RATING: PG
SPOILERS/SEASON INFO:
Set post-Angel Season 2; post-Buffy Season 5.AUTHOR'S NOTES:
This is my first Angel fic. A pointless fic that turned very fluffy. (I was craving omelettes at that time for some reason). It was meant to give me a chance to hone the Angel/Buffy speak. I hope I haven't failed too miserably, but you know feedback would really help here.
Cordelia's head swam with a myriad of images, some curious, some not so. Bright flashes of colour illuminated the interior of her head as she fought and tugged for control of her consciousness, aware only of a pervading need to escape. To get out.
The source of her need manifested itself as a faint echo, a semi-persistent chiming ... of something. Bells, maybe? Something distant, far away, it's echo reaching towards her through incalculable distances. She felt her hair swaying in the breeze, a gentle yet buffeting wind inside her mind that seemed to awaken her sleeping senses with each swirl of chocolate-coloured tendril.
Gradually Cordelia felt her face warm, felt the faint touch of the sun's rays permeate her body. She was free to move now, free to move towards ... the chiming. The bells.
The door bell.
Suddenly aware of the incessant ringing at her door, Cordelia groaned inwardly and tumbled herself out of bed. Between the dream, the visions and the fighting last night, she really hadn't gotten all that much sleep. A couple of hours, tops.
Where was Dennis when you needed him?
The sound of running water emanated from her bathroom. Damn, Angel had beaten her to the bathroom ... again.
"Oh God, oh god I'm coming! Hurry much?!" Silently cursing at having someone seeing her in this state of unreadiness, she hastily brushed her short brown hair with her fingers. The Cordelia Chase of Sunnydale High would have died a thousand, no, make that a billion deaths before allowing anyone to see her in this condition. But now? The Cordelia Chase of L.A, resident vision gal of Angel Investigations and former candidate for Pylea demon spawn impregnation could care less.
Cordelia looked ruefully down on her old Sunnydale High t-shirt and comfortably fitting shorts and sighed. So help the Powers That Be if it turned out to be Steve Paymer from down the hall ...
There was no help for it. She unlocked the door ... and gazed in stark, raving horror at the scene before her.
It was worse than seeing Steve Paymer in this condition. It was worse even than seeing a gorgeous Russell Crowe or Heath Ledger or some other Hollywood hottie in her tatty sleep wear, her hair unkempt and absolutely no make-up whatsoever.
It was the Scooby Gang.
