just fic

Title: Angel's Songs
Author: DamnSkippy
Email: damnskippytoo@gmail.com
Posted: 12-22-2004
Rating: Soft NC-17
Category: Schmangst – Schmoopy Angst
Spoilers: Who hasn't seen this show? Okay, S3 through DoN if you're picky
Summary: Angel tries to surprise Cordy with something she really wants for Christmas.
Distribution: Just Fic, AO, NRP and anywhere else with prior permission
Disclaimer: These characters started out belonging to Whedon, ME and Fox. The way I write them, I think they're more mine. But I won't argue if you want to sue.
A/N: This is set during Christmas in S3 some months after WiTW. Cordy is half demon, but there was no pregnant Darla, hence no Connor, and no Groo. Angel, being Angel, was still unable to tell Cordy how he felt after the ballet. Btw, my real time and the episodes' air times don't coincide. I don't believe they're supposed to. For example, Birthday was aired in February 2002, but I firmly believe Cordy's birthday is May 22nd. So this is actually Christmas 2002 which some would say is S4, but phooey on them.
A/N 2: Thanks goes to Lissette for her beta time and both she and Helen for their wonderful encouragement. I love you guys and will never let you go.
A/N 3: I am dedicating this to Daisy simply because the subject matter is right up her alley and she wants me – badly. (You realize that will be archived everywhere forever and ever.)
A/N 4: I'm all note-y today. This is really two – count 'em – two fics in one. If you're not in the mood for angst and just want the gooey center, do NOT read the Prologue and Epilogue. Those are angst minefields. But, if you want the full story, don't skip the pain. I think it's worth it. Oh, yeah – this is pretty long so get a cup of coffee or tea and make yourself comfy.
Feedback: It may be my only Christmas present, so hell yeah!





Chapter 3 - Continued


The ride out of the city had been tense. Cordelia wasn't the best navigator in the world, only telling him where to turn at the last possible moment, so they left the borders of LA county with a trail of pissed off motorists behind.

Once they'd started up the pitch black two-lane into the San Gabriel Mountains and the vast terrain of the Angeles National Forest, the pace was still hurried but decidedly more relaxed.

"You'd think the Powers would have someone closer they could have called on for this one." Angel broke the silence that had settled in the car. He'd started to realize their whole evening was going to be taken up with this case once Cordy finally told him their approximate destination, and he wasn't happy about it.

Cordy reached over and turned on the radio, quickly locating a station with 24-hour Christmas music.

"I don't know, maybe this is their way of giving us a spontaneous trip to the mountains. Sure, it'll be filled with slime and possibly the loss of a limb or two, but it could be fun. Oh, and look! Snow!"

He took his eyes off the road long enough to watch her staring out the window in wonder. She looked like a child seeing flakes for the first time and wondering how such a beautiful thing was possible. His expression was probably no different from hers.

They drove higher, the density of the forest increasing with the elevation as did the storm. The wipers cleared a path for his vision and kept time with Alabama's "Christmas in Dixie" but couldn't drown out the caterwauling coming from the passenger seat.

"Christmas in Dixie, it's snowin' in the pines..."

"Cordelia, please."

"Angel, you know that never works. Besides, I'm just trying to keep the Christmas spirit alive and get you ready for battle. Admit it. You really want to strangle something right now."

There it was. That cute peek from under half shuttered lids, her teeth gnawing at her bottom lip, her brows lifted as if she had no idea what power she wielded with those arcing bows of wispy hair. It was the look that reminded him how much of a little girl she still was in many ways. The look that took every bit of evil buried in his demon genes and replaced it with a fierce burning to protect and ward off anything that would ever mar her innocence.

It even had the power to make him feel like a guileless youth and no one had made him feel like that – ever.

He could never stay annoyed with her when that one look shot an arrow straight to the love center of his soul. He chuckled softly, saying, "You can stop trying. I always want to strangle something when I'm around you."

"Angel!" Her backhanded slap was perfectly aimed as always – his right bicep began to sting instantly.

"Ow! You do realize you're part demon now and that really hurts. Don't damage the merchandise. I might need to kill something later – other than you."

"Oops, sorry. Hey! You're the one who insulted me. Take it back, and maybe I'll rub your arm and make it feel better."

He didn't see that coming, but he wasn't about to turn down a little Cordy hand action. "I'm sorry. I don't want to strangle you all the time."

He held out his arm so she could start the massage. When nothing happened, he looked at her. She was staring out the window, looking intently at the mass of pine and veil of snow as it rushed by. He waved his arm directly in her face.

"What?" she asked as she pushed his hand out of her face.

"My arm? Start rubbing."

"I didn't mean now."

"But it hurts now."

"Oh, suck it up, you big baby, besides we're here. Turn at that little dirt road on the right."

He hated himself when he pouted, but there were times he couldn't help it. And she was the only one that could make his lip pooch out involuntarily.

The back tires of the Plymouth slid wide to the left and Angel turned into it instantly pulling the tank into control and straight down the narrow path. Several hundred yards out, he could barely make out dim yellow lights that probably glowed from the small windows of a secluded cabin.

"Where to, Cordy?"

"A little further. There's a house and an old woman about to have her head removed for Christmas. Great surprise, huh?"

He nodded his agreement as he wrestled with the wheel to maneuver around pot holes big enough to swallow a small village. Seeing the chasms wasn't made any easier by the white out falling from the sky. His head hit the roof a few times, and he swore under his breath about the cost of replacing shock absorbers these days before the lights suddenly appeared through a tear in the snow blanket. They were almost there.

"So what's the deal with this demon?

"You mean Joe?" Cordy asked before she hit her knee on the glove compartment. "Ouch."

"Sorry. The demon's name is Joe?"

"Mean Joe Green. He's green, mean and, well, you get the idea."

"Okay, so what's the magic word? I'd kinda like to get this over fast so we can get home."

"Ass."

