Empty Glasses: 1/1
by M Scott Eiland
Disclaimer: I don't own any of these characters--they belong to their creators and/or owners. The song lyrics are from "Angel," written by John Secada and Miguel Morejon.

Time Frame: About a week after "Chosen," and after the events in my prior story "Slayer Central." (spoilers for seventh season BtVS and fourth season Angel).

Archiving: Be my guest, but e-mail me (eilandesq@hotmail.com) to let me know. . .I like to know where stuff I write ends up and I might want to see what else you've got.

EMPTY GLASSES

Buffy walked to the front of the room and stood next to the training
dummy. She turned to the quietly watching audience of newly minted
Slayers and commented, "You've all been in training for a while now,
learning how to fight for your lives. When we fought against the
First and its minions, you all fought as hard as you could, not
holding back at all--and I'm proud of all of you for it." The Slayers
smiled at Buffy, and she let the praise sink in for a moment before
she continued: "Which makes me hate to have to tell you this, but
it's necessary." She turned to the dummy and pointed as she
added, "Xander put this together for us--the frame is made of high
quality wood, four inches thick, and the padding is thick and strong
enough to stop a .38 slug from penetrating to the wood underneath. It
is capable of absorbing punishment that would kill any human being
without suffering noticeable damage."

Buffy waited for her audience to absorb the description of the
qualities of the dummy, visibly relaxing her stance and adopting a
neutral expression. Abruptly, she burst into motion, whirling around
and delivering a spinning kick to the head of the dummy. A loud crack
echoed through the room, and the head flew back ten feet to smack
into the wall with a soft thump.

Buffy landed on her feet and noted that she had the complete
attention of the occupants of the room. She smiled and
joked, "Fortunately, Xander is known for his ability to repair
decapitated dummies." The comment provoked some nervous laughter, and
Buffy continued, "Any one of you could do what I just did without
pressing your limits, and if you really put your mind to it you could
reduce that dummy to a pile of padding and splinters during a
commercial break. Not a problem, if you're beating on a dummy or a
demon. If you do that to a human being, he dies--quickly and
painfully." She looked to the back of the room, and Faith met her
eyes without hesitation and nodded once. Buffy smiled sadly and
concluded, "The one law that we must all hold sacred is that a Slayer
must never kill a human being--even an evil one--unless it is
absolutely necessary in order to protect your life or the lives of
innocents or your teammates. We walk a dangerous path, and following
that rule is going to be the most important thing you can do to avoid
straying off that path into disaster."

Buffy paused again, and was pleased to see that the Slayers remained
attentive--they were taking the lesson seriously. She was about to
continue when she saw Willow slip into the room through the back,
looking concerned. Buffy frowned and called out, "I'm going to take a
break now--pair off and practice the throws that Faith demonstrated
earlier." The Slayers got to their feet and paired off, while Buffy
caught Faith's eye again and inclined her head in Willow's direction.
The younger Slayer nodded, and followed Buffy over to the doorway,
where the three women exited together.

The training room had once been the hotel's grand ballroom, and the
lobby was only a short corridor away. Buffy, Faith and Willow walked
quietly out to the lobby--which was otherwise empty--and Buffy turned
to Willow and asked, "What's wrong? I've seen that expression on your
face before, and it's never good."

Willow walked over to a nearby armchair and sank into it, while Buffy
and Faith sat on a nearby couch. Willow was silent for a moment, and
her voice was just above a whisper as she replied, "I'm worried about
Xander."

