Title: Thanks For...Something
Author: Qandi
Posted: 11-07-2004
Email: OneBlueTulip@aol.com
Rating: PG
Category:
Content:
Summary: Epiphanies come in any number of different ways, sometimes when you think the world around you sucks the most.
Spoilers: 1, 2, and 3 of BtVS, to be safe...and because I'm too lazy to think out every episode again.
Disclaimer: The characters in the Angelverse were created by Joss Whedon & David Greenwalt. No infringement is intended, no profit is made. The first poem is property of Joyce Kilmer and the second poem is by William Henry Davies.
Distribution:
Notes: Sorry for any typos, I didn't beta so all mistakes are mine. Also, this is a little more Cordy-centric, but there an itty bitty bit of C/A. It was all I was able to do.
Feedback:
Thanks/Dedication: Hmmm. Chelsi @ Breathe, thanks for posting my poetry. :lol: And I guess all the writers and poets who helped with the inspiring bit.

---

Cordelia Chase, after several hours worth of (*coughwastingtimecough*) searching, looking, and praying, had concluded that finding Eminem demons was the hardest thing in history, aside from forcing herself to buy Suave...she shivered. These things were not to be thought about.

She wiped a small bead of --yick-- sweat off of her brow and slammed the heavy tome shut with a bang. Giles, Xander, Buffy, Willow, Angel, and Oz all startled, and Buffy quirked a brow. "Geez, Cord. We already knew you hated the book, no need to destroy it in the process."

She fixed the blonde with a cold glare. Then shifted her attention to Giles, who was rubbing his temples and walking towards his office. "Giles, I'm tired. I need beauty sleep, and I'm cranky-"
"Because she's never cranky. *Gasp!*" Xander offered. A hand over his mouth emphasising his words.
"Shut up, or should I set you up with quality insults for the next two weeks, Harris?" Xander shrugged and look back toward his book...the horror novel hidden between the book he was supposed be reading, anyway...

"Before I was so rudely interrupted, not to be again, I might add," She glared over at Xander again. "I'm cranky and I'm going home. My car's at the auto shop, so I'm stuck. I am so not taking the bu--" She cut herself off when she realized just what she had been saying, and about to say. A blushed colored her cheeks, only slight, but noticeable. She gathered her purse. "You know what? I'll just walk it. I've even got a handy bottle of holy water to drink, in case the vamps try any funny stuff."

"Sure you don't want someone to walk ya? I'll go ahead and volunteer. Maybe we could find one of those nify closets." "No." Cordy said quickly...she knew what the code. She hade helped invent the code. "There will be no groping, grabing, coping, touching, licking, kissing, thrusting, hand-holding, anything ." She said firmly. "Plus. I'm gonna go alone, Xander finish looking up the...Eminem demons..." "Eptjhema" Giles added quickly, watcher that he was...er...used to be.

"I'm fine. In case anyone cares, and I'll just be going now. Into the dark. With the big monsters. And bloodsuckin' fiends. And evil creepies..." She twirled a long brunette strand of hair between her fingers and tapped her foot innocently. Her eyes titled upward, and she imitated whistling.

"Is anyone gonna go with her?" Buffy sighed and turned the page. "Nope." "No closet fun-times, so I vote no." "Uhh...the vamps'd eat me." "I'm quite busy, someone please volunteer." "No good." Cordy sighed at the--normally--featured replies, minus one. Angel.

"I'll take her." Angel, dark and broody prince of weirdom, stood up from his leaning-position on the stacks. Was he even researching? "I'm not busy...like I guess you all are." He looked over at the group of teenagers, sans Giles, and rolled his eyes slightly as Buffy waved him off, and nodded towards the door. "Let's go."

Cordelia perked up and headed out the door, BroodyBoy not far behind, and left the Sunnydale High School library.

Angel wouldn't, couldn't, judge her. He wasn't allowed too, not after Jenny. And she sure wasn't going to go out a be the latest Demon-Quaker-Chewy-Bar.

***

The sidewalk was mostly bare, as per usual, nee leaves, but who counted leaves?

Angel did.

He walked quietly beside her, the only sounds of the night audible to Cordelia were the humming chorus of insects, the soft sound her heels and his boots made, and maybe the few cars out at night.
But to Angel, everything was there. No matter how small Sunnydale was, it was filled with things of every variety. Granted, most of it was of the bad variety, but it was still variety. Choices. Ability.

Angel let his thoughts swim in his head, thoughts of his past, of humanity, of love, of hatred, and even a few of some human days. Nothing new, nothing special. But then, after zone-out time, Angel watched his boots, his hands shoved into his pockets. The leaves still litered the ground, but peacefully. Sure, the may be dead leaves, but they were still leaves.

He began mouthing a poem, his words the smallest whisper possible. But Cordy could here him.

"What's wrong?" Cordelia sayed warily. "Huh?" she pushed.
"Huh...oh! Um, nothing. It's nothing."
She cocked an eyebrow at him, "Soooomething. It can't be nothing. Even nothings something ."

When he didn't answer, she let out an annoyed sigh. "Come ooon. We're blocks from my...house." She chose her words carefully, but not freakishly. "I'm bored. And I saw your lips moving, so unless your practicing Slayer kissing...ewww...than you were thinking. Or singing. Or...something." Her nose scrunched up in thought.

She let her shoulders slump a little bit, then he continued: "It's a poem. About leaves..trees, really. I just, saw them...memories."
"Sorry." Her mouth did a sympathetic smile, or half-smile, whichever way you percieved it. Maybe both, hey, it was Cordelia Chase.

"I think that I shall never see
A poem lovely as a tree.
A tree whose hungry mouth is prest
Against the earth's sweet flowing breast;
A tree that looks at God all day,
And lifts her leafy arms to pray;
A tree that may in Summer wear
A nest of robins in her hair;
Upon whose bosom snow has lain;
Who intimately lives with rain.
Poems are made by fols like me,
But only God can make a tree."

"Wow." Cordelia smiled a mega-watt smile at him, and he--woah--beamed back at her. She was shocked. "Woah..." He lost the smile quickly. "What? What's wrong?" "Absolutely nothing." She said. Epiphanies. Cordelia decided she liked them. And she liked her vocab teacher. And she liked her life. A lot.
Because if Angel, formerly--a few times over--Angelus, Evil's good buddy, could notice little things like leaves, and poetry, and beauty...

Cordelia Chase could too.
Angel was still looking at her strangely when she took in a deep breath.

"When I had money, money, O!
I knew no joy till I went poor;
For many a false man as a friend
Came knocking all day at my door.
Then felt I like a child that holds
A trumpet that he must not blow
Because a man is dead; I dared
Not speak to let this false world know.
Much have I thought of life, and see
How poor men's hearts are ever light;
And how their wives do hum like bees
About their work from morn till night.
So, when I hear the poor ones laugh,
And see the rich ones coldy frown--
Poor men, think I, need not go up
So much as rich men should come down."

She paused, and then smiled brightly once more. Looking Angel strait in the eyes, she continued,

"When I had money, money, O!
My many friends all proved untrue;
But now I have no money, O!
My friends are real, though very few."

She blindly reached for his hand, and he for hers.
By the time they had finished, smiles and all, they arrived at the Sunnydale motel.

"Here it is, home sweet hel--" She tried to stop herself. "No, place-until-better-place sweet place-until-better-place." she smiled again, and it was returned.

"I'm glad we could talk, Cordelia. I'd like to walk you home again tomorrow, if that's okay. My memory is photographic, I've got plenty of poetry." He waited with his hand in his pockets, eyes on the leaves, he looked up when she was about to speak. She nodded. "Thank you, Angel."

He looked confused. "For what?"

"For letting me have an epiphany first." She smiled, shut the door, and flicked the lights on.

Things weren't so bad.

Ends.