"What? What did I say?" His foot slammed on the brake about thirty feet from the front of the log structure now clearly defined in front of and protected from the storm by a stand of evergreens.

"The magic word, dumbass, is ass. Stick that sword where the sun don't shine, and we'll be hippity hopping our way back to the warm – okay, deathly cold and dreary - marble halls of home."

He turned off the ignition, grasped the door handle, and was about to jump from the car when he turned to her and said, "Didn't you just switch holidays?"

She halted her exit long enough to flash him her ear-to-ear smile. "A girl can't start too early dropping hints. A nice Easter outfit wouldn't be sneered at."

Angel's belly laugh immediately was sucked into the night void and drowned out by the howl of nature's attempt to paint the earth with purity.

"Cordy! Stay behind me. I don't want you getting lost in this storm."

For once, she wasn't arguing. She fisted a measure of leather, and Angel was grateful to have the assurance she was there but cringed at the damage she was probably causing with her nails.

Even through the strong scent of pine and crisp tang of ice, he could smell the fowl stench of evil close by. He followed the trail carried by strong winds that sliced at his nostrils, and soon they were edging around the back corner of the house.

A humped figure in a tan suede coat, indigo jeans and fur-lined boots was collecting firewood from the cord piled against the back wall, the light from the kitchen door granting her enough light to do so without fumbling. It also gave him a clear view of the creature sneaking on all fours toward her from the edge of the woods.

Angel pulled Cordy out from behind him, pointed at the demon and then silently signaled for her to stay and watch out for the woman. She nodded, immediately understanding.

Stretching to his full height, Angel walked determinedly toward the danger. The wind whipped his coat around his legs, the flapping noise it made so loud any chance at stealthy was merely a dashed hope. He rubbed the hilt of the sword in his palm firming his grip and raised it waist high as the demon spotted his approach.

The howl of the storm couldn't snuff out the cries of the weak-assed demon and the grunts Angel expelled with each blow. Cordy stayed motionless until the two engaged but winced at the scream from the woman when she finally recognized her life was in peril.

Hesitating for only a second, Cordy side-stepped her way to their helpless client, her axe poised and ready if needed. Her eyes darted from the woman to Angel and back again until she reached her and began to tug at her, but her frail bones were locked and her muscles paralyzed.

"Lady! Come on! Into the house now!"

She wouldn't budge, her gaze transfixed by the monster before her. Even Cordy's demon strength wasn't enough to get the flimsy-looking body to safety when she fell to her knees in shock.

Angel's sword stabbed at tough hide and despite its sharp blade was merely nicking the beast and making it really mad. Fully aware of its Achilles'...um...butt, Joe kept its ass constantly moving and tucked beneath its massive, alligator-like tail.

"You're really beginning to tick me off, Joe." Angel spun and kicked at its exposed chest propelling it backward, its stubby arms windmilling to right itself.

Regaining its balance, it rushed forward, three sloth-like claws bared and aimed at Angel's midsection. Angel was about to jump backward and bend at the waist to avoid the razors' tips, but he stepped on a felled tree trunk and ended up pushing his stomach forward instead, his body automatically attempting to avoid tripping.

"Angel!" Cordy screamed as the claws met flesh and came out the other side dripping red.

She stared horrified as Angel dropped his sword to clutch at the ripped skin. Head bowed to assess the injury he didn't see the other set of talons sweeping up to strike another blow – possibly fatal.

"Ahh!" Her battle cry pierced the darkness and made Angel's veins freeze.

Time slowed as he saw her running toward the green menace, axe risen above her head with both hands, the edges of her form becoming more brilliant with each step making the snow sparkle as it whirled in her wake.

"Cordy, noooooo!" Angel's terrified plea came too late.

Joe turned to face the threat from behind and was greeted with the blade of her axe as it severed the clawed hand that had dared cause harm to her family. Wailing in pain and rage, it hurled its body at the well-lit target taking both itself and Cordelia to the ground.

Angel was shocked from his stupor by Cordy's voice.

"Now, Angel! Kick its ass now! Literally!"

Cordy's back was on the snow covered earth, the demon's one good clawed hand and snapping jaws being held at bay, but only barely, by the bright-white strength issuing forth through her hand clasped around its wrist and the other around its neck.

In its anger to destroy the thing that had maimed it, Mean Joe had left itself exposed. Angel picked up his weapon and trying not to think about where he was sticking it, plunged it over and over again into the soft area immediately under the strong tail muscle.

Before its final yowl and its body collapsed, streams of fluorescent yellow blood spurted from the gouges splattering Angel from chest to knee. When he flung the corpse away from Cordy, he could see her pants and flimsy coat had faired no better.

But it didn't matter because she was alive.

"Damn it, Cor!" He pulled her up from the ground and into his shaky embrace.

"Are you ever going to listen to anything I say?" he almost whispered, the words cracking in his throat.

"I'm going with 'no'," she said as she tried to squirm free of his life-crushing arms and grab a lung full of air. "Angel, having trouble breathing now."

He lessened his grip enough for her feet to touch the ground, but he refused to let her go.

"Besides," she said, "who's the one with their intestines hanging out and who's scratch free? And can I say, not a good look for you."

Angel's eyes followed her gaze to his stomach. "Damn. This was my Christmas shirt."

She laughed, a sound that echoed through the boughs like the ringing of bells. "I could tell – it being a greener shade of black than your everyday black ones.

"Haha. This one is pure silk with covered buttons. It has a festive quality to it. Well, it did."

She cupped his cheek, spread her mouth into a wide grin, and it hit him how completely and utterly empty his life would be if he could never see that smile again. His knees began to wobble slightly when the reality of what he'd almost lost gripped his heart, mind and soul. And in the midst of that terrible thought, she did the most amazing thing.

She kissed him. Smack dab on the lips.

His already shaky legs might have failed him if it had lasted longer than a millisecond. Cordy pulled back suddenly when a scraggly voice cut through the stillness surrounding them.

"Looks like you two just saved my worthless hide. You best come in the house and get patched up." The pepper-haired woman, having made a miraculous recovery from her initial stupor, turned and trudged toward the kitchen door never doubting they would follow.

He didn't know whether to kill the interfering victim or hug her for stopping him from being an embarrassing puddle at Cordy's feet.

"Come on, Angel. I need to check you out." She stuttered as the veins in her cheeks filled. "I mean, I need to look at your abs. Damn it! I mean I need to..."

Angel captured her flailing hands with his and smiled. "I know what you mean."

He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and let her think he needed help walking to the cabin. He didn't feel the least bit guilty as her arm circled his waist and the fingers of her free hand manacled his wrist holding him in place against her.

Nope. Not one bit guilty.

“Don’t forget my arm,” he reminded her as the two limped their way slowly toward the warmth and safety of the shelter.

“What about your arm?”

The soft blanket of flakes that floated around them muffled their gentle teasing from any nearby ears.

“You’re supposed to rub it better. You promised.”

“If you don’t shut up about that, I may have to rub something else.”

“Really? What did you have in mind?”

“You’re just a dirty old man, aren’t you?”

“You just now figure that out?”

“Close the door and take off your shirt.”

“Yes, ma’am.”


~*~*~*~*~*~


The cabin’s living room was cozy and fragrant with hand-braided rag rugs, rough-hewn pine furniture and wine and cream fabrics covering plump cushions. The large river stone fireplace drew focus to the center where a crackling blaze pushed the chill from the heart of the room to its fringes. Angel sat on the raised flagstone hearth, his back warmed by the fire, while Cordelia knelt between his knees to tend to his wounds.

The old woman introduced herself as Beatrice Wannamaker of the Atlanta Wannamakers. She’d said it proudly as if Angel and Cordy would, of course, know the reference. They merely nodded and smiled and Cordy continued to wrap the gauze Beatrice had provided around his waist.

He squeezed her shoulder in gratitude knowing she had stifled words Angel could easily imagine she wanted to say. Words that probably would have gone something like, “So? I’m Cordelia Chase of the Hellmouth Chases. Big whoop.”

“Beatrice, have you lived here long?” Angel quickly asked trying to cover up her muffled “pfft” in response to his silent thanks.

“Long enough to know what I saw out there wasn’t human nor any animal I’ve ever seen in these woods. And I know it’s not the fourth of July, so that light show wasn’t exactly kosher. Care to let a tough old broad in on what’s going on here.”

“Well, I’m a vampire with a soul, Cordelia’s a half-demon seer and that thing that almost killed you was Mean Joe Green.”

Cordy’s body was shaking with stifled laughter. Leaning in, she whispered, “Smooth, Omega Man.”

“No need to be a smarty pants, son. A straight out 'it’s none of your business’ would’ve worked just fine. Now I’ll get you two some clothes to sleep in. I’ve got some from my husband and daughter that should fit you fine.”

Cordy turned and stretched her arm out to halt her exit. “No, thanks, that won’t be necessary. We’ll be leaving in a few minutes.”

“Well, you’re welcome to try, but if you value your life you’d be smarter to stay put. That storm out there came up behind you. Right now there’s at least a foot of snow covering the road you came in on and it’s not letting up until morning.”

Cordy turned back and peered up into Angel’s eyes, unable to hide the moisture forming in her own. “But, Angel, it’s almost Christmas. I want to go home.”

He hated not giving her everything she wanted, but he wasn’t willing to risk her life. He moaned when she sniffed trying to stem her tears. “Ah, Cordy, don’t. You saw what it’s like out there and the way we slid around getting here. It’s bad now and only getting worse. We can head back in the morning and still have Christmas with everybody later.”

Realizing she wasn’t going to persuade him, she slumped back on her haunches and staunched the tears with the heels of her palms. “Fine, but don’t think you’re getting out of cooking Christmas dinner. I don’t care if we have to eat turkey at three o’clock in the morning; I’m having a real Christmas dinner.”

Impressed as always at the way she adapted, he grinned and stroked her cheek. “I never thought otherwise. Why don’t you call Wesley and tell him what’s happening.”

“My cell won’t pick up a signal here. Do you have a phone?” she asked Beatrice.

“Of course I do. I may be old and eccentric, but I’m not crazy. It’s that old-fashioned monstrosity on the kitchen wall. It’s big and puke green, you can’t miss it.” She pointed the way down the hall.

When the coast was clear, Bea whispered to Angel, “Do you think she’ll know what to do with a rotary phone?”

Angel liked the old broad. “Actually, we have a pretty ancient rotary in our office. I think she can handle it.”

“Well, maybe there’s hope for you youngsters yet. I’ll be right back with your clean clothes.”

Alone for the first time in several hours, Angel took a moment to gather his thoughts and absorb his surroundings. He inspected Cordy’s handiwork on his injury and, as always, felt better just from the care and attention.

Letting his eyes scan the room, he did a mental calculation about the size of the house. It was small, but the rooms were spacious. He looked up and admired the exposed beams and noted that the logs were notched and not planed flat to fit together. It showed the builder put in a lot of hard work and love into making this house a home.

“My husband and I built this place from scratch,” Bea said, startling Angel even though he hid it well. “We never had more fun or loved each other more passionately than when we were putting this all together, log by log. Have you ever done that? Created something that didn’t exist before with somebody you love? Watched it weather storms and all of the world’s changes and yet amazingly it still stands despite your own neglect?”

Angel saw a world of memories in her eyes and each one caused a flicker of joy and sadness and hope and more emotions than he knew existed, and he longed to know each and every one of them.

“No, I haven’t,” he confessed.

“I think you have. I can see it every time you look at her. All you have to do is tell her, you know.”

Angel’s mouth fell open. What was it with these old women seeing right through him?

She winked and shoved his chin up. “Better close that trap, son; you’re catching flies. Now here.” She handed him a pair of navy sweatpants, a brown and red flannel shirt and white tube socks.