Buffy involuntarily glanced toward the grand staircase, looking in
the general direction of Xander's room. "He's seemed OK when I've
seen him--a bit quiet, but considering everything he's gone through--"
"I know what you mean, Red. I've been trying to find time to get him
alone, but there's something. . .missing. He's friendly, helpful, and
generally as good to have around as ever, but it's like someone's
turned out the lights inside." Faith shook her head, looking
frustrated, and added: "I don't know him well enough to ask him
what's wrong, and even if I did--"

"--there's the little issue of needing to do the whole groveling
apology thing before you asked him what's wrong?" Willow's tone was
neutral, and Faith nodded, visibly ashamed. Willow smiled and
added, "Been there. Done that. Had my passport stamped full
with 'welcome to the Land of Grovel.'" Faith snickered, and Willow
grinned at her and concluded, "I'm glad you're concerned about him
too, Faith--but he won't talk about it. I asked him flat out what was
wrong, and he smiled at me and said, 'I'm fine, Will. Gotta go--those
training dummies won't build themselves.' "

"We all have our ways of dealing with grief--maybe this is just how
Xander's dealing with it." Buffy was feeling rather guilty that she
had overlooked Xander's pain, but she wasn't alarmed enough yet to
stage an intervention. She frowned and suggested, "Maybe I should
have Giles talk to him--he's been through losing someone close to him-
-"

"Buffy, we all have." Willow's comment stopped Buffy's thought in mid-
sentence, and she flushed in embarrassment as Willow continued, "I
saw how he was when you died, Buffy--it was different. Something else
is eating at him. . .and I don't think Giles is the one who's going
to get at it. Giles is great for telling you that you've screwed up
royally, you need to fix it, and he still cares about you. Xander
hasn't screwed up--he's just hurting."

"Yeah, you're right--but where does that leave us? Someone should
talk to him--we can't just let him sit in his room and brood when
he's not building stuff here." Buffy scowled angrily, unwilling to
abandon Xander to his pain.

Faith grinned suddenly, causing Buffy and Willow to direct annoyed
looks at her. Faith smiled apologetically, and hesitated a moment
before suggesting: "I have an idea for who to send to talk to him."
She explained quickly, and the others looked at each other and
nodded. Faith grimaced and commented, "I suppose I get to be the one
who asks."

"Oh yeah," replied Buffy.

"Definitely," replied Willow.

"Crap." Faith sighed, and headed for the staircase.


* * * * *


Xander lay on his bed, looking at the ceiling. The white paint had
started to peel, and he decided that this room had not been seriously
renovated in fifty years. * I could strip the paint, and put on a few
fresh coats--something with a little less lead in it. Black is a nice
color--no, that's a bit of a downer if someone stops by. Maybe dark
blue--*

He heard a soft knock at the door, and the half-formed thought
drifted away as he frowned in mild annoyance. Willow had been visibly
concerned about him earlier, but he was fairly sure that she had
believed his reassurances that everything was all right. * She's got
enough to worry about right now * He thought about ignoring the knock
and feigning sleep, but decided against it as the knock came again,
louder and more insistent. He sighed and went to the door, opening it
without ceremony. He blinked in surprise upon seeing who was waiting
on the other side, and it took a moment for him to recover and
ask, "Is something wrong, Angel? Give me a minute to get cleaned up
and I'll--"

The vampire looked vaguely embarrassed, and Xander was about to ask
again when Angel replied, "No emergency--things are quiet, or at
least as quiet as they can get with thirty-five Slayers running
around here. I just thought--well, I thought you could use some
company."

Xander snickered. "Who was it: Buffy or Willow?"

"What do you mean?" Angel asked, looking away down the hallway, then
back at Xander. "Why can't I just be stopping by wanting to know how
things are going with you?"

Xander snorted. "Angel, I'm missing one eye, not both of them--and
there's absolutely nothing wrong with my memory. Now, who sent you?"

Angel sighed. "Faith--the three of them were worried about you, and--"

"I'd already blown off Willow, Faith is still feeling too guilty to
talk to me, and Buffy was afraid that it would end up with us yelling
at each other for the ten billionth time?" Xander interrupted,
looking at Angel with his one good eye with an intensity that brought
back some rather unpleasant memories for Angel.

"Yeah, more or less." Angel frowned, and added, "Look, they sent me
because they thought I could help, but we both know that you've never
had much use for me. If you want me to leave, I will--I'll tell them
that you reassured me that you were OK and that they don't need to
worry."

