Author: Melissa
Summary: She'll help him – one last time.
Pairing: Cordelia/Angel
Disclaimer: I do not own AtS.
He's a creature of the night like she's made to breathe and walk under the sun.
He welcomes the darkness like she welcomes the warmth of the sun on her skin.
She thought he could fight it - but now she realizes he's not worth fighting for, that her helping him find his redemption was a total waste of her energy.
He doesn't need her? Well, she doesn't need him either.
Still, the tears are hot behind her eyes, even hours after he barged in, crowding her personal space because of a book.
One single book.
Don't make me move you.
If they could talk for a minute - just one minute - without yelling at each other when it wasn't just deadly silence and glares, she's sure he'd still say she doesn't understand.
And he's right. She doesn't understand.
Not that she bothers to even try to.
On a stormy night, he's there on the other side of her apartment door.
He's banging on the wooden door and he'll probably wake up the neighbors but Dennis refuses to let him in. She sits in bed, hugging her knees to her chest and she waits.
He's crying and saying incoherent words and she listens, eyes tightly shut. Her palm against her forehead, she wishes that the headache would go. That he would go.
She's scared that if she lets him in, she'd realize it's been one huge mistake.
She doesn't move.
He doesn't go.
At dawn, she finally opens the door. He's there, sitting on the floor, eyes puff red. He's been crying for a long time.
She takes off his coat, and it finds a kitchen chair messily.
He tries to cup her face with his palms but she avoids his touch, pushes him away but drags him to her bedroom. He says Darla tried to turn him into Angelus and that it didn't work.
She wishes he would shut up.
Her fingers undo the buttons of his shirt, pushing the material off. She makes him sit at the foot of her bed and she takes off his boots as he tells her Darla wasn't perfect happiness and would never be.
Her hand is insistent on his shoulder, forcing him to lie back and he does. She throws the covers on his trembling form and says she won't be long.
He tries to hold her back by grabbing her hand but she's already gone.
The blood is warm and it soothes him a little and he goes into a restless slumber.
She sits on the other side, watching him. Her fingers curl around the stake against her thigh, hidden from his view and she finds the feel of the wood in her hand comforting.
If she has to, she'll do it.
He can barely look at her when he's finally awake, feeling a little bit disoriented, confused and lost.
She's expressionless, face shut out, her voice flat when she speaks.
"When it's night, you'll leave. I don't want to see you again. Ever." Her tone is cold, maybe as cold as his body and if he could touch her, he'd bet hers is, too.
As much as he wants her to understand, he knows she won't. Her decision was made a long time ago, the day he told her she was fired and walked away from her.
He nods sheepishly, averting her hazel eyes as he sits up in bed.
As he's about to leave, throwing his leather jacket on, he stands at the doorframe and turns around. From where he is, he can see the bedroom door slightly ajar and sees the shaking form on the bed.
She's crying. Silently, but the salty smell can't be mistaken for anything else.
There are a lot of things he wants to say, but the words cannot quite come out right.
The prince's lost his princess and won't win her back. Happy endings happen in fairy tales – although some can argue that it does happen in real life.
Not for people like them. He's a creature of the night and though she breathes and walks under the sun, she's been swallowed up by darkness. His world.
So he does what he's been told.
He leaves.
The End