Angel finally shook his stare away from Bea’s all-knowing eyes, and looked at the clothing in his lap. He frowned at the mismatched and style-challenged ensemble.

“Sorry, it’s the best I’ve got and tonight when it’s about ten below out there, you’ll be damn grateful for them.”

He snorted and nodded in understanding. “You’re right. Thank you. I’m just…I’m not a flannel kind of guy.”

“You live in the mountains long enough and you won’t want to wear anything else – except maybe thermals, and I’m guessing you’re pretty glad right now I didn’t pull out the long johns.”

“Ha! You’d be very right about that.” He couldn’t contain the self-deprecating snorts that erupted as he visualized himself in just such a red union suit.

“Right about what?” Cordy entered the room behind Beatrice and seemed vexed and extremely curious about what had made Angel laugh.

“We were just talking about Angel’s preference in underwear,” Bea said, and without pause handed over Cordy’s new wardrobe. “Here. Don’t bother complaining. I know it’s not Chanel or whoever’s the big chichi designer today, but they’ll keep you from freezing to death.”

Cordy held up a white pair of leggings, a cornflower blue button-up pajama top and the back-by-popular-demand tube socks. “Um…thanks.”

“Uh-huh. I’ll show you to your room and then I’m hitting the sack. I’ve got to be up at dawn because…” She stopped in her tour at a sudden realization. “Well, hell, I don’t know why. It’s just what I do I guess. Whaddya know.” She shrugged and started walking again.

Cordy turned back to glance and Angel and made a large circle in the air near her temple and mouthed the word, “Cuckoo.”

Angel pulled her hand down and pinched his face in disappointment at her. She humphed at his rebuke and continued the parade behind Bea down the hallway to an open door that she had disappeared into.

Once in the doorframe, Cordy stopped cold and Angel ran into her. He looked up to assess what caused the bottleneck and saw immediately what concerned her.

The bed – only one – and a small one at that. Sure it was a standard full, but Angel knew he could fill that out just by himself.

Cordy stuttered a bit and her voice was unusually timid, “So, just the one bed then?”

“That’s okay, I’ll take the floor or the couch is fine,” Angel said quickly, eager to alleviate the tension that replaced all breathable air the minute they’d reached the room.

Bea said helpfully, “Well, there’s my bed. If you don’t want to sleep with him, I sure don’t mind.”

Both Cordy and Angel gaped at her, their open mouths detracting from their normal good looks.

“Oh, don’t look so shocked. Old – not dead. Listen, I don’t care what sleeping arrangements you two make. Bed, floor, couch, bathtub – makes no never mind to me. I’ve got to warn you that when the fire dies, you’d be a lot more comfortable sleeping with someone than alone. You can take that to the bank. Goodnight.”

Without the buffer of Beatrice, the room was crazy loud with awkwardness. Cordy was the first to break.

“Okay, this is silly. You’re hurt and need to get some rest in a real bed. I’m not a floor, couch or bathtub kind of gal, so it looks like we’re sharing. Not a big deal, right? It’s just sleeping.”

The words were convincing, but her heart hadn’t slowed down since she entered the room. Plus, her excited babble was a dead giveaway that everything she was saying was a complete lie. She was trying to convince herself it didn’t matter when it obviously did.

Angel turned her around to look at him, keeping his hands on her shoulders as he spoke. “Cordy, I don’t mind the couch. I’ll be fine.”

“No, you heard her. It’s going to get really cold tonight and my bones are not rattling alone!”

“Dead guy, here. I don’t have any body heat. I’ll just make you even colder.”

“I don’t know. You’re pretty white. My body heat can reflect off you and bounce back on me,” she smiled at her clever solution.

“Assuming that insane idea could work, we’d both have to be naked.”

Angel couldn’t believe he’d just said that and from the rapidly reddening cheeks of Cordelia, she couldn’t believe it either.

She found a spot on the floor to stare at while the uncomfortable moment dragged on and on.

“Oh!” she suddenly said, the ideal solution coming to her. “Take a really long, hot bath to get warmed up and then maybe you won’t leech all my body heat. We can both stay warm.”

If she was suggesting what he thought she was suggesting, there was no doubt he’d stay heated up.

“Maybe I should just stay in the living room and keep the fire going so everyone will be warm,” he said as he turned to leave.

“No way, buster.” Her hand caught his wrist and twisted him back around. “You are not staying up all night just so you can be too tired to drive us home or worse, sleep Christmas day away and not cook! Is it really such a chore to sleep with me? Just kick me if I snore or drool on you. Now I’m going to use the bathroom and then you get in there and start steeping!”

She pushed past him and was behind the bathroom door before he could stumble over the words of protest that burned in his throat. How could she possibly think it would be a trial to sleep with her? He shook his head unable to comprehend the woman’s thought processes.

He ambled to the bathroom and heard the water in the sink running. He knocked and said in an almost whisper, “Cordy, it is not a chore to sleep with you. Okay?”

All he got in reply was a muffled humph.


~*~*~*~*~*~


Well, there they were. In bed. Together. Just where Angel dreamed they’d be one day only in his fantasies there’d been no flannel, no leggings, and definitely no tube socks. Also they were both under the covers wrapped so tightly around each other it was impossible to distinguish whose limbs belonged to whom – in his dreams, that is.

In reality, instead of staring lovingly into each others eyes, they were counting the pine knots in the ceiling beams. Each was huddled against opposite edges so not one centimeter of body would possibly meet in the middle. Their arms and hands were above the comforter, each with their own fingers entwined and resting on their stomachs. The thumb twiddling seemed to indicate neither was relaxed enough for sleep.

“Cordy.”

“Hmm?”

“Not a chore.”

“Okay, Angel, I get it. Sleeping with me is the best thing since blood came in pop tops. Now go to sleep.”

“What if I’m not sleepy?”

“Then play dead!”

