Chapter 6
"You're my friend. You're Angel, and you're everything, and you're out of bounds. And it works. Us," she gestured between them, "That's how it works. What we have is so..." she trawled for an adequate expression and failed to find one to do their unique relationship justice.
"Special?" offered Angel, almost shyly. Cordelia nodded, deciding it was as close as any single world would come.
"And it's so not about sex. Sex changes everything. It's complicated, and messy, and you can never go back. You can pretend but it's never the same. I mean, you know, right?"
She was talking about Buffy again, and yes, she was right. He knew. Better than most.
"It would change everything, and it most likely wouldn't even work. I can't believe the Powers would do that to us. `You have to sleep with your best friend or you die! Oh, wait. You know how your whole friendship's ruined? Well sorry, it turns out you're still going to die.' It's twisted and weird, and I won't be part of it."
He grabbed a hold of her upper arms and made her look directly at him, "But there's still that chance. And it might be strange and awkward, but we'd get through it. We might have years of Alive Cordy to get through it."
"No."
"Cor..."
"NO!"
His grip tightened. She flinched under the pressure, feeling her skin bruising. His face was the definition of desperation. His whole attitude had taken on an almost wild, feral air. It was scarier to behold than his game face. Cordelia felt a brief flood of nervousness stream through her veins. She pushed it away. No, this was Angel and she refused to be afraid.
Her damp eyes flashed with anger. Her voice dangerous, "What are you going to do, Angel? Force me?"
The words shocked the vampire back to his senses. He dropped his hands immediately. The torrid emotion fled from his features, abashed. In horror-filled tones, he answered, "Of course not. I'd *never*... I'm just scared out of my mind, Cor. I'm sorry."
"That makes two of us," she relented, his complete contrition apparent. He had withdrawn from her in appalled shock. She leaned forward and placed a gentle hand on his knee. "Are you okay?"
How could she do that? Respond to intimidation with sweetness and concern. He hadn't been wrong. She was an amazing woman. She still amazed him. A little more with every passing second.
"Yeah. No. But yeah. I just want to stop this happening. You don't deserve this, I'm not sure anyone does, but you..." he was lost for words. Luckily, with Cordelia words weren't always necessary.
"Bad things happen. Sometimes to good people," she replied stoically. "There are those who might suggest you don't deserve all you get thrown at you, but I know you're not one of them so there's no point debating it. And I told you, I'm happy. It may not look like it right now," she gestured comically to her tear-drawn face, "but impending doom aside, I'm the happiest I've ever been. So yeah, pretty short life-span, but I've done some good. Made a difference. Maybe that's as good as it gets."
She paused, absently rubbing at a spot of dirt on the leg of his pants.
"I can't risk ruining the greatest thing I have for the tiniest of chances I won't die, because if I lose this - if I lose you - then there would be no hope left for me at all, dead or alive. Do you understand?"
"A little. But I trust you enough not to let it change things too much, for it not to come between us completely. Don't you trust me?"
"Is that supposed be an entry for `World's Dumbest Question'? I trust you, Angel. I trust you, along with Wes, above anyone in the world, but for a two-and-a-half centuries old guy you're big with the naivety. It isn't about trusting you, it's about not trusting myself."
Cordelia voice roughed a little with emotion as she expanded on her statement, "Maybe you might be able to do it. Treat it like business. A one time only, save a life deal. Then back to square one. Cordy and Angel. Best buds. `Oh yeah, we slept together that one time but just to pass on the visions, didn't mean a thing'. I couldn't, okay? I couldn't shut down and try not to feel anything other than a hope that you would catch the visions from me like... like some kind of disease! It's sick, Angel! Maybe, if it were anybody else, I'd be able to do it. `Don't think, don't feel, just do.' But not with you... I could never do that with you. Because you're Angel, and you're everything."
She finished with a melancholic echo of her own words.
"And it's not as though we're overrun with good-hearted demons, anatomically equipped to mate with humans and only too happy to join the Angel Investigations crusade, so it's you or wormfood," she added as a brusque aside.
"Thanks."
"You know what I mean."
"I'm beginning to, yeah."
"I've never been with anybody I cared about. Only a couple of fumbling high-school jocks and a guy who impregnated me with demon spawn. I mean, Doyle died before we even got to a first date and the only other contender was, well, Xander, and you know what Xander was like when we were dating."
