Summary: Set in S1. Cordy gets a new apartment, but she’s not alone. There’s a ghost. Will they be able to put the ghost to rest? Will the ghost win? Read to find out.511Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡxtO4JqDTk1
Disclaimer: I own nothing. Everything belongs to the creators of Angel.
It was a beautiful day. Doyle was listening to Cordelia, as she ranted on him about a commercial she tried out for.
“I hate trash bags. They rip and tear. And end up costing us more. I’m trash bag material.”
“Yeah. They don’t know what they’re missing,” he said, not knowing what to say.
“Some lady showed up in a cat costume. She looked like cat lady taking out the trash. She got the job. I should’ve gotten it.”
“Yeah. They don’t know what they’re missing,” he said, not knowing what to say.
Just then, the phone rang and Angel showed up, standing in the doorway, arms crossed. Cordelia looked at the phone.
“You going to get that?” Doyle asked.
“Yeah. She is,” Angel said.
“No. It’s just Delia asking how things are going. How my apartment is and stuff. I’m not ready for that just yet.”
The phone went to voice mail and Delia left a message.
“Hi, Cordelia. It’s Delia I was just calling to see how things were going.”
It was a beautiful night, as Cordy made her way to her apartment. It was a real crappy one. At that same time, Doyle was asking how she was.
“Her life all went down the drain but she’s doing alright.”
Cordy opened the door after unlocking it. In the process of getting the key out, she broke a nail. She shook her hand, as it hurt.
“Ow! Damn it!” she cursed.
She entered the apartment and shut the door. She went to the kitchen and turned the faucet on, ready to get a glass of water. It spilled on her shirt, so she turned it off.
She sat on the couch and turned the tv on. There were roaches all over it.
She turned it off.
“Ew! Gross! Roaches!” She grabbed the phone and called someone.
“Yes. This is Cordelia Chase from apartment 4B. I thought you were going to get a exterminator in here, today. Yes, well if you had, do you think there’d be-,” she said.
She broke off, hanging up the phone, as she stood up and stepped on a roach. She grabbed her address book, now sitting on the couch, and called up Doyle.
Doyle walked into his apartment with a box.
He put it down.
The phone rang.
“Hello, Doyle,” a Demon of Focus greeted, coming in.
Doyle turned to see him.
“You owe me money,” the demon said.
“What happened to all the small things in life that are priceless. Right. You’re a, a Demon of Focus. I have your money over here,” he said.
The demon put a hand on the drawer.
“You’re not stupid enough to have a gun in there, are you?”
“No. Of course not.”
He opened the drawer and then pulled it out, hitting the demon with it. Then he ran.
The demon chased after him.
Since she didn’t get Doyle, she resorted to going to Angel with three bags. One being a luggage bag. She knocked at the door and he opened it. She through two bags into his arms and walked in, ranting about her apartment to him.
“I can’t believe it. It’s just swarming with them. Roaches. With their little antennas and big, beady eyes.” She shivered at the image. “Dead ones, lives ones. All over. I had to come here. I couldn’t reach Doyle. Not that you’re the last resort or anything. Oh. And you’re gonna wanna get that bag out in the hallway. I wonder what they’re doing in the bathtub. Ew! Gross!”
The next day, Doyle walked into Angel’s apartment to see Cordy there. He immediately jumped to the conclusion that he and the May Queen had made love.
“Oh no. Angel, you didn’t. You knew I was going for her. But no. Big, broody vampire had to sweep in. Can’t you give guys like me a chance?”
“We didn’t. I slept on the couch. She was in the bed.”
“Oh.”
Cordelia walked in and put a towel on one of the kitchen chairs.
“Why is there a wet towel on my chair?” he asked.
“Oops,” she said, smiling innocently.
He walked off.
She got on her hands and knees and started pulling a little bit of the floor up with a knife.
“What are you doing?” Doyle asked.
“Seeing if there’s carpet underneath,” she answered.
She put the knife away on the table.
Angel walked in.
“You got peanut butter on the bed. “
“No I didn’t.”
He kept looking at her.
“Fine. I’ll go look.”
She came back.
“Angel, it wasn’t me. At some point of time, you got peanut butter on the bed. And I don’t even want to know how it got there.”
That afternoon, Angel came down the stairs of the Hyperion.
“Doyle, there’s a big guy here to see you.”
Doyle went running down the escape stairs.
Angel was there at the foot of them.