Angel’s thumbs stopped churning. He knew her. He knew she didn’t mean those words to be anything more than frustration verbalized, but they hurt just the same. From someone other than the woman he loved, he might have ignored them, but from her it was like she slapped him with every evil he’d ever committed.

Deliberate and calm, he unclasped his fingers and pulled back the blanket. He had one foot on the floor when Cordy tugged on his sleeve.

“Don’t. God, I’m sorry. Don’t leave.”

He felt her shifting onto her side, her hand never wavering in her grip on his shirt. Letting himself be pulled back into the center of the bed, he turned to face her and rolled into the valley their body weights created.

Lined curtains kept out both moonlight and drafts, but Angel could see the regret clearly on her face and reflecting through hazel from her soul.

“There’s no excuse…please forgive me.”

He found her right hand and brought it to his chest. “Forgiven.” He felt a million pin pricks in his fingers as he choked the urge to bring her hand up and kiss her palm.

“I just…I wanted this Christmas to be perfect.” Cordy’s voice was hushed – almost reverent. “This is the first time we’ve all been – I don’t know – happy at the same time. No one died, no one went various shades of khaki, no one is dying from skull-splitting visions. It seemed like this was the year – the one we’d actually remember and laugh about. This was supposed to be our first family Christmas. And, now…”

He could see her gaze lower as she let her sentence drift, and the salt in her tears smelled dangerously close to the surface. Letting go of her hand, he pulled her into his embrace and rocked her.

“We’re still going to have that Christmas. Nothing will stop us from getting home tomorrow. I promise.”

She was speaking into his chest, her words echoing through the empty cavern and filling him up. “You can’t know that. We could be snowbound in this cabin for a week.” Pulling out of his tight hug enough to look up into his shadowed face, she said, “I don’t think I can take a week of Beatrice Wannamaker of the Atlanta Wannamakers. I know we deal with the weird side of life every day, but I have my limits.”

Angel pulled her back into his arms and chuckled softly. “Cordy, even if I have to hire the National Guard to dig us out, I promise we will get off this mountain and back home tomorrow. Okay?”

He felt her head shake up and down. Without thinking of what he was doing, he rubbed his foot along the side of her leg and then lazily played footsy.

“Angel.”

“Huh?”

“You’re not really all that cold. In fact, you’re kinda warm.”

He smiled into the top of her head and quietly scented the coconut shampoo and light musk underneath. “Must be all that reflected heat. Or maybe it’s the miracle of flannel.”

She sniggered and twisted slightly so that she wasn’t being smothered but still cradled by his body. “You don’t have to give me anything else for Christmas if you’ll wear that shirt all day tomorrow. I don’t have a camera and the guys won’t believe it if you don’t.”

“I wish you’d told me that a month ago so I wouldn’t have had to go through all the hell…”

“Are you saying getting me something for Christmas was painful?”

“Well…”

He didn’t get to finish before she kicked his shin. “You’d be wise to think carefully about your next words.”

Angel did just that as the wind picked up and ice mixed with snow pelted the window. While pondering just what he could say to extricate himself from his freshly dug grave, he heard the grandfather clock in the hall strike midnight. He counted the twelve chimes just to be certain then tenderly kissed her temple and said, “Merry Christmas, Cordy.”

She wriggled her arm underneath his and spread her fingers on his back to pull him closer. “Merry Christmas, Angel.”

He was content to just hold her like that for an eternity. Pine needles scraped across the roof as boughs were whipped back and forth in the storm. There was a definite chill in the room outside of the bed, but beneath the covers it felt like he was holding the fireplace flames against his body.

“Angel, now that it’s officially Christmas, it would be legal if you wanted to tell me what you got me.”

“Cordy,” her name suddenly sounding like it belonged to a three year old.

“What? I’ll tell you what I got you if you spill.”

The epiphany light went off in Angel’s brain. He could do better than tell her; he could give her the gift. It was still in his coat pocket.

He had been so comfortable holding her, snuggling and whispering, that it had never occurred to him that this was the moment. It hadn’t felt like what *the* moment was supposed to feel like. It didn’t come with nervous twitches and a nauseous stomach. It hadn’t arrived with flowers, a fancy dinner and sweaty palms. It didn’t find him tongue-tied and shifty eyed. It had slipped past his defenses and uncertainties and was now just there – covering him in warmth and an unfamiliar peace like the way Cordy had described the effects of that quilt on her.

“Be right back,” he said as he reluctantly loosed his grip on her and felt the coldness envelope him.

“Hey, where are you going?”

“To pee.”

“Oh. Wait! You don’t...,” but he was already gone and she started to shiver without his comforting presence. “He must be infected with wacky Bea disease.”

Grasping the edges of the covers and wrapping them tightly around her shoulders, she rubbed her feet together to stoke up her body heat and stop her teeth from chattering. “Just like him to leave when I was beginning to feel all ca-ca-cozy and sss-afe. Suh-suh-sss--tupid mmmm-ma-ma-man.”

She was still trembling partly from the cold and partly in irritation at his abandonment when flickering shadows of dancing candlelight painted the once black walls with gold and orange.

Angel moved slowly and deliberately toward his side of the bed, a candle in a brushed tin holder in one hand and the small package and envelope in the other. Setting the candle on the small bedside table, he tried to wrench the comforter from Cordy’s steel clutches so he could slide in beside her, but she wouldn’t release it.

“Cordy,” he sang her name all the while grinning at her childish petulance. “Alright, I’ll just take your Christmas present and go back into the living room.”

Before he could put his finger through the circle handle of the candle’s base, she flung the covers back like Zorro’s cape and exposed her freezing cotton and fleece-covered body to him. “Don’t you dare move another inch, buster. Get in this bed right now and gimme, gimme, gimme!” She scooted back so she was sitting sideways, her legs tucked back and leaning on one thigh with her right arm pressed to the headboard for support.

Angel practically leaped in beside her. He knew his face was sporting the dorky grin she loved to tease him about, but he didn’t care. It felt right.

