TIMELINE: Angel season 3.
SPOILERS: If it's in AtS season 3 and rant-worthy, it's here.
SYNOPSIS: Angel proposes to Cordelia (wait! Don't run yet!) but all is not how it seems...
DISTRIBUTION: List archives, ff.net, my site. If you already have it, feel free to either update or leave as was. Everyone else, just ask!
AUTHOR'S NOTES: Smurfette's PMS-inspired rant rewritten. Given the amount of bitterness floating around in fandom at the moment, I thought we all could do with a reminder that The REAL Angel is actually being held captive in Sri Lanka.
FEEDBACK: If it makes you happy
RATING: PG-13
SPECIAL THANKS, smooches and Tim Minear Tams to Trammie, who did a fantastic beta of the rewrite for me, and came up with the rewritten spell.
DEDICATION: To everyone who's feeling bitter and betrayed at the moment. Remember, the spoon only exists in your own mind.
"I love you, Cordelia," Angel said, staring deeply into his lover's eyes. "I try not to, but I can't stop."
The couple was sitting in a crowded restaurant, their features illuminated by the soft glow of the candles alight on the table.
The restaurant violinist came over and started to serenade the lovers as Angel stood and knelt at Cordelia's feet, taking a small velvet box out of his coat pocket. "Cordelia," he opened the box to reveal a diamond-encrusted claddagh, "will you marry me?"
A smile began to bloom over Cordelia's face, tears misting her vision. As the violinist reached a crescendo, the couple stood on one accord and sealed the moment with a passionate embrace, heedless of the crowd around them----
"HOLD ON!!!!" The roar came from the door to the restaurant, a shadowy figure who stormed into the room. "What the *hell* is going on here?!?!"
The DarkFigure continued over to the table where Cordelia and Angel had been startled out of what Cordelia might once have called their extreme PDA. The mystery figure stepped into the light, revealing...
"Angel?!" Cordelia gasped, looking from her fiancé to his double in surprise.
"You!" snarled fiancéAngel, glaring at DarkAngel (and no, I don't mean the TV show), "I thought I got rid of you at the monastery."
"He's one of the demonic monks?" Cordelia asked. "Wait, there actually *were* demonic monks? And they all looked like you? Wow, there's the female population of America's idea of hell..."
DarkAngel gave Cordelia a 'could you be more stupid' look (the kind he always used to give her at least twice in every episode), and took out a piece of paper.
"Xney! Grnwlt Nxn Cnt Wrtfr Sht!" he cried out, and watched as fiancéAngel's skin fell away, to reveal a demonic monk.
Finally showing his true form, the monk shoved Cordelia out of the way, straight into the dessert cart (Angel, having heard about what she was doing on *his* series -- note the name, 'Angel the Series', *not* 'Cordelia the Saint' -- took some small amount of pleasure in seeing this), and attacked Angel. But our Heroic Angel was prepared, and responded easily.
One wrecked restaurant later (Lorne will be pleased that his is not the only property that suffers from association with this group), Angel was driving back to the Hyperion with a shell-shocked Cordelia sitting next to him.
"So it wasn't you?" Cordy kept saying. "How could we have thought it was you? All that time... I mean, when was the last time you went all brood-boy on us? It was so obvious... Oh God!" she realized, "I slept with you! I got *engaged* to you! Ewww!" She yanked the ring off her finger. "What was I thinking?! Incest!"
They pulled up at the hotel, Angel marching up the stairs with his black duster billowing behind him. He swung open the doors to the darkened room and----
"SURPRISE!!" The lights came on to reveal Wesley, Fred, Lorne and Gunn standing under a big banner with the words 'Congratulations On Your Engagement' stretching across the foyer. They were all wearing party hats, blowing noisemakers and throwing streamers. Wesley opened a bottle of champagne and pressed flutes into Angel and Cordy's hands before they could move.
Cordy promptly downed hers, and went back for a second glass.
As Fred, Gunn, Wesley and Lorne burst into a spontaneous chorus of 'For They are Jolly Good People', heedless to Cordelia's mussed appearance (let's not go there, hmm?) and Angel's glower, Angel took the piece of paper out again.
"Xney! Grnwlt Nxn Cnt Wrtfr Sht!" he cried again.
Wesley, Gunn and Lorne trailed off, leaving Fred to warble on heedlessly. The men gazed around, disorientated, as the baby carrier in the corner disappeared into a puff of smoke. (Out of all the plot-holes on AtS…an infant who'll turn into a teenager overnight? Plot device much?)