“Don’t scare people like that,” Doyle said.
“What’s going on, Doyle?”
“It’s a demon thing.”
“What kind?”
“I owe money. Money that I don’t have.”
“Look. I’ll take care of your problem, if you take care of mine.”
“I don’t know, Angel. Vampire business isn’t really my expertise.”
Later that afternoon, Cordy and Doyle went in search of apartments.
After the last one, she turned to him.
“You say you know a guy?”
They entered an apartment that was beautiful. It brightened her up. She was so happy in that place.
“It’s beautiful!” she exclaimed. “What’s wrong with it?”
“Nothing. The last resident just broke the lease,” the saleswoman said.
“I used to have this stuff.”
“The furniture comes with. It’s your lucky day.”
“I used to have those, too.”
“She’ll take it,” Doyle told the woman.
“Great. I’ll get the paperwork ready.”
Cordy moved in that night, but all wasn’t well. She was awoken by her bed floating.
“I’m from Sunnydale! You don’t scare me! Not one bet!” she yelled at it.
When morning came, the ghost let the bed fall to the floor.
Cordelia went into her bathroom, using a q-tip to clean her ears.
When she finished, she looked in the mirror.
“It’s a bright, sunny, new day. There’s nothing bad here.”
She came into the living room and opened the blinds. When she did, she got a cold wind from the ghost, blowing the blinds, breaking the chair leg when the chair was thrown, and blowing chopped up paper shreds.
“Ooh! Wind! Scary! What are you going to do!? Chap me to death!? Come on! Is that the best you’ve got!?”
Everything ceased when there came a knock on the door. She opened it to reveal Angel and Doyle.
“Can we come in?” Doyle asked.
“No. It’s not ready yet.”
He walked in.
“It’s fine.”
He started closing the blinds.
“Don’t touch them!” she said.
“I’m going to close them so our boss doesn’t blow up in flames. If that’s okay with you.”
“Oh. Okay.”
When they had been closed, Angel walked in.
“Hey, there’s a rule. What happened to the rule?” she said.
“You said I was totally invited over to the next place you got.”
“What? But I didn’t even have a place then.”
Doyle saw the broken chair.
“The place looks great. I don’t know what you had against that chair, though.”
Doyle looked at the filled up mantle. There were a lot of trophies and her graduation diploma on it.
“Nice collection you have there.”
“Yeah. All my life spread out there before me. It was my life.”
“Your diploma is a little burnt, though.”
“Yeah. It was a rough ceremony.”
Just then, a trophy flew at him, but her ducked from it.
He looked at her.
“That trophy just lunged at me!”
“I think the mantle is uneven.”
“It lunged at me!”
“You’re right. It’s a very bad trophy.”
“What’s going on, Cordy?” Angel asked.
Just then, a word was written on the wall in what looked like red paint. They all turned to read it.
“Cordy, let’s get out of here,” Angel told her.
“I can’t.”
“Now.”
She looked at him.
“Cordy, it says ‘Die’.”
“Maybe it’s not done yet. Maybe it says diet. A little judgmental, sure, but-----.”
Angel interrupted her.
“We can try and put it to rest.”
“Can we?”
As Angel pulled her out by her arms, she yelled, “Listen up, Casper! You haven’t won! I won’t leave! I won’t! I’d rather die than give this place up!”
When the door shut, the ghost appeared.
“Alright, dear. If that’s what you want,” she said.
Cor turned to the guys, once in the hall.
“I can’t lose this place. I can’t. I need this place. It means punishment over. It feels like I’m being punished. But with this apartment, I can be me again.”
“For what?” Angel asked.
“The way I was. The things I did just because I could get away with it.”
“We can put the ghost to rest.”
That night, the ghost called Cor on the business phone. She made herself sound like Angel. Therefore, the former May Queen thought it was him. It told her that they found out how to put it to rest, and to meet at the apartment.
She walked in.
“Angel?”
It appeared.
It told her stuff. Like her wanting to take her son away from her.
“My friends will come for me.”
“Friends? What friends? You don’t have any friends. Why should anyone like you have friends?”
Without warning it wrapped a piece of wire around her throat and she went limp, hanging from the ceiling.
Meanwhile, Doyle was walking into work with a box in hand. At that moment, the phone rang. He set the box down and answered it.
“Angel Investigations. We help the hopeless.”
“Doyle, it’s me. Put Cordy on.”
