grinner
02-05-2004, 03:28 PM
Snurching this from Kansas... as it is a very good story.First of all, if you haven't seen last night's Angel and you don't want spoilers, this post is not for you. It's pure spoiler from head to toe. You've been warned.
I know, this isn't the usual fare for this board, but this is the OT section and I have no other forum to post this on. Besides, there are lots of Angel fans here who are mourning her the same as I am. Whenever one of my favorite characters dies on a show or in a book, I have to write a fic. It's my way of dealing and giving closure to the situation, even if the show or books do so in some form or fashion. (DMD was how I started writing Farscape fic.) This is my first attempt at an Angel fic, so please forgive any lapses in voice or detail, and was written late last night while I tried to go to sleep, so forgive any facts from the episode mixed up or forgotten. I hope you enjoy it.
Watching Over Me
Setting: One hour post last night's episode
Rating: G (Kleenex warning)
Archiving: Just say where
Disclaimer: I don't own any of Angel but an emotional attachment to the show and its characters.
Angel pushed through the door of Wolfram & Heart's after-hours bar, barely registering the smoke in the air over the tears already stinging his eyes. A few employees glanced up as he came in, but quickly returned to their own lives, unbothered. Normally, Angel would have avoided the bar, prefering to hole up in his room, but Cordelia would have had none of that and right now, he couldn't think of upsetting her.
He scanned the room and finally located his friends sitting around a large corner booth. The looked so happy, swapping stories and jokes over a colorful array of drinks. Even Spike seemed to be having fun, a couple shots past tipsy with an arm over the seat back over Wesley's shoulder.
A tiny smile quirked his mouth. It had been so long since he had seen any of them laugh. He owed it to them, and to Cordy, not to spoil their night. He could tell them tomorrow.
Fred spotted him just as he turned to leave. "There you are, Angel! We were beginning to worry!"
"Yeah, Brah, you're over an hour late," Gunn agreed.
"I was telling 'em you were probably just doing the horizontal victory dance with the prom queen now she's back." Spike slurred a bit, smirking over his glass.
"Yes," Wesley frowned, scootching a few inches further from Spike and closer to Fred. "Where is Cordelia?"
Angel had walked slowly over and stood before the table, a harbinger all in black. There was no more excuse to hide it or deny it. "Cordelia's dead."
The whole table fell silent, all air of mirth burnt away as if by lightning.
"Oh, no," Lorne murmured.
"You bastard!" Spike snarled. "You did do her and then killed her! You're bloody Angelus aga--"
"Shut up, Spike," Wesley said, his voice too soft, eyes too sharp. "Angel, what's happened?"
"I got a call from the hospital. Cordy died an hour and a half ago. Her body gave up and they couldn't get it going again." He said the words quietly and firmly, like a standard medical report. He couldn't let it sink in fully, not yet. "She just never woke up."
"But, she was here..." Fred's voice quivered.
"The Powers That Be owed her a favor. She came to make sure we were back on track and to see us one last time. She disappeared when I got the call." He could feel the walls beginning to break, forced himself not to fall apart in front of them. "She's gone."
"God," Gunn breathed.
Fred began to cry softly and Wesley put his arms around her, holding her as tears came to his own eyes. Lorned hung his head mournfully.
Spike sighed. "Bloody shame." He knocked back the rest of his shot glass.
"I already made arrangements for her body to be brought home," Angel continued, having to get it all said before he collapsed. "I figure we'll have the funeral this weekend. I don't know if Buffy or anyone from Sunnydale will want to come, but I'll give them the chance."
"Angel, sit down, pumpkin," Lorne gestured, scooting over. "You must be absolutely gutted. You didn't have to take this all on right now."
"Yes, I did." He slid heavily beside the Host and signaled the waitress for a beer. "I had to get it out of the way. Had to take care of things..." He fell silent, unable to continue over the tightness of his throat.
The beer arrived and they all grieved wordlessly for a long time.
Harshly at first, then a little steadier, Wesley began to chuckle. Everyone stared at him, varying degrees of confusion and shock on their faces, but the corner of his mouth rose slightly.