Sitting, he mimicked her position, their knees touching, and he handed her the tiny box and penned words that was his hope for a future. “Merry Christmas.”

Her fingers felt the weight of the gift and then stroked the texture of the stationary. “What were you doing with my gift in your pocket? You could’ve lost it in the fight, dorkus!” She swatted his arm playfully but smiled sweetly letting him know clearly she was only teasing.

“I didn’t plan it this way. It just happened. Shut up and open it.”

“Which should I open first?”

“The present first, then the note. Wait! Let me get the candle so you can see.” He reached behind him for the light and brought it between them. The light cast her face in the colors of a sienna sunset - the gold, burnt orange and red highlighting the already innate glow of warmth she radiated.

“Okay, rip away.”

And she did. Not one to save paper – it’s just paper, there’s always more where that came from – nor was she one to appreciate the pretty bows and ribbons that were just the outer trappings holding the important part in. No, just like the way she dealt with people, she dove into what made the package important – what was hidden on the inside.

Tossing aside the fluffy cotton coating, she gasped as the first twinkle of gold flickered in the reflected candlelight. Gingerly she lifted the delicate chain from the box until the exquisitely rendered version of a harp dangled and twisted in the waves of heat from the flame.

“Oh, it’s beautiful,” she said as she admired the gold and diamond encrusted instrument. “It’s really gorgeous, Angel, thank you so much. But I admit I don’t get the significance. Not that there has to be one,” she quickly added.

“Open the note and you’ll understand.”

This was it. Now or never. What he thought would be agonizing, extremely nerve racking and gulp-inducing, was amazingly lacking in both. He was calm and for once certain. Even if the unthinkable happened and she didn’t understand or didn’t return his feelings, he would make sure she soon would. He was focused and knew exactly what he wanted. From now on, it was Angel and Cordy and he wouldn’t allow it to be any other way.

He saw her thin fingers finally open the last fold and her eyes move back and forth as she read the words he knew by heart.

Cordy,

When you told me about the Angels’ Songs quilt, I knew immediately that if anyone deserved to be surrounded by angels and know the peace of heaven while they slept it was you. I did my best to find you that quilt but apparently my heart isn't true enough to be worthy of such a gift yet. But if you'll wear this over your heart, I hope you will be surrounded with the song of one angel-in-training and that it warms you with the peace of my love.

Yours always,
Angel


He watched as the hazel became cloudy with moisture and the paper in her hand began to tremble. Angel suddenly realized how cold it was without the blankets around them and immediately attributed her shuddering to being chilled.

He stretched behind him and put the candle back on the table and then rubbed her arms to get her circulation going.

“Let’s get under the covers. You’re freezing.” Reaching for the necklace and note to put them away for now, she pulled away and clutched them to her chest.

“No! Help me put it on.”

Shifting her body so her back faced him, she missed the satisfied smile but could more than likely feel him shaking as he fumbled with the small clasp. Once it was secure, he put his hands on her shoulders, instantly calming himself. Cordy reached up and put her hand on his while she adjusted the pendant to lie over her heart.

Once she was settled and facing him again, neither said a word. The only sound in the room was her heart beat and the whistle of wind through the trees. He hesitated to say anything else. He’d said it all in the note – at least he thought he was clear – and he didn’t want to pressure her into something if she truly wasn’t ready.

He looked down and saw her pressing the note, still in her death grip, against her chest just over where the harp rested. Her eyes dipped from his to his mouth and down to his chest. Not realizing he’d even been breathing, a lump of air caught in his throat as she tentatively reached up and gently placed her hand on his chest.

"This is the truest and most worthy heart I know, and it's the only one I want."

Slowly that hand that had just left a brand on his skin moved up, quivering and unsure. She cupped his jaw and bit her lower lip as a tear fell.

Angel covered her hand with his and tilted his head to rub against her, savoring the warmth and softness she bestowed. He felt her tentative pull and didn’t resist the lead she was taking.

Both sets of eyes zeroed in on the mouth of the other. Both tongues slid over parched lips and parted slightly. He sensed her breath, alive and hot, on his mouth an instant before their lips touched.

The goose bumps stood at attention and marched over his body and shivering at their advance, he heard himself emit a sound that was a cross between a whimper and moan of sheer joy as her mouth opened, her tongue sought his, and they touched tip to tip for the first time.

Too soon the kiss was over and their foreheads rested against each other as both gasped for breath.

Cordy let out a soft “mmm” and then giggled. "This kind of makes my Ninja Turtles video game look a little impersonal."

Angel laughed. "You got me Ninja Turtles?"

She pulled back arching a brow that looked just as menacing in candlelight as it did under fluorescent. "You asked for it! I wanted to get you something nice and…adult. And, well, more personal, but I didn’t know about…" Suddenly shy again, she rubbed the letter she still clutched to her heart. "But now it just seems a little silly."

He lifted her chin and lowered his head looking for her gaze to meet his.

"Cor, I've already got the best gift you could give me. Unless I'm as clueless as you always say I am. I mean...did that kiss...did it mean...do you love me?"

She smiled and took his palm from her cheek and kissed it. "No." His dead heart thumped once and died again.

"You're not clueless – at least about that."

Letting out a soft sigh, his body heated up to a toasty fever with the knowledge that she was finally his. His insides prickled from the sudden change in temperature and shift in state from atoning demon to loved man. Pulling her to him, he sipped at the lips that had changed his world, nibbling softly at the new life she offered him until he pulled away stuffed to bursting.

All you have to do is tell her.

The words of the wise, interfering and annoying women breached the euphoric fog he was floating on, and he realized he hadn’t done that yet – at least not verbally. He shook at the thought he could’ve easily blown the moment by just assuming she understood.

“By all that’s holy and, in my case unholy, I love you, Cordelia Chase.”

He must have said the right thing because her face lit up like a child’s on Christmas morning after receiving the one gift they’d wished and prayed for their whole life. Red cheeked and twinkling eyed, her face burst forth with her patented smile that started like a whisper and ended with a shout that could topple kingdoms.

