Wesley braced himself before he knocked on the door before him. As he expected, there was no answer to his knock, so he opened the door anyway. The room beyond looked like it had been at the centre of a blizzard. Papers littered every available surface, the bed was rumpled, the sheets twisted into knots. At the desk in the corner, by the light of a single dim lamp, a figure hunched over his latest work, pencil scratching away feverishly. Wesley felt the pity well up in him like a flood. He only hoped that, after tonight, his friend would start to heal. Otherwise... well, he'd sworn he wouldn't think about that.
"Angel..."
"I told you I didn't want to be disturbed, Wesley. Which part of that didn't you get?" The voice was husky from lack of use and, probably, tears.
"I need you to come downstairs," Wesley began, somewhat hesitantly. Damn, this wasn't going to be easy.
Angel looked over his shoulder slightly before uttering a quick, curt, "No."
"Please, Angel. You won't regret it." He decided reluctantly that he would have to tell him the truth. It was probably the only thing that would get him out of his suite. "I think I may have found a way for you to see Cordelia."
The hush that descended as the pencil ceased its scratching was total. Wesley held his breath as he waited for his friend's reaction.
"What?" The word was soft, hesitant, and gave him hope.
"There's a lady downstairs, an acquaintance of Willow's, who can enable you to speak with Cordelia, to make your peace, as it were. I, er, thought you would appreciate the chance to say a proper goodbye."
"Did you ask Willow to bring Cordy back?"
Wesley was shocked at the question. "Of course not. She wouldn't have done it, anyway. After Buffy..."
"Oh, yes, Buffy," Angel's voice dripped bitterness now. "She gets a second chance, another go at life, but my Cordy has to..." He clenched his fist and hit the desk, making Wesley jump. Then he stood slowly and turned to face his unfortunate friend. "I'll be able to see her, speak to her... touch her?"
"I can't vouch for the last, but see and hear, yes."
"Then I'll come down," Angel said, striding past Wesley, who swiped a weary hand over his eyes and prayed this wouldn't turn out to be the biggest mistake he ever made.
* * * * * * * *
The common reaction among the group as Angel descended the stairs into the lobby was shock. None of them had ever seen the vampire looking anything but well-groomed, even when covered in blood and demon guts. Now he looked like he was coming apart at the seams. His hair was longer, almost down to his shoulders, straggly and unkempt. His face was gaunt and seemed so pale it was almost translucent. Even his shoulders were bowed, as if he carried a burden that he was too tired to bear any more. Seeing him like this rocked the foundations of their world.
"What are you all staring at?" he said, fixing them with a glare that could have stripped paint.
"Nothing," muttered a half-dozen voices.
"I believe they were staring at you, sweetie-pie," said a strange woman in an outfit that would have set Cordy's teeth on edge in seconds. Angel felt the familiar ache that thoughts of her always provoked... and he thought of her several hundred times a day. "You're quite a sight for sore eyes," the woman continued, blithely ignoring his death-stare. She sidled up to him and patted him on the cheek, no easy task for one of her height. "I'm here to help you, dear," she said, "but you have to be willing to let me." As he stared into eyes as green as grass and as old as time, he realised he had no choice. He'd do anything to see Cordy again. Anything. The old woman smiled slowly and nodded. "Fair enough. Let's see what we can do then, shall we?"
He allowed himself to be drawn into a circle around some weird bowl thing, which Willow chanted over before setting alight. The demon in him drew back warily from the fire; the human craved it desperately. Anything to chase out the bone-deep chill he'd lived with since that awful day. Fred took his right hand, smiling up at him encouragingly, and the little old woman who called herself by the unlikely name of Fleur took his left. The others took up their own positions, linking hands and sitting down.
"Look into the flames and try to relax," Fleur said, her voice low and hypnotic. Angel fought against the suggestion for a moment, before allowing himself to drift. The flames were awfully pretty, all green and amber and rose. He remembered Cordy wearing a top in amber and rose once. It was this sheer, little thing, clung to every...