“She’s not here.”
He looked at the answering machine. There was a blinking red light.
“Wait. There’s a message.”
He pushed play and they both listened to it.
“That’s not me,” Angel said.
Angel sped through the streets towards the apartment, Doyle in the passenger’s seat. Doyle looked in the back at the box that was in the backseat.
“Bile. I should’ve gotten more bile.”
Once parked, they raced upstairs to her apartment. Angel kicked the door open. He looked around for her and soon saw her in the kitchen, hanging there.
They both ran over to her.
Angel got the wire off and she gasped, conscious again.
A few minutes later, they had the circle ready. Angel stood reading out of a Latin spell book, wind blowing all around in the living room, Cordy sitting on the floor in front of her recliner.
The ghost kept on talking to her. It had connected to her. It was almost like it knew her personality.
“We need Cordy in the circle! Cordy, get in the circle!” Angel yelled over the wind.
When she didn’t budge, he gave the book to Doyle. “The “g” sounds like “l”.
He went to kneel in front of her.
“Cordy, you have to get in the circle. Come on.”
“I can’t,” she said, shivering and chattering from the wind, arms crossed, trying to keep her jacket closed to keep some of the cold out.
“Yes you can.”
“They don’t care about you. They want you to fail,” the ghost told her.
“She’s connected to you. Right? You can use that,” he said.
“I c-can’t,” she said, trying not to sob.
“You are Cordelia Chase. Are you going to just sit there like a weakling and let her do this to you?”
She just looked at him.
“Damn it, Cordy! You are the worst pain the ass I have ever met, Cordelia Chase! Now get up!”
“I can’t.”
He grabbed her arm and pulled her to her feet, forcing her to walk with him briskly.
“We have to go! Now!” Doyle shouted over the noise of the wind.
They opened the door.
There in their way were some humans and a Demon of Focus.
“Nobody’s going anywhere,” the demon announced, a crossbow in hand, aimed at Angel, knowing he was a vampire.
“No more people!” the ghost shouted, enraged.
The humans looked at her.
“Ignore her. She’s just a ghost,” the demon told them.
A few minutes later, there was chaos in the living room, the apartment door now closed. Cordy’s friends were fighting against the humans and demon.
“Knives!” Angel shouted, seeing knives zipping towards them through the air.
Everyone ducked and they landing in the wall. They continued to fight. As they continued to fight, Cor was blown into the bedroom.
She saw the ghost and tried to open the door, but it was locked.
She sunk down in front of the bed and looked up at her.
“What do you want from me?” Cor asked, sounding like she was sobbing, but no tears came.
“You know what happens next. Your friends are dirty. They ruined my nice home. Make yourself a noose.”
Cor just stared at her.
“You filthy, dirty little girl. Make yourself a noose. Now, bitch.”
Cor gave her a cold stare.
“I’m a bitch?”
She stood up.
The ghost tried again.
“You’re going to make yourself a noose and put it around---.”
The former Queen C interrupted her.
“Back off, pollywag.”
The ghost went quiet and stared at her.
“I’m not a little cry Buffy. I’m the worst girl in Sunnydale history. I’m Cordelia Chase. I take crap from no one. Now you’re going to take your wrinkly, old ghost bags and you’re going to get the hell out of my house!” She yelled out the last part, making the ghost disappear through the wall.
She came out.
“You did it,” Doyle said.
“Yeah. Well, she pissed me off.”
Suddenly, Cor’s eyes became white until she took a lamp and used it to smash the wall. Then she came back to being herself.
A spirit came out slowly.
“I knew I didn’t like that wall,” she commented.
“Dennis, I presume. And he’s probably not too happy with his mom,” Doyle commented.
“Dennis, please. I’m sorry. It was for your own good. She was going to make your life miserable,” the ghost pleaded with him, which was to no avail. Dennis went right through her, destroying her, as she screamed in pain and then disappeared.
It was a dark night, as Cor talked to Delia on the phone.
“Oh. The apartment is great. How’s your life going? That’s wonderful. I’m happy for you.”
Dennis moved her Coca Cola can a few inches. She covered the phone with her hand.
“Now, Dennis. Put that back.”
He did as he was told.
She tried to speak again, but had to cover it once again, when he turned the TV on.
“Dennis, when I’m on the phone, that’s quiet time.”
He turned it off.
“Thank you,” she said.
She went back to chatting away.
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