"And they'll believe this, instead of assuming that we couldn't stand
to be in the same room together and coming up with another plan to
deal with my *problem*?" Xander's tone was sardonic, but Angel was
certain he saw genuine amusement in Xander's eye as he concluded, "We
both know that's not going to happen."

Angel shrugged. "No solution is perfect."

"Yeah, but it always scares me when they spend too much time together-
-they might send that big green friend of yours up here next to get
me in touch with my inner Wayne Newton." Xander shuddered, then shook
his head and said, "OK, why don't we shoot the breeze for a while so
you can at least be convincing when you tell them there's nothing
wrong with me--but I want you to answer a question honestly for me."

Angel raised an eyebrow, surprised at the request. "All right, but
only if you do the same for me--a question for a question."

Xander hesitated a moment before replying, "All right. When you were
playing Faith with your fake Angelus act, and you two ran into me in
town, why did you slug me?"

"Because I didn't want Faith to know that I wasn't evil--" Angel
began, noticing the glint of anger appearing in Xander's eye. He
paused, then reluctantly concluded: "--and because I'd wanted to deck
you for two years and I knew I could do it then without Buffy getting
on my case."

Xander's mouth tightened, and he waited a moment before
commenting, "OK, I thought as much--what do you want to know?"

"If you had known that Willow was going to succeed at restoring my
soul, would you still have lied to Buffy about it?" Angel's voice was
level, with only a hint of pain in his dark eyes as he asked the
question.

Xander paled and looked down for several seconds before looking back
up at Angel and answering quietly: "Yes." Angel's expression remained
calm, and Xander turned away, muttering, "Look Angel, maybe this was
a bad idea--"

"You did the right thing, Xander." Xander blinked, and turned back to
see Angel watching him with a compassionate expression. Angel nodded,
and added, "Not that I don't still have the urge to tear out your
ribcage and make a hat out of it over the whole thing--but you were
looking out for Buffy: she had to fight with everything she had to
defeat Angelus, and you knew it. The fact that you hated my guts
doesn't change that." Xander looked relieved, and Angel smirked and
asked, "I don't suppose that's what was really bothering you, was it?"

"Ah, no." Xander looked down again, then back up at Angel--causing
him to realize that he was still standing on the other side of the
threshold from the vampire. "So, should I invite you in?"

"Well, that would be the polite thing to do," Angel replied, glancing
behind Xander into his room, "but I've got a better idea. Come on."
He turned and walked down the hallway, and Xander left the room to
follow.


* * * * *


The lights came on, and Xander stared for a moment before turning to
Angel and commenting, "Nice."

Angel grinned and replied, "There are a few perks involved in owning
a high class hotel, even if it is a bit long in the tooth." The
lights had revealed a small lounge, with four small tables scattered
around the room and a full-sized bar with half a dozen stools. Angel
walked behind the bar, and began reaching for glasses as he
explained, "I didn't even know this place was here until the whole
mess with Jasmine happened and we needed to see how much space was
available for storage. We cleaned it out, but we never ended up using
it for anything before we defeated Jasmine. I decided that it
shouldn't go to waste, so I went out with Wesley and Gunn last week
and made a few acquisitions to stock the place." He looked up and
asked, "Any preferences?"

"Whiskey, if you've got it." Xander was looking around at the decor,
and turned back to see Angel putting two shot glasses and a bottle on
the bar surface. He looked at the label and whistled. "Bushmills
Black Bush--that's a bit more pricey than I'm used to." He watched as
Angel poured shots for both of them, and took a sip from his. He
brightened and added, "Not that I'm complaining."

Angel chuckled, then sobered and raised his glass: "To Anya."

Xander raised his own glass and touched it to Angel's as he
echoed, "To Anya." They both downed their shots, and Angel filled
their glasses again. Xander raised his glass again and muttered, "To
Spike, who was a no-good bastard--but he died as one of us."

Angel was surprised, but he echoed, "To Spike," and downed the second
shot, as did Xander. He filled the glasses again and waited, but
Xander seemed disinclined to call for a third toast. After a few
moments, he looked down at the bar and commented, "From some of what
Willow told me, I'm amazed that you let Spike last as long as he did."