"I was just remembering when I first met her in Sunnydale. She was just a child, barely seventeen, but I had such a crush on her. And she actually was interested in me too. We danced at the prom. But when we kissed for the first time..." He dropped his hand vaguely on the table. "Nothing. We never looked at each other the same again." He smiled bittersweetly into his drink.
Lorne began to pick up the nostalgia too. "I remember a time when the she and the two of you"--he pointed to Wesley and Gunn--"were feeling very lost and wound up drunk in Caritas together. You utterly mangled 'We are the Champions.' Now if that wasn't a cry for help..." He shook his head. "Princess never could sing, but she did put her heart into it."
"She put her heart into everything," Gunn agreed.
"If it wasn't for her, I'd still be a slave in Pylea," Fred sniffled. "If I was still alive at all."
"She made a damn fine princess," Gunn said.
"Hear, hear." Wesley tapped their glasses together.
They all glanced at Spike.
"Hey, don't look at me. I barely knew her." He tapped his fingers on the tabletop. "She fought well today, though. Almost like a Slayer."
They nodded, going quiet again.
"Angel, do you remember that play she was in that we had to sit through?" Wesley asked after a moment. "What was that line?"
"Oh, what was it?" Angel closed his eyes, then opened them, throwing one hand out forward dramatically. "A. time. will come. when. Torvald. will not. feel. as. strongly. for me."
They laughed soberly and even Angel had to crack a smile. "She could act, when it came down to it, but that..." Just as quickly, the humor faded from him, warded off by grief.
"Don't do that, Angel," Wesley said.
"What?" he asked, looking up sharply.
"Block off your feelings. She would never let you do that. She hated it when you just sat in your cellar and brooded. Which, granted, was most of the time."
"I know," Angel sighed, rubbing his thumb absently around his glass. "I just--" He looked at his friends, all looking to him expectantly. "I don't want to..." He waved a hand at Spike.
"Hm? Oh, don't mind me, mate. You think I'll call you a ponce for crying over a dead friend? Got better things to do with my time. Theoretically," he muttered.
Angel still eyed him cautiously, but seemed to relax a bit. "Cordelia was...amazing. She was there when we started Angel Investigations, just her, me, and Doyle. I'll bet she's with him now, giving him a hard time about his hair or yelling at him for dumping the visions on her." He smiled wistfully. "They're both part-demon now, so she can't tease him about that, not that she really cared anyway."
"She was so brave with the visions," Fred said, leaning against Wesley's shoulder while Gunn rubbed her back soothingly. "I mean, they were literally killing her, but she kept on going and just became a demon so she could still do her job."
"Now, hold up." Spike frowned. "So, she was a demon after all? 'Cause she didn't taste like one."
"Well, that wasn't quite her today," Angel said. "But she was part demon. The visions aren't meant to be received by a human mind, so she had to get some help."
"Huh." Spike's eyebrows raised. "No one's quite what they seem in old L.A."
"But she was a good demon," Fred added.
"Very good," Gunn agreed.
"She had a full life, at least," Angel continued. "She got to be popular in high school, fought evil, had friends she can count on. She got to rule another dimension and be a successful actress in that other reality. Became a higher being. Fell in love." His throat burned, the taste of her last kiss still lingering on his lips. "She even got to be a mother."
Wesley thought about that and frowned. "I don't think being possessed by a demon trying to give birth to itself and destroy the world exactly counts as true motherhood."
"No, I meant with Con--" He caught himself. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess you're right."
They stared silently in memory again.
"Did she have any last words?" Lorne asked finally.
"Um..." Angel thought back, rubbing his eyes as he remembered those last moments in his office. "She wanted me to say her goodbyes to you guys. She said that...we're doing the right thing here, and that we'll beat Wolfram & Heart's evil side, and that we just need to see that for ourselves." His voice became choked and he felt the tears reach his eyes uncontrollably. "And she said she'd be keeping an eye on us."
Gunn smiled and the mood around the table lifted slightly. "Good to know we're in good hands."