The world swirled about him suddenly, making him feel queasy. The colours were too bright and getting brighter all the time. It was like sunshine; the panic rose up in him. He shut his eyes, trying to blot it out. He needed to get inside, find shelter. Then the panic was gone, as quickly as it had arose. He felt nothing but peace and calm as he opened his eyes to pure white mist. Then he heard a voice:
"Boy, have you let yourself go, or what?"
He smiled, his heart already soaring. "Cordy?"
"Who else? You know, you didn't have to prove you care about me by dispensing with personal hygiene. A simple rending of garments would have done just fine. Maybe a little wailing and brooding; you're good at that part."
He stared into the mist, trying to see where the voice was coming from. It seemed to be all around him, and his sense of direction was askew.
"I'm right here, doofus," Cordy said, materialising in front of his dazed eyes. God, she looked good. Even dressed in some white, drapy thing that she probably wouldn't have been caught dead... he stopped the thought, refusing to think of her that way. Her eyes were shining and her expression was one of fond exasperation and damn, but he'd missed just looking at her face.
It didn't matter how many times he tried to capture her likeness with pencil or paint. Cordy was too vibrant to ever come to life in a still picture. He drank her in greedily, shoring up the memories against the darkness he would have to return to.
"You look good," he said, feeling unaccountably shy in her presence.
"Well, duh. What else am I gonna spend my time on around here. I mean, great with the peace and the tranquility but, between you and me, it's a little dull." She shrugged one shoulder. "Guess that's what comes of hanging out at Demon Central for so long."
"We miss you," he said. "I... miss you."
"I know," she said, smiling at him. "I miss you too. I think of something and turn round to tell you, but you're not there. You're never there." They stood staring at each other for a moment, both afraid to look away. "So, how did you get here, anyway?"
"Willow helped. Some kind of seance, I think." His mind was a little fuzzy on the details.
Cordy wrinkled her nose. "Are you sure? 'Cause I always thought the spirit was supposed to visit the mortal plane with those things, not the other way round."
Angel frowned. "You're right. They must have done something else." He looked around again, trying to discern where they were. "What exactly is this place, anyway? Is this heaven? 'Cause I find it hard to believe they'd let a vampire in, even on a day pass..."
"Well, of course they would," Cordelia said indignantly. "After all you've done for the PTB, the least they could do is let you into the big house at the end of it all." She noticed Angel's amusement and flushed slightly. "Well, they should," she muttered.
"So this is heaven?" he mused.
"Well, actually, I'm not exactly sure. I mean, it's got the whole white light, peace and good will thing going for it, but from what I can tell, there aren't a whole lot of other people round here. They let me out occasionally to do the floaty thing and spy on you guys..."
Angel started guiltily.
"Yeah, I've seen that pig sty you call a room and, may I just say? So glad it's Fred clearing up your mess and not me. But the pictures... they're pretty good."
"They don't do you justice," Angel said, then watched with interest as she blushed. "So they let you out, huh?"
"Sometimes, when I look like I'm about to start climbing the walls, which is tricky when there are no walls but, hey, I've always been the persistent sort." She grinned impishly at him and he found himself grinning back. "So, are you gonna tell me why you've gone all Heathcliff instead of getting on with your life?"
Angel's grin faded. "I tried, Cordy. I knew you'd want me to, so I tried. But, I didn't know it would hurt this bad. I mean, I know pain. I've been on the giving and receiving end of enough of it to count myself an authority, but this... it's like someone ripped my heart right out of my chest so there's just this gaping hole. And it won't heal, Cordy..."
"Shh, honey," she said, eyes welling up as she watched his anguish. She pressed her fingers to his lips without thinking and felt their cool touch in astonishment.
Angel's eyes widened and he brought his hand up to capture hers. "I can feel you," he said, mesmerized. "You're real, solid."
