Notes - Based on the Tainted Love Trilogy, this is the Prequel.

So this whole thing started as a challenge fic. Write a story where Cordy was in love with Angel, Xander was having an affair with her cousin, he was rich, and they met up ten years later. That spawned a trilogy, in which a C/A/X/B quadrangle suddenly had C/X'ers asking me for C/A. Scary, huh? Well, these two have grown on me. And while I'm trying to write a sequel to that, I give you now, the prequel.

So, without further ado, here's the back story on Cordelia and Angel, expanded from the very briefly described version in Table Etiquette. I’m starting on the reconciliation sequel soon, so.. that’ll be fun.

Okay. I’m done.

All For You
Finally I figured out
But it took a long, long time
But now there’s a turnabout
Maybe ‘cause I’m trying
There’s been times, I’m so confused
All my roads, They lead to you
I just can’t turn and walk away
It’s hard to say what it is I see in you
Wonder if I’ll always be with you
But words can’t say, And I can’t do
Enough to prove, It’s all for you
I thought I’d seen it all
‘Cause it’s been a long, long time
But then we’ll trip and fall
Wondering if I’m blind
(Pre-chorus) (Chorus)
Rain comes pouring down
Falling from blue skies
Words without a sound
Coming from your eyes
Finally I figured out
But it took a long, long time
But now there’s a turnabout
Maybe cause I’m trying
(Pre-chorus) (Chorus-Chorus)
It’s hard to say
It’s hard to say
It’s all for you

Chapter One

She had a hell of a lot of work to do, and the two inhumane morons were not making it easy on her. It had been five years since they had begun to work together, they were both at least one hundred years older than her, and yet they both insisted on acting like complete retards.

She sighed, cocking her head in frustrated resignation as she leaned her chin on her hand to watch the two demons do what no one in Sunnydale would ever believe if she told them.

From her desk, she could see the whole thing, it made her want to strangle them, and also filled her with the icky fond feeling she felt every time she had to witness something that she considered cute against her will.

They were playing paper football. Angel, the age old brooding Soul guy vamp, was crouched on his knees, his elbows on the table, his face one of fixed concentration, his hands up to make a makeshift goal post.

Doyle, the other half of the undead Beavis and Butthead, was on the other side, his tongue to the side of his mouth as he held a carefully constructed paper diamond folded and held together with the pink tape she had bought for the office. The index finger of his right hand was prepared for the shot, and the office was absolutely silent.

The finger flicked, the paper football flew across the room. Heads turned to watch it arch down, and then time stopped when it landed right down the front of Cordelia’s shirt. The men looked at each other in shock, and both scrambled to the other side of the room when they saw her face.

She was expressionless, but the deliberate way she leaned back slowly, and slid the paper out of her cleavage was unmistakable. She had had enough.

“You missed, Doyle.” Angel said, crossing his arms as he sat down quickly at his desk.

“Nah, I think I scored.” Doyle replied smugly, his face flushed from watching Cordelia’s angry show. Cordelia rolled her eyes. She knew Doyle liked to make her mad. For some strange reason, he said it made her look hotter.

Whatever.

“If you two children are done with your little reindeer games, I would appreciate some help here.” She grumbled, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she turned back to the computer. “It’s not like I’m the one obligated to do the soul saving thing. That’s your department, Soul Guy. And you, Mr. Mentor Idiot, aren’t in the clear either.” She glared at them both, and then tossed a clipboard to Doyle.

He looked at it strangely. “What’s this?”

“Office supplies.” She said

“Office supplies? Me? The great mentor? Doyle? I think not.” He said, shoving the list back at them.

“I’m tired of doing the shopping.”

“Cordy? Tired of shopping? That’s a first.” Angel snorted. She glared him into silence, giving him the “I’ll Deal With You Later” look before turning her attention back to Doyle.

“Please?” She asked, her face pouting slightly.

Doyle immediately looked strained, his gaze lowering to her lower lip. He answered shortly, “No.” But the choked way he said it made her smile. He was weakening.

“Look, if you do it, I’ll do that thing you’ve been asking me to do all these years.” She finally sighed. Angel felt his eyes narrow. What thing?

Doyle’s’ face lit up. “Is that a promise?” He asked hopefully.

“No.” She said honestly, but then leaned back, sliding up onto the desk and crossing her legs.

He wavered for a minute, and finally his shoulders deflated when she smiled. “Damn, I’m weak.” He muttered, grabbing his jacket. “The Chore Guy is on the job.” He remarked, resisting another look.

She watched him leave, a smug smile covering her pretty face. "Men are so easy." She announced, her shoulders shrugging as she leaned back in her desk, her feet propped up against the wood.

Angel narrowed his eyes. "Not *all* men. Vampires are immune." He then proceeded to drag his eyes from her long legs.

She rolled her eyes. "Please. Spike was the biggest pussywhipped boy I ever saw, and you, my friend," She laughed,"Way back, when I was trying to jock you, if Buffy had asked, you would have staked yourself."

He smirked, saying nothing. He sat up, his voice harder when he continued. "You've got to stop playing with him, Cordy. You're messing with his mind."

She froze, looking at Angel, her playful expression gone. "Doyle knows it's just a game." She returned evenly, swinging her legs off the desk.

"Does he?" He asked, his voice hard. She looked at him in surprise. Angel was never this stern with her, it was annoying.

"We've been playing it for five years." She said, getting up to move a box to the other side of the room. "If he hasn't gotten it by now, he's pretty stupid."

"He's not, he's in love with you." She paused, her hazel eyes stunned into a wide expression as she looked back at her best friend.

"Oh, hell no." She said immediately, shaking her head. "He would have said something by now."

Angel crossed his arms as he stood up, his eyes following her around the room."You think?" He said dryly. "How long did it take for you to admit you loved Xander?"

She whirled, her eyes narrowing at the mention of her former boyfriend. "That is none of your business, asshole." She bit. Where the hell did he get off?

Angel was smart, now was about the time to let it go. And yet he found he couldn’t. “You're a tease, Cordy."

She froze, and then he knew he had gone too far. Her gaze on the door, she grabbed her purse and her coat and stormed out.

Oh, she was pissed. Thoroughly pissed. Angel sighed, closing his eyes as he rubbed at his temple with an index finger. And if he knew his best friend, and oh, how he knew his best friend, she would be pissed for a very long time.

He shouldn’t have called her a tease, he knew, that that word, aside from calling her a whore, was one of the worst things he could have called her. Cordelia hated to be demeaned, and he, the one guy that should have had more respect for her than anyone, did the demeaning. He knew how much she trusted him, how much she cared for him. He was her best friend, her Soul Guy, and he had acted like a first class ass. She hadn’t deserved it. Hell, most of the time, she deserved it, but not right then.

It was this thing with Doyle. It bugged the hell out of him. To have to sit there and watch her, as she gave her small, coy little smile, and curled up just a little, her nose scrunching up and her eyes twinkling as she would cross her legs and lean back so her breasts would perk up just so-

She knew what she was doing. She was driving Doyle crazy. He knew it, she knew it, and so did Angel. He used to love to watch her reduce his usually strong and sarcastic mentor to putty. Course, that was before she started driving him crazy too.

It was a frustrating conclusion to make. For a long time after he left Sunnydale, he had been completely sure that he would never ever look at another woman but Buffy. Buffy, with her blonde hair, and blue eyes, her inner strength, her ability to save the world and still come up with a good quip. That was his Buffy. There would never be anyone like her. He would always love her.

And then there was Cordelia, who had the ability to frustrate him completely, to make him want to strangle her, to make him stare at her in shock when she said something so inappropriate and brutally true that he could nothing but fall back and laugh. She had been his best friend for five years, and she had done what very few people, were able to do.

She made him want to laugh. She made him want to be near her, just to hear her annoying whiny voice, and to see her twist guys around her finger so they were panting to do everything and anything short of killing the President to make her happy.

He had begun to realize what a special woman his friend Cordelia was. He got to see what no one else did, the funny, tender side of her, the loyal serious side, the sweet, mischevious side. There were so many sides to her that she always kept him guessing, never got him bored, always made him want to kill her or hug her.

