a very belated birthday ficlet for starlet2367

[lostakasha]

So sorry I was offline for your birthday, Kel! I hope you had a lovely day and that this year brings you nothing but good things! Here's a wee Season 1 AtS Cordy vignette for you.

Title: Prayer of the Damned
Pairing: Cordy
Rating: PG
Angel Season one, post-Parting Gifts.



Prayer of the Damned

“Take them back.”

Cordelia’s plea is the closest thing to a prayer she can muster. Not that she values prayer; the God she knows is the unreliable leader of the pious and unsure, creator of sunshine, butterflies, child molesters and monster bait.

Besides, whatever’s given her the gift of prescience is nothing if not reliable: if it oozes, stinks, shrieks, defiles or disembowels it plants itself in her consciousness like clockwork to tear at her long after the delivery of its hideous message. Angel and Wes always ask about the visions – is she okay, does she want an aspirin or a drink or a pat on the ass -- but they never ask about her dreams. It’s probably for the best: Wes probably dreams of tweed and underage girls, and she doesn’t want any part of what might go through Angel’s head once he closes his eyes.

The book on lucid dreaming doesn’t help much. Facing a slobbering, razor-toothed bolus of gag-inducing snot and telling it to get the hell out of her head is neither empowering nor effective – she still has to see it, smell it and taste it yet again.

Three Excedrin PM’s with a glass of milk works like a charm – until she tries to get up for work. Hours of blissful unconsciousness, undisturbed by reminders of the outside world, are followed by a six-hour haze that no amount of caffeine can lift. By the end of her work night she’s tense, bitchy, and exhausted – and worse yet, recognizes it.

Every attempt at exhausting herself into dreamlessness fails. Hot baths. Yoga. Re-reading Atlas Shrugged. Seinfeld marathons. The revisited scenes grow more relentless, gnawing at her, allowing scant periods of rest between heart-stopping moments of terror so visceral that she begins to leave a basin on the floor next to the bed.

What was once a sanctuary where she could fantasize about steamy sex with beautiful men and bring herself pleasure, the little island where she pretends the cheap polyfill comforter is down wrapped in satin and that the life she wanted has never gone away eventually becomes a repository of dread to be visited only by necessity.

She sleeps sitting up in the living room now, finding a rhythm of semi-sleep that allows her to get enough rest and function the next day. Dennis tucks her in and adjusts the throw pillow behind her neck, but there are certain favors she’s not sure he can grant her.

It doesn’t stop her from asking.

“Find him, please,” she whispers. It’s a nightly ritual now, not because she thinks it has a chance of working, not because she has hope, not because she believes that love could ever result in something so abysmal, but because it leaves a little less time to dread whatever demonic snuff film she'll be reliving in her dreams. “Find Doyle, Dennis. Find him, and ask him to take them back.”

~~fin~~

Comments

[a2zmom.livejournal.com]

Poor Cordelia. Always presenting such a strong face to the outsid world, meanwhile the agony of the visions is ripping her to shreds.

That last line is so heart wrenching.

[lostakasha.livejournal.com]

If you haven't read it yet, treat yourself to Per Mi Si Va (http://damnskippytoo.livejournal.com/74456.html) by damnskippytoo. It's Cordy at her bleakest, and is so beautiful.

Thanks for reading this and enjoying it.... I'm so far behind in my reading! I've got Stolen Moments bookmarked -- and what I've already read of it I love. You *are* a fucking fantastic writer! ♥

[a2zmom.livejournal.com]

And you are fuckin' A in general.

Thanks for reccing Skippy's story. It is now bookmarked for that slow minute at work.

[damnskippytoo.livejournal.com]

“Find Doyle, Dennis. Find him, and ask him to take them back."

Oh, wow. I'm crying. Poor Cordy - never letting anyone know and the bastards never asking. Sometimes it pays to be a cry!Buffy. *hugs Dennis too*

[lostakasha.livejournal.com]

*hands you tissues*

Ah, it's just destined to be sad...but I'm glad it moved you and you liked. Thanks, sweets!

[samsom.livejournal.com]

Sometimes I gotta wonder how I'm so bent, that I'd love suffering Cordelia as much as I do. This slays me, baby. Just slays me. My poor girl, dying, drowning in her nightmares. It's almost like as Angel inflicted so many horrors on the world during his rambunctious days, it seems to have all turned and Cordelia is now receiving those same horrors. Ugly but beautifully wrought. Lovely, lovely, lovely writing. The last line.....guh!

Between you and Deb, I'm drowning in wonderful stuff.

[lostakasha.livejournal.com]

Awww... thanks, M-A. It's a bent-Cordypalooza. :) Gotta hit that angst hard when you find it, right?

[makd.livejournal.com]

ah, poor Cordy. I bet she wished she could take almost everything back - starting with meeting Buffy!

Terrific, just terrific.

[lostakasha.livejournal.com]

Thanks so much, M -- so much pain under that smile and snark. She's one of my favorite characters in the Buffyverse, and I love to write her.

[seraphcelene]

Holy cow, mama! That was awesome. And I LOVE LOVE LOVE this line:

the God she knows is the unreliable leader of the pious and unsure, creator of sunshine, butterflies, child molesters and monster bait

What a beautiful, painfully accurate portrait of Cordelia as Vision Gal. Reminds me of everything that she *hid* and that only came to light in Birthday.

[lostakasha.livejournal.com]

Little bit of foreshadowing there. I'm really happy that you liked this so much -- and I just love rolling around in your feedback. ♥

[ares132006.livejournal.com]

“Find Doyle, Dennis. Find him, and ask him to take them back.”

This is a wonderful insight into Cordy's suffering. Your tale has me asking, and for the first time, I realise, did Doyle suffer the dreams, the aftermath of the visions? Cause it didn't appear so. It makes me wonder, though...

[lostakasha.livejournal.com]

Good question. My first thought was that the visions might have been part of the reason why he drank and gambled and put himself at risk -- but there's also the half-demon aspect, which might have made them more bearable.

Now you've got me wondering too! And thank you -- I'm glad you enjoyed this so much.

[lyr]

Oh, poor Cordy. I can so believe that this is how it was for her, and that no one but Dennis ever knew.

[starlet2367.livejournal.com]

Jeez - I have no idea how I missed this. I'm so glad you sent me the link because...yeah. My day suddenly went from "yawn" to "yum."

Just when I think I've read everything about Cordy, you go and surprise me with something totally fresh!

"...the God she knows is the unreliable leader of the pious and unsure, creator of sunshine, butterflies, child molesters and monster bait."

I love this description of God, since it closely reflects my own understanding of this confusing, hateful being. It's no wonder I turn to the Goddess. ;)

And this: "It’s probably for the best: Wes probably dreams of tweed and underage girls, and she doesn’t want any part of what might go through Angel’s head once he closes his eyes."

That made me catch my breath. It's a little mean, a little snarky, and a lot scared. Totally Cordelia's voice when she drops her guard.

And of course, the last line brought the story home so beautifully. Cordy alone at night, no masks in place, faced with her own worst nightmares - and begging a ghost to help her.

So sad. So sweet. So tasty.

:mwah: :loves you hard: