Cordelia's Curse
Aug. 1st, 2022 10:54 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
apachefirecatTitle: Cordelia's Curse
Fandom: Angel
Author: Apache Firecat
Characters: Angel/Cordelia, Angel/Buffy, past Xander/Cordelia, past Doyle/Cordelia
Rating: PG-13/T
Summary: Cordelia hides, grieves, hurts, regrets, and is just utterly miserable.
Word Count: 1619
Written For: Mini Nekid Guest August 2022: Cordelia Chase
Warnings: Cutting
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.
She is not the girl she used to be. She is not the girl she was supposed to be, or the girl she dreamed she would be, or even the girl she could have been. There is so much that has changed, both about her and around her and ultimately for her, for better or for worse. She has loved and been hurt by every single damn one of them, but nobody hurts her like he does. Xander broke her heart when it shouldn't have been reachable, when she shouldn't have been reachable by him, shattered her reputation, and sent her running faster than she had intended to a dream that still should have been attainable. Doyle ultimately took what was left of her dream and, though he tried to support it, destroyed it.
But none of that would have been possible if not for the man on whom she is -- yes, she's brooding tonight worse even than he broods these nights. All she can think is of him. All she can feel is the pain in her heart and the cold blade pressing against her skin, cold metal that her mind, through the haze of alcohol and depression, likens to his teeth, sharp fangs that could bring her to an entirely different world. They would finish what is left of her, yes, but ultimately, they could give her so much more. They could give her eternal youth, superhuman strength, the ability to truly cast a spell of allure that no man or woman could deny... They could give her the strength and power to break all these chains that, after all these years, still keeps her bound.
He could free her, if he had control over it. He could save her, if he knew how to give her her soul once he turned her. He could take her beside him, if he would only see that she is the only one truly willing to stay with him forever. He could love her, if only he was willing. But his heart still belongs to another, to still belongs to a foolish girl that despite being the Slayer will never be half the woman she is. Cordelia knows she could please Angel in ways little Buffy could only imagine. She's fought hard to be by his side, to become the one chooses with whom to spend his long and miserable nights, but he still doesn't choose her. He still doesn't see her as anything more than a friend.
It still seems almost as though she's living in a different world to think that Angel or any hot-blooded, sensual man could choose her, Cordelia Chase, formerly known as the Queen C, as mere friendship fodder! She is so much more than a friend! She didn't get to where she is by being men's friends, but then, she also hasn't gotten anywhere as far in life as she should have. She had a dream once, a dream where she starred in her own show, where she was famous across the globe, where she was happy, rich, famous, carefree, and as beautiful as she's ever been -- but that dream ended in disaster. Wesley and Angel were both lost without her, Angel even more so. He'd been but a mere, crumpled puppet of a man when she'd found him.
It's funny, how much dreams change with years and how much they can change a person. She was first drawn into Buffy's little gang because of the nights she would see Angel at the Bronze. She still remembers the first words she said to him: "Hello, salty goodness." And, oh, what goodness he had been! She'd been tired of the college boys even back then, tired of Sunnydale never having anything of any real interest to offer her, and then he had appeared.
But even then, he'd only wanted Buffy. He'd only ever wanted precious, little Buffy with her Slaying abilities for the Vampires and other evil, nasty things of the night but her almost completely cluelessness when it came to guys. Cordelia had done everything in her power to rid herself of that one, and yet -- Yet not only was she still in her life, still controlling her dearest friend, the one man in all the world who Cordelia had lusted after for years rather than having to swat away like a bad puppy or an annoying fly, but they had somehow, sickingly become friends. Of course, it paid to become friends with the Slayer when you lived on the Hellmouth, but Cordy hasn't lived on the Hellmouth now for years.
They haven't been around Buffy for years. And yet he still wants her. He still wants only her. She'd thought she was getting somewhere with him once, but then she had caught him dreaming and instead of whispering her name, moaning her name or (as he should have been) even screaming it, Cordy had caught him still crying in his sleep after Buffy. That, she supposed, was when she had really began to let Doyle get to her. He had been so sweet, so easy to talk to, so easy to make her laugh, to lighten her mood no matter what else was going on, and yes, even, for a time, to make her feel safe -- all qualities Xander Harris had portrayed.
She should have known better, honestly, now that she looks back at it, but as much as Xander had almost destroyed her, Doyle had done her an even worse turn. He had not only broken her heart again; he had down right cursed her! Now she has these crazy visions that she can't rid herself of, and even if she had wanted to leave Angel, even if or when she finally manages to work up the nerve again to leave him and to make him realize how much he would indeed miss her terribly if she ever left his dumb ass, she can't. He needs her, and goodness knows she needs him. She needs a way to stop these merciless visions. No wonder Doyle always cursed them and cried over them, -- and he was half Demon! He had the strength to hold up to them!
Cordelia's amber drink sloshes in her glass as she swings her arm out. "Fine mess you've gotten yourself into, Cordy, girl," she mutters. Then she stops suddenly for she sounds just like him. More tears flood down her cheeks, and she hears a whistling, howling wind that she tells herself isn't the ghost with whom she bunks and who is her only friend beyond Angel in this crazy, damn world. For once, she doesn't tell Dennis to hush. Let the neighbors bitch and moan about him; they can never prove a thing.
She should've known better than to try her luck out here in LA. She's star material, but these people never know true stars when they see them just like they never admit to the Supernatural when they see them unless it's too late. It's too late for her too, Cordelia silently accepts, throwing another shot down her throat. It's too late for her to achieve the star she was born to have. She's star material. She's the true Queen of this damn show! But Angel's never going to see it that way. He's never going to see her as more than a friend, so what the Hell does it matter?
He's as blind as those producers who turned her down for the role she auditioned for today. She should have had that role! Hell, she lives the part of the hapless starlet madly in love with the brooding, Vampire hero every night of her life! Every night but not tonight. Tonight, he can wonder where she is, if he even bothers to care, if he even realizes, in between saving countless lives, that she's not there to brighten up his office and his world tonight. He doesn't appreciate her. Nobody does.
But the knife feels good against her throat. Cordelia drops her shot glass, not caring that it shatters on the floor because she can always pick up another one at the next cocktail party. She goes for the bottle instead and slings about a third of it down her throat before letting it drop and leaning back with a moan that causes Dennis to rattle the walls again. She presses the knife closer, harder, drawing blood...
She won't kill herself. She always stops before she can get far enough to actually lose enough blood. Then she wears a turtleneck sweater the next day to work or covers the bruises with makeup, just like she used to do when her father beat her. No one will know. No one cares enough to know, just like they didn't care enough back in high school. They want her for her body, not her imperfections, and most are willing to overlook such trivial imperfections. They're trivial, because they don't take away from her gorgeous looks or her sexuality. They don't take away from the things for which people actually do want her, the few that still do...
Why doesn't Angel just make her leave? she wonders, far from the first time, but she knows why. He doesn't care if she leaves or stays. He won't tell her he needs her, but he does need her. How many times has he tried to get rid of her? But he can't. He can't as long as she's Vision Girl. Maybe Doyle did give her something worth having after all, or maybe all he did was prolong her curse. Cordy moans, and the winds of the storm raking over the City of Lost Angels howl mercilessly.
The End
Fandom: Angel
Author: Apache Firecat
Characters: Angel/Cordelia, Angel/Buffy, past Xander/Cordelia, past Doyle/Cordelia
Rating: PG-13/T
Summary: Cordelia hides, grieves, hurts, regrets, and is just utterly miserable.
Word Count: 1619
Written For: Mini Nekid Guest August 2022: Cordelia Chase
Warnings: Cutting
Disclaimer: All characters within belong to their rightful owners, not the author, and are used without permission.
She is not the girl she used to be. She is not the girl she was supposed to be, or the girl she dreamed she would be, or even the girl she could have been. There is so much that has changed, both about her and around her and ultimately for her, for better or for worse. She has loved and been hurt by every single damn one of them, but nobody hurts her like he does. Xander broke her heart when it shouldn't have been reachable, when she shouldn't have been reachable by him, shattered her reputation, and sent her running faster than she had intended to a dream that still should have been attainable. Doyle ultimately took what was left of her dream and, though he tried to support it, destroyed it.
But none of that would have been possible if not for the man on whom she is -- yes, she's brooding tonight worse even than he broods these nights. All she can think is of him. All she can feel is the pain in her heart and the cold blade pressing against her skin, cold metal that her mind, through the haze of alcohol and depression, likens to his teeth, sharp fangs that could bring her to an entirely different world. They would finish what is left of her, yes, but ultimately, they could give her so much more. They could give her eternal youth, superhuman strength, the ability to truly cast a spell of allure that no man or woman could deny... They could give her the strength and power to break all these chains that, after all these years, still keeps her bound.
He could free her, if he had control over it. He could save her, if he knew how to give her her soul once he turned her. He could take her beside him, if he would only see that she is the only one truly willing to stay with him forever. He could love her, if only he was willing. But his heart still belongs to another, to still belongs to a foolish girl that despite being the Slayer will never be half the woman she is. Cordelia knows she could please Angel in ways little Buffy could only imagine. She's fought hard to be by his side, to become the one chooses with whom to spend his long and miserable nights, but he still doesn't choose her. He still doesn't see her as anything more than a friend.
