Title: It's Just The Way Things Are
Author: lonely Brit
Posted: 02-26-2003
Email: zcapw87@ucl.ac.uk
Rating: PG
Category: Post-Calvary fic, future AU, angst
Content: Angst, usual end-of-the-world fare, character death.
Summary: A little glimpse of the aftermath following Armageddon.
Spoilers: Up to Calvary, then AU, i.e. assumes Angel returned. Based on speculation that Cordy might not be all she seems.
Disclaimer: The characters in the Angelverse were created by Joss Whedon & David Greenwalt. No infringement is intended, no profit is made.
Distribution: If you like, please take. Just drop me a line to say where it's gone.
Notes:
Feedback: Good or bad, I will be eternally grateful.

---

I do miss the sun. It's one of those things you take for granted, but it makes such a difference.
If you wake up and outside is dark and grey, you ask yourself 'why bother?'
But if you wake up to blue skies and brilliant sunshine you can't wait to get out.
Still, I shouldn't complain, and I remind myself that now, looking round at my office; the wooden furniture, the smell of polish, the photos that show I am not alone.
"Sir?"
Elaine pokes her head round the door. I've told her to call me by my first name, after all it's only fair since I do so to her. However, it actually made her uncomfortable and so 'Sir' has stuck.
She smiles at me apologetically as I put down my pen.
"They're here," she says. "They're early."
I wave my hand dismissively.
"No problem," I assure her, "please show them in."
I quickly put my papers to one side as she goes to do my bidding. People often get intimidated by the sight of so many papers, charts and notes. By the time I hear them approaching I'm ready with nothing more threatening than a small notebook in front of me.
She comes in first, greeting me with that dazzling smile that could light up a city.
Behind her comes her 'other half.' He nods politely, dark eyes still as serious and fathomless as always.
"So," I begin brightly when we're all seated. "To what do I owe the pleasure?"
She glances across at him, and gives a nervous laugh.
"Well," she looks a little awkward, avoiding my gaze. "We, uh…it's sort of unusual. We have a problem."

***

"A problem" Gunn repeated sarcastically. "We're facing a pissed-off demon Goddess who hates out guts, and you say 'We have a problem'!"
Wesley just shot him a dark look before returning his attention to Angel.
Around them the walls shook as she stormed through the building looking for them.
"You have to do this, Angel," he repeated quietly, his face and voice sad. "We have no choice."
"No one lays a finger on Cordelia," Angel growled as another shower of plaster fell over them. "We find another way." He glared round at the group, daring anyone to disagree.
"She's not coming back," Fred said flatly from her position by the door. "You saw what the books said -"
"We find another book."
He and Fred locked gazes for a moment, then she sighed and turned away.
"That's not Cordelia," she muttered to herself.
And then the wall exploded inwards.

***

I lean back in my chair as she finishes her tale.
"We need help," she repeats quietly.
I nod in agreement as I think hard.
They both fix me with hopeful stares and I finally come to a decision.
"I take it you came to me as a last resort," I ask calmly, pulling open the top drawer of my desk. She looks a little uncomfortable at my wording, but he has no such qualms.
"Yes," he agrees, his eyes still fixed on me. "Everyone else we've talked to just laughs or looks blank."
The blue leather address book is right at the back, its corners frayed, pages turning yellow with age and neglect.
They really are desperate, even I can see that. Still, I hesitate a moment, my fingertips grazing the spine, before I take the book out.

***

Angel dropped behind the wall and took a second to collect his thoughts.
A crunching of gravel, a flurry of dust, and then Wesley dropped down next to him. He had gained another gash across the face and was breathing hard.
"Fred? Gunn?"
Wesley just shook his head and Angel squeezed his eyes shut as the pain washed through him.
The sky had turned crimson, angry clouds roaring across the sky as the heavens burned.
The building was just rubble, her fury monstrous as she raged.
She had found two of them, but not all.
Wesley finally caught his breath a little.
"Still no sign of Connor?" he asked raggedly.
Angel didn't look at him. "No," he replied shortly.
The silent accusation hung in the air and Wesley lowered his eyes. Neither father nor son had taken the news very well. Perhaps he should have explained it more gently.
"The Beast was Xylinia's favourite," he managed in a low tone, trying again. "
The Earth shook as she realised they had escaped for a second time.
"If she fully rises up, nothing can stop her…Think what Cordelia would do."
Angel snorted impatiently.
"We're running out of time, Angel."

***

Angel put his diary down as the sound of voices came in from the lobby.
When they didn't go away, he quickly got to his feet and went to greet whoever it was.
"Hi there," he called out, fixing what he hoped was an engaging smile on his face. "Welcome to Angel Investigations. How can we help?"

***

I turn the book over in my hands as memories flood through me.
She looks from the book to my face and back again.
"Please," she begs, "we've tried everything else. If you think you know…If you can do anything…"
He just sits and stares at me, off-putting but not hostile. Not yet.
With a sigh I start thumbing through the pages.
"Is it dangerous?" he asks suddenly and I look up at him sharply.
Suspicious as always.
Her eyes widen a little and she too turns to stare at him. Obviously that thought hadn't even entered her head.
"You said you were desperate," I reply in my most indifferent voice, "you said you were willing to do anything."
"We are."
"Then it shouldn't matter, should it?"
They say nothing.
Maybe I should try and explain.

***

Angel exchanged a look with Wesley as their newest clients finished their tale, Wesley giving a barely perceptible nod in answer to his silent question.
"Right," Angel smiled brightly, returning his attention to Angel Investigations latest source of income. "I think we can help. Now, if you would just give your details to Fred," he beckoned to her through the window, "and I'll go get things going. Wesley, can I have a word?"
They passed Fred in the doorway. She smiled at Angel before shutting the office door behind her, making their distinctly nervous looking clients jump.
"So, how long will this take us?" Angel asked as they headed towards the central sofa.
Wesley shrugged carelessly, his eyes narrowed in thought.
"It all depends," he replied, "Rugkrin infestations can be either an all-out battle or a walk in the park. It all depends what stage they're at."
"But we can get rid of them?"
"Sure. I'll need to check a few things first, ingredients and such. But apart from that it should be no problem."

***

The air cracked and whispered as the dark energy bubbled up, trying to break free.
Angel leant back against the stone, his body chilled as he remembered that brief glimpse.
Her face, twisted by hatred and something else, but still recognisable as her own. The brown eyes, the soft skin, hair that could shine and move like water.
But Wesley had been right.
"That's not Cordelia," he breathed.
Beside him Connor looked up from watching Wesley bind up another nasty wound.
"I know," he agreed, "I see that now."
Angel got to his feet, picking up the broadsword.
"Where're you going?" Connor asked, alarmed, trying to rise.
"To do what must be done."
Connor shook his head, his expression hard. "No," he half yelled, then in a softer voice, "I'll do it. It'll destroy you."
"It already has."

***

The couple stood timidly by the reception desk, their eyes wide as they watched Fred and Gunn trying to decide on weapons.
"Can I take this?" Fred asked hopefully, twirling a heavy ball and spike with alarming skill.
Angel quickly snatched it out of her hands.
"No," he said firmly, "you're only checking out what age these demons are. No fighting."
Fred sighed.
"What about this?" She tried to pull out an axe but dropped it, surprised at the weight.
Gunn stooped to retrieve it as she blushed, casting a worried eye over the tiles in case of any cracks.
Wesley emerged from the office with his notes from ten minutes worth of dutiful research. Strictly speaking, he confided in Angel, the books hadn't been needed. Rugkrin demons were as common a problem as hair lice in primary school. However, Cordelia had pointed out that it was reassuring to see someone poring over pages of archaic and unreadable symbols, particularly if that person actually seemed to understand it all.
"Just look for spores," he explained for the tenth time, handing over the sheet of paper. "Then come back, tell us the colour, and Angel will go and clear it."
Noticing the increasingly doubtful expressions on their faces, Angel quickly trotted back to his clients.
"I hope you don't mind," he said politely as they blinked at him. "It's daylight outside and I…um…Well, exactly."
The woman's eyes flickered behind him where he could hear the sound of continued light-hearted bickering.
"Fred and Gunn just need to have a quick look round your place," he explained. "We need to know what we're dealing with, that's all."
She paused, and then slowly nodded, looking rather dubious at the whole idea.
"Okay," she said cautiously.

