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.

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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.

It was a bow she didn't want to tie. She hadn't lived as long as Angel, or as richly as he had, but she had lived, thanks to him. Her life wasn't superficial; she grew as a person, she found her niche, and she found her family. And, most of all, she discovered that she hated that things came to an end, too. There was a reason why she hardly finished any of the books she read; she never wanted them to end.

But his question of second chances, muttered out in a way that only Angel could make endearing, was a reason why she pushed herself to sometimes finish a book. Sometimes, the ending were sad and completely anticlimactic, but the sequel offered them a much better journey. "I don't think, Angel," she smiled, kindly. The words felt familiar on her tongue, something she had said to him, years ago. "I know. And if I know the Powers That Be, whether in L.A. or in this rabbit hole, this is a chance of a lifetime."

For her, anyway. And she knew, that if he was on the same brainwave as her, as he always seemed to be, even after a year apart, that it was for him, too. She was a little too scared to jump at it.

"And, honestly?" Cordelia wasn't sure if going this far was overstepping a boundary, but, she was known for her honesty, and never holding back. And, she knew, she didn't want to. Not when she didn't have much to return home to, anyway. "I'm not planning on screwing it up."

Whether she was referring to them or her or simply everything, she wasn't going to specify. Not unless he asked. And Cordelia, despite knowing Angel inside out, found it a touch exciting that she didn't know whether or not he'd ask her to specify. Some things were better left unknown; the visions gave her spoilers galore, but, sometimes, Cordelia liked to watch things unravel organically.

The familiar words gave him cause to smile again, really smile, full and boyish and almost bashful in a way, an expression he wore so rarely but that Cordelia had always been able to bring out of him with ease. I don't think. I know. Someone on the outside might have written those words off as flippant, but they inspired confidence in him. She'd always been good at that.

"The chance of a lifetime," he echoed thoughtfully, ducking his head and rubbing at the back of his neck before he looked up to meet her gaze again. Considering how many years he'd lived, that was a pretty tall order -- but he had to agree.

He had a lot of regrets. He'd alphabetized them and filed them away over the years, looking back on them now and then to try and keep himself from making the same mistakes all over again, but there was nothing he'd ever regretted more than not letting Cordelia know what he felt when he'd still had the chance.

"Then I guess we'd better not waste it."

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You may find yourself living in a shotgun shack;

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