Log in

No account? Create an account

Previous Entry | Next Entry

An Angel's Rescue

Title: An Angel's Rescue
Author: Kat Lee
Fandom: Angel
Character/Pairing: Angel/Cordelia, Doyle, and a Spike cameo
Rating: PG-13/T
Challenge/Prompt: nekid_spike's Nekid Guest Cordelia and 1_million_words Bingo: Fantasy
Warning(s): Cannon Character Deaths
Word Count: 2,089
Date Written: 26 February 2017
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to Whedon, not the author, and are used without permission.

Even after all these years, she still likes to close her eyes and let herself forget the world around her in her favorite fantasy. She likes to believe she's still with him, that she can still reach out and touch him, that her love is still what he needs to survive or, if not to outright survive, to at least make his life a little bit more livable. She'd even consider making him happy except that that was always the ultimate "no no".

It's perhaps why they ended the way they did, never having confessed their love, always knowing how the other felt but never daring to say the words aloud. She wanted -- she loved -- Angel, and the last thing she ever wanted to do to him was always to make him hurt, to add to his pain, to bring out Angelus again. She'd sworn long ago that she wouldn't make the same mistakes as Buffy, and she hadn't. She had never endangered Angel of Angelus breaking free. She had never hurt him like the Slayer had, and he had never hurt her like Xander or any of the many, many guys who had come before him. But perhaps in that very thing was also their mistake.

She's wished countless times she had told him. She's imagined him meeting her on the bridge instead of that Demonic self-proclaimed Goddess thing spiraling her into a new life that was the end of her very own. She's imagined how he would smile and maybe even tear up a little when she told him how much she's loved him for so very long now, and she's imagined the words he might give her in return. She knew even then he loved her. They just never said the words.

She wonders, not for the first time, what might have changed if they had said the words. Would she still be alive? Would she still be with him? Would their confession really cause Angelus to get free again and trap her beloved Angel once more inside his own body? Willow had worked on the cure once before, and Wesley was very smart. Could they have eventually freed Angel of the curse? Would they have hurt each other? She can't see the last ever happening, but there's so many ways their lives could have turned out differently, and all for the better, if they'd only been brave enough to say the words when they'd had the chance.

She's said them many times since then, but he's never heard her. She used to scream them inside her head while Jasmine was in control of her body. She cried them over and over again when she died. She's whispered them since many a time when hovering over his bed, when watching him fight, when watching him fall . . . But he's never heard her.

It's a funny in a way. She used to live with a ghost. She knows they exist. She also used to complain about the Supernatural things in her life, the ghosts, Demons, and other paranormal things messing with her personal life, but now . . . Now she'd give anything to be a ghost herself, anything to be able to appear to him and make him know, once and for all that, although they may be unable to act on it now, she did love him, not Connor or Groo but him. Connor was Jasmine's sick and twisted doing. Groo was a distraction, nothing more, of how she'd truly felt and the feelings that were and still are so strong inside of her that they had scared her. But Angel was always her favorite dumbass. He was always the one she really loved.

She'll tell him one day, she vows. When he finally ascends to Heaven, when they're finally together again, she'll tell him then, and she'll never let any power separate them ever again. She'll cling to him worse than pony hair on a cashmere sweater (and she should know, given the hours she used to spend with her horse when she was little and then removing the hairs left behind on her clothes). She'll never let him go once she's got him again. They'll finally get to be happy, and surely up here in Heaven, there'll be no chance of Angelus breaking free again. Surely, whereas Angel will ascend, Angelus will forever more be defeated.

"Princess? Princess? Open yer eyes, darlin'," Doyle calls. "He needs us."

Cordelia groans softly as her hazel eyes flutter open. "You know, Doyle, you always could mess up a wet dream."

"Only ye'd be havin' those kind o' dreams up here, luv."

"Angel's the type of man to even make a nun have them."

Doyle chuckles. "I'll take yer word fer it, luv, but he needs us now."

She looks down between their feet, pass the clouds, far down to the Earth below. She still isn't sure how this new vision thing works, not that it really matters. On rare occurrences, like midnights on some special nights and Halloween, they can go down to Earth. She's visited Angel more often than he'll ever know, more often, she thinks and hopes she's right, than the Powers That Be are even aware. But she knows she can't just fly down there any time she'd like. If she could, she'd never leave his side.

Somehow, as she peers downward and focuses on Angel, the millions of miles between them somehow vanish. She gasps aloud, her heart aching as she sees her beloved's handsome face being crushed into the pavement by the massive, slimy maul of some . . . Troll? she guesses. That's the only thing she can think to describe the monster as. She's never seen anything as big or slimy. It's gotta be a Troll.

Angel groans, and unlike her teasing comment earlier, his pain is clear in his voice. It calls to her. Cordelia feels her spirit shift, feels her heart both soar and sink, and suddenly, she's down there with him. The Troll doesn't see her, and her Angel's eyes aren't open. He groans again. She reaches out instinctively, but as they have since she left this world for the third time (the first being their trip to Pylea and her second being when Jasmine took her in with her lies), her fingers only pass through Angel's torn and bleeding shoulder.

