Title: Ashes, Ashes
Author: MissKitieFantastico
Posted: 11-25-2002
Rating: R
Email:
Content: You don’t want to ask me that question… Believe me. Drama, Angst
Summary: Post-Apocalyptic clean-up… and 409 won’t cut it… (crossover with BtVS, if you can call it that)
Spoilers: Nothing much after Ring of Fire (AKA: Apocalypse, Nowish), except maybe a few specu-spoilers.
Disclaimer: The characters in the Angelverse were created by Joss Whedon & David Greenwalt. No infringement is intended, no profit is made.
Distribution: Those who already have my work archived—all others please ask.
Notes: This is a crossover with BtVS, but some of the things you may have seen on the show may not apply. I’m working under the assumption that whatever the BB is supposed to be on BtVS, is linked with AtS. Hopefully I can explain my thoughts fully in the fic without leaving you scratching your heads.
Feedback: I’m a feedback slut… don’t make me beg.
Dedication: To anyone who actually reads this and doesn’t want to strangle me. I know RoF is an open wound for a lot of people, and I mean no disrespect to any who feel that way. This fic is not a reflection of my feelings, but I think it’s an interesting avenue to follow. I’ve been toiling with the idea for a week, and have finally decided this fic won’t leave me alone until I write it. I am also dedicating it to Cantinera, my Pimp, because she’s cool like that (You ROCK! lol), and also because she supported my wanting to write this (even though she hated what happened in the episode).Prologue: The Last Night
She stared out at the night sky, consumed by flames raining down on the city she’d called home for four years.
Home... She wasn’t home... In her home... At home... Inside her home... Safe... Safe in her home... In her home, safe and sound...
Safe as houses.
Except that houses burned down. Straight to the ground.
Nothing left but ashes.
Nothing left but smoldering pieces of safety and comfort. She wasn’t safe anywhere, so she might as well be here.
Alone… Frightened... Doomed... Dead...
Already dead.
Because everyone would die.
Everything would die.
Painfully… No death would go without a scream. Without that one last, horrid plea for God. Any God actually, because any one of them would do. Death is enough to make everyone religious. Anything to make it stop.
But it won’t.
She knows it. Feels it. Hears it. Smells it. Tastes it.
Lives it.
Over and over.
Until her eyes cloud, go distant, the pain and the fire consume her, and her mind slips away.
That happens a lot lately… She should be worried, see a doctor. But it’s pointless. She’s going to die anyway, why bother? Not like she has medical insurance… not like the insurance company would be there in the morning either.
Cordelia smirked, the endless tirade of thoughts her only company. She sighed, watching the rain of fireballs descend from the sky. She wanted to move, get away because she was afraid, and at the same time too intrigued to do anything but stare.
She should go, find Angel. Help fight. But she can’t, because she knows it’s pointless, and God, she feels so alone. So tired. So…
Here. He was here. She knew it. She could feel it, like everything else. But it was real, he was real, not in her head. Oh God, how she needed something real right now, something to hold on to, something to make it right. Make it better.
Make her wrong.
She didn’t say anything, because there was nothing to be said. She could feel her lips moving, but she was sure she wasn’t talking. She was just breathing hard. Because he was here, with her, standing next to her as they looked out over the burning city. The city they had helped protect for four years. Four long, and yet not long enough, years.
Side by side, as it should be. Because she promised him. She gave him forever that day, told him she would always be with him for however long it takes. She just didn’t know forever was so short.
Funny, she thought it’d be longer.
She was facing him now, watching his eyes tear up, and she gently stroked his face. She’d looked at that face so many times, looked into those dark brown eyes so many times. But tonight she saw something different. A mix of emotions that could have been a mirror of herself. And she was happy that someone else in this damned world was with her, understanding what she was feeling.
Longing... Fear... Love...
He guided her to the bed, laying her down gently, and stripped off his leather jacket before lying down beside her.
Never above her, never below her. Always beside her.
The way it should be.
He stroked her face, the tiny touches setting her skin on fire, hot enough to rival the burning sky outside. She took off his shirt, letting her nimble fingers trace patterns along his back. He was cold, but she didn’t notice. He felt like fire to her. Finally, his mouth descended upon hers, and she could’ve died in that moment. She waited so long to feel like this, to feel him, to feel herself. That numbness she felt before was replaced by overwhelming emotions and sensations, and things she never knew her body could feel. But he knew it. He knew all the right moves.
A little to the left, a tick lower, a bit slower, find your rhythm, ride the wave to the crest and let it fly. But he always pulled back before her wings took flight. Moving somewhere else, exploring another piece of her that no man before him had even thought to look at. But he thought of it, and that was special only to him. He never missed anything.
