entrancelogs | You may find yourself living in a shotgun shack;

Entry tags:

You may find yourself living in a shotgun shack;

Who: Angel and YOU!
Where: Around the mansion as he gets his bearings and ~~lurks in hallways~~ looks around.
When: Evening, 9/29.
Rating: PG for now!
Summary: Angel arrives in Wonderland and is pretty sure that it's yet another cracked-out hell dimension.
The Story:

Angel’s first thought upon waking had been ‘hell dimension.’ The change of scenery had been sudden, the last thing he remembered being just about every monster imaginable crawling their way up through the that hellgate and preparing to let loose on Los Angeles. Their numbers had been thinned considerably. Gunn had been wounded, bleeding out but still standing, still ready to fight. Spike and Illyria were there, prepared to fight alongside him as they went forward to face impossible odds. Lorne was gone. Wesley hadn’t made it. It had only been the four them. Four against the forces of Hell and all that the pit had to offer.

It hadn’t mattered that they wouldn’t win. They were going to go down fighting. That was what people like them did. They were supposed to be champions. If nothing else, they would die like champions, throwing off Wolfram & Hart’s yolk that they had so willingly put on just a year earlier. That whole year had been wrong in so many ways. They had been able to fool themselves into thinking they were using this opportunity to do good, but Cordelia had seen right through it. Hell, even Spike saw through it. Trying to defeat an enemy from within the belly of the beast meant you had been swallowed.

So they’d decided to claw their way out. Hell or high water, they would brace themselves for the counter attack and go down fighting – but it would be one hell of a fight.

“Personally, I kind of want to slay the dragon.”

He couldn't remember anything after that. Climbing up on the beasts back, and then— and then what? This place? If he was dead, truly dead, this was one hell of an afterlife. He’d been killed in a back alley, buried in the earth only to rise again. He’d been impaled and sent to hell for some untold number of years, tormented mercilessly until some power had seen fit to bring him back. Death wasn’t exactly new for him, but this place was like nothing he’d ever seen before.

Hence ‘hell dimension.’ Had someone opened a portal, meant to take him and his allies out of the fight? If that was the case, it would have taken one heck of a bump to the head to knock him unconscious for the duration – either that or a doozy of a spell. He’d been to some pretty strange places in his long life, but this one was singular. Walls all but lined with mirrors that held no reflection – no change there, he surmised – with a décor that was strongly reminiscent of a funhouse. Or maybe Lorne’s place.

He grunted softly, rubbing at the back of his head as he began the slow and awkward shuffle down the corridor he’d found himself in. The countless doors reminded him of the hotel, except—

Except these rooms weren’t empty. Not all of them, at least. He could smell people beyond them, some human, some otherworldly, but all of them alive, breathing. He could hear their beating hearts from a distance, and it was distracting. He was injured, his clothes tattered and bloodstained, soaked through from the storm that had been raging when the battle began. He would heal quickly enough, but he would feel a whole lot better a lot faster if he found something to eat. The smell of blood and the faint but tempting thud of so many heartbeats would ebb away once he had. Something told him he wouldn’t be lucky enough to find a friendly butcher or a stray pig anywhere nearby, though. That presented a bit of a problem. And what about the allies he’d left behind? Were they here, too, scattered?

Damn it. He hated portals. Nothing good ever came from portal jumping.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

Her voice was enough to stop him in his tracks.

Was he hearing things? He had mourned her twice now, resigned himself to the fact that she was gone even though it hurt every hour of every day. Connor and Cordy were the two people he held most dear, the ones he'd had to say goodbye to without telling anyone else the real reason why. Hell, they didn't even remember Connor, but Cordelia... none of them could ever forget her.

When she was gone, really gone, they hadn't talked about it. He hadn't been able to. He'd already spent months standing by and waiting -- waiting for her to wake up, waiting for her to breathe her last, anything. Anything was better than not knowing, better than worrying about what was yet to come.

Losing her had been beyond painful. It was a devastating blow, one that would have crippled him in his fight if she hadn't made that one last appearance, spent that one last day with him and pushed him back onto the right track.