"Not ready?"
"God, he used to hyperventilate if I put my hand under his shirt."
Angel couldn't help but chuckle, he may have moved on from his Sunnydale days but he wasn't above bearing a grudge where Xander Harris was concerned.
"It's different with us, I know, because we're friends and it's never been a issue, but I couldn't trust myself to be able to have sex with someone I loved and not let the boundaries get blurred. I could close my eyes so I wouldn't have to look into yours and try to pretend I wasn't there, but I'd still be able to touch you, to feel you, to hear you. And it wouldn't be detached, cold, just business, because I know how you look at me. I know how you care. It would be all soft caresses, and whispered `Are you okay?'s, and tender kisses brushing away my tears and every single one would make something deep inside of me crack and break. Shattering me piece by piece. And then I'd be falling and there would be no one to catch me because the one person who always did, this time, is the one who pushed me to start with," Cordelia paused for breath. Caught up in the passion of her words she didn't notice the expression of pure love and tenderness emanating from her companion's face, if
she had her voice wouldn't have been so steady.
"No one has ever loved me like that, and it doesn't bother me because you can't miss what you never had, but to experience something so close but have it not be real? Because it wasn't that kind of love, it was necessity; and it meant nothing; and can never happen again. There's no way I could stand it. Vision headaches I can handle, but that kind of pain? I don't ever want to have to try."
She finished with a naked sententia, "I love you too much be able to attempt save my life."
She gave a hollow laugh, "Which has to go down as ironic coming from someone who used to be the nastiest girl in Sunnydale. The girl you saved from Russell Winters' mansion would have done pretty much anything to stay alive and she didn't have half as much as I have to live for, but I'm not her anymore, Angel. I can't shut away my feelings the way I used to, and it's all your fault! You, Doyle and Wes! And you know what's worst? I only love you even more for it."
"Oh, Cordy," Angel breathed helplessly.
It was the only response he could articulate. Suddenly everything was apparent and he could only wonder why he hadn't seen it before. Of course sex would change everything. It would tear down foundations they'd worked so hard to build. Betray all that had gone before. Open gates that had been chained and padlocked years ago for good reason. Because it could never be anything else, never be anything more. Because he was Angel and she was Cordelia. Because it worked. They worked. And because they already shared something entirely different but no less intimate. Something too precious to jeopardize even in the face of mortality.
The dawning understanding of his reverie was broken by a sudden yelp from Cordelia.
"Ow!"
She drew the hand that had been supporting her weight up from the floor and studied it. Concerned, Angel took it in his own and tilted it towards him for a better view. A shard of glass had embedded itself in the flesh of her palm. The wound wasn't deep but blood was already oozing slowly. They both watched, momentarily transfixed. Angel became aware of the tantalizing metallic tang of her blood in the air. The demon within him strained against the soul. Cordelia took back her hand and eased the glass from her skin. The blood flowed more quickly, trickling down her palm as they watched in rapt attention. Human and vampire both equally mesmerized by the scarlet liquid. A few seconds passed before Angel became aware of the warm finger tips of her uninjured hand touching the skin of one of his. Cordelia cupped his upturned palm in her own and with the sharp glass sliver drew an line across the center. Angel blinked in panic, unable to pull away, entranced by the red pool
forming upon his own skin.
"Cordy," he warned hoarsely.
"It's okay, I'm not about to go vamp."
She fixed his brown eyes with her hazel ones, then in a fluid movement pressed their bleeding palms together; her crimson life force mingling with his.
She kept tight hold of the clasp as she spoke, fervently, "What we have - it's not about sex. It runs even deeper than that. It's family. It's blood. It's the you that runs in my veins, and the me that runs in yours. It's love, and it's untainted and it's good. Death can't destroy it, Angel, but life just might."
They were past needing words. The silence which folded gently back around them was one of final mutual understanding and comfort. Of released tensions and renewed pledges. Of lost hopes and accepted fates.
They were past needing words, except for the three small ones Angel whispered with an intensity that felt hot and new, as he tried once again to sear her aspect into his brain. Cordelia's damp face broke into a dazzling smile; at once the most exhilarating and heart-wrenching expression Angel had ever witnessed. She drew herself into his lap without breaking the contact of their bloodied hands and moulded her slim frame against his larger one.