Xander flushed, and he replied, "It wasn't for lack of trying on my
part. He left just after the worst of it, and when he came
back. . .it was different, and Buffy wasn't going to let anyone kill
him anyway." He paused, then asked bluntly, "Was he always this much
of a pain in the ass?"

Angel looked up and nodded, commenting, "Spike was always a bit too
human for Angelus' taste--he had no real interest in ruling or
controlling anything. All he cared about was getting the things he
liked and protecting Dru and himself--and heaven help anything that
got in the way of either. You saw what happened when he decided what
he wanted was Buffy. On the occasions when what he wanted was the
same thing that you wanted, he was the best ally you could hope for--
unless you were competing for that something, in which case the best
plan was ducking for cover."

Xander frowned, and took another swallow of whiskey before looking
back at Angel and commenting, "You know--it's funny how it all ties
together. Spike comes back to town and kidnaps Willow and me just
when we were trying to back off of the whole Fluke thing. Cordelia
and Oz find us doing something we shouldn't--Cordelia almost dies."
He finished his drink and poured another before Angel can
react. "Cordelia breaks up with me and attracts the attention of a
vengeance demon. Vengeance demon screws up and ends up human--bingo,
I've got a prom date." Xander shook his head in disgust and
muttered, "Between Spike's and my idiotic romantic choices, we sure
screwed up a lot of lives in a short time."

"Tell me about it," replied Angel, downing his own shot and pouring
another. Xander gave him a confused look, and Angel explained, "Spike
convinced Buffy that we couldn't see each other any more, because we
would always want each other and could never just be friends."

Xander snorted. "Great, Peroxide Boy tells her that and she listens.
* I * say it ten thousand times and she--" Xander stopped, chuckled,
and shook his head in disbelief as he commented, "Listen to me--I'm
sounding like Giles. Sorry."

Angel shrugged. "There are people you'd be less fortunate to sound
like." He sighed and added, "And both of you were right--we did need
to be apart, at least until things had changed for us." He looked
down at his glass and whispered, "We've both moved on."

"I want to see her."

Angel blinked at Xander's whisper, and looked up to see the haunted
look on his face. Angel smiled supportively at Xander and replied, "I
wish you could see Anya too, Xander; for that matter, I wish I could
see her--it sounds like she turned out to be--"

"Not Anya." Xander blinked, and he looked down at the bar again, his
eye focused on the dark liquid in his glass. "Not Anya."

Angel stared, and the pieces of the puzzle fell into place. He
reached out and put his hand on Xander's shoulder, causing the young
man to look up. Angel smiled sadly and added: "I should have realized
the news about Cordelia would mean more to you than to the
others. . .you reacted so calmly at the meeting that I let myself
forget--"

"We were talking about important things, Angel--I didn't want to get
in the way." Xander closed his eye for a moment, then opened it again
and looked at Angel as he continued, "I haven't seen her in four
years, Angel. I've heard rumors and heard repeated phone
conversations about her--I know what she's been doing, the risks
she's been taking, the pain she's suffered--and I never took the time
to make a three hour drive to stop in and say, 'How are you? What
have you been up to? Anything I can do to help?' What's the worst
thing that could have happened--a few insults, a slammed door in my
face if she was in a really bad mood? I couldn't have handled that? I
* owed * her more than that, Angel. I hurt Anya in ways that were
unforgivable, but I told her that--I did the best I could to make up
for it. I didn't do that for Cordelia."

Angel heard the note of self-loathing in Xander's voice and shook his
head in negation. "Xander, she was busy with her own life and you
were busy with yours. There was nothing stopping her from making that
three hour drive--or from picking up the phone and seeing how you
were doing. I've spent more than a few evenings with Cordelia and the
others where we've had a few too many, and your name has come up.
Wesley's not a big fan--you might want to do a little fence mending
there. Gunn and Fred don't believe most of the stories about you, and
Cordelia. . .she's been known to throw a few insults in your
direction--but the occasion she's brought up the most is how you paid
off that prom dress for her. She didn't--she * doesn't * hate you,
Xander--don't ever think that." Angel remembered something else and
smiled before adding, "She appreciated the wedding invitation--we
were a bit preoccupied for her to send a note with her regrets for
missing it."