"What on earth--" Wesley asked, gazing around.
"You've all been under a spell," Angel responded, deciding to actually talk for once. "The 'person' who came back from Sri Lanka wasn't me."
"So everything that happened..."
"Was a spell," Angel assured them. "Everything that's happened... the birth of Connor," he felt regretful on that part. After all, it isn't often that a vampire gets to have children, but then, his body was *dead*. He couldn't work for telephone companies, volunteer for the Red Cross, or have children, "everything that's happened since I returned from Sri Lanka -- all of your actions --everything has been influenced by this spell."
"Oh, thank you, Jesus!" Gunn exclaimed with a telling glance at Fred.
Wesley stood in serious Watcher-like thought for a moment. "Kind of like a 'Dallas' shower-scene, really."
Angel, Gunn and a slightly tipsy Cordelia stared incredulously at the Englishman for a moment.
"Just because I've been known to wear tweed doesn't mean I'm not entitled to the occasional pop-culture reference!" Wesley exclaimed in irritation.
"What does a bathroom in Texas have to do with anything?" Angel asked.
Wesley went into full Watcher-mode, pop-culture (albeit older pop-culture) forgotten. "You must tell us of your experiences at the monastery, Angel," he invited, resisting the temptation to make sure the vampire knew nothing about *any* Charlton Heston films. *He* was entitled to outdated pop-culture, Angel most certainly was *not*.
"I don't have much to tell," Angel shrugged. "I was kept captive with a guy named Joss, a member of The Powers That Be, at the behest of a David and a Marti." Angel scowled at the names. "I believe they're the much-lauded senior partners at Wolfram and Hart. When we got loose, Joss told me to say the spell and all would be right."
At that last statement, a resounding crash echoed around the lobby. "All would be right?" Cordelia shrieked. "ALL WOULD BE RIGHT?!" She cast aside the broken remnants of the champagne bottle in disgust.
"This Joss-fellow can kiss my shiny half-demon ass!" Cordelia ranted. "He admits the show was screwed up, but does he fix things? *Nooo!* I glow?! If I wanted to glow, I'd change my make-up routine. Shiny skin is *not* good!" she screeched. "What, I levitate? Wow, ain't *that* great! Just call me Phoebe!" Cordelia emphasised that last statement by sending some innocent cushions flying across the lobby.
"No," the enraged seer corrected herself in a scream, "I'd need **long brown hair** to be on 'Charmed'. Instead, when he "puts things right", he leaves me looking like a SKUNK!!"
Because the world does not revolve around Cordelia, Wesley went back to addressing Angel. "Spell or not, we should have known!" he exclaimed. "That we would have accepted you and Cordelia... the mind boggles. And the way we managed to circumnavigate the curse... that potion was ridiculous. Then, to top it all off, when you can *finally* achieve perfect happiness you turn to Cordelia?!"
Angel angrily paced into the kitchen, and returned again. "I still can't believe you guys would believe that I would spend three months trying to come to terms with my grief, and then come home and start flirting with Cordelia -- and once again I say, *CORDELIA* -- when the love of my unlife had just died. She DIED. And I start to flirt with Cordelia. With *Cordelia*."
Everyone turned around to look at the lady in question, who, having seen her reflection again, was finishing her second bottle of champagne. "What?" she asked, "You don't have the memory of *sleeping* with your -- like -- *brother*! I mean, EWWWW!!"
"But -- But--" Fred stammered, lost for words for the first time in her entire existence. "You had moira! You shared kye-rumption! You are shared souls -- you're soulmates! It's destiny! Two heroes who are drawn together in an epic romance! A gut physical attraction!" Fred started to hyperventilate.
"And can anyone *else* say 'Ballad of Buffy and Angel'?" Cordelia snarked.
Angel resumed pacing, and went to drag his hands through his hair in frustration, stopping just in time. After all, there were many differences between him and the demon who had made such a farce of his life, but not *that* many.
"So if that was a false Angel..." Wesley realized slowly, "that means... Angel, you should know, they resurrected Buffy."
Angel stopped still in his tracks, whipping around to face Wesley, eyes wide. If he had circulation, he would have passed out. "What?"
"Willow... she brought Buffy back," Wesley said, watching his friend's face.
Angel turned and ran out of the building, not stopping before he reached Sunnydale, networks and stupid producers be damned. Who could be bothered with phone calls when in two hours he could be in his mate's arms once more?
"Now *that's* Angel!" Wesley said in satisfaction.
THE END
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