Author:
Christie aka Ficbitch82/Angelicgal82
E-mail: mail@cbaird82.freeserve.co.uk
Website:
http://www.just-a-girl.co.uk
Rating:
PG
Summary:
After Buffy dies, Cordelia, Angel and Wesley attend
her wake.
Spoilers:
Buffy S5, some of S6 and S3 of Angel.
Pairing:
C/S Friendship, C/A love-ish.
Warning:
There IS character death in this fic.
Disclaimer: The characters portrayed in this fic belong to Joss Whedon
and Mutant Enemy I am merely loaning them for fun. Distribution: My site. Nothing Fancy.
Anywhere else, just ask and ye shall receive, I’m sure...
Dedication:
To all my Pods - because I just can’t do without the Pod love... lol...
“Let me guess,” Said
Spike as he heard the door open, “The great poof is regaling them with tales of
their romance, how much he loved his slayer.”
The bitterness wasn’t
lost on her. The twisted irony that someone who’d tried to kill said slayer so
many times should be sitting here now, mourning her death, crying into a bottle
of Scotch over the love that never was.
“No,” She replied softly,
coming to sit next to him on the porch step, “He’s not saying much to be
honest.
Spike harumphed
and shook his head, taking a swig from the bottle.
“Figures. Peaches never
was one for conversation.”
Cordelia smiled and looked down, fiddling with an imaginary piece
of lint on her skirt, “Something I guess you never shared with him, huh?”
“Me?” Spike shrugged, “We
don’t get on. Blind man on a galloping horse could see that. If he wasn’t such
a prick, we’d probably be the best of friends.” Yet another blatant lie. He’d
been doing that a lot lately, lying. Well, more precisely, making promises that
he hadn’t been able to keep. Like... Promising to look after Dawn, promising to
take care of her to the end of the world.
Some promise that was.
Buffy had died because of it. “Then again,” He continued, “Probably not.”
“It won’t work, Spike.”
Said Cordelia, shaking her head.
“What you’re doing.
Trying to get a rise out of me so Angel will bite. It won’t work.”
“Pfff...”
Off in the distance a crash resounded, making Spike’s head snap up. “You really
think that’s what I’m doing?”
“Yes.”
The conversation stilted
for a moment, Cordelia looking at Spike - Spike
looking anywhere but.
“I’m thinking of getting
a job in Vampire Counselling,” Cordelia
finally settled on, wrapping her arms around her knees. “I mean, I spend the
first half of my year with a vampire who brooded for
Spike snorted, turning
his head to glare at Cordelia, “Who are you kidding?
I’m not Angel, luv. I don’t need you to tappy-lap around me and tell me something nice just because
you think I’m upset.”
“Hey,” She frowned, going
back on her ‘you won’t get a rise out of me’ speech, “For a start, I know
you’re not Angel. For two, tappy-lap around you? Are
we in the 15th century? I think not. And at last count, I don’t tappy-lap round anyone - I think it? I say it, that’s my
way...”
“I know there’s a three,”
Groused Spike, suitably chastised... And mildly drunk. “Give it to me.”
“I know you’re upset,”
She stated, “I saw you crying through the window.”
Grumbling, Spike turned
away from her. Just who the hell did she think she was, coming down here from
LA when she’d never seen Buffy in the better part of two years? That went for
Angel too. Was he here when she died? No, he was off partying in some other
dimension, so Spike had heard - hadn’t given a toss about Buffy... And it was
time someone said that.
“So I was crying, big
deal,” He snapped, “At least I was here which is more than can be said about him...”
Spike jerked his thumb wildly in the direction of the Summer’s house, watching
as a frown slipped across Cordelia’s face.
“Which him?” She asked,
her eyes dark, “There are at least 3 hims inside I
know of and that doesn’t include the one I think you’re thinking of.”
“You weren’t here!” He
growled, turning on her in full vamp face, “Don’t pretend you know what it
feels like.”
Barely flinching, Cordelia stared at him for a moment, “What, to lose someone
you love? Actually, I do know what that feels like...
