Disclaimer: Not mine. Got that? Some bits of dialogue are taken from the episode "Birthday"

Distribution: If you have anything of mine, fine. Anyone else, just ask first.

Spoilers: Birthday

Rating: PG? Really nothing bad here but an insane Angel...

When Cordelia was very young, her mother had given her a treasury of fairy tales. It hadn't been the prettiest thing, or the most expensive thing, but for years she had secretly adored it. Over and over she'd read stories of monsters and princesses, of evil curses and handsome princes. She'd read of worlds where everything could be solved with a tear or with a kiss. How she had delighted in those stories, once upon a time.

But years went by, and Cordelia grew up, and learned that the monsters were real. She'd learned that the damsel in distress had better learn to take care of herself, or she'd end up some vampire's next meal. She'd learned the dark basis of all of those lighthearted stories, and seen forces of evil that she'd never imagined when she read those fairy tales. She'd learned that it took more than a kiss to fix things. She'd stood on the mouth of hell. She'd seen the very real effects of a curse.

And years went by.

Cordelia's family lost their money, and Cordelia's dreams brought her to L.A. Fame, fortune, success. She'd almost forgotten about Sunnydale, about the things that lurked in the dark. She'd wanted to forget.

But not today. Today it had all come together, past and present in an unexpected tangle. Starting after the day's filming with odd ticklings of memory that she just couldn't ignore, it had built into a sense of something - everything - just being wrong. She'd followed it, followed that pull she couldn't define...to find a would-be witch, a demon...a friend...a vampire.

Things had never been so wrong. And so horrible.

The room was dark and oppressive, the thickly covered windows giving it a bluish cast. The floor was bare, with only an uncovered mattress in the way of furniture. There was a smell to the room that Cordelia couldn't quite place. It made her think of death.

The light, the smell, the shackles she fought not to look at...and him.

"This is one of his good days," Wesley had said.

He muttered to himself, bare feet shuffling across bare floor as he scrambled back from the invasion of his room. Numbers written on the wall spilled from his lips over and over.

"One seven one."

Cordelia barely noticed Wesley and Gunn's silent gaze. Her entire attention was on the man...the vampire...cowering in the corner. They'd never been close, never really been friends, but he'd been handsome, and strong... And there was that brush of memory again, telling her that he could have been so much more.

Twice cursed. Damned.

'Gifted' with visions?

And the prize for least appropriate phrase goes to...

Why did the visions cause this? How...?

Like Wes had said. "Cordelia, I want you to think about this. Angel's not the person you knew. He came to Los Angeles in pain, vulnerable ... and when Doyle, his only friend died he ... he retreated into himself."

Had she really wanted to see this?

She knelt before him, knowing what she had to do. She didn't question it. The memories that had been toying with her all day spurred her into action.

"Everything is gonna be okay."

He cowered before her, afraid, like he didn't know her at all. Being afraid ended here. She had no fear of what she was about to do. She could feel Wesley's and Gunn's gazes on her back, but she was not afraid. She knew.

There was nothing romantic about what she did next, no fairy tale idealizing. He was still, lost, when her lips touched his. His lips were almost unpleasantly cool, and trembled slightly with repressed mutters.

It came as she expected it to. So softly, so unobtrusively that she'd once thought nothing of it. What this time she was expecting. An internal shift. An unusual warmth.

Visions.

Taken with a kiss.

He was perfectly still when she moved away, with no clue as to what she had just done. Done for him. Done to herself.

He couldn't know. Not like this.

But she knew.

And you said I wasn't the strong one. I never broke, Angel.

Because she had made a choice. And this was the result. A result that the Powers said was not meant to be.

"I remember. I remember everything."

The atmosphere of the moment felt surreal. Unnaturally still. It was as if the world itself were holding its breath.

Like the moment right before the prince's blindness was cured by Rapunzel's tears. Waiting for a happy ending.

Cordelia stood, proud and defiant. The visions were hers. Hers. Come what may, kill her in her next breath, she was not going to allow them to condemn anyone else in her stead.

"Do you hear me?" she said, stronger to whomever might be listening. "So you can take your deal and -"

"Cordelia?"

The still moment was broken. Behind her, Wesley was watching her in confusion. Beside him, Gunn had an odd, amused look on his face. Yeah, like she was taking the moment to grope the insane. But however it looked...kissing Angel, talking to herself... If only they knew what she knew.

Still, Wesley had to ask. "What do you think you're doing?"

Cordelia did not respond. Not when her fairytale ending was broken. Angel drew her attention, fidgeting and muttering to himself once again.

"So this is how it's going to be," she whispered.

"Cordelia?"

She nodded. What had she been expecting? A miracle? A third chance? Happily ever after?

She'd made this reality. Now she had to live with it.

She met Welsey's gaze without hesitation at last. Neither he nor Gunn was smiling now. "Let's go," she declared.

"Wha-?"

She did not give them a chance to argue. "I'm going to tell you what happens next."

She turned her back on Angel then and led the other two from the room. She was an actress. She made her own happy endings.

Yes, I want feedback. That was pretty obvious, wasn't it?
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