He was almost afraid to turn around. There was another moment of silence before he did, and when he finally turned to face her, his jaw went slack, his eyes raw and uncertain. Was he dead? Was this some demon wearing her face to get at him?

Doubt didn't last long. That attitude, those words. It was her. There was no denying it. He didn't know how, he didn't know why, but he knew it was her.

"Sorry... guess I've still got a bit of a rebellious streak."

There were so many other things he could have said, but he wasn't ready to voice them just yet. How are you here? What is this place? I missed you. His hands were deep in his pockets as he stood there, hesitant to move towards her, as if just staring would help to further convince him that she was real.

"There was a dragon. Someone had to take care of it."

If Angel wasn't going to close the distance, then Cordelia would just have to do it herself. That wasn't any different to how things usually worked between them, was it? She made the leaps and bounds and pushed Angel while he sat stoically like a puppet.

And that heart of hers was hammering in her chest, but Cordelia tried to get it under her own control. That was his voice. That was his dry humour. Fighting dragons was a thing he did as a hobby, like knitting.

It was good to see he hadn't changed, even though Cordelia had no idea how he was here or, more importantly, from when. While she couldn't really compare the timeline differences with Buffy and Xander, since she had hightailed out of their lives right after graduation, she'd heard things about people being mismatched with memories. And since Angel wasn't in his suit … It wasn't difficult to process that this was Angel, but perhaps an Angel on the right track.

Cordelia honestly couldn't help but smile, despite trying to bite it down. She didn't know why she was approaching this as one would a scared puppy, but she was. When she had arrived, she'd dived straight into the rabbit hole, head-first and all, crashing and burning as she made misguided steps and ran her mouth as though it was home.

"A dragon?" Cordelia arched her brow. Dragons, green-skinned singing demons, they were practically the same thing, right? But Cordelia's never dealt with a dragon before. Those things belong in the storybooks, just like a vampire with a soul did. "Your hobbies have definitely changed into the fantastical, Angel."

She was slowly closing the distance between them. Maybe she wasn't approaching him as one would a snake for his sake, but for hers.

"I spent the better part of a year running an evil law firm," he offered as though it explained everything, one side of his mouth quirking upwards into what was almost a smile. Almost, but not quite. "Had to really shake it up to get back into the swing of things."

Once she was close enough, he reached out to her with one hand, but didn't touch. Not just yet. What if he touched her and then she vanished? The same as she had the last time he'd seen her. He'd turned away for half a moment, just half, and she'd been gone. For good. Then the phone rang, and it was like being slammed with the hardest truth he'd ever encountered.

She never did wake up.

Finally, he closed his hand over her shoulder, and she was solid, real, completely and utterly tangible. Something broke in him and he mirrored that action with his other hand, his grip tightening on both shoulders as he looked downwards, staring at the floor between her.

"I never thought I'd..." He trailed off. See you again. The words were there, hanging in the air between them. He shook his head slightly, clearing it, lifting his gaze to meet hers. "The last time we talked, I wasn't all that proud of the guy I'd become."

She wasn't going anywhere, buddy. It was good, reassuring, even, to feel that Angel was very real, too. His grip was still the same. His actions were still the same. But there was something that had broken in him, just a slight fraction more than before, that had him not seeming like the same Angel she had left behind.

It sounded cruel, saying she left him behind, when she never made that choice willingly. The Powers That Be owed her more than a few days with the gang; they owed her an entire lifetime. With him, with Wesley, with Gunn, with Fred, with Lorne; she deserved a lifetime with them, not just a few days.

Cordelia had to wonder if that evil law firm was still something that controlled him. The better part of a year. It sounded as though Angel had hung up his jacket and returned to dwelling in dark corners of abandoned buildings. But Cordelia couldn't be certain.

"And what about that guy, now?" Could he be proud of himself, now? Cordelia always had been, even when she'd berated him for his choices; Angel was still doing the work of good, but sometimes, without a guide, he could easily lead himself astray. One of her hands came up to rest on his. Cordelia had to anchor herself, too.

That smiled hitched just a little bit wider. Wistful, almost bashful, but it was there. "I showed him the door. Told him to take a hike. Didn't really like those suits he wore all that much."