"To Cordelia," Wesley said, raising his glass. "Our guardian angel."
"Hear, hear!"
They all clinked glasses and drank deeply.
"You know, somebody ought to tell Dennis," Wesley said.
"He is a ghost," Gunn pointed out. "He might already know. They could be chatting it up right now."
"Hey, do you remember when we went to the ballet?" Fred asked. "She said how glamorous it all was, and by Act One, she was snoring..."
As the conversation started up again, Angel felt his aching heart warm. This was what Cordelia would have wanted after all.
"Well, that was a lovely funeral, Angel," Wesley commented as they all walked back to Wolfram & Heart that Saturday night.
"Maybe for you," Spike complained. "You didn't have Legally Blonde Barbie crying on your shoulder a night long."
"Well, she was my best friend in high school," Harmony said, dabbing tears from her eyes with a pink handkerchief and sniffling dramatically. "She was so young!"
"I know, Harmony," Angel said. "Want me to arrange a ride home for you?"
"Really?" She perked up immediately. "Can I ride in a limo?"
"Yeah, sure. Whatever you want."
"I thought your eulogy was beautiful," Fred told him, gently taking his arm. "You had Lorne in tears by the end."
"You thought the eulogy was sad," the Host said, "try the earfull of emotion I got when Angel joined in on 'Ave Maria.' Talk about your grief!"
"It was nice that Willow and Xander were able to show up," Wesley added. "They had some wonderful things to say about her."
"I think have the female population of Sunnydale High was there," Angel said. "And I still can't believe the Groosalug came."
"Well, he did love her," Gunn said. "You want discomfort? Sit next to a big warrior like that while he cries his eyes out for three hours."
"The whole ceremony was beautiful," Fred smiled. "And you found a nice plot for her."
"Well, I figured she'd spent so much of her life in the dark and night while she worked with me, so she ought to spend eternity in the sunlight." Angel shrugged. "Just sentimental. Ah, good! It's done!" He beamed as they strolled into the lobby.
A new statue stood in the center of the tile floor, elegant and graceful.
"Those sculptors did a marvelous job," Wesley commented, staring in awe. "Very realistic. Doyle looks just as you've described him, and Cordelia... She looks exactly as we last saw her."
"Yeah. I wanted to base it on her like that. When you have an out-of-body experience, you look exactly as you envision yourself, so I figured that's how she'd want to be immortalized. And this is immortal, too. I had the shamans put a protective spell on it. This statue can't be broken or destroyed, not by earthquake, or fire, or exploding demon innards or anything else our daily life can think up. It's to remind us what we're fighting for."
"What's that on the plaque?" Spike asked, squinting at the odd symbol. "A moth? Or...Ringo?"
"That's the angel from the original Angel Investigations business cards. I felt it was appropriate."
Gunn read the inscription on the plaque out loud. " 'When the chips are down, and you're at the end of your rope, you need someone you can count on. And that's what you'll find here. Someone who'll go all the way, who'll protect you no matter what. Don't lose hope. Come on over to our offices, and you'll see there's still heroes in this world.' Allen Francis Doyle, Cordelia Chase, R.I.P.' Nice."
"This was a great idea, Angel," Fred said. She checked her watch. "Well, we open in a few hours. I guess I should head down to the lab and get a head start on identifying that goo we found on the subway tracks the other day."
"I suppose I have things to do as well," Wesley agreed as she left. "I'll see you around, Angel."
"Yeah, me, too," Gunn sighed. "Another day, another contract to make so we don't wind up part of some demonic ritual that'll suck us into a Hell dimension."
"And I better get back to work." Lorne pulled out his phone. "Movies don't make themselves in this town."
Spike rolled his shoulders and sauntered towards the elevators. "And I have a randy young miss in Mystical Artifacts who's been giving me the eye recently. See you around."
As everyone scattered in their separate directions, Angel looked up at his former coworkers and dear friends and smiled fondly. "Thanks, guys. We'll try to keep the spirit alive."
With a last run of his hand reverently around the base of the statue, Angel strode to his office, the fires of purpose burning anew in his heart.
