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Angel hears footsteps behind him in the alleyway. He doesn’t pay them any mind, keeping his pace, hands in his pockets, with his jacket flying out as a cape behind him. It’s dark. It’s damp. And he’s starting to feel the chill of the cold that’s begun to descend upon him. Has it always been there? The nipping air?
“Hey!” he hears. He comes to a stop. He realises he can’t hear those heels clicking against the pavement. He thinks, if he had a heart, it’d have stopped by now, maybe dropped to the soles of his feet. “Big guy.”
Angel turns.
She grins, walking towards him at a slow pace. “When I said that I’d be seeing you, I didn’t mean the back of your great big head.” Her hair is the same as it had been the last time he saw her in his office. He wonders if when he saw her before if it’d been a dream; it had been longer, straighter, darker.
Angel touches the back of his hair. “My head’s fat?”
She keeps smiling. The distance he’s tried to wedge between them is broken by her footsteps. He tried to leave her behind, but, Cordelia Chase would never allow that; she needs to be at the forefront, in the spotlight, right in front of him.
Standing before him, she glows, not in the way she had when she’d taken the demon within, but in a way she had never glowed when she’d descended from the heavens. He wonders, now, how he missed that. “You never miss a moment to be a melodramatic dumbass.”
“I’m not melodramatic,” he says. He blinks, before asking, “Is this real?”
She doesn’t say anything. Reaching out, she pinches his arm. “Ow,” he says, coming to press his hand against it. He catches her fingers, pressing even harder there, trapping her against him. She doesn't seem to fight it nor think of pulling her hand away.
“You know when I said I assumed you’d be lost without me and I didn’t really take that seriously?”
Angel doesn’t reply, but, he thinks, naturally.
“I should’ve taken it seriously,” Cordelia says, after a beat. As she always does. She fills in the spaces he leaves behind, purposefully and unintentionally, and he hasn’t realised he’s missed her gigantic presence in his life since he pushed her from his mind when he couldn’t really touch her or reach her or be with her. It’s better to force his own isolation than have it be at the hands of him not being able to protect those he cares for. “Because, boy, if the Powers That Be had sent me this vision, I would’ve called in a few more favours.”
Angel wants to look away, but he can’t. “Is this one of them? Another favour?”
Cordelia grins. “Now, that’s a big spoiler.” Isn’t he a fan of spoilers? He hasn’t had any in such a long time; running around blind without his eyes and ears and guide to help him has been tough. He’s walked into walls and swords and great big dragons.
“Cordelia —”
“You saved the world, champ,” she says, grinning. She pulls her hand, then. He presses down, moments too late; she folds her arms against her chest and he feels cold. “I’m proud.”
“I couldn’t have done it without you.”
“So, you got it,” she smiles. “Good. I told them if they screwed this one up there’d be hell to pay. I can be scary.”
His lip lifts up. “I know.”
“So, tell me, champion of the world,” she says, taking a few steps towards him. “What are you doing skulking in an alleyway? You should be celebrating.”
He feels something sit on his chest, heavy. If he had breath, it’d have escaped him. “There’s no one left to celebrate with.”
She ducks her gaze. He can’t see it, but he knows. He just knows. Like how Cordelia knows him, he knows her, and it’s definitely not easy to remain standing with the knowledge that all their soldiers have fallen. He’s crumbled beneath the weight, but Cordelia, she’ll remain standing, defiant. He sometimes thinks the Powers crowned the wrong person Champion.
“That’s where you’re wrong,” she says, looking up at him. She’s giving him a toothy smile. He feels warm at the sight of it. “You’ve got me. Always have, always will, even if I’m not here to call you a dumbass or deflate your fat ego.”
Something inside of him wilts. “It’s not the same.”
“Of course it’s not, dummy. But, this time, you’ve got yourself a permanent guardian angel. And I know I’m not the most perfect angel in the choir, but, I did a damn good job, if you ask me.” She raises her hand to cup his cheek. Her palm feels warm and solid against him. “I thought my off-ramp meant I had to leave you behind, but it seems like you and I are still walking along the same path.”
Angel feels overwhelmed. He’s blinking, still surprised that she’s standing before him. She’s always been able to catch him off-guard, even when she’s being herself. Protecting him. Looking out for him. He should've known.
“I need you, Cordy,” he says. She smiles at him, her eyes wet. If he doesn’t blink, the dark alleyway transforms into his office, warm and brightly lit, and, somehow, he still ended up not seeing her until it was too late. Maybe he can change it; maybe he’s back there, able to change the course of history, where the hero doesn’t end up alone and defeated, despite his actual victory, in the end. “Is this real?”
“It can be,” she says. On her tiptoes, she comes closer, and Angel stands where he is, frozen. “If you want it to.” And she presses her lips to his.