He held her there, drinking her in like the creature he was without breaking a vein. Cordelia. Fire and ice, sun and moon, goddess and girl.
Exhausted, drained, she merely curled into his chest and marveled, however lost she became in those deep brown eyes, they were still the safest place she'd ever know.
Minutes passed or maybe hours, and yet they remained; a tableau of souled demon and supernatural human, entwined against a backdrop of broken remains and shattered splinters.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Outside the Hyperion Hotel, the darkness of night was lifting almost imperceptibly as the seconds passed. The pale-faced moon began to wane, her reign drawing to a close as her successor prepared to wake.
The first gray shafts of natural light slipped across the lobby, playing against Cordelia's eyelids. She roused herself from the vampire's grasp, gently prizing apart the sticky seal their bloodied hands had formed. Angel shifted slowly too, the violently oscillating moods of the night had taken a greater toll than the average demon slaying.
Cordelia rubbed at her puffy eyes, "Well, that was probably the worst and the best night of my life. Every muscle aches, even the muscles in my eyes ache."
Angel persuaded his own tired features into a smile, "I think it sneaks into the top five on both of my lists too."
She stood up and stretched, before contemplating the dark stains over her hand and sleeve with disinterest, "Stains used to bother me," she said, more to her self than Angel, "blood used to bother me, now I hardly notice one and the other is something so precious. I wish I'd known that all along."
Her thoughts reminded her of similar, previous ones. "Angel, before it gets too light and you do your vampire flambé act, would you take me back to the beach?"
He was dusting himself down, but paused to raise a questioning eyebrow.
"I want to see the sunrise," she explained, simply.
Angel gave a wry half-smile, "Personally, I think sunrises are overrated," he added in a low voice, "Besides, the moonlight suits you better."
"But you'll take me?"
"Of course."
"I'll change my sweater."
She disappeared into the office to retrieve yesterday's shirt and Angel moved towards the door way, collecting his keys and coat. He body fell even heavier than it had the previous evening when they had entered, but today somehow movement was easier. Fate was not to be cheated, but there were some things even the higher powers could never destroy. He shrugged on his coat and waited patiently.
When Cordelia re-emerged the smeared make-up and tear tracks where gone. Her face was dewy with moisture, her hair smoothed in it's pony tail.
"Freshened up a bit. Am I presentable?"
"You're beautiful."
"You're biased."
"Damn right. But it's still the truth."
She bestowed upon him one of those special smiles she seemed to keep only for him, where the whiteness of her teeth paled next to the warm glow in her eyes. She was so alive, so young, so extraordinary - and she was dying. Angel chest heaved as the nauseating spasm of fear, which had dissolved in her embrace, punched him hard in the depths of his being.
It was Angel's turn to make a request.
"Cordelia..."
"Yes?"
"Kiss me."
The words were so choked in his throat she could hardly make them out. She didn't have to, his eyes signaled everything. Nothing to do with sex. Everything to do with love. With a friendship deeper than desire. With a family built out of strangers. With the need to comfort and be comforted, to consume and be consumed. With an unconscious longing to add the final sense to the impressions branded upon their psyches. Sight, smell, hearing and touch were all accounted for. What was more natural than to want to taste? One simple, pure, unspoken gesture to seal all the unspoken promises. After everything he had done for her, she wasn't about to deny him this.
She moved gracefully, sliding a hand round his neck and into his hair; locking the fingers of his still bloodied palm with her newly rinsed one. A tilt of her head, a lowering of his, into a kiss - at first soft and tender, resonating with reassurances and affection, then deepening into an aching desperation, laced with the grief and pain of losses still to come.