There you have it. I hope it's an okay little story. It helped me sleep easier last night.
Seti
I know, this isn't the usual fare for this board, but this is the OT section and I have no other forum to post this on. Besides, there are lots of Angel fans here who are mourning her the same as I am. Whenever one of my favorite characters dies on a show or in a book, I have to write a fic. It's my way of dealing and giving closure to the situation, even if the show or books do so in some form or fashion. (DMD was how I started writing Farscape fic.) This is my first attempt at an Angel fic, so please forgive any lapses in voice or detail, and was written late last night while I tried to go to sleep, so forgive any facts from the episode mixed up or forgotten. I hope you enjoy it.
Watching Over Me
Setting: One hour post last night's episode
Rating: G (Kleenex warning)
Archiving: Just say where
Disclaimer: I don't own any of Angel but an emotional attachment to the show and its characters.
Angel pushed through the door of Wolfram & Heart's after-hours bar, barely registering the smoke in the air over the tears already stinging his eyes. A few employees glanced up as he came in, but quickly returned to their own lives, unbothered. Normally, Angel would have avoided the bar, prefering to hole up in his room, but Cordelia would have had none of that and right now, he couldn't think of upsetting her.
He scanned the room and finally located his friends sitting around a large corner booth. The looked so happy, swapping stories and jokes over a colorful array of drinks. Even Spike seemed to be having fun, a couple shots past tipsy with an arm over the seat back over Wesley's shoulder.
A tiny smile quirked his mouth. It had been so long since he had seen any of them laugh. He owed it to them, and to Cordy, not to spoil their night. He could tell them tomorrow.
Fred spotted him just as he turned to leave. "There you are, Angel! We were beginning to worry!"
"Yeah, Brah, you're over an hour late," Gunn agreed.
"I was telling 'em you were probably just doing the horizontal victory dance with the prom queen now she's back." Spike slurred a bit, smirking over his glass.
"Yes," Wesley frowned, scootching a few inches further from Spike and closer to Fred. "Where is Cordelia?"
Angel had walked slowly over and stood before the table, a harbinger all in black. There was no more excuse to hide it or deny it. "Cordelia's dead."
The whole table fell silent, all air of mirth burnt away as if by lightning.
"Oh, no," Lorne murmured.
"You bastard!" Spike snarled. "You did do her and then killed her! You're bloody Angelus aga--"
"Shut up, Spike," Wesley said, his voice too soft, eyes too sharp. "Angel, what's happened?"
"I got a call from the hospital. Cordy died an hour and a half ago. Her body gave up and they couldn't get it going again." He said the words quietly and firmly, like a standard medical report. He couldn't let it sink in fully, not yet. "She just never woke up."
"But, she was here..." Fred's voice quivered.
"The Powers That Be owed her a favor. She came to make sure we were back on track and to see us one last time. She disappeared when I got the call." He could feel the walls beginning to break, forced himself not to fall apart in front of them. "She's gone."
"God," Gunn breathed.
Fred began to cry softly and Wesley put his arms around her, holding her as tears came to his own eyes. Lorned hung his head mournfully.
Spike sighed. "Bloody shame." He knocked back the rest of his shot glass.
"I already made arrangements for her body to be brought home," Angel continued, having to get it all said before he collapsed. "I figure we'll have the funeral this weekend. I don't know if Buffy or anyone from Sunnydale will want to come, but I'll give them the chance."
"Angel, sit down, pumpkin," Lorne gestured, scooting over. "You must be absolutely gutted. You didn't have to take this all on right now."
"Yes, I did." He slid heavily beside the Host and signaled the waitress for a beer. "I had to get it out of the way. Had to take care of things..." He fell silent, unable to continue over the tightness of his throat.
The beer arrived and they all grieved wordlessly for a long time.
Harshly at first, then a little steadier, Wesley began to chuckle. Everyone stared at him, varying degrees of confusion and shock on their faces, but the corner of his mouth rose slightly.