Remember
half-Irish demon-boy that you met? Sacrificed himself, just like Buffy to save
everyone else only—Well, he didn’t get the wake like this. He didn’t get the
funeral, or the remembrance or the flowers. He got nothing. The only things we
had left of him were a drawing and head-splitting visions that on occasion make
me feel like my brain’s going to fall out and an office that got blown to
smithereens when unlawful Law Firm Number 1 decided that messing about with
Angel’s feelings was really top of their agenda. With Buffy...” Cordelia sighed, “You got a houseful of memories. You got a
sister and memories from her friends and—“
“You think that’s
enough?” Spike stood, eyes flitting wildly over the garden as he paced, face
slipping back into its human guise.
“Look around you, luv, I’m the only one who’s
sitting out here. The only reason they had the sodding
funeral at night time was in honour of him, the love
of her life. Meanwhile, the people who were here, the people who actually had
it in them to care about her and not be in another dimension are left to rot.
Namely, me. They couldn’t give two hoots that I’m out here, because God forbid
that the Big Bad can actually have real feelings for someone. For her. The
farther away I am the better as far as they’re concerned.”
“That’s not true and you
know it.” Cordelia’s eyes raised to his, the smell of
stale Scotch attacking her senses again. She’d liked to have bet Spike had been
drinking ever since it happened, pushing himself farther and farther away from
her friends just so they couldn’t do it first. “Dawn,
“Bone-headedness? That’s
a bit mild, isn’t it?” He slurred, “Sometimes I think he was born without a
bloody brain.”
“Always a possibility.”
Said Cordelia, softly. He had cheated on her, after
all.
A moment’s silence passed
between them. Spike staring morosely at the bottle of Scotch in his hand. If he
believed her to be right, then he was setting himself up for the fall when it
came to light that she was actually wrong - that no matter how much pain and
despair she’d seen in that head of hers, some things just didn’t matter to
people like them.
“It won’t be enough, y’know,” said Cordelia,
matter-of-factly. Her gaze shifted to his and when puzzled, Spike raised an
eyebrow, Cordelia continued. “It won’t ever be
enough. Room full of flowers, people crying - it won’t ever make up for what
you’ve lost. In her own way, Buffy was special to you - whether it was because
of the slayer or something else, she was something special. It might never be
enough, but it’s yours. You get to keep that with you.”
“When’d you get so bloody
sensible?” Spike frowned.
“
“Hell freezing over?”
“Touché.” She laughed,
eyeing Spike. “I guess I deserved that.”
“So why are you here, luv?”
“In Sunnydale?”
“No, out here. Sitting
with the lovelorn and the depressed.”
Cordelia shrugged, glancing round Buffy’s back garden. “I just...
I thought maybe you could use a friend.”
“Don’t have many of
those. Reasons for that though.”
“Oooh,
big bad vamp. Scary.” Cordelia admonished, rolling
her eyes.
“Y’know,
you don’t always have to make it so hard on yourself.”
“Me?” Spike laughed then.
He’d always made it hard on himself. Back with Dru, he’d been the one who’d
alienated her so much that she’d left him. Falling in love with a slayer -
another of his spectacular decisions. Rubbing a hand over his face, Spike shook
his head, “One thing you should learn about the bloodline you’re involved with
pet. We never make it easy on
ourselves.”
“You’re telling me?
Hello, I work with Broody McBrooderson. Now there’s a
guy who doesn’t know the meaning of the words lighten up...” She felt a twinge
then, almost like she was betraying Angel by saying that. At times, he was
kinda happy - especially lately. Or at least, before...
“You love him?”
“Who?”
“Broody.”
“He’s my friend.” She
smiled, “Of course I love him.”
“Not always that simple
though, is it?” He asked, gently, gaze swinging round to meet hers.
Suddenly uncomfortable, Cordelia looked away, “Uh, hello. Who’s the therapist
here?”
“Sometimes, even the
therapist needs a kick up the arse to remind her
what’s real, luv.”
“And you’re giving me
advice?” She laughed, “Give me a break.”
“Always the one doling it
out and never the one to take it. Bet you drive Peaches to distraction
sometimes.”
“That’s... Pretty
accurate.”
“It’s in him too.”
“What, stubborn? Believe
me, you don’t have to tell me.”