He gasped again, full of wonder that even though he didn't need to breathe this woman made him want to. Made him want to be the man she admired, respected and loved. She made him want to be human, and now he knew some day he would be because she had deemed him worthy.

He was loved by an angel.

She took his hand, kissing his palm, before she slipped her fingers between his.

"Blow out the candle and let's get some sleep. Now I definitely want to get home tomorrow so we can spend Christmas with our family and tell them the good news."

Angel reached for the note and she finally let it go for him to put on the table.

“Well, I kinda think they already know – at least my part.”’

She laughed and a light clicked. “What kind of hell did you put them through and did it have anything to do with all that sneaking around and leaving me alone all the time?”

“It’s a long story, Cor, and I’ll tell you all about it on the trip home.”

Bringing the candle to his mouth to extinguish it, the gold hues that illuminated her features clearly revealed a radiance of love coming from her eyes just for him. It was so bright he wondered how he could have been so blind as to not see it before. With a quick huff, he blew out the flame and watched that love dance in the smoke that shimmered in the luminance her body was giving off – her demon casting a soft, golden halo around her.

Setting the darkened candle and the letter on the table, he said, “I think I’m going to like it when you get all glowy just for me.”

They shifted together to lie down again, their bodies stretching out side by side under the covers. Angel slid his arm underneath her and pulled her into the safety of his chest.

She wrapped her hand around the back of his neck, her fingernails gently massaging as they worked their way through the short hairs there and up his scalp. Pulling him to her again, his lips melted as hers touched them. His jaw dropped, opening his mouth to her tongue as it slipped into its new home and made it hers.

Moaning a welcoming to his lover, he pulled her closer and squeezed her so tightly he could feel her taut nipples scraping against his own. She sighed in his mouth and retracted her tongue, groaning her approval when his followed to mark his territory.

His body screamed to join with her and the way she rubbed her hip against his hardness told him he wasn’t alone in that desire. He moved his hand from her back and grazed the side of her breast before sliding his palm over her stomach and hitching up the cotton top. When his fingers touched skin, she hissed and ground her body and mouth against him harder seemingly very eager and willing for the next step.

But when his hand maneuvered under the elastic waistband of her leggings and felt the edges of the course hair covering her mons, she loosened her grip on his body and pulled her lips from his.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, clearly not understanding the mixed signals.

“Nothing…I mean I want to…you don’t know how much I want to.” Her palm cupped his erection through the sweatpants and her fingers stroked its length. “Mmmm, maybe you do,” she said with a decidedly wicked grin.

“It’s just...I don’t want our first time to be in a strange place, a strange bed and with crazy Bea down the hall. Heck, I wouldn’t be surprised if she was video taping us right now or,” she lowered her voice, “if she was eavesdropping outside that door.”

“I could hear her if she was and she’s not. But I understand and we’ll wait,” Angel said not quite successfully hiding his disappointment.

Cordy brought her hand to his jaw and let her thumb trace his soft lips. “I'll make it worth the wait. I’ve got a feeling you’ve only seen a slight preview of the fireworks that will happen when I finally get to feel you inside me.”

Those words made his deflating arousal scream to attention again. “Damn, Cor. Don’t say something like that if you really want me to leave you alone.”

“Oops, sorry. How about if we talk about what else you got me for Christmas?”

“What else?” He quickly discovered that fear worked just as well as a cold shower.

Picking up on the tension that immediately grabbed his muscles in a choke hold, Cordy laughed and let him off the hook. “Relax, I was just kidding. But it worked, didn’t it? The mood is definitely gone.”

He hugged her and said, “I will always be in the mood as far as you’re concerned, but you’re right, the immediate problem is solved.” He kissed her forehead and carefully nestled them both under the blankets, finally satisfied once she was protected by his body and arms.

Outside their shelter, the wind hummed through the evergreens with a melody that would forever be the song of their first night as a couple.

Cordy nestled her head against his chest as his legs twined with hers like the soft layers of the quilt her grandmother tucked around her so many years ago. Closing her eyes, she softly kissed his chest and he responded with a sigh and the press of his lips to the top of her head.

He could still feel the warmth of her love inside, but he realized she might still be cold and began to rub her back. He heard her soft mew of appreciation, sensed her snuggle even deeper into his body, and listened to the quiet slowing of her heart rate into a steady, comforted rhythm. Just when he was sure she was about to fall into slumber and it was safe for him to follow her, she sleepily mumbled...

"You're my angel's songs…forever."




Epilogue

Christmas Eve, 2019


He couldn't believe it had been 17 years – almost. Tonight would have been their anniversary.

They’d spent those years with love, laughter and heartache as one by one their family dwindled by death or simply by life moving forward. Until in the end it had been just the two of them. Warrior and Seer. Friends and lovers. Husband and wife.

And now it was widower.

She’d died in his arms as he’d always hoped she would and not in a sewer or in the midst of battle unable to touch her or feel her or kiss her before she slipped from him possibly for an eternity.

He could still feel her last breath on his mouth. There’d been no tears from either of them as she brought his lips to hers for one last time and then smiled and whispered, “I’ll wait for you. Don’t be too long.”

She never liked to be kept waiting. God, how he’d learned that the hard way. A few nights banned from her bed for accidentally forgetting to pick her up or being late for their weekly Friday night date broke him of that habit. Never mind if he had a perfect excuse of actually saving a soul and being impaled in the process, if he kept her waiting, he damn well better be prepared for the consequences.

The stillness was broken by the long forgotten sound of his laughter as the memories of her snits and his pleading to be forgiven raced through his mind on his personal gag reel. Fiery hazel eyes, that brow that seemed permanently stitched into a perfect arch, those long fingers splayed across her woman’s hips, her designer clad toe tapping a beat of impending death…

The images blurred as his eyes burned with the tears he’d been holding in for 33 long days and lonely nights.

He had hated her for leaving him, and he’d hated himself for ever loving her. For 33 days he’d clung to that hatred to stem the pain from swallowing him whole and never letting him go. But he had reached his limit. He couldn’t hold onto the bitterness anymore – not when he could still feel her, remember her so clearly that he was sure at any moment she’d come through that door, smile and ask him why he was sitting there, all shadowy and gloomy, brooding again.

His hand clenched when, for a second, he thought she’d made her way to his side and had once more taken his hand to pull him up and out of the dark. But the piercing sound of the tissue paper as it crinkled in his grip ended the fantasy, and he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand as he once more turned his mind and attention to the box on his bed and the coldness in his heart.

It had arrived unexpectedly. There was no one left that he could think of to send him mail and the last package that had been delivered had been one for Cordy – a state-of-the-art Cuisinart – another failed attempt to finally learn to cook. So his immediate thought was a checklist of everything nefarious that could arrive in a box – bomb, mystical spell, demon insects, evil hand. But when he saw the label addressed to him in Cordy’s handwriting, he’d practically thrown it on the floor as if it were solid holy water.

The delivery guy hadn’t waited for a tip, the sight of a deathly pale man with his mouth stretched into a gaping maw was enough for him to remember the delivery by. And Angel never heard him scuttle out because his gaze was transfixed to the words lying at his feet in Cordelia’s elegant hand. “Angel Chase, MBA.” It was as if she had reached from the grave and jumped started his dead heart. It was her little joke. MBA – Master of the Brooding Arts.

Then he’d seen the return address and had known for certain that it was from her. Patricia Burkle. The mother they both wished they could claim as their own, and the woman who had claimed them as hers after Fred died. It made perfect sense that Cordy would leave something in her care for this day. A mother would know when her child needed to grieve and when that grieving should change to acceptance.

Apparently Trish’s mom meter had told her 33 days was enough and something in Angel niggled that she might be right.

It had taken all the strength he possessed to carry the package – Cordy’s last gift to him - to their…his…room and more willpower than he thought he had to wrench it from his arms and leave it unopened for so long.

He’d been too scared to see what she’d left him. Anxious to see it but petrified that once opened, she would be gone for good. But something in the wind that had parted the drapes and surrounded him in her scent had abated the fear, leaving him anxious but shivering with excitement.

And now all that kept Cordy’s last secret from him was a thin tuft of white paper and the ability to move it. The moving part was taken out of his control when another wind, stanch and insistent, not only parted the drapes but flung open the doors and scattered the mounds of tissue in a cellulose snowstorm centered over the bed.

When the air calmed and the last of the faux flakes settled, Angel’s eyes finally focused on the miracle he’d been given.

There was no note; there was no need. Rich and warm fabrics of deep blue, gold, and cream spilled from the box and onto his lap. Between his fingers flowed the silky gold threads of her words. Yards and yards of his Cordy embroidered, layered and stitched to wrap around him and keep his cold, dead body filled with her love.

The quilt was her portrait. A needle and thread painted her with more detail and revealed her spirit better than any artist could have with strokes of light and color from oils and a brush.

As Angel studied every letter until they formed a word and then a sentence, his face became drenched with weeks of grief and loneliness. When his fingers felt the word “dumbass” sewn with silk thread on cotton for the first time, he threw his head back and allowed the laughter back into his heart to stay because she had returned there, too.

There was so much to read. She’d had a lot to say to him and he wanted to savor all of it, feast a little now and save the rest for breakfast and all the meals for the rest of his life, but something in the middle caught his eye as it sparkled in the rays spilling through the opened doors from the rising moon.

More gold and bright white, glittering and shifting, three-dimensional and…pendant sized.

There in the center block was the harp he’d given her on their first night together. She had never taken it off and now that he actually thought about it, he hadn’t seen it on her for awhile, but it never clicked. It had become like white noise to his eyes in their years together. Something always there but never really noticed.

She had known she was dying far longer than he thought. For a moment rage flared at the woman to whom he’d entrusted his heart and life for lying to him, but he couldn’t sustain the emotion once he read the words stitched by the pendant for him to read every day for the rest of his life.

On the left were the words of the note he’d given to her with the necklace. To the right of the harp was a new note just for him.

Hey Big Guy,

I've got a new harp now and even though nothing can ever replace this one in my heart, I thought it best to leave it with you for safe keeping. Since the moment you gave it to me, your love has sung to my heart. While I’m away, I want nothing more than for this harp to fill you with the music of my love for you. For always and forever you will be my love, and I am forever yours.

Your very own angel,
Cordy

P.S. About that angel-in-training idea, in my book you’ve already passed the test just putting up with me for so long. But just in case, keep training, dork. I don’t want to spend eternity floating up here all alone. Talk about your boring afterlife – pfft.


The tears were gone and all that was left was the smile.

She'd left him with her love and a kick in the ass. If he wanted to be with her again, he would have to continue to fight, to help the helpless – a mission that had become more hers than his over the years. While his might not be the purest of motives, he knew her well enough to know hers were. Anything she had to do to save souls and help him earn his redemption, she would do - even if it meant threatening him from beyond. All he had to do was go along for the ride.

And it had been one hell of a ride.

The soft smile that had seemed foreign moments ago now morphed into another long-forgotten movement as it stretched and became a full-fledged yawn. As Angel succumbed to the exhaustion and bittersweet memories, he fell gently back onto the pillows that still smelled of her perfume and folded his knees to his chest cocooning himself inside the quilt – inside Cordy.

For the first time in what seemed like an eternity, he sighed peacefully and moaned hopefully as love remembered and life yet to be surrounded his heart and tucked him in.

Lowering his eyelids, shutting out the cold gray hue of the darkened room, he finally drifted into a warm and luminous blue and gold heavenly sleep, eager to dream of her – his Cordy - and listen to the music of his angel's songs.


~*~*~*~*~*~

The End