"I was just remembering when I first met her in Sunnydale. She was just a child, barely seventeen, but I had such a crush on her. And she actually was interested in me too. We danced at the prom. But when we kissed for the first time..." He dropped his hand vaguely on the table. "Nothing. We never looked at each other the same again." He smiled bittersweetly into his drink.
Lorne began to pick up the nostalgia too. "I remember a time when the she and the two of you"--he pointed to Wesley and Gunn--"were feeling very lost and wound up drunk in Caritas together. You utterly mangled 'We are the Champions.' Now if that wasn't a cry for help..." He shook his head. "Princess never could sing, but she did put her heart into it."
"She put her heart into everything," Gunn agreed.
"If it wasn't for her, I'd still be a slave in Pylea," Fred sniffled. "If I was still alive at all."
"She made a damn fine princess," Gunn said.
"Hear, hear." Wesley tapped their glasses together.
They all glanced at Spike.
"Hey, don't look at me. I barely knew her." He tapped his fingers on the tabletop. "She fought well today, though. Almost like a Slayer."
They nodded, going quiet again.
"Angel, do you remember that play she was in that we had to sit through?" Wesley asked after a moment. "What was that line?"
"Oh, what was it?" Angel closed his eyes, then opened them, throwing one hand out forward dramatically. "A. time. will come. when. Torvald. will not. feel. as. strongly. for me."
They laughed soberly and even Angel had to crack a smile. "She could act, when it came down to it, but that..." Just as quickly, the humor faded from him, warded off by grief.
"Don't do that, Angel," Wesley said.
"What?" he asked, looking up sharply.
"Block off your feelings. She would never let you do that. She hated it when you just sat in your cellar and brooded. Which, granted, was most of the time."
"I know," Angel sighed, rubbing his thumb absently around his glass. "I just--" He looked at his friends, all looking to him expectantly. "I don't want to..." He waved a hand at Spike.
"Hm? Oh, don't mind me, mate. You think I'll call you a ponce for crying over a dead friend? Got better things to do with my time. Theoretically," he muttered.
Angel still eyed him cautiously, but seemed to relax a bit. "Cordelia was...amazing. She was there when we started Angel Investigations, just her, me, and Doyle. I'll bet she's with him now, giving him a hard time about his hair or yelling at him for dumping the visions on her." He smiled wistfully. "They're both part-demon now, so she can't tease him about that, not that she really cared anyway."
"She was so brave with the visions," Fred said, leaning against Wesley's shoulder while Gunn rubbed her back soothingly. "I mean, they were literally killing her, but she kept on going and just became a demon so she could still do her job."
"Now, hold up." Spike frowned. "So, she was a demon after all? 'Cause she didn't taste like one."
"Well, that wasn't quite her today," Angel said. "But she was part demon. The visions aren't meant to be received by a human mind, so she had to get some help."
"Huh." Spike's eyebrows raised. "No one's quite what they seem in old L.A."
"But she was a good demon," Fred added.
"Very good," Gunn agreed.
"She had a full life, at least," Angel continued. "She got to be popular in high school, fought evil, had friends she can count on. She got to rule another dimension and be a successful actress in that other reality. Became a higher being. Fell in love." His throat burned, the taste of her last kiss still lingering on his lips. "She even got to be a mother."
Wesley thought about that and frowned. "I don't think being possessed by a demon trying to give birth to itself and destroy the world exactly counts as true motherhood."
"No, I meant with Con--" He caught himself. "Yeah. Yeah, I guess you're right."
They stared silently in memory again.
"Did she have any last words?" Lorne asked finally.
"Um..." Angel thought back, rubbing his eyes as he remembered those last moments in his office. "She wanted me to say her goodbyes to you guys. She said that...we're doing the right thing here, and that we'll beat Wolfram & Heart's evil side, and that we just need to see that for ourselves." His voice became choked and he felt the tears reach his eyes uncontrollably. "And she said she'd be keeping an eye on us."
Gunn smiled and the mood around the table lifted slightly. "Good to know we're in good hands."
"To Cordelia," Wesley said, raising his glass. "Our guardian angel."
"Hear, hear!"