The exacerbated emotion pumped adrenaline through Cordelia's body. Behind her eyes, the gift of sight sensed something new in her blood. The faint hint caused the sight to dance dervish-like in the tiny surrounding veins. Its energy grew as it felt its host's familiar blood calling from somewhere outside its vessel. Cordelia felt the dreaded warning tremors of a vision begin to radiate from inside her head. Still she did not break the kiss, deciding if this was her last she could think of many less preferable ways to go. The buzzing behind her eyes grew louder, as the sight raged in over stimulated confusion. In a flare of white noise the supernatural force gathered itself for a final surge.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Wesley screwed up his face, awkwardly rubbing out the cricks in his neck with one hand as the other replaced his glasses on his nose. Vision restored, after an unsettled night's sleep in which he had frequently imagined raised voices, weeping and yelps, he began to lurch his way towards the stairs in his sleep crumpled clothes. As he reached the top of the flight down to the lobby he cast another cursory glance over the damage, observing to himself with dissatisfaction that he would have to be the one to set about clearing it. While he was doing so, he noted a smudge upon one of his lenses. He removed his glasses again and polished them, with exaggerated breaths and the tail of his shirt alternately. By the time he'd reached the bottom step the glass was up to standard. Wesley slipped them back on, readjusted their position on the bridge of his nose and glanced up to see a most unexpected sight. By the doorway in the half light of the approaching dawn were Angel and
Cordelia. Kissing with a tender passion. The former Watcher gaped open-mouthed for a moment in surprised alarm before a sense of decency told him certain things were private and perfectly understandable in the circumstances. He was on the verge of averting his eyes and beating a tactful retreat, when he saw something that made him freeze to the spot.
A tiny blue light suddenly glowed eerily around Cordelia's mouth before spreading and sinking quickly into the skin around Angel's. The pair broke apart, regarding each other with wide eyes.
The sight danced briefly within its new home; the home the taint of demon in the veins of its last host had suggested; the home the human seer's blood had called from within: The move made possible only by riding a cresting wave of that most powerful of emotions, the purity of a love which will endure... even in the face of death.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
- Dylan Thomas
Fin.
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Author's note: I tried to kill her. I really wanted to, but in the end I couldn't do it. I'm no Tim Minear! g
Many thanks to everyone who has taken the time to read this story. I hope you enjoyed it. Extra gratitude goes to those readers who reviewed with such encouraging words whilst the story was still in progress.
One thing to note: `Into That Good Night' was conceived as a love story without the romance. It was supposed to be an exploration of the power of love between friends. Therefore in my mind it is not a C/A story as much as a C & A story (to me, there's a world of difference). However, I'm not sure this is something I achieved in the writing, I know the schmaltz crept in at certain points, but all I can do is try harder next time. :)
"You're my friend. You're Angel, and you're everything, and you're out of bounds. And it works. Us," she gestured between them, "That's how it works. What we have is so..." she trawled for an adequate expression and failed to find one to do their unique relationship justice.
"Special?" offered Angel, almost shyly. Cordelia nodded, deciding it was as close as any single world would come.
"And it's so not about sex. Sex changes everything. It's complicated, and messy, and you can never go back. You can pretend but it's never the same. I mean, you know, right?"
She was talking about Buffy again, and yes, she was right. He knew. Better than most.
"It would change everything, and it most likely wouldn't even work. I can't believe the Powers would do that to us. `You have to sleep with your best friend or you die! Oh, wait. You know how your whole friendship's ruined? Well sorry, it turns out you're still going to die.' It's twisted and weird, and I won't be part of it."
He grabbed a hold of her upper arms and made her look directly at him, "But there's still that chance. And it might be strange and awkward, but we'd get through it. We might have years of Alive Cordy to get through it."
"No."
"Cor..."
"NO!"
His grip tightened. She flinched under the pressure, feeling her skin bruising. His face was the definition of desperation. His whole attitude had taken on an almost wild, feral air. It was scarier to behold than his game face. Cordelia felt a brief flood of nervousness stream through her veins. She pushed it away. No, this was Angel and she refused to be afraid.
Her damp eyes flashed with anger. Her voice dangerous, "What are you going to do, Angel? Force me?"
The words shocked the vampire back to his senses. He dropped his hands immediately. The torrid emotion fled from his features, abashed. In horror-filled tones, he answered, "Of course not. I'd *never*... I'm just scared out of my mind, Cor. I'm sorry."
"That makes two of us," she relented, his complete contrition apparent. He had withdrawn from her in appalled shock. She leaned forward and placed a gentle hand on his knee. "Are you okay?"
How could she do that? Respond to intimidation with sweetness and concern. He hadn't been wrong. She was an amazing woman. She still amazed him. A little more with every passing second.
"Yeah. No. But yeah. I just want to stop this happening. You don't deserve this, I'm not sure anyone does, but you..." he was lost for words. Luckily, with Cordelia words weren't always necessary.
