, it was so hot and painful, crackling and burning, Cordelia thought her skull might split. Sorrow built up inside her as she saw Buffy running down a plank... she looked so terrified and yet, almost.... content. Then there was a flash of light and electricity. Dawn in a deep red dress - what - what was Dawn doing... she was crying, tied to the railing. There was blood, cut from a palm.
A scary looking porthole was thundering beneath them, it was screaming with hell and destruction. Cordelia finally saw both Dawn and Buffy on the plank, Buffy was saying something and Cordelia concentrated to hear what the Slayer was making out.
"Dawn, listen to me," she said, Dawn's eyes were red with tears. "Listen. I love you. I will always love you. But this is the work that I have to do. Tell Giles... tell Giles I figured it out. And, and I'm okay. And give my love to my friends. You have to take care of them now. You have to take care of each other. You have to be strong. Dawn, the hardest thing in this world... is to live in it. Be brave. Live. For me."
Then Buffy started to run and Cordelia tried to lurch for her, grab her and tell her she can't leave because if she left Angel wouldn't have anything to fight for anymore. She was his reason why he fought and without her he was nothing. But the image kept on going and Cordelia watched as the bravest Slayer in history jumped from the ledge and landed in the porthole, her whole body shaking with tremors and then, with a flash of light, it was gone. Only the broken, torn body of Buffy lay on the aftermath debris of the battle. Buffy Summers, the Vampire Slayer, was dead.//
Cordelia cried as her eyes flew open, tears starting to fall as the image of Buffy jumping off the platform kept playing over and over in her head; her blonde hair thrown across her face as she hit the ground. Cordelia cried into Gunn's lap as he stroked her hair.
"Cordelia," Wesley asked gently, he didn't know why she was crying. The visions usually didn't do this to her, it scared him to think about what she might have seen. "What did you see?"
She turned her head to Wesley, eyes red and mascara running. He could already see the worst in her vision burnt irises. "Buffy," she whispered. "She died."
- TBC -
Right. There's a minor thing I want to point out. You can EASILY tell that where the vision is in here. But just for those slow people around here (yes, YOU! Over there in the back!) the stuff between the '//' is Cordelia's vision.