Work Text:
Angel pushed the shopping cart, picking up things to stock Connor’s new apartment fridge.
He stood in frozen foods, staring at the rows of yellow boxes of toaster waffles, lips curving into a small smile. He relished the memory, sitting across from Cordelia as she served them.
Then he remembered the why, that Wolfram and Hart had tortured her with her own visions. He remembered the years after that with painful clarity. She gave up her life for him, his mission.
His fist went through the glass, crumpling the cardboard boxes in its path, sending an explosion of waffles skyward.