"Bad things happen. Sometimes to good people," she replied stoically. "There are those who might suggest you don't deserve all you get thrown at you, but I know you're not one of them so there's no point debating it. And I told you, I'm happy. It may not look like it right now," she gestured comically to her tear-drawn face, "but impending doom aside, I'm the happiest I've ever been. So yeah, pretty short life-span, but I've done some good. Made a difference. Maybe that's as good as it gets."
She paused, absently rubbing at a spot of dirt on the leg of his pants.
"I can't risk ruining the greatest thing I have for the tiniest of chances I won't die, because if I lose this - if I lose you - then there would be no hope left for me at all, dead or alive. Do you understand?"
"A little. But I trust you enough not to let it change things too much, for it not to come between us completely. Don't you trust me?"
"Is that supposed be an entry for `World's Dumbest Question'? I trust you, Angel. I trust you, along with Wes, above anyone in the world, but for a two-and-a-half centuries old guy you're big with the naivety. It isn't about trusting you, it's about not trusting myself."
Cordelia voice roughed a little with emotion as she expanded on her statement, "Maybe you might be able to do it. Treat it like business. A one time only, save a life deal. Then back to square one. Cordy and Angel. Best buds. `Oh yeah, we slept together that one time but just to pass on the visions, didn't mean a thing'. I couldn't, okay? I couldn't shut down and try not to feel anything other than a hope that you would catch the visions from me like... like some kind of disease! It's sick, Angel! Maybe, if it were anybody else, I'd be able to do it. `Don't think, don't feel, just do.' But not with you... I could never do that with you. Because you're Angel, and you're everything."
She finished with a melancholic echo of her own words.
"And it's not as though we're overrun with good-hearted demons, anatomically equipped to mate with humans and only too happy to join the Angel Investigations crusade, so it's you or wormfood," she added as a brusque aside.
"Thanks."
"You know what I mean."
"I'm beginning to, yeah."
"I've never been with anybody I cared about. Only a couple of fumbling high-school jocks and a guy who impregnated me with demon spawn. I mean, Doyle died before we even got to a first date and the only other contender was, well, Xander, and you know what Xander was like when we were dating."
"Not ready?"
"God, he used to hyperventilate if I put my hand under his shirt."
Angel couldn't help but chuckle, he may have moved on from his Sunnydale days but he wasn't above bearing a grudge where Xander Harris was concerned.
"It's different with us, I know, because we're friends and it's never been a issue, but I couldn't trust myself to be able to have sex with someone I loved and not let the boundaries get blurred. I could close my eyes so I wouldn't have to look into yours and try to pretend I wasn't there, but I'd still be able to touch you, to feel you, to hear you. And it wouldn't be detached, cold, just business, because I know how you look at me. I know how you care. It would be all soft caresses, and whispered `Are you okay?'s, and tender kisses brushing away my tears and every single one would make something deep inside of me crack and break. Shattering me piece by piece. And then I'd be falling and there would be no one to catch me because the one person who always did, this time, is the one who pushed me to start with," Cordelia paused for breath. Caught up in the passion of her words she didn't notice the expression of pure love and tenderness emanating from her companion's face, if
she had her voice wouldn't have been so steady.
"No one has ever loved me like that, and it doesn't bother me because you can't miss what you never had, but to experience something so close but have it not be real? Because it wasn't that kind of love, it was necessity; and it meant nothing; and can never happen again. There's no way I could stand it. Vision headaches I can handle, but that kind of pain? I don't ever want to have to try."
She finished with a naked sententia, "I love you too much be able to attempt save my life."
She gave a hollow laugh, "Which has to go down as ironic coming from someone who used to be the nastiest girl in Sunnydale. The girl you saved from Russell Winters' mansion would have done pretty much anything to stay alive and she didn't have half as much as I have to live for, but I'm not her anymore, Angel. I can't shut away my feelings the way I used to, and it's all your fault! You, Doyle and Wes! And you know what's worst? I only love you even more for it."
"Oh, Cordy," Angel breathed helplessly.
It was the only response he could articulate. Suddenly everything was apparent and he could only wonder why he hadn't seen it before. Of course sex would change everything. It would tear down foundations they'd worked so hard to build. Betray all that had gone before. Open gates that had been chained and padlocked years ago for good reason. Because it could never be anything else, never be anything more. Because he was Angel and she was Cordelia. Because it worked. They worked. And because they already shared something entirely different but no less intimate. Something too precious to jeopardize even in the face of mortality.
The dawning understanding of his reverie was broken by a sudden yelp from Cordelia.
"Ow!"
She drew the hand that had been supporting her weight up from the floor and studied it. Concerned, Angel took it in his own and tilted it towards him for a better view. A shard of glass had embedded itself in the flesh of her palm. The wound wasn't deep but blood was already oozing slowly. They both watched, momentarily transfixed. Angel became aware of the tantalizing metallic tang of her blood in the air. The demon within him strained against the soul. Cordelia took back her hand and eased the glass from her skin. The blood flowed more quickly, trickling down her palm as they watched in rapt attention. Human and vampire both equally mesmerized by the scarlet liquid. A few seconds passed before Angel became aware of the warm finger tips of her uninjured hand touching the skin of one of his. Cordelia cupped his upturned palm in her own and with the sharp glass sliver drew an line across the center. Angel blinked in panic, unable to pull away, entranced by the red pool
forming upon his own skin.
"Cordy," he warned hoarsely.
"It's okay, I'm not about to go vamp."
She fixed his brown eyes with her hazel ones, then in a fluid movement pressed their bleeding palms together; her crimson life force mingling with his.
She kept tight hold of the clasp as she spoke, fervently, "What we have - it's not about sex. It runs even deeper than that. It's family. It's blood. It's the you that runs in my veins, and the me that runs in yours. It's love, and it's untainted and it's good. Death can't destroy it, Angel, but life just might."
They were past needing words. The silence which folded gently back around them was one of final mutual understanding and comfort. Of released tensions and renewed pledges. Of lost hopes and accepted fates.
They were past needing words, except for the three small ones Angel whispered with an intensity that felt hot and new, as he tried once again to sear her aspect into his brain. Cordelia's damp face broke into a dazzling smile; at once the most exhilarating and heart-wrenching expression Angel had ever witnessed. She drew herself into his lap without breaking the contact of their bloodied hands and moulded her slim frame against his larger one.
He held her there, drinking her in like the creature he was without breaking a vein. Cordelia. Fire and ice, sun and moon, goddess and girl.
Exhausted, drained, she merely curled into his chest and marveled, however lost she became in those deep brown eyes, they were still the safest place she'd ever know.
Minutes passed or maybe hours, and yet they remained; a tableau of souled demon and supernatural human, entwined against a backdrop of broken remains and shattered splinters.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Outside the Hyperion Hotel, the darkness of night was lifting almost imperceptibly as the seconds passed. The pale-faced moon began to wane, her reign drawing to a close as her successor prepared to wake.
The first gray shafts of natural light slipped across the lobby, playing against Cordelia's eyelids. She roused herself from the vampire's grasp, gently prizing apart the sticky seal their bloodied hands had formed. Angel shifted slowly too, the violently oscillating moods of the night had taken a greater toll than the average demon slaying.
Cordelia rubbed at her puffy eyes, "Well, that was probably the worst and the best night of my life. Every muscle aches, even the muscles in my eyes ache."
Angel persuaded his own tired features into a smile, "I think it sneaks into the top five on both of my lists too."
She stood up and stretched, before contemplating the dark stains over her hand and sleeve with disinterest, "Stains used to bother me," she said, more to her self than Angel, "blood used to bother me, now I hardly notice one and the other is something so precious. I wish I'd known that all along."
Her thoughts reminded her of similar, previous ones. "Angel, before it gets too light and you do your vampire flambé act, would you take me back to the beach?"
He was dusting himself down, but paused to raise a questioning eyebrow.
"I want to see the sunrise," she explained, simply.
Angel gave a wry half-smile, "Personally, I think sunrises are overrated," he added in a low voice, "Besides, the moonlight suits you better."
"But you'll take me?"
"Of course."
"I'll change my sweater."
She disappeared into the office to retrieve yesterday's shirt and Angel moved towards the door way, collecting his keys and coat. He body fell even heavier than it had the previous evening when they had entered, but today somehow movement was easier. Fate was not to be cheated, but there were some things even the higher powers could never destroy. He shrugged on his coat and waited patiently.