It was so much easier to joke than to lay all the gory details of what had happened bare, but they couldn't dance around the subject forever. It was only a matter of time before he let the pretense fall away and just crushed her against his chest, so glad to see her here and smiling and in one piece.

"I got back on the right track. Guess I just needed a good push."

Angel might not be smiling a mega-watt smile, but Cordelia was. She had feared that she didn't spend enough time with him, to make sure that he was on the right track, that he wouldn't stray. He was sometimes like a puppy, always needing a gentle push in the right direction, a treat or so to know that he was doing the right thing.

Cordelia wanted him to know he was doing the right thing. And something told her that he was. The small smile might have been a give away. (It was sure damn good to see it on his face, again.)

"I did," she said, her hand gripping his just a little harder. She couldn't shrug her shoulders, not with the fear of accidentally pushing him off. "That guy did look good in a suit. But this guy would look even better in one."

She'd missed the coat.

"You think so? I was thinking of going back to the black on black look, but..."

He ducked his head as he found himself smiling in a way he hadn't in years. Not since Connor was born. Things had gone downhill shortly after that, hadn't they? But for a short while, things had been good. They'd been a family as long as the circumstances had allowed them to. Things had taken a sharp left turn and gone to hell so quickly he hadn't been able to find a way to stop it, but right now, in this moment... he was so glad to see her that he could almost forget the last two years and all they entailed.

He pulled her into a hug without warning, dropping his hands from her shoulders so that he could lock her against his chest. It had been too long. Way too long. He couldn't stand there and pretend he was content to keep up the banter, keep from talking about anything real.

"I missed you so much, Cordy."

The hug shouldn't have been a surprise, but considering how relaxed this whole reunion was turning out to be, it certainly was a pleasant one when he initiated it.

Within seconds, Cordelia's own arms wrapped around Angel's neck. "Right back atcha, pal," she said. She didn't particularly want to let go; she did too many times in the past, letting him drift out to sea with not even a plank of wood to hold onto. "I've been here for months, but, the last thing I remember from home is you." Angel and confusion in his eyes, Angel looking sad, Angel still looking a little lost, but she'd seen the clarity in his eyes. She wanted to pull back and have this be her last memory of him. She'd often wondered if those muscles of his worked anymore. "It's nice to see you smile again."

It was easy to smile around her, though he didn't say as much. No one ever made him laugh the way she did, even back before they were friends, if he thought about it. He held fast, burying his face against her hair and just reveling in the fact that this moment was happening despite the fact that he'd become convinced that he would never see her again. They'd had one last chance to see each other, one last opportunity to talk it all out and he'd felt like he'd wasted it ever since. He'd received the vision, he'd taken that push, but it always felt like there should have been more.

There hadn't been enough time.

He finally loosened his hold on her, though just enough so he could pull back and face her, his arms still around her middle. He generally wasn't one for lingering touches, but this was a special occasion. He could make exceptions. He often made exceptions for Cordelia.

"Months..." It had been months for him, too. Months since he'd last seen her. "What is this place? Not what I pictured when you left to follow that different road of yours."

It was Cordelia's turn to have her hands rest on his shoulders. One of her hands moved, shifting to curl around his neck, fingers slightly playing with that short-cropped hair of his he probably never got to see in a mirror but only in his shadow.

Time was never on their side. They were always a pair, moving way too slow, while time moved too fast, throwing obstacle after obstacle at them. It'd taken her too long to realise that her fondness for Angel had deepened into something that her high school self had wanted to feel for him, but that had only been a surface crush — all about the handsome, tall, dark boy who happened to like Buffy and rarely spared her a glance — but this was now about the tall, dark, and handsome man who had become her best friend and a very significant piece of her heart. Maybe she'd pushed it down too far for her to realise that she had wanted Angel in a completely different way than Fred, perhaps, wanted him. And she'd taken too long digging it up and coming to terms that she didn't want Groo, but Angel.

"That's one thought we have in common." Cordelia had expected bright, fluffy clouds, and for herself to be pulled entirely off the chessboard of players. She'd had one chance to do everything right again; the Powers That Be were, in no way, going to offer her another one. "You really won't believe me, but this is Wonderland. You've fallen down a rabbit hole, Angel, and now you're in a world where cats do talk."