"I kind of figured that--just as well she didn't come, under the
circumstances." Xander sighed, and got his feet, swaying only
slightly. He looked at Angel and quietly requested, "Can we see her
tonight? I know the place you have her isn't exactly a regular
hospital, but--"

"Of course we can." Angel smiled at Xander, genuinely moved by his
concern for Cordelia. He looked at his watch. "The sun's down. I'll
call a cab--it'll be out front in a few minutes."

Xander nodded and downed the whiskey with a fluid gesture, and waited
as Angel made the phone call.


* * * * *


The ward was very quiet. Angel knew from studying the reports that he
had demanded Lilah provide that the clinic dealt with any number of
magical conditions that drove their victims stark raving mad, but the
wards that contained those patients were magically soundproofed to a
degree that modern science would be hard-pressed to duplicate. This
ward was for the comatose patients, and it was relatively empty.

Angel led Xander through the maze of beds with the ease of
experience, and walked to an unmarked door. He opened the door, and
the light clicked on automatically. Cordelia was the sole patient in
the room, and she lay on the bed in eerie stillness, the IV tube in
her left arm trailing off into an odd-looking machine that hummed and
chirped occasionally. Angel turned to Xander and explained, "It
monitors her condition, and feeds her with a low-level healing potion
that keeps her from getting pneumonia or bed sores, and keeps her
physical condition from deteriorating too much from being out of it
for so long. When she wakes up, she'll be in a lot better shape than
a run-of-the-mill coma patient."

Xander noted that Angel said "when," and saw the vampire's face twist
in pain as he said "coma patient." Obeying an impulse, he reached out
and squeezed Angel's shoulder, then pulled up a chair next to the
bed. Angel stayed back--this moment was for Xander.

Xander reached out and held Cordelia's hand: it felt cool, but he
could feel the faint pulse throbbing in her wrist. He smiled at her
and whispered, "Hey, Cordy. Better late than never that I come to
visit, huh?" He stopped, and took a breath before continuing: "You
should have been there--we finally got rid of the Hellmouth--blew the
damned thing up and took about a zillion of the nastiest vamps
anyone's ever seen with it. Buffy went in with Faith and about thirty
Slayers--great story on how *that* happened--and they fought it out
for the heavyweight championship of Hell. When it was over, we all
ran like hell and *poof*--no more Sunnydale or Hellmouth. Most
everyone had cleared out of town by then, and I know your folks
weren't living there any more, so you don't have to worry about that."

Xander paused, as if expecting her to react, but Cordelia remained
silent. Xander coughed self-consciously, and continued: "We went
straight to the Hyperion afterwards--it's wall to wall Slayers there
right now. When you wake up, there are going to be all kinds of girls
you can give fashion advice to and generally keep them out of
trouble. You'll have plenty to do, and we really need you back,
Cordy. We *want* you back, Cordy." Xander's eye closed convulsively,
and a tear ran down his cheek as he whispered, "Please come back."

Xander felt Angel's hand on his shoulder. He looked up and
apologized, "I'm sorry, Angel. Pointless thing to do, I know."

Xander saw Angel smile ruefully. "I know. That's what I told myself
after I did it, the first time I saw her here."

Xander shook his head in frustration. "It just doesn't seem right,
Angel. She lived through the shock of the whole evil pregnancy thing--
why won't she wake up?"

Angel pulled up a chair and hesitated a moment before replying: "The
experience damaged the connection between her soul and her body--she
received treatment before her body was too far gone to contain her
soul, but there's lasting damage that keeps her conscious mind from
actually functioning. These treatments won't help her with that--
unless we can find a healer powerful enough to repair the damage,
she'll have to recover on her own." He looked at Xander bleakly and
added, "No one knows how long that might take--she's not completely
human any more. It might be decades or even centuries before she
wakes up--if she ever does."