It still seems almost as though she's living in a different world to think that Angel or any hot-blooded, sensual man could choose her, Cordelia Chase, formerly known as the Queen C, as mere friendship fodder! She is so much more than a friend! She didn't get to where she is by being men's friends, but then, she also hasn't gotten anywhere as far in life as she should have. She had a dream once, a dream where she starred in her own show, where she was famous across the globe, where she was happy, rich, famous, carefree, and as beautiful as she's ever been -- but that dream ended in disaster. Wesley and Angel were both lost without her, Angel even more so. He'd been but a mere, crumpled puppet of a man when she'd found him.
It's funny, how much dreams change with years and how much they can change a person. She was first drawn into Buffy's little gang because of the nights she would see Angel at the Bronze. She still remembers the first words she said to him: "Hello, salty goodness." And, oh, what goodness he had been! She'd been tired of the college boys even back then, tired of Sunnydale never having anything of any real interest to offer her, and then he had appeared.
But even then, he'd only wanted Buffy. He'd only ever wanted precious, little Buffy with her Slaying abilities for the Vampires and other evil, nasty things of the night but her almost completely cluelessness when it came to guys. Cordelia had done everything in her power to rid herself of that one, and yet -- Yet not only was she still in her life, still controlling her dearest friend, the one man in all the world who Cordelia had lusted after for years rather than having to swat away like a bad puppy or an annoying fly, but they had somehow, sickingly become friends. Of course, it paid to become friends with the Slayer when you lived on the Hellmouth, but Cordy hasn't lived on the Hellmouth now for years.
They haven't been around Buffy for years. And yet he still wants her. He still wants only her. She'd thought she was getting somewhere with him once, but then she had caught him dreaming and instead of whispering her name, moaning her name or (as he should have been) even screaming it, Cordy had caught him still crying in his sleep after Buffy. That, she supposed, was when she had really began to let Doyle get to her. He had been so sweet, so easy to talk to, so easy to make her laugh, to lighten her mood no matter what else was going on, and yes, even, for a time, to make her feel safe -- all qualities Xander Harris had portrayed.
She should have known better, honestly, now that she looks back at it, but as much as Xander had almost destroyed her, Doyle had done her an even worse turn. He had not only broken her heart again; he had down right cursed her! Now she has these crazy visions that she can't rid herself of, and even if she had wanted to leave Angel, even if or when she finally manages to work up the nerve again to leave him and to make him realize how much he would indeed miss her terribly if she ever left his dumb ass, she can't. He needs her, and goodness knows she needs him. She needs a way to stop these merciless visions. No wonder Doyle always cursed them and cried over them, -- and he was half Demon! He had the strength to hold up to them!
Cordelia's amber drink sloshes in her glass as she swings her arm out. "Fine mess you've gotten yourself into, Cordy, girl," she mutters. Then she stops suddenly for she sounds just like him. More tears flood down her cheeks, and she hears a whistling, howling wind that she tells herself isn't the ghost with whom she bunks and who is her only friend beyond Angel in this crazy, damn world. For once, she doesn't tell Dennis to hush. Let the neighbors bitch and moan about him; they can never prove a thing.
She should've known better than to try her luck out here in LA. She's star material, but these people never know true stars when they see them just like they never admit to the Supernatural when they see them unless it's too late. It's too late for her too, Cordelia silently accepts, throwing another shot down her throat. It's too late for her to achieve the star she was born to have. She's star material. She's the true Queen of this damn show! But Angel's never going to see it that way. He's never going to see her as more than a friend, so what the Hell does it matter?
He's as blind as those producers who turned her down for the role she auditioned for today. She should have had that role! Hell, she lives the part of the hapless starlet madly in love with the brooding, Vampire hero every night of her life! Every night but not tonight. Tonight, he can wonder where she is, if he even bothers to care, if he even realizes, in between saving countless lives, that she's not there to brighten up his office and his world tonight. He doesn't appreciate her. Nobody does.
But the knife feels good against her throat. Cordelia drops her shot glass, not caring that it shatters on the floor because she can always pick up another one at the next cocktail party. She goes for the bottle instead and slings about a third of it down her throat before letting it drop and leaning back with a moan that causes Dennis to rattle the walls again. She presses the knife closer, harder, drawing blood...
She won't kill herself. She always stops before she can get far enough to actually lose enough blood. Then she wears a turtleneck sweater the next day to work or covers the bruises with makeup, just like she used to do when her father beat her. No one will know. No one cares enough to know, just like they didn't care enough back in high school. They want her for her body, not her imperfections, and most are willing to overlook such trivial imperfections. They're trivial, because they don't take away from her gorgeous looks or her sexuality. They don't take away from the things for which people actually do want her, the few that still do...
Why doesn't Angel just make her leave? she wonders, far from the first time, but she knows why. He doesn't care if she leaves or stays. He won't tell her he needs her, but he does need her. How many times has he tried to get rid of her? But he can't. He can't as long as she's Vision Girl. Maybe Doyle did give her something worth having after all, or maybe all he did was prolong her curse. Cordy moans, and the winds of the storm raking over the City of Lost Angels howl mercilessly.
The End