They all clinked glasses and drank deeply.
"You know, somebody ought to tell Dennis," Wesley said.
"He is a ghost," Gunn pointed out. "He might already know. They could be chatting it up right now."
"Hey, do you remember when we went to the ballet?" Fred asked. "She said how glamorous it all was, and by Act One, she was snoring..."
As the conversation started up again, Angel felt his aching heart warm. This was what Cordelia would have wanted after all.
"Well, that was a lovely funeral, Angel," Wesley commented as they all walked back to Wolfram & Heart that Saturday night.
"Maybe for you," Spike complained. "You didn't have Legally Blonde Barbie crying on your shoulder a night long."
"Well, she was my best friend in high school," Harmony said, dabbing tears from her eyes with a pink handkerchief and sniffling dramatically. "She was so young!"
"I know, Harmony," Angel said. "Want me to arrange a ride home for you?"
"Really?" She perked up immediately. "Can I ride in a limo?"
"Yeah, sure. Whatever you want."
"I thought your eulogy was beautiful," Fred told him, gently taking his arm. "You had Lorne in tears by the end."
"You thought the eulogy was sad," the Host said, "try the earfull of emotion I got when Angel joined in on 'Ave Maria.' Talk about your grief!"
"It was nice that Willow and Xander were able to show up," Wesley added. "They had some wonderful things to say about her."
"I think have the female population of Sunnydale High was there," Angel said. "And I still can't believe the Groosalug came."
"Well, he did love her," Gunn said. "You want discomfort? Sit next to a big warrior like that while he cries his eyes out for three hours."
"The whole ceremony was beautiful," Fred smiled. "And you found a nice plot for her."
"Well, I figured she'd spent so much of her life in the dark and night while she worked with me, so she ought to spend eternity in the sunlight." Angel shrugged. "Just sentimental. Ah, good! It's done!" He beamed as they strolled into the lobby.
A new statue stood in the center of the tile floor, elegant and graceful.
"Those sculptors did a marvelous job," Wesley commented, staring in awe. "Very realistic. Doyle looks just as you've described him, and Cordelia... She looks exactly as we last saw her."
"Yeah. I wanted to base it on her like that. When you have an out-of-body experience, you look exactly as you envision yourself, so I figured that's how she'd want to be immortalized. And this is immortal, too. I had the shamans put a protective spell on it. This statue can't be broken or destroyed, not by earthquake, or fire, or exploding demon innards or anything else our daily life can think up. It's to remind us what we're fighting for."
"What's that on the plaque?" Spike asked, squinting at the odd symbol. "A moth? Or...Ringo?"
"That's the angel from the original Angel Investigations business cards. I felt it was appropriate."
Gunn read the inscription on the plaque out loud. " 'When the chips are down, and you're at the end of your rope, you need someone you can count on. And that's what you'll find here. Someone who'll go all the way, who'll protect you no matter what. Don't lose hope. Come on over to our offices, and you'll see there's still heroes in this world.' Allen Francis Doyle, Cordelia Chase, R.I.P.' Nice."
"This was a great idea, Angel," Fred said. She checked her watch. "Well, we open in a few hours. I guess I should head down to the lab and get a head start on identifying that goo we found on the subway tracks the other day."
"I suppose I have things to do as well," Wesley agreed as she left. "I'll see you around, Angel."
"Yeah, me, too," Gunn sighed. "Another day, another contract to make so we don't wind up part of some demonic ritual that'll suck us into a Hell dimension."
"And I better get back to work." Lorne pulled out his phone. "Movies don't make themselves in this town."
Spike rolled his shoulders and sauntered towards the elevators. "And I have a randy young miss in Mystical Artifacts who's been giving me the eye recently. See you around."
As everyone scattered in their separate directions, Angel looked up at his former coworkers and dear friends and smiled fondly. "Thanks, guys. We'll try to keep the spirit alive."
With a last run of his hand reverently around the base of the statue, Angel strode to his office, the fires of purpose burning anew in his heart.
There you have it. I hope it's an okay little story. It helped me sleep easier last night.
Seti