Xander bowed his head, then looked back up at Angel: "So her spirit
is still here?" Angel nodded, and Xander pressed, "Then shouldn't
there be some way to communicate with her?"

"I was wondering when one of you heroic types was going to realize
that."

Xander and Angel turned to the open doorway and saw Lorne standing
there with a bouquet of mixed zinnias. He stepped forward and put the
flowers in a vase before reaching out and brushing a strand of hair
off of Cordelia's cheek as he whispered, "Hello, Princess." Lorne
sighed, then straightened and noted the stares being directed at him.
He raised an eyebrow and asked, "Haven't you ever seen someone bring
flowers to a sick friend before?"

"Lorne, are you saying that there's some way we can get through to
Cordelia? If so, I think I speak for both Xander and myself when I
say that it would have been nice to hear about this before." Angel's
tone was terse, and Xander nodded curtly in agreement.

"No need to get testy with me--we've all been rather busy lately, and
Cordelia needed time to adjust to her medical treatments before we
tried any serious magic with her--wouldn't do to kill her by trying
to communicate with her, would it?" Lorne sounded annoyed, and he
received an apologetic smile from Angel and a shrug from Xander. "OK,
then. You two raised my hackles with that little bull session in the
lounge, and I decided to follow you here, since I had intended to
talk to you about this anyway, Angel, and Xander is also a concerned
party. The approach I have in mind involves the presence of those
with very close ties to the afflicted person--and the vibes I'm
getting from you say that you two are the genuine article."

"What about Wesley and Gunn?" asked Xander. "They've been closer to
Cordelia than I have the last few years."

"Different kind of ties, Xander." Lorne smiled at the young man, and
turned back to Angel as he stated flatly: "The people involved have
to have been in love with her."

Angel and Xander both flinched, and turned to each other. Xander
found his voice first, and whispered, "I'm sorry Angel. . .I didn't
know."

Angel shrugged, and replied, "There's no way you could have known.
The timing was never right, and there were other problems." He
frowned and asked Lorne, "What about Groo?"

"No way to reach him other than an extended expedition to Pylea,
which is a bit drastic at this point. His absence might make the
whole thing fail, but it won't hurt Cordelia. I think we should try."
Lorne spoke calmly, looking back at the silent figure on the
bed. "But it's up to you--I can't do it without you."

Angel turned to Xander, who only hesitated an instant before nodding
once. Angel nodded in reply, and turned to Lorne. "What do we have to
do?"

"Sit on opposite sides of the bed from each other, and each of you
hold one of her hands." Lorne replied, and watched as Angel moved his
chair to the far side of the bed and clasped Cordelia's right hand,
while Xander continued to hold her left hand. Lorne smiled, and
commented, "Good," as he moved to the foot of the bed. "Now I sing a
song that evokes the feelings that you two have about Cordelia, and
if all goes well, a portion of her essence will be summoned which can
interact with us. It's not going to be bells and whistles--she'll be
recognizable, and she may make a gesture or two, but she won't be
able to speak."

"Are we going to have to sing too?" Xander asked, tensing visibly.

"That would be ideal, but I know from experience with the Big Guy
over here that it's not his favorite thing to do, and if I'm not
mistaken you're not fond of the idea either. If you feel
uncomfortable, it'll detract from my efforts, not assist them." Lorne
replied, and added, "I think my own abilities will be enough--what I
need you to do is think of your time with Cordelia. Picture some
moment that epitomizes your relationship with her, and focus on that
while I sing." He looked at both of them and asked, "Are you ready?"

