Title: Not a Happy Night in Sunnydale
Author: K4man123
Posted: 03-31-2000
Rating:
Email: K4man123
Content: Kinda sad fic, sorry.
Summary: Sequel to Not a Sunny Day in Sunnydale. Spike's POV. Never intended in writing a sequel to "Not a Sunny Day In Sunnydale" but Spike kept bugging me to finish things. For those of you who think I should have left this alone, you're probably right.
Spoilers: Post Prodigal
Disclaimer: The characters in the Angelverse were created by Joss Whedon & David Greenwalt. No infringement is intended, no profit is made.
Distribution: Please ask.
Notes: You'd think that working 95 (yes, ninety-five) hour workweeks that I'd have better things to do with my free time than write fanfic like sleep, or try to find out where my tax return is. Unfortunately this has been rolling around my head and I want it out. Angel doesn't make an appearance but since I posted the precursor, I may as well post this. It's kind of sad so beware. If it depresses you, smack me over the head, I'm so tired at this point I'm numb.
Feedback:
Warning: Character(s) death
The stars seem to be calling down to me. I can almost touch them. 'Course the near empty bottle in my hand doesn't have anything to do with that.
Crouching down, I lift my brown bag in toast to the headstone. I come here almost every night. It's not right you know, me all morose and weepy. The poof would be so proud.
With a cold fingertip I trace the letters on the colder stone.
CORDELIA.
* * *
I'd been hearing things on the street. There's a lot more gossip than you'd think. We don't have newspapers or newsgroups, but word gets around. You always hear about a wannabe slayer or some twit who thinks he's a demon hunter, but one night I heard two blokes laughing about an all-American girl, a real cheerleader.
The next night me, the watcher and the whelp drove to L.A.X. to pick up the wuss. It wasn't a pretty picture. Xander looked like a kicked puppy. Wesley was furious at Giles because he'd been in California and hadn't done anything. Giles was furious at me because he thought she'd told me her intentions. I was mad at both Wesley and Xander. Neither one of them had the stones to tell her how they really felt about her, to stop her. We didn't say it but we were all mad at Cordelia for bringing us there. For leaving us.
The questions and recriminations still hang over us. Why didn't we stop her? How could we not realize what she was doing? Didn't she realize that we'd be left behind picking up the pieces? How could we let her die alone? As much as we blame each other, we blame ourselves the most.
* * *
When we reached the coroner's office it took a while to track her down. One of the git's made some comment about the "boil in a bag Jane Doe." It took four of us to pry Giles' hands off his throat. Well, three really. I wasn't trying that hard.
The other bloke led us down the hall and opened the door to her drawer. He was going to leave but when he saw us stand there he pulled out the drawer and left silently.
Wesley started whimpering and turned away. Sentimental sod. Where were you when she needed you?
Giles, the most annoyingly dedicated do-gooder of the group, looked long enough to satisfy himself that it was the cheerleader then he turned away. Couldn't bring himself to see what killed her or how.
The whelp surprised me. He edged closer and kissed his fingertips. He lightly brought them down to her, well, it was still her mouth. Above the hum of the fluorescents, we all heard him whisper, "Goodbye Cordy."
I looked down at what was on that slab and thought this was had to be a mistake. She should have been beautiful, in her glory. Regal queen of the night laid out in her triumph. A vampire princess. She had strengths Drusilla couldn't imagine. Instead what lay sliding off her bones was a mockery of everything death stood for.
I suddenly realized that the smell was *her.* Why was it so disturbing? I was William the Bloody. The hound of the charnel house. Spike, the scourge of the West End. I'd seen, killed more than they could imagine.
I turned on my heel and ran out of the room. And promptly lost everything I'd consumed in the past week.
* * *
I lay on the bathroom floor, thankful for the cold tile against my cold face. The door opened and I saw them standing over me. I met their eyes, shamed of my weakness but didn't find any recriminations. Wordlessly, a pact was formed. We had kept the secrets of her life, we would keep these secrets of her death.
* * *
We drove back to Sunnyhell in silence. Hadn't even bothered to pick up Giles' bird from the airport. The small cardboard box on the backseat filled the car like the proverbial elephant. There'd been some talk about scattering her ashes above the Hollywood letters or maybe on the Boulevard over the stars. In the end we all knew that we'd take her back to Sunnydale. Not because it was her home but perhaps she'd find peace in her final resting place. So the four of us sat in silence, some sort of sick joke of an honor guard. I know that she wouldn't have minded. She'd probably be preening over having us in her power even now. She's dead and we're still bowing and scraping to her. God, she'd love that.
* * *
Wesley made the actual arrangements. He lives in England, he can afford to with the bloody country and ocean between him and the hellmouth. Giles told everyone our plans and took the initial blows. Olivia tried to reason with the girls. I think Buffy drew the first blood. Got to hand it to her though, not every woman would play stepmother to this crew. Course things might've gone easier if we'd told them our reasons. On the other hand it might have really set the slayer off. Didn't matter, we were determined to send Cordelia to the grave with her heart and secrets intact.
It was Xander who convinced everyone. Anytime someone opened her mouth, he'd pull his stone man face and they'd shut up. Looks like the whelp may be loosing his milk teeth.
* * *
I'm sitting here in front of the stone. She won't mind me in her lap. I come by and watch over it. Had to stop Buffy a couple of times from knocking it over. She's still not on speaking terms with any of us. Once I met Harmony here. She tried to pull a I-just-happen-to-have-this-sledgehammer-for-no-reason but I told her in no uncertain terms what I'd do if she ever comes near this place. She was in tears as she ran away. Pathetic cow. Cordelia's dead and she's still jealous. Hope the May Queen can enjoy that.
Another time I saw a woman leave a pink rose at dusk. I had half a mind to rip her throat out. When she turned and left I realized she was Cordelia's mother. Then I really wanted to rip her throat out.
I trace the abstract figure in the stone. It was Olivia's idea to carve the logo for Angel Investigations. Giles could've done a whole lot worse.
Standing I raise the now empty bottle in a salute. My eyes tear up as I scan the inscription before walking away.
ANGEL
CORDELIA
DOYLE
DEATH IS NOT THE END
* * *
End.