Spike shook his head and
looked away from Cordelia, “Read him the right way
and he’s like an open book. Never was too good at hiding his feelings.”
He didn’t have to tell
her that. She could read him better than anyone and Cordelia
knew it. It was one hell of a cliché but sometimes, Angel’s eyes really were
the windows to his soul.
“You’re not such a closed
one yourself...” Spike continued, after Cordelia
hadn’t spoke up a while. “Other people mightn’t notice things but... You stay here
long enough, you learn to watch people.”
“Watch people? Spike, if
this is getting perverted...”
“Ever watched someone
when they don’t know you’re looking?” He interrupted, “You see things in those
moments. Emotions that no one else gets to look at, stuff that no one else
sees.”
“I see.” Said Cordelia gently, so quiet her voice was barely a whisper.
“I see those things every day.”
“I know you do, luv. And that’s why you more than anyone should know that
life’s too short to waste it on technicalities or unspoken feelings. You see
the hardships of this world right there in that head of yours and when it comes
down to it, you’re scared of opening up to someone ‘cause you know that letting
someone in means sharing some of that pain.”
“What, you’re saying I’m
a pain junkie? Believe me, I don’t get off on the pain!” Cordelia
snapped.
“I’m
not saying that. I’m saying you’re too bloody stubborn to let anyone know how
much those things hurt. I’m saying you’re scared of opening up because you
think the world’s gonna think you’re some kind of enormous freak-“
“Gee, thanks for the vote
of confidence.”
“You just seem to forget
that you don’t have to carry your burden alone. There are people who want to
help.”
“That’s rich, coming from
Mr. Drink Alone in the Dark.”
“Yeah, well,” He smirked,
“We have issues. Both been burned too many times I reckon to know a good thing
when we see it.”
“When did you get so
sensible?” Asked Cordelia softly, turning his own
question back on him.
“
“Yeah. Same time a pretty
girl sat on a step next to me and told me in not so many words that what I got
now, mightn’t be much but... It’s a
start.”
Smiling, Cordelia placed her hand over his and gave a gentle
squeeze, “Doesn’t always have to be as hard as we make out, does it?” She asked
softly.
“No luv.”
Said Spike, shaking his head. “It doesn’t...”
* * * * *
“I can’t believe it. I
mean, she’s so... So...”
“Nice?”
“Not bitchy?”
“Unshallow?”
“Is that a word?”
Watching as Cordelia talked with Giles, the remaining Scooby Gang were
huddled in the kitchen, waxing lyrical over the fact that Cordelia
was so... Un-Cordelia, as Xander
had offered. She seemed nice now, less shallow and bitchy - definitely a good
thing.
“It’s only a temporary
solution,” Said Giles from the other room, “But up until then, we have to
consider what’s best for Dawn under the circumstances.”
Cordelia nodded, taking a sip of her tea. After coming in from the
garden with Spike, she’d cornered Giles, officially not sure how to act around
Angel right now, not after Spike had put notions into her head. “Y’know where we are if you need anything, right?”
From their place in the
Summer’s living room, both Wesley and Angel backed that up with a nod of the
head. “We’re only too happy to help.” Wesley added, smiling.
“I’ll keep that in mind,”
Giles acquiesced, his gaze flitting over to the group of young adults huddled
in the kitchen,
The silence grew for a
moment until it reached unbearable heights and Cordelia
stood, “Anyone for more tea?”
A couple of affirmative
answers and a mumbled ‘no’ from Angel and Cordelia
was on the move, trying to get out of the tension spot she’d been sitting in
for ten minutes. She knew Angel’s deal - pretty soon, he’d be getting hungry
and there was no way on this earth he would feed in front of Giles and the
others. Maybe if they could slip out for ten minutes and...
Anya frowned, eyes narrowing in Xander’s
direction, “You’re not supposed to talk to her.”
“Because... Ex! Exes
shouldn’t talk because they catch up, they reminisce - and before you know it,
they’re having the orgasms again.”
Bursting into surprised
laughter, Cordelia met Anya’s
eyes, “Trust me, I’m not having—What do you mean, again? I’ve never had any
orgasms,” She hissed, “Not with Xander.” Not with
many other people either, added her conscience, but Cordelia
chose to ignore it.
“You.” Anya nodded, “You were Xander’s
first. Nobody forgets their first.”
“Woah
there, back up here... His first? His FIRST?!” She growled, turning to Xander, “You and me? Not once did we have the... Groin
pressing.”
“I never said that, did I
say that? Nooo...”
“Yes! You said that...”
“No I didn’t, what I said
was...”
And so began the
argument. At first,
Cordelia screamed as a burst of white hot pain slammed between her
eyes, her body bowing backwards at the force of the vision. She was aware of
hands holding her up but nothing else as pictures danced in her head, pain
bursting behind her eyelids.
Damn, this hurts... Ok,
a... A grave site. And... Oh, there’s not enough eww
in the world...
Gravediggers...
Lightning... Big with the
lightning... Oh God... They’re going to kill us all... Buffy...
When finally the vision
was over, Cordelia’s head was bowed, her face
partially covered with her hair as she battled to breathe. “Angel...”
“I’m here.” He murmured,
arms locked around her securely, “What’d you see?”
* * * * *
“I didn’t realise these visions of hers were so severe.” Giles
admitted quietly, having just come back from checking on Cordelia,
who lay in Buffy’s room. Blinds and drapes both shut.
Wesley nodded somberly,
taking a drink of his tea. “She braves it all with a smile and a couple of
words that generally mean ‘I’m fine’ but... When she’s alone...”
His voice faltered,
making Giles taking up the end of that comment.
“She’s certainly not the
girl I remember.”
“She’s not the girl any
of us remember.” Said
A small burst of pride
surged through Wesley. He’d known that this, of all things, wasn’t the way Cordelia had imagined coming back to Sunnydale.
They’d talked quietly in the car on the way down here - how she’d expected to
be this glittering glamorous movie star, sweeping in with her entourage of
helpers just to show those who’d doubted her that she could make it. He’d
mistaken her words as being bitterness, a sense of longing for a life she’d had
little taste of.
Cordelia had surprised him by saying this was better. That she
didn’t care what these people thought of her, and really, never had. If they couldn’t see she’d changed, she
didn’t care - because she was Cordelia Chase. And she
knew different.
Anya’s voice startled Wesley out of his reverie and the Watcher
bristled, “No, she’s not a demon. The visions were passed down from a demon,
but...”
“I
didn’t mean it like that.” She frowned, “I remember the last girl I dealt with
who had visions, she was human too. Wanted me to wreak vengeance on a man who
she’d loved and told the entire town she was a witch because of the visions.
She died before I could carry out her wish. It was a good one too, she wished
that his penis would—“
“Anya?”
Prompted Giles gently, noting the look on Wesley’s face.
“What?”
“You said she... Died?”
“The visions. They blew
out the back of her head. Humans aren’t supposed to shoulder a burden like
that, they... Oh.” Somehow, Anya got the feeling she
wasn’t supposed to say that. Wesley looked more tight-lipped than Giles right
now and that was saying something.
It was Xander who spoke up, trying to pave over what his
wife-to-be had just said. “Wouldn’t there be a lead up to something like that
though? If the visions were this bad, she’d have told you guys. I know Cordy, and she’s not the type of person to be non-vocal
about her feelings.”
“That’s just it though.”
Wesley frowned, “You don’t know Cordelia.
None of you do.”
* * * * *
“Slayer’s not been dead
five minutes and already there’s someone wanting to come along and steal her
body...” Spike frowned, flicking his cigarette butt across the cemetery. He
wasn’t impressed having to work alongside Angel like this, teaming up like some
cheesy cop movie, that had two mortal enemies working together for the greater
good.
He’d have rather stayed
back home and helped Cordelia drink herself into
post-vision oblivity. Glancing over at Angel, Spike
nodded, the movement slow and lazy. “Brooding, as always. Cordelia
was right.”
“You, brooding. Although
she said lately, you’d found things to smile about.” Said Spike, testing the
waters with a toe (or in his case, a whole leg), see how hot it was for his
little plan to be shunted into action.
“Not finding a whole lot
to smile about today.” Replied the elder vampire, tersely. Cordelia
had been right, lately there had been things to smile about. He’d gotten his
friends back, no longer felt the entire world was out to get him - but today,
today had been the day where he’d finally had to lay rest to all those feelings
about Buffy that he’d never wanted to admit had died down. When he’d left, he
felt like he’d cut a chunk out of his life - he hadn’t wanted to admit that it
was slowly but surely being replaced by something else. Friendship... And more,
though he hated admitting it on a day like today.
“Not a lot of us are.”
Spike replied, eyes casting downwards. He was trying to tell himself that this,
right here, was a good thing he was doing. It wasn’t selfish, not now. Buffy
was gone, was never coming back - it couldn’t be said that this was for his own
gain.
Then again, if it were
Angel speaking, it probably could be said that Spike was doing this for his own
gain. His gaze swivelled to his companion and Spike
frowned, “What, you think I have something to get out of all this? That showing
you that you’ve got something else to live for right back home in Sunny LA is
going to bring me something? Come off it, Angel. Not everything’s as clear cut
as you’d make out. Not as evil as I once was.” He nodded, “Girl changed all
that. Just like it did with you.”
“I got a soul,” Angel
growled, “Tell me how that’s the same.”
“Well it’s not that
bloody different either, is it? She was my soul. Bloody light in the dark, whichever way you
want to paint it. She made me want to be a better man.” Spike breathed in
slowly then, though he didn’t need to, eyeing up Angel, trying to gauge his
reaction. In the end, he didn’t have time - what little breath Spike had drawn
into his lungs was knocked out again with a blow that made him growl out, his
face changing instantly.
The source, rather
surprisingly, wasn’t Angel. He’d been taken down around the same time as Spike,
a group of vampires surrounding the pair, each one dressed in a ceremonial
robe.
“Well,” Wheezed Spike,
“Looks like we were late for the party.”
“Not like you were
invited,” snapped one of their assailants.
“That’s a shame. Angel
there’s quite the party animal once he gets going... Right Peaches?”
Angel didn’t answer, he
was too busy pummelling his attacker.
“Or maybe not the party
animal,” Spike muttered, clamouring to his feet and
launching himself at the nearest wanker. Just what I
need, he thought dryly. A good spot of violence.
* * * * * * *
“It’s over, right?” Asked
Dawn, looking at both Angel and Spike as they stood in the living room. “No
more robed guys trying to bring Buffy back?”
Spike nodded and smiled
tiredly, “It’s done, Niblet. No more robed guys.” In
his eyes he held a certain amount of respect for his grand-sire, which... Odd.
When that vampire had pulled a stake, Spike had thought it was curtains down
for him - until Angel had hauled the vampire backwards and slammed its stake
through his own heart. He’d never thought in a million years that he’d stop him
from being staked - it just went to show that sometimes, people could surprise
you.
Taking a look at the
small group in the room, Spike frowned, “If it’s over, why all the gloom?” He
bristled as soon as he said it - of course there was a reason for the ‘gloom’
as he so aptly put it, they’d just finished burying perhaps the biggest part of
their lives but... There was something else, something Spike couldn’t quite put
his finger on.
“Angel, Wesley’s in the
kitchen, I believe he wants to talk to you.” Said Giles, his voice strained.
Ever since Anya’s words, the entire group had been
plunged into silence. Wesley had requested the use of the phone and some
privacy.
Angel didn’t question it.
Leaving the small group, he moved through into the kitchen, hearing Wesley on
the phone, his friends frustration evident.
“I don’t care what the
signs say, find something...” He snapped, slamming down the receiver. He’d gone
through every contact he had that could even remotely help him and all he’d
been left with was this boiling frustration. They’d all said the same - that
humans couldn’t carry the visions without it doing irreparable damage.
The voice from behind him
made him turn. “Angel.”
“What’s going on? Did Cordelia have another vision?” He frowned instantly, “Is
she all right?”
“Somehow, I think not...”
Wesley sighed. “Angel, I... Perhaps you should sit down.”
“Wesley,” He growled,
“Just tell me...”
“It’s... The visions.”
Wesley’s face was pale, drawn. “We knew they were getting worse but I don’t
think any of us realised how bad...”
“How bad?” Angel was used
to a certain amount of denial. Not once, but perhaps a thousand times he’d told
himself that if Cordelia could deal, he could deal
too. Only lately, Cordelia hadn’t been dealing that
well. That light he’d loved had gone out of her eyes - he’d pretended it hadn’t
and for her part, she’d managed to smile, still look like everything was
relatively okay. Only it wasn’t. And this was exactly what Wesley was telling
him right now.
“Human’s...” Wesley
frowned, “They can’t shoulder the visions. I spoke to Anya,
she knew a girl who had the visions. Angel, she died. I’ve been speaking to some of my contacts and
they all say the same...”
Tight-lipped and taut
with fear, Angel drew in an unneeded breath, “What are you saying, Wesley?”
“I’m saying... I’m saying
that unless we find a way to take the visions from Cordelia,
or at least some of the burden, she’s going to die.”
Angel could feel anger
welling up in him - anger that the Powers That Be would knowingly do this to Cordelia. If someone had died before her, then surely they
knew what a strain it was putting on her, hell, anyone could see that, even
him.
“She’s not going to die.
I refuse to lose something else that I love.” Angel spun on his heel then,
walking out of the room and up the stairs.
Behind him, Wesley sighed
and rubbed a hand over his face. “That’s just it,” He murmured quietly, “I’m
not sure we get a choice in this...”
* * * * * *
Was she always such a
light sleeper? thought Angel sadly as he watched her stirring from sleep, the
minute he opened the door. He couldn’t remember... He remembered smiles and
laughter, something that had been lacking in the Hyperion these last months.
That was mainly because of him - because getting in touch with his dark side
had been more important to him than caring about the mission she’d still been
working for, suffering the visions for.
A pang of guilt tugged at
him and Angel sat down in the chair next to Buffy’s bed, glancing round the
room sadly for a moment. He remembered being in here all those years ago with
Buffy, the first time they’d kissed and she’d screamed, right by that window.
That night she’d looked upon their reflections and had only seen herself.
When his gaze turned back
to her, she had her eyes open. “It’s over.” She said softly.
Angel nodded, once,
keeping his gaze on her. He knew that the reason she knew was because of the
lack of pain. Well, the head-splitting kind that required a dark room for her
to lay down in after every vision. He found himself wondering if the pain ever
truly went away but... How could it? Cordelia was
dying - there was a reason for that and the reason? His mission. His redemption
that would mean absolutely nothing without her in it to share.
“Are you okay? You look
kinda beat up.”
“I’m fine.” He replied,
tersely, hating the fact that he sounded so angry with her. Damnit,
he was. If the visions were worsening, why hadn’t she told him?
“So what’s up? You have
something face.” She probed, gently. The light in the room hurt, hell, talking
hurt - but something was wrong. Even through vision pain, Cordelia
could see that. He didn’t speak and usually, that meant bad. “I know it’s not
the vision,” She cautioned forward, “It’s over. Or at least... It feels like it
is. So what’s up?” Forcing a tone of
lightness into her voice, Cordelia sat up, “Another
big sucking evil?”
“Why didn’t you tell me
about the visions?” He hadn’t meant to blurt it out like that. Really, he
hadn’t. Right now though, Angel was at a loss for words. She was so damned
independent, so damned convinced that she had to deal with this on her own. The
question didn’t even phase her and that annoyed Angel.
“Stop lying to me.”
“Lying to you? I’ve never
lied to you...” She snapped, “You’re the one who’s quite adept at that, remember,
Mr Sharing-My-Pain-Is-Not-An-Option?”
“Okay then,” He frowned,
“Stop omitting the truth. Stop dancing around the fact that the visions are...”
A pained look bled onto
Angel’s face and he looked down, suddenly quiet.
“That
the visions are WHAT?” She asked, folding her arms across her chest. Whatever
was going on? She didn’t like it, not one little bit.
“For months I’ve
convinced myself that if you looked fine, you were fine. Every time you said
you were, I believed you and... You’re not, are you?”
“What, fine? Right now,
no. I feel like that Irish jig guy is tap-dancing in my head, but it’ll
pass...”
Angel sighed, “It won’t
though, will it?” He asked, looking up. Now, she looked uncomfortable. Now, she
looked like he’d taken away her safety net and left her high and dry with no
place to fall but down. He’d scared her.
“I-I... Of course it
will.” She smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“Cordelia...
I need to know the truth.”
“What truth, Angel? The
visions are painful, yes, but I can deal.”
“No, Cordelia,
you can’t.” He snapped, “God, why couldn’t you for once just tell me what was
happening? Why couldn’t you let me deal?”
“Because this isn’t YOURS
to deal with. What the hell’s got into you? Look, I know you’re upset about
Buffy but taking this all out on me is NOT the answer. The visions...”
“The visions are killing
you.” She stayed silent then, looked away when Angel looked up at her. “You
knew about this?” He asked.
“You kinda catch on when
five billion doctors are telling you that your brain is like mush.” She told
him quietly, “How did you know?”
“Anya.”
His voice was taut with suppressed tears. “She knew a girl...”
“Someone always knows a
girl.” Cordelia laughed, but there was no emotion
behind it.
“You’re not taking my
visions, Angel.” She said immediately. “Part of the reason I didn’t tell you
how bad they were was because I knew you’d do this. I knew you’d go all Angel
about it and do the noble thing and... And try to take them away.”
Angel frowned, “Cordelia...”
“No. They’re part of who
I am. Taking them away from me would be like... You’re just not, okay?”
“You can’t expect us to
sit around and do nothing, Cordelia. We’re talking
about your life here. We’re talking about you...”
“You’re right. We are
talking about me and I don’t expect you to sit around and do nothing. I expect
you to do the same thing you both do every day. Worry incessantly, occasionally
bicker between yourselves. I’m not dying today Angel. I’m not dying tomorrow or
next week or the week after...”
“I
can’t. I just... I know. I feel like I know. I’ve still got time.”
Angel frowned, “You’re 20
years old. That’s no life.”
“You are so wrong,” Said Cordelia, finding herself smiling, “Look around me, Angel.
I have a family, I have friends that love me and will do anything to make sure
I’m still in their life and that’s...” She faltered, tears welling up in her
eyes. “I didn’t have much of anything when I came to LA. I had a crabby
apartment and a non-existent acting career. And then suddenly, I found out I
had friends. A family. When Doyle died, it almost killed me. I worried so much
about losing you but it felt like if I still had the visions, I’d never be away
from you, not for long. The visions were just as much a part of you as they
were me. It didn’t matter that they hurt...”
“It matters now,” Angel
frowned. “Cordelia, the visions... If we can stop
this...”
“It would never be the
same.” She said softly. “I couldn’t go back to being Cordelia
Chase Boy Slayer, just because you took the visions away. Angel, you need
me...”
“I do,” He nodded, “But
not for the visions. I need you...” Angel flinched at how unbelievably selfish
that sounded. Still, it was the way he felt. Losing Buffy had shown him that
the things he held dear to him now, family, the people he loved - those were
what mattered. His redemption had to
come a close second to the people who helped him fight every day. “I can’t lose
you.”
“And you’re not.” She said
softly, “Not today. Not ever. Death doesn’t always mean it’s over, Angel... You
know that better than anyone.”
* * * * * *
It was four months to the
day that he’d sat in that room, had that very conversation with her. Four
months to the day that she’d looked upon him and told him she’d be in her life
always, no matter if he could see her or not.
Four months ago, on this
day, Cordelia had still been in his life.
It was different,
somehow, to that day - but then, it would be.
Things had changed after that. She’d accepted her fate quietly, never
burdening anyone with the weight of the visions - each one but her wondering if
this one would be her last.
She’d stopped wondering
that. Told Angel that life, her life, was too short and that worrying would
only make it shorter.
A week ago and Cordelia had admitted a weakness on her part. “Do you think
I’ll know?” She asked him one night as they lay side by side on his bed. She’d
slept there a lot lately. “Do you think... Before it happens, I’ll know?”
“I didn’t.” Said Angel,
softly. He knew that was different. His death hadn’t exactly been a noble one -
it had been a way out of the life he hated.
Cordelia sighed and met his eyes, “I don’t think I will. I don’t
remember coming into this world - I probably won’t remember going out of it.
It’ll just be like any normal vision.”
In that moment, he
wondered if it was him she was reassuring, or herself. They’d never talked
about it, not so openly. “Are you scared?”
“A little.” She conceded,
“But... Hey, benefits of doing the things we do. There’s a multitude of people
waiting to greet me on the other side.” She laughed, but it was sad. “Do you
hate me?”
“For taking the easy
option. Keeping the visions, even knowing what was coming?”
“No.” He said certainly,
“I’ve never hated you. I might have disagreed with you on occasion, but... I
love you Cordelia. Not just because you’re my friend,
but because I love you.”
“I love you too.” Cordelia smiled then, her fears sated for now. Yawning slightly, she looked at Angel, “I
meant what I said you know. I’ll be here even if you can’t see me...”
“Is that a threat?” He
smiled.
“No, Broody, that’s a
promise.”
She’d drifted off to
sleep then. He spent so much of his time watching her that at times, Angel
almost forgot to sleep. She accused him of being drowsy during the day - then
every so often, poked him gently with a stake to make sure he wasn’t going ‘evil
on my ass again’.
He smiled at the memory,
glancing upwards. It was night-time and behind him the hotel buzzed with a
quiet intensity, the people who’d attended her funeral gathered in the lobby,
reminiscing - talking about the Cordelia they’d used
to know and the one they’d known after Buffy’s death.
It was Spike who came
outside first. “Figures that it’d be you sitting out here this time.” He said,
coming to sit next to Angel. “Her
parents left a while ago, don’t think they bought the sun allergy excuse.”
Angel nodded but didn’t
speak. For both Angel and Spike to attend the funeral, it had had to be dark -
he hadn’t expected her parents to believe his excuse. They wanted answers for
their daughter’s death. Answers that right now, Angel couldn’t give. What was
he supposed to say that the biggest mistake of her life was picking up a box
that day in their old offices and asking if he thought he could use her?
A large part of him
wished that he hadn’t drawn her into this, hadn’t made her make sacrifices that
no woman of her age should have to. But another part of him knew that whether Cordelia was here or not, her presence in his life was one
he’d cherish forever.
“Was she scared?” Spike’s
voice broke into Angel’s thoughts, the younger vampire taking a draw on his
cigarette.
“Sometimes. Others, she
just shrugged it off. Wesley and I kept looking but...”
This time, it was Angel’s
turn to nod. Willow had sent some tea for Cordelia -
stuff that had helped her with the less conventional kind of headache. For a
while it had worked better than the drugs - until that last week.
“She called me. Last
week.” Spike admitted, “Wanted to see how everything was going with uh...
Everything. Ended up speaking to the bricklayer. He said she sounded odd...”
Risking a glance into the lobby where Xander was
telling a very not-interested Summers Girl about his weekend at work, Spike
rolled his eyes. At that rate, she’d be dead again before she knew just what’d
hit her.
Giving a sigh, Spike
braced his hands on his knees. “You should come inside, they’re all still in
there, all her friends...”
Angel watched him get up
but didn’t say anything. It was a fact that the only time anyone’s family were
all together, was at funerals. Half of
the people in there hadn’t even bothered with her, until they’d found out she’d
died. Angel gave a sigh and turned away, knowing full well that Spike was still
behind him.
“You know what she used
to say Peaches,” Said Spike, noting the way his sire bristled at the use of
that word. “Death doesn’t always mean it’s over.” He took a look back in the
hotel again, eyes settling on Buffy who was picking at the hem of her skirt,
eyes drawn downwards and away from what Xander was
boring her with.
A moment later when Spike
had gone inside, Angel let out an unneeded breath and felt a warm, gentle
breeze wrapping itself around him. His
eyes closed and for the longest time, Angel just sat there.
In Buffy’s death, Angel
had been given the clarity of love, the clarity of friendship - and the
knowledge that within a few months, he was going to lose both those things from
the place he craved them the most.
And in Cordelia’s wake, he’d learned that death truly never would
be the end, not for them and most certainly not for her.
The End