Xander and Angel nodded, and closed their eyes in thought. Angel
remembered seeing Cordelia open her eyes after being cured of the
madness caused by her empathy running wild, and her determination to
help the people whose pain had nearly destroyed her. Xander
remembered how--after his foolish use of the love spell had nearly
killed both Cordelia and himself--she had walked away from her clique
and proudly announced that she would date whoever she damned well
pleased--"no matter how lame he is." Xander winced at the memory, and
smiled at the determination that Cordelia had shown that day.
Lorne glanced at both men, and began to sing:


I, I can't read the future
But I still want to hold you close
Right now, I need that from you
So give me the morning
Sharing another day with you
Is all I want to know


And baby I, I've tried to forget you
But the light of your eyes
Still shines like an Angel
A spirit that won't let me go



Lorne paused before beginning the third verse, and was surprised when
Angel joined him, singing in a low, clear tone:


And I, I didn't want to tell you
Things I didn't wanna know myself
I was afraid to show
But you, you gave me a reason
A reason to face the truth, oh yes you did
To face the truth, face the truth
Face the truth


Lorne and Angel paused, and began the fourth verse--only to be joined
by Xander:


And baby I, I've tried to forget you
But the light of your eyes
Still shines, shines, shines like an Angel
A spirit that won't let me go
Won't let me go, let go of my heart


As the three finished the fourth verse, the air began to glow above
Cordelia. Xander and Angel both turned to Lorne, and he nodded to
indicate that they could stop. They did, and there was absolute
silence in the room as the light coalesced into a life-sized image of
Cordelia. The image was faded, with little visible color, but
Cordelia's dark eyes sparkled as she turned to Lorne. She favored him
with a sad smile, and her expression was one of simple pleasure at
seeing an old friend. Lorne smiled in response and whispered, "Good
to see you too, Princess."

Cordelia nodded once in acknowledgment, and turned to Xander--who was
watching her with an expression of stunned disbelief. "I'd forgotten
how beautiful you are, Cordy," he whispered, squeezing her hand as he
stared at the vision floating above the bed.

Cordelia smiled at him, and Xander recognized it as the one she had
used when she didn't want to go to the effort of saying, "Well, duh!"
Her eyes fell on him, and Xander saw her expression twist in sadness
as she saw his recent injuries. He noticed, and he shrugged. * This
stuff happens * Cordelia nodded, and composed herself--the look she
gave him was an odd combination of affection and irritation, and
Xander remembered it well, having missed it terribly over the past
five years. He met her gaze and whispered, "Come back to us when you
can, Cordy."

Cordelia grinned briefly in response, and turned to Angel. Angel had
turned away involuntarily--he was feeling deeply ashamed of the
mistakes he had made that had led to Cordelia lying in that bed, and
he was not sure he could face her. Out of the corner of his eye, he
saw Cordelia's lips moving, and it took him a moment to read her lips
and discern her message:

* Look at me, you big jerk! *


Angel winced, but obeyed the command. He straightened and forced
himself to face what he was sure would be condemnation from Cordelia.
He waited, and was moved to see the genuine warmth in Cordelia's
expression, and the light in her eyes. He swallowed hard, and said
simply, "Cordelia--I don't know what to say. I'm sorry."

Cordelia seemed to absorb that, and was still for several seconds
before her lips began to move again. Angel watched intently, and it
was only a moment before the message was clear:

* Promise me you won't give up hope, Angel. *

Angel blinked, and his voice cracked as he replied, "I won't. I swear
it, Cordelia."

Cordelia's expression went solemn, and she nodded once more before
seeming to look at all three of them. As the image began to fade, she
grinned, and the expression was pure Queen C, except for the sadness
that remained in the eyes until the image faded completely into non-
existence.

The room was silent for a moment, then Xander squeezed Cordelia's
hand once more and released it as he stood up. He walked over to
Angel and put his hand on his shoulder as he called out, "Come on,
Angel--let's let her rest. It's been a busy day for her."

Angel nodded slowly and stood up, looking at Xander as he
whispered, "Thank you, Xander."

Xander nodded and quirked a smile. "Let's get back and open that
lounge up again--and invite a few more friends this time. I'd like to
talk about Cordelia some more." He looked back at the still form on
the bed and added, "We'll have a lot to say to her when she comes
back."

Angel smiled in agreement and led the way out. Lorne and Xander
followed, and the door closed behind them, leaving the room in
darkness.


As always, comments are welcomed and desired.



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