When Cordelia re-emerged the smeared make-up and tear tracks where gone. Her face was dewy with moisture, her hair smoothed in it's pony tail.
"Freshened up a bit. Am I presentable?"
"You're beautiful."
"You're biased."
"Damn right. But it's still the truth."
She bestowed upon him one of those special smiles she seemed to keep only for him, where the whiteness of her teeth paled next to the warm glow in her eyes. She was so alive, so young, so extraordinary - and she was dying. Angel chest heaved as the nauseating spasm of fear, which had dissolved in her embrace, punched him hard in the depths of his being.
It was Angel's turn to make a request.
"Cordelia..."
"Yes?"
"Kiss me."
The words were so choked in his throat she could hardly make them out. She didn't have to, his eyes signaled everything. Nothing to do with sex. Everything to do with love. With a friendship deeper than desire. With a family built out of strangers. With the need to comfort and be comforted, to consume and be consumed. With an unconscious longing to add the final sense to the impressions branded upon their psyches. Sight, smell, hearing and touch were all accounted for. What was more natural than to want to taste? One simple, pure, unspoken gesture to seal all the unspoken promises. After everything he had done for her, she wasn't about to deny him this.
She moved gracefully, sliding a hand round his neck and into his hair; locking the fingers of his still bloodied palm with her newly rinsed one. A tilt of her head, a lowering of his, into a kiss - at first soft and tender, resonating with reassurances and affection, then deepening into an aching desperation, laced with the grief and pain of losses still to come.
The exacerbated emotion pumped adrenaline through Cordelia's body. Behind her eyes, the gift of sight sensed something new in her blood. The faint hint caused the sight to dance dervish-like in the tiny surrounding veins. Its energy grew as it felt its host's familiar blood calling from somewhere outside its vessel. Cordelia felt the dreaded warning tremors of a vision begin to radiate from inside her head. Still she did not break the kiss, deciding if this was her last she could think of many less preferable ways to go. The buzzing behind her eyes grew louder, as the sight raged in over stimulated confusion. In a flare of white noise the supernatural force gathered itself for a final surge.
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Wesley screwed up his face, awkwardly rubbing out the cricks in his neck with one hand as the other replaced his glasses on his nose. Vision restored, after an unsettled night's sleep in which he had frequently imagined raised voices, weeping and yelps, he began to lurch his way towards the stairs in his sleep crumpled clothes. As he reached the top of the flight down to the lobby he cast another cursory glance over the damage, observing to himself with dissatisfaction that he would have to be the one to set about clearing it. While he was doing so, he noted a smudge upon one of his lenses. He removed his glasses again and polished them, with exaggerated breaths and the tail of his shirt alternately. By the time he'd reached the bottom step the glass was up to standard. Wesley slipped them back on, readjusted their position on the bridge of his nose and glanced up to see a most unexpected sight. By the doorway in the half light of the approaching dawn were Angel and
Cordelia. Kissing with a tender passion. The former Watcher gaped open-mouthed for a moment in surprised alarm before a sense of decency told him certain things were private and perfectly understandable in the circumstances. He was on the verge of averting his eyes and beating a tactful retreat, when he saw something that made him freeze to the spot.
A tiny blue light suddenly glowed eerily around Cordelia's mouth before spreading and sinking quickly into the skin around Angel's. The pair broke apart, regarding each other with wide eyes.
The sight danced briefly within its new home; the home the taint of demon in the veins of its last host had suggested; the home the human seer's blood had called from within: The move made possible only by riding a cresting wave of that most powerful of emotions, the purity of a love which will endure... even in the face of death.
Do not go gentle into that good night.
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
- Dylan Thomas
Fin.
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Author's note: I tried to kill her. I really wanted to, but in the end I couldn't do it. I'm no Tim Minear! g
Many thanks to everyone who has taken the time to read this story. I hope you enjoyed it. Extra gratitude goes to those readers who reviewed with such encouraging words whilst the story was still in progress.
One thing to note: `Into That Good Night' was conceived as a love story without the romance. It was supposed to be an exploration of the power of love between friends. Therefore in my mind it is not a C/A story as much as a C & A story (to me, there's a world of difference). However, I'm not sure this is something I achieved in the writing, I know the schmaltz crept in at certain points, but all I can do is try harder next time. :)