***

"It's an odd place," I warn them. "A little eerie, and well…odd. But this guy," I tap the book, "he's a pro. He knows what he's doing, or that is…he used to."
"What do you mean?"
I take a deep breath. "He's mad," I explain, and they sit up, startled. "Long time ago, but he hasn't hurt anyone seriously as far as I know -"
"WHAT!"
He glares at me, outraged.
She looks incredulous.
I decide to go for broke.
"And he's not human."

***

A sharp crack and then she tossed Connor aside like a rag doll. He fell limply to the ground and didn't move.
Angel felt his stomach tear at his insides like fire.
"Angelus," she smiled at him, her voice familiar. "Finally decided to face me?"
Angel stood like stone as she approached. He knew it wasn't her, not really, and yet…
Her smile broadened as she saw his stricken expression, lips curled in cold amusement.
"Oh dear," she laughed contemptuously, "do we still have a little crush?"
He finally raised the sword and tried to swing it, but she ducked easily.
"You can't do it" she said smugly. "Look at me, look at her. Can you really kill me?"
Angel just stared helplessly back.
"I have no choice," he whispered.
She blocked the next blow and the sword went spinning into the dust.
"Poor you," she sneered in mock pity.
Behind her the sword still lay on the ground as she lifted him by the throat. He wordlessly tried to say something but her fingers were crushing his voice to nothing more than a rasp.
"No," he begged, "don't."
Behind her, Wesley had picked up the sword.

***

They look at me in silent horror as I finish.
Eventually her expression hardens and she nods slowly.
"Fine," she says calmly.
He looks at her, alarmed.
"Did you hear what he just said?!"
"We're desperate," she says, her eyes fixed on mine. "If this is the only way, then this is the only way."
He looks at me darkly, like it's all my fault.

***

The lightening seemed to crack open the skies, everything shaking and tearing as if it were the end of the world.
In fact it heralded the world's salvation.
Angel stumbled to her as she lay in the swirls of dust, rubble and blood.
The air started to settle from the searing path of Xylinia as her time finally ended.
They had been wrong.
He stared at her, her eyes once more clear, her face so human and fragile.
The faintest shadow of a smile as she saw him, peace finally entering her features.
And then she was gone, her gaze empty and distant.
The ground had stopped trembling, but his own world continued to fall to pieces.
The sound of movement made him turn his head.
Wesley lay where she had thrown him. Her reaction had been too late, but she had still made a last attempt at revenge.
Hope flared up in Angel like searing fire as he hurried over to where the last remnant of his family still drew breath.
"Angel?"
Wesley's eyes were barely focussed as Angel crouched next to him. Blood spread over his clothes, spreading as the wounds refused to heal.
"I'm here, Wes."
Wesley looked confused. "Where're the others?"
Angel paused and then made up his mind.
"They're fine," he lied. "They're just helping Cordy get cleaned up."
Wesley smiled faintly, his memory failing as his life continued to seep out of him.
"We won," Angel went on, desperately making himself believe in his own words.
Wesley's eyes flickered shut but Angel kept talking, pressing his hand over the wound to try and stop the bleeding.
"We're all fine," he muttered. "We'll go home, patch you up. And then it'll be just like old times."
The bleeding had stopped.
"We'll be fine. We're all fine."

***

Fred and Gunn sat with Wesley on the lobby sofa. Their clients still sat in Angel's office waiting for him to return.
He came back, covered in purple goo but grinning from ear to ear.
"So, did it work?" Wesley asked expectantly, getting up.
Angel nodded happily.
"You couldn't see them for the dust," he said proudly, handing back the bag of herbs and the burnt stump of a torch. "Someone should tell these Queens to get some better guards."
"Speaking of Queens," Gunn said dryly, nodding his head towards the office.
Through the window they could see Cordelia happily chatting to the waiting couple. The talking seemed to be fairly one-sided, but she didn't seem to be letting that stop her.
Angel hid a grin at the almost thankful expression on their faces when he pushed open the office door.
"And here is the man-pire himself," she finished with a dazzling smile.
"I see Cordy has been keeping you entertained," he said fondly.
Cordelia nodded emphatically. "Well someone round here has to at least try and make up for your complete lack of anything resembling social skills."
"Thank you."
"You're welcome." Her smile softened and they gazed at each other for the briefest moment. Then she hopped off her perch on his desk, sending papers flying.
"Cordy!"
"Later," she laughed, and swept out of the room.
He turned back to his clients and gave them an apologetic grin.
As peace slowly reinstated itself, he bent down to retrieve some of the papers.
The man also leant down, glancing at some of the writings as he handed them over. His wife peered over at them and raised her eyebrows in confusion.
"What language is that, Arabic?"
Angel shook his head, taking the notes from them gratefully.
"No," he corrected, "it's Ancient Persian."
"You can read that?" she asked, impressed.
Angel laughed. "Oh God no," he chuckled, going to sit down behind his desk. "Just lines and dots to me. Wesley deals with that stuff, although Fred's a quick learner."
"Oh."
They both looked a little uncomfortable, although he didn't understand why. Angel decided to give them the good news in an attempt to lighten the suddenly strained atmosphere. With a dramatic flourish he dumped the Queen Rugkrin's head on the top of the notes.
The couple started, then stared, realisation dawning.
"It's all sorted," he informed them with a satisfied smile. "They're all gone."
The woman reached out to touch a scaly horn, then pulled back and burst into tears, throwing her arms around her husband's neck.
"We'd just about give up hope," the young man explained in response to Angel's bemused expression. "So many other people have let us down."
"This was out final resort," she sniffed in agreement. "We thought that everyone who could deal with this had been wiped out back when…We were desperate."
"She means that in a good way," the dark man reassured Angel weakly. "Thank you so much."
Angel looked bashfully down at his feet. "It wasn't just me," he mumbled shyly, "the others helped too. Couldn't have done it without them."
Again, they gave him that odd look.
The woman drew apart from her husband, pulling her heavy coat more tightly around her. Angel wondered at the coat, it was the middle of summer and things were hardly cold at the moment. Maybe she was ill.
She got to her feet, and her expression was almost one of pity as she reached out to shake his hand.
"Well," she said gently. "Say thank you to them for us."

***

They have made up their minds, so I finally take out the card.
"He's a good man," I say sadly, handing it over. "One of the best. If it is Rugkrins you're dealing with, he'll probably sort it out in a heartbeat. That kind of thing used to be everyday for him. But now? He lives in a ruin, talking to people who died years ago."
She takes the card and frowns.
I try to visit him when I can, but he never changes. We talk for a while and then he'll start talking to the others. And that's when I know it's time to go.
Besides, that place gives me the shivers. It's always cold, winds slamming doors, sending papers flying.
Some people say it's haunted.
They get up to go and I creakily get to my feet, knees complaining at the change.
The rain has stopped and glorious sunshine pours in through the window as I go round my desk to shake hands.
She surprises me by giving me a tight hug, although she takes care not to crush my old bones by squeezing too hard.
"Thank you, David," she says warmly. "Even if this guy can't help, thank you for believing us."
I smile and move on to her husband who almost defensively puts out his hand to stop me trying to copy her farewell gesture.
"Thank you, Mr Nabbit," he says gravely, grasping my hand in a firm shake.
Then he turns and leads them out of my office.
As they pass through the door she hands him the card.
I can't help but chuckle as I hear his puzzled: "What is that? A lobster?"
Some things never change.

End.