He exhaled slowly as her fingers curled into the hair at the nape of his neck, despite the fact that he had no need for breath. It was a nice moment -- simple, comforting, one he would have been more than happy to hold onto -- until she answered him and the moment was lost.

"Wonderland." He echoed her, raising both eyebrows in question. She was kidding. She had to be kidding, right?

Touching reunion was over for the time being. He needed a minute or two to make swallowing this somewhat feasible.

"You sure it's not just a hell dimension Lorne let his decorator loose in?"

"Sweetie, if we were in another hell dimension, I'm pretty sure I'd be ruler again," she stated it rather factually. This probably was not helping. All she wanted to do was slap that smile back onto his face. She'd seen enough of Angel looking worried, or pensive, or any other type of emotion to simply just want to see him smile again.

While Cordelia had brushed off the Wonderland statements, much rather settling into the whole free things in closets, she understood that processing the fact that they were in a fictional book's world was a little difficult. But was it so difficult for them? "The Powers That Be never would've let either of us get caught in the same dimension, Angel. It's Wonderland. And very difficult to swallow, I know. But it's as real as me being here right now with you rather than on some fluffy cloud."

He had to laugh. Even after all that happened, even with their situation being what it was, even after suffering separation and countless losses and fighting so many battles, here she was being as flippant as ever, matter-of-fact like her word was law. Just like it had always been. It felt good to hear her being herself again, when so much of their last year together she had been anything but.

"I guess the mirrors kind of help sell the idea." Not that they were of any use to him, but they were everywhere. "How did you end up here?"

How did he? Last he knew, she was moving up in the world, so to speak, and if he was going anywhere? He couldn't imagine anything other than being dragged down into the pit once he'd lost the strength to fight any longer. Whether or not that's where he would stay, he couldn't say, but redemption wasn't his yet. He hadn't earned his happy ending -- he needed more time for that. Time he was pretty sure that by the end of that battle, he wouldn't have anymore.

Cordelia had forgotten that Angel needed to do that, too. Laugh. He was always so frowny and broody and hardly moving his mouth into an upward curve that she had forgotten he was capable of laughing like a normal — well, he wasn't human, was he? And maybe that's what made Angel just a little more special.

"Probably the same as you. I was on my way to a fluffy, white cloud, and the rabbit snagged me halfway along my trip." Cordelia couldn't quite answer that question factually, though. She'd awoken in the gardens, near the fountain, and the last thing she could remember was Angel's face, Angel's touch, and Angel's voice. And all she could remember, other than that, was that death's door had opened itself for her, and she was pushed across the threshold, stumbling, stubborn, and refusing to move.

It was then that she realised where they were, standing in a hallway rather than an office. It was so easy to forget where she was when with Angel. "And speaking of being snagged, are you going somewhere? There's a room with a very comfortable couch and a really nice view waiting for you back there," she said, hitching her thumb over her shoulder to indicate her room.

"Where would I go?"

That smile stayed firmly in place, tentative as it was. The question struck him as funny, somehow. Here, in an unfamiliar place, with a story that made more sense than most people were willing to admit -- it was a lot to swallow, but the more he thought about it, the more he turned the word Wonderland over and over in his head, the more he realized that it was hardly any more ridiculous than any other place he'd ever been. Most of those dimensions had books written about them too, or at the very least, scrolls. They just weren't as popular as this one happened to be.

He lifted his chin slightly to look over her shoulder, peering into the room. "This is yours?" he asked, though he didn't really need to. "Looks nice. Like you've had some time to settle in."

The decor was definitely her taste, that was for sure. Guess she'd had time to make herself comfortable.

"Think I'll take you up on that offer."

Cordelia made a move, opening the door and gesturing for her rather well-loved guest to enter. "Give or take a few months, a girl gets bored and all of a sudden she wants to be an interior designer." That wasn't the case, but if it made that tentative smile widen just a fraction more, she'll stick to the idea that Cordelia Chase was still a woman with a purpose rather than a shadow of herself.

As quickly as the whimsical words left her mouth, Cordelia's face pinched. She always took this one thing about Angel for granted — thresholds rarely stopped him from entering a private premises these days. She wasn't sure if those rules applied to Wonderland, but it never hurt to be safe. "Oh, right, do you need an invite?"

"You said the room was waiting for me, right?"

That smile managed to hitch a bit wider and nearly become a full-blown smirk as he slipped his hands into his pockets and strolled through the door without being met with any resistance whatsoever. It was nice that this particular rule didn't depend on the wording of the invitation to be terribly precise.

He glanced at her over his shoulder before inclining his head slightly, indicating she should join him. "Looks like that was invitation enough."

Cordelia narrowed her eyes playfully. "Yeah, we're going to have to check on that," she said, following him a little belatedly and shutting the door behind her.

"I'm sure you've got a cave or a coffin to sleep in somewhere in the mansion," she said, shrugging her shoulders slightly. "This place is pretty accommodating for a kidnapping. Alternate dimensions usually call you some farm animal and make you scoop up said animal's — you get the idea."

Rather than stand around, not quite knowing what to do with her hands, Cordelia moved past him to sit on her big, fluffy bed. Wonderland had gifted her with a room that was fit a queen — or the teenager she used to be. It was big and sparse, with nice floors, and an even nicer interior — but she often longed for the small space in the Hyperion, or even her apartment with her friend. "So, you're from after I say goodbye. So, that means you'll know something I don't." Why Cordelia simply didn't come out with it was a question she wasn't prepared to answer herself. What if she didn't like the potential answers? Stalling was always a good tactic; she could prepare herself for the absolute worst.

"I don't sleep in a coffin," he reminded her, though far more playfully than he would dare to correct anyone else. Cordelia, of course, knew full well what his usual living situation was like, but they could tease. It made everything feel a little less strange, and it came naturally to them. It almost always had. "They're hell on my back and shoulders. I'm getting up there in years, I have to be good to myself."

While she took a seat on her bed, he helped himself to a seat on the aforementioned couch -- not far, but far enough to respect her personal space. If they were going to be talking about anything serious, he wanted to be facing her. He leans forward with his elbows resting against his legs, hands clasped together and hanging between his knees, that same slouch he had always settled into back when they would sit around and have those oh-so-moving talks of theirs back when Angel Investigations was brand-new.

"Probably a few things," he admitted, giving her a wry half-smile. "Something in particular you want to know?"

He'd be more than happy to fill her in.

At least Angel could joke about his age. At least Angel was ageing, but, time for her own self-pity could take place later, when she was by herself and not in the company of the one person she had wanted to see in this rabbit hole since she fell down it.

Cordelia's back remained straight with her hands clasped in her lap. She didn't know how to approach it — other than her Cordelia Way of Simply Saying It — but she didn't want to hear the answer she didn't want to hear.

"Yeah," she said, glancing at him. Her eyes wandered to a place over his shoulder, focusing on nothing in particular. "I'm taking a wild guess to say my apartment is no longer under my name, but …" Cordelia paused, then looked at Angel. "Dennis. I never really got a chance to say goodbye to him. And we both know how sensitive he is."

As playfully as she tried to end her not-quite-a-question, Cordelia couldn't quite bring that smile to meet her eyes. Dennis had been her companion for years. To simply leave him behind as if he were nothing upset her more than she wanted to let on. "I know he's not at the new headquarters. He would've thrown some ridiculous party if he was."

Angel bowed his head when she mentioned Dennis. He'd felt guilty about that on more than one occasion. It had been long time since the apartment had been in Cordelia's name, in fact, nearly two years -- which meant that Dennis had gone a long awhile without being able to get in touch with his roommate, if she could be called that.

"That summer you and I disappeared... Fred and Gunn could barely afford to feed themselves, let alone keep up the other expenses. The apartment had to go." He hadn't even been there to make the call, and still he felt bad. Getting that place had been a huge milestone for Cordelia. It had even served as headquarters for a little while. There were a lot of memories there, mostly good ones.

He looked up and offered her a tight smile in reply, one that nearly matched her own but similarly did not allow itself to fully bloom. Sympathetic, in its way. "Would have brought him along if we could, but that's not how hauntings work. I know he would've loved to see you."

There may have been just the slightest hint of jealousy in that last statement. Okay, there was never any real reason to be jealous of Dennis, but he had it on good authority that the ghost was good with a loofah and that meant he'd gotten further than Angel had ever managed.

Cordelia glanced down. She nodded slightly. She understood. She'd been in Fred and Gunn's place, once. Desperate for a roof over her head, particularly one without any roaches. She couldn't help the disappointment that seemed to curdle in the pit of her stomach, though.

"You think he's moved on? Big, bright white light and all the closure in the world to boot?" Talking about Dennis was not on the top of her list of topics she'd ever speak to Angel about if she ever saw his handsome face again. On paper it had seemed to be the safest one, but Cordelia was soon learning that it was far from it.

Dennis was her friend. And she thought that, if anyone out of the bunch could pick up on her not being herself, it would be him. Maybe that's why she never really returned back to her home, or even inquired about it. Dennis was one of her first true friends in L.A., if the big guy sitting in front of her wasn't counted.

She hoped, for all the things in the world, that Dennis got the closure he deserved, too.

"If you think about it, you helped him find closure when you moved in, didn't you?" He wasn't trying to dismiss her question in the least, but rather find some answer that was more reassuring than a simple 'I don't know.' "It was his mother's spirit that was holding him back. You uncovered the truth and helped free him. Think he'd been ready to move on for awhile, but... stuck around because of you."

He cracked a smile, small and uncertain though it was. It wasn't like he could blame the guy. As far as reasons to stick around went, Cordelia was a good one. "I think knowing you've moved on, he'd have chosen to do the same." He hadn't gone back to get in touch with him, though now he was beginning to think he should have. Still, wouldn't Dennis know? She'd been gone a long time. Obviously, she wasn't coming back -- and spirits were pretty tuned-in to life and death.

He had to know.

Cordelia found herself resting her elbow on her knee and her cheek in her open palm, glancing down at the floor, specifically at his feet. He had such nice, shiny, clean shoes.

Stuck around because of you. And she couldn't manage to stick around for him. For either of them — Angel and Dennis. Her boys; her vampire and ghost best friends. And while one was definitely skilled with a loofah, the other was incredible at making her feel as though she wasn't simply an airhead who had wasted a good portion of her only available time in life being a dumbass. Two people who could make her feel like anything was possible for herself, and one of them was one she never really thought she'd ever have to say goodbye to.

"I hope so," she said. She couldn't help but feel a little saddened by the idea of possibly not providing Dennis with closure. He had been there for her when she had allowed no one else to be. Even if he was transparent, she still felt his touch on everything.

Glancing up at Angel, her cheek still in her palm, she grinned, "This isn't the reunion I had planned." Not that she had had a reunion planned for either of them. Cordelia had never thought she'd see Angel ever again. "The last one was meant to tie everything up in a really nice bow. And I'm really good at my knots."

"It was a nice bow." He smiled thinly. It had been painful, heart-rending, but it had put him on the right track. As far as goodbyes went, it had been well above average, except for the part where he hated goodbyes. No matter how old he got, no matter how much time had passed, it never got any easier. Every loss hurt as much as the last.

Losing Cordelia had hurt so much more. She was so much of the reason why he was who he was. She made him a Champion. He never would have gotten there on his own.

"Things never really go the way we plan them, do they?" Their meeting on the bluffs. His search for her when he'd come back from his summer out at sea. Those hadn't gone the way he would have liked. When she herself returned, nothing was the way it should have been. Her goodbye? There had been some closure there, but that wasn't the way things were supposed to go, either. Not as far as he was concerned.

They should have had more time.

"Do you think..." He paused, then cleared his throat before continuing. "Do you think this place is some kind of second chance?"

Or third, or fourth, or fifth. He wasn't sure how many he was on now.

(no subject)

tact - 2013-11-13 12:22 (UTC) - Expand

Wrapping this one up, but my heart is so full of feelings. <3

vampdetective - 2013-11-19 05:25 (UTC) - Expand

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only