"Angel!" she calls, but she knows he can't hear her. Tears streak silently down her face as she looks on, watching the Troll continue to pummel her beloved. She tears her gaze away to look left and right up and down the long and winding alley way, but there's no sign of help coming. She wonders where Spike is, where that damn Slayer is, but nobody's coming.

"We gotta di somethin'!" Doyle exclaims.

She blinks through her tears, surprised to find him suddenly at her side. "But what?" she questions. "What can we do?"

"Cordy," Angel moans, snapping Cordelia's panicking gaze back to him. His eyes are fluttering partially open, but she can't see his dark irises. They look only white and empty at this time. Blood covers his body, and she instinctively knows that, for once, most of it is his, not his enemy's. The Troll smacks him again, and Cordelia and Doyle both cringe as they hear a sickening crunch of bone.

"Angel!" Cordelia cries again, flying forward. The Troll's fist goes right through her as he hits him again. "ANGEL!"

"I'm comin'," Angel moans, no longer even trying to rise.


"That's tellin' him, Princess."

She hears the grin in Doyle's voice, but for the first time in a long time, she flat out ignores her friend, who is also the one man who's kept her semi-sane ever since she lost her beloved Angel and her life in this world to which they are only visitors now.


Angel's eyes crack further up. His dark irises roll back to almost their right positions in his head. He peers up, his eyes fading like a blind man's. "C-Cordy?" he gasps, blood spitting from his mouth as he calls her name.

He's looking right at her, she realizes, even as the Troll's fist comes again. "THAT'S RIGHT! NOW GET UP! STOP BEING A DUMBASS AND FIGHT!"

She tenses, expecting to feel the Troll's fist slam into her cherished Angel again, but he rolls out from underneath the coming blow just in time.


Cordelia, Angel, and Doyle all look up at the shout. Only the Troll seems undeterred as he lumbers about, changing his position and preparing to come after Angel again. Angel reaches up and grabs the red stick hurtling at him. He grins, and Cordelia shivers. She always loved his dangerous smile. She always loved all his rare smiles.

"THANKS, SPIKE!" Angel shouts back, lighting the dynamite, throwing it at the Troll, and running away to give the explosion space. It takes only a couple more sticks of dynamite, and soon, the Troll is nothing more than a few bits of slimy flesh.

"You could've timed that better," Angel mutters to Spike, dusting his hands off on his torn jacket.

Spike shrugs.

Cordelia and Doyle still hover nearby, unseen by both Vampires. "You could've timed it better too, dumbass. Why wait on Spike when you could've hand the dynamite all along?"

Doyle places a gentle hand on Cordelia's arm. "That's our Angel," he says cheerily, "always th' battered hero. Come, luv. It's time -- " His words cut off as Angel turns and looks directly into Cordelia's eyes.

They stare into each other's eyes, Cordelia hoping he can see her but not daring to believe he can, Angel wishing he could know for certain if she was there or only a figment of his imagination called upon to give him strength when he'd been dying --

Spike follows Angel's intent gaze but sees nothing. "What is it?"

"I thought . . . I . . . " Angel shakes his head.

Cordelia raises a hand as he turns away. She starts to call his name, but Doyle's hand tightens just little in an urgent, silent reminder on her arm.

"What?" Spike frowns in puzzlement and genuine concern.

"I thought I saw her, Spike," he whispers, looking back once again into the beautiful, teary eyes he can not actually see though he feels them upon him.

"You know," Spike says gently, "there are those who say the dead are always with us, Angel."

"We know they are."

"They're not talking about us Vampires or Demons or anything like that. You know what I'm talking about, too, ya bloody pillock. They're talking about the spirits of our loved ones watching over us."

"You think she could have been here?" he asks, turning and walking away with Spike.

"I think it's very possible. I think, if you believe it, that's all that really matters." He pauses, glancing behind Angel and then up at his grandsire. "What would you say," he asks softly, "if she was here?"

"I . . . " He knows Spike's probably setting him up to tease him, but for just one second, when he'd first opened his eyes a few minutes ago, when the blood had been clearing from his vision, he could have sworn he saw her wrapped in a flowing, white, silk gown and flanked by huge, pure white wings. He could have sworn he'd seen his precious Cordelia, and perhaps Spike and the others who have said the same thing are right. Maybe not all ghosts come back only to haunt their killers. He looks behind them again, right at the spot where Cordelia still hovers unseen by the world around them. "I'd say I love her." A single tear drips down his face, and for once, Spike doesn't say a single word of teasing or cruelty. He remains silent instead and keeps walking.

"I love you too!" Cordelia calls though she knows her love can not see her. Weeping openly, she lets Doyle take her home until they are needed again.

The End


( 1 comment — Leave a comment )
Mar. 1st, 2017 01:55 am (UTC)
Beautiful fic! I love how he sort of knew she was there, and I love the banter between Doyle and Cordy about her less than innocent dreams. Thanks for writing this!
( 1 comment — Leave a comment )

Latest Month

May 2018


Page Summary

Powered by LiveJournal.com
Designed by Tomohito Koshikawa