And that was just fine. He needed someone like that for a friend. But these past few months he had been realizing something else. He began to realize just what kind of a woman, she was. Even in Sunnydale, he had been so blinded with love for the Slayer he had never taken one look at the former May Queen, she was always just the annoying chick who later just kind of became Cordy, the clueless girlfriend of the guy that hated him. Even when he caught up with her in Los Angeles, she was still Cordelia, he had never seen her as he might have had he *not* been in love with the Slayer. He didn’t see her as everyone else did. She was always just Cordy to him. Then it happened.

It began one night when they were watching television late at night, he had just happened to look over and he realized her spaghetti strap had fallen over the side of her arm, leaving her shoulder bare. He just noticed it, rather subconsciously, and then suddenly, he felt himself pulled back to the scene. She wasn’t paying attention, Lucy was on, for some strange reason, she loved Lucy, but he found his concentration completely on that part of her body, he noticed the graceful curve of her bare shoulder, leading up in a line of perfect symmetry to her chin, her face perfectly profiled. Her soft brown hair fell down her back in soft cascades, and her eyes sparkled in the light emanation from the television.

At the moment, Angel realized his best friend was a very beautiful woman. Impulsively he had leaned forward to slide his thumb across her skin, and that caused her to jump so fast he had colored immediately, playing it off by grabbing her fallen spaghetti strap and putting it back into place. She had given him a look that he knew meant she thought he was insane, but she had let it go.

He hadn’t. From that moment on, he was continuously distracted with thoughts of his very sexy buddy. Oh, this was not a good thing. It would have been one thing to sleep with her when they had just gotten here, she was still Cordelia. Now, it was completely different. She was Cor, his best friend. He loved her, as a friend, he cherished her.

If he ever made love to her, that might result in a very disastrous set of events. No, this was not a good thing. His love for Buffy would be enough to sustain him in his dreams, he needed to get by whatever this infatuation was for the raven haired vixen that could drive him so crazy he seriously thought about tossing her into the nearest trashcan, if only for the sight of seeing her lovely legs and -

Stop it.

She was his friend. His very pissed friend, and with good reason.

He sighed, knowing life was going to be hell for everyone at the office if he didn’t appease his best friend. And that meant chocolates, wine, and possibly a good dose of humiliation he wasn’t sure he wanted to endure.

But he had to. If he knew his Cordy, and he knew his Cordy, she was stomping around in her apartment, making herself into a hell cat just by thinking about what a bastard he was.

Yup. He was bastard allright.

Chapter Two

Bastard. Just where the hell did he get off, calling her a tease? She had never done anything to him, never given him any reason to think so. Hell, compared to her days in Sunnydale, her time in Los Angeles could have made her eligible for a convent. Just because she and Doyle did a little harmless flirting, didn’t mean he had a right to make her so furious and hurt she wanted to scratch his eyes out. Work partners or not.

Just because *he* wanted to live his life as a eunuch-

She sighed, forcing herself to stop her train of thoughts. She knew the pattern. She and Angel bickered like old ladies sometimes, and it would always come to this. She would find herself getting so worked up that she wouldn’t talk to him for days, and she couldn’t afford that now. There was that demon pair that they had been tracking for months, they almost had them, and they couldn’t afford to let a petty fight get in the way.

Course, that is something the soul guy should have thought of before he went all jerk off on her.

The doorbell rang, and she checked her watch, wondering curiously who it could be. With a sigh, she plucked the lint off of her boxers as she called out in a slightly annoyed voice, “What?”

“It’s me.”

She froze, recognizing the voice immediately. What the hell was he doing here? Didn’t he have the sense to stay away after he had gone and insulted her completely? He knew her moods.

She glared at the door for a full minutes, before he called again, “Come on, Cordy! Open the door, please?” The last word had a soft whine attached to it, and she felt herself deflate, her resolve to leave him standing in the rain crumbling with it.

What that guy could make her do with just a hint of a whine in his voice was not normal.