Before she knew it she’d be riding a new wave, bigger than the one before, stronger.
She almost couldn’t take it anymore. She needed the comfort and the safety that only he could give, the only person she wanted it from. No one else was good enough, no one else compared. Because he was hers, and she was his. Only his.
Forever.
Because she promised.
Because she loved him.
Because that’s the way it should be…
Ring around the rosy
Pocket full of posies
Ashes, ashes
We all fall down
=*=
Part 1: Alive
Cordelia opened her eyes lazily. She fought against it, not wanting to drive the sleep from her mind. In defiance, she let her eyelids drift shut, hoping for a few more minutes of peacefulness. Last night rushed back into her mind, and she smiled, remembering every touch, every sigh, every moan.
Then screaming.
Blood.
Death.
Chaos.
Her eyes shot open, remembering that she was supposed to be dead. Horribly dead, painfully dead. She scrambled up, threw her legs over the edge of the bed. She reached down and plucked her robe off the floor, throwing it on and shuffling to the window.
She leaned her hands against the glass, looking down at the city from her vantagepoint in Connor’s loft. The air in her lungs whooshed out of her body, the hot air clouding up the window then disappearing just as quickly as it had come. She felt flushed, so she leaned her burning forehead against the cool glass.
She could see the street below, destroyed. The concrete turned up, streetlamps lay broken, cars were mangled heaps of steel. Glass everywhere from shattered windows, glinting slightly from some unknown lightsource. The building across the street wasn’t even that anymore. It was nothing but a pile of concrete and rebar. Demolished.
But she was alive. The world was still here.
No bloody death, no chaos reigning supreme.
She was wrong.
Cordelia laughed quietly, careful not to disturb her sleeping love in the bed. Smiling, she let her head drift back and closed her eyes, thanking whatever God she could think of, thanking the Powers, that she was wrong.
She opened her eyes and stared again down at the street. She saw a homeless man emerge from the shadows and the rubble. He looked confused, scared, and hell, he even looked a bit hungover. Possibly even still drunk.
At that moment, Cordelia loved that homeless man covered in white dust. If she weren’t naked under her robe, and barefoot, she would’ve rushed outside to kiss him.
“Okay, maybe not kiss… But a nice, firm handshake.” Cordelia whispered, smiling as she imagined how traumatized that man would be if she came out of nowhere and threw herself on him. And how traumatized she’d be when she had to taste whatever foulness had been growing in his mouth for lord knows how many years.
Her nose scrunched up in disgust-- she’d definitely forego the kiss thing. Possibly even the handshake.
He was homeless, not like he got a manicure every other Tuesday.
So she settled for a private smile, reserved only for him, because the world didn't end and she was alive and he was alive… and… and…
... peeing in the street.
“Oh, gross!” Cordelia scoffed, and backed away from the window. “Find a portapotty for crap’s sake!”
She laughed, loving the sound. It had been so long since she laughed, or had anything to laugh about. This was her second chance, and a second chance for the entire world. She was going to make the best of it, and she was going to spend it with the only person that mattered to her.
Angel.
She never thought she could love a name so much.
Love a man so much.
But she did, and it scared her, somewhere in the back of her mind. But she was too dizzy with bubbly, teetering into psychotic, happiness. She even felt a case of the giggles coming on. It was ludicrous to be so elated over a homeless man, but he was her hope. Something she knew she had been lacking for lord knows how long.
For once she looked forward to life, to the visions... the fight. Because they were fighting for tomorrow, and she knew there would be a tomorrow because there was a today. And why would they bother giving the world a today, if there wasn’t going to be a tomorrow?
She shook her head, forcing the rambling spirit of Fred out of her mind. “I spend too much time with that girl…” Cordelia muttered.
Cordelia felt hands slide around her belly and clasp together, and she jumped, shrieking in surprise. “Don’t do that!” She scolded, laying her head back against his strong chest. She knew who it was, and she relaxed, closing her eyes. Salivating in the feel of him all around her.
She noticed he was warmer than he should be.
‘Must be my leftover heat… or the leftover heat from last night. Lordy, that was enough to warm a third world country for a month.’ Cordelia thought, and she smirked.
They’d have to do that more often.
He felt nice when he was warm.
“Looks like the world didn’t end.” She said lazily, leaning her weight on him.
He merely nodded in agreement. She could feel his cheek against her hair, near her ear.
“I love you, Angel…” She started to turn and face him, but his grip tightened. She could feel every muscle in his body go stiff as a board.
He whispered in her ear, his breath hot and sticky on her skin, voice no more than a whispered growl, “I’m not Angel…”
Cordelia froze.
TBC