Cordy shook her head in disbelief. "I don't understand..." she began before his mouth pressed hungrily against hers. She stiffened in shock for a moment, before moaning softly and pressing herself closer against him. She could feel his body tight against hers, but it still wasn't close enough. She hadn't ever thought she would feel anything like this again. Who was she kidding? she thought in bemused ecstasy. She'd never felt anything like this. Ever.
Angel's hands trailed up her back to tangle in her hair, as he kissed her with a fervent desperation. She tried to pull away slightly, to gather her reeling senses, but he started trailing feather-light kisses across her face and down the side of her neck and her concentration scattered like butterflies on the breeze.
"We shouldn't... mustn't..." she gasped.
"I have to," he whispered, bringing his lips back to hover over hers as his eyes burned into her with a fevered longing that made her shiver inside. "I don't know how long I may have with you until this spell wears off. I can't waste a single moment." He kissed her again, softly, almost reverently. "If you only knew how many times I've dreamed of doing this..." He slanted his mouth across hers, turning the kiss soul-deep and Cordelia stopped trying to protest. Maybe this was heaven, after all.
* * * * * * * *
"I suppose you had something to do with this." The voice was primly disapproving. "The situation has your influence written all over it."
"Doesn't look like they needed much influencing to me," said the woman sometimes known as Fleur, watching the couple locked in a passionate embrace a few feet away. "Besides, Malachi honey, where's your sense of romance? You've been up here communing with the clouds too long. You've forgotten what it's like to be young and in love."
"I'm not sure I ever knew," said the man called Malachi, his eyes also fixed on the entwined pair. "But I do know this can only end badly. They are no longer of the same world."
"Oh, I don't know. 'There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio...'"
"Oh, please don't quote that jumped-up little playwright at me. You know I never could stand the fellow. Talentless little oik." Malachi sniffed contempuously. "Next you'll be telling me that this is all part of some grand ineffable plan."
Fleur just stood there and flashed him a cheeky smile.
"Oh, you have got to be kidding me." Malachi stared at her, incredulous. "I'd sooner believe it was you getting up to your old meddling ways. Didn't you learn anything from that Camelot fiasco?"
"I'll have you know that was going just fine until Gwynnie got all indecisive," Fleur said defensively. "Besides, this time – to paraphrase those bottom-dwellers at Wolfram & Hart – the 'senior partners' have got involved."
Malachi looked troubled. "They're that important?"
"Honey, they're everything. Not to sound too dramatic here, but the fate of the world depends on them. They have to be ready." She looked on with some amusement as the vampire and his seer began to peel items of clothing off each other, barely breaking contact to do so. She grabbed Malachi's arm and tugged him away. "Well, they're ready for something, anyway. Let's leave them in peace. We have work to do."
* * * * * * * *
Cordelia lay enclosed in the circle of Angel's strong arms, truly content for the first time in as long as she could remember. It had been worth dying for, she thought whimsically, as she trailed her fingers lazily down his chest. Looking up into his eyes, she saw that passion still burned there; passion and a longing so intense it took her breath away. For the first time, she thought about how hard it must have been for a man like Angel to live like a monk.
"What are you thinking about?" he asked softly, smiling at her as he reached to comb a lock of hair behind her ear.
"You and your old eunuchy ways," Cordelia answered automatically without thinking, and was surprised to feel him start to chuckle. "What?"
"I think I've finally proved pretty conclusively that I'm not a eunuch."
"Fair point," she mumbled into his chest, before kissing it gently since she was there anyway. She felt his muscles tense and gloried briefly in this power she held over him, before he flipped her over and pinned her to the ground. He growled playfully at her, and she felt a thrill as his lips descended to her neck, suckling gently at the sensitive point where it met her shoulder. She closed her eyes and reached up to hold his head there, wanting him to continue the sweet torture, but her hands found nothing but air. Her eyes shot open in dismay and she looked around her frantically, calling his name, but there was no answer. Tears of frustration spilled over her cheeks as she sat huddled forlornly on the floor.
"Angel..."