She opened her door, and her jaw dropped in surprise in what she saw. Angel was standing in the pouring rain, nothing covering his head, in a sopping wet black trench coat, a bottle of wine in one hand and a box of chocolates nestled in his coat in the other.

On his face was a somber, pleading expression, so different from his usual uniform expression that Cordelia could only stare for a minute.

And then she couldn't help it, he looked so lost and pathetic and so damn cute like that, she began to crack up.

Angel's face registered shock for a moment when she began to laugh, and then he lifted his hands in resignation, looking up to the dark sky, the raindrops sliding off of his face.

"She's laughing." He said to no one in particular. "Her best friend is standing out here sopping wet. And she's laughing."

This comment only made her laugh harder. "Oh, Angel." She gasped, choking for breath. "It's just.. you're out there... and you're wet... and your face.." She erupted into laughter again.

He only stared at her, grimacing when he felt the rain go through his coat and down his back. "Fine." He muttered, attempting to mop away the drops and failing miserably. "I deserve it. Done laughing?"

She could only hold a hand to her mouth and shake her head, still convulsing with giggles.

"Not yet?" He shrugged. "Still angry?" He asked. Her head shook furiously up and down. He sighed, turning the chocolate tighter against his body so it wouldn't get wet. "You sadist." He accused. "Fine. Look, how about if I roll around in that puddle, maybe then -"

"Oh, come in, you idiot," She burst, her voice still shaking with laughter as she grabbed his arm and pulled him inside.

He gave her a relieved smile. She was still grinning as she took the bottle and box of chocolates quickly from him and set it aside, moving back immediately to take his drenched trench coat away from him.

“Oh, eww.” She remarked, wincing under the weight of the black coat as she noticed the puddles it and it’s owner were causing in the hallway. “You are gonna mop that up later.”

“Yeah, whatever.” He wrung at his satin shirt, grimacing as he felt it cling to his body. “I’m sopping wet.” He complained.

She turned back to him, and suddenly her happy expression froze. He looked up in concern. “What’s wrong?”

She closed her eyes, and turned from him, picking up the wine bottle. “Nothing. There’s some extra big shirts and stuff in the closet, some shorts. Put those on while we air dry your stuff.”

He looked a little puzzled at her change, but nodded, sloshing his way back to the bathroom. When he was gone, she leaned against the table, forcing herself to breathe. This had to stop. These damn... feelings she was having for the damn vampire were going too far. This was her best friend. This was a vampire.

This was so not her type. Plus, he did that whole vamp morph thing, how gross was THAT? And the worst thing, she had stopped caring about that. When he vamped out, it was just Angel vamping out. That was it. She stopped being scared of him years ago. That shouldn’t happen. She shouldn’t trust him like this. She trusted him like she would trust, well, like a lover. She closed her eyes, for the moment wanting to kick herself. What was her problem, anyway? This was her best friend in the whole world. She wasn’t supposed to be getting this love vibe from him. Yet, when she turned around and saw him like that, drenched, the clothes clinging to his body-

Stop. Stop. Stop.

She couldn’t fall in love with the Soul Guy that would love her friend the Slayer for the rest of his Immortal life, what was she, Xander? Him and his Idiot Jed, glutton for punishment! The ex-boyfriend made it rub off on her too! She didn’t like it!

She couldn’t love Angel like that. All she was asking for was bad, bad things.

“Hey.” She turned. He was standing in the hallway, one hand rubbing a towel through his spiky hair. On his face was a look of concern. “You okay?”

She sighed, putting her thoughts aside. “Yeah, I’m fine. You didn’t leave your clothes just soaking on the floor did you?”

He rolled his eyes. “No, I put them in the tub, laid them out to dry.” He bit his lip as she turned to inspect the wine. “I’m sorry, about... you know. I didn’t mean it.”

“Yeah, well, you’re an ass.” She remarked flippantly. “And if you think that all you have to do is come here sopping wet and give me that puppy dog expression- DON’T do it!” She warned, one hand up when his face threatened to turn to that expression again.

He relented, grinning slightly at her panicked look. “Sorry.”

“Just... get popcorn and come into the living room.” She said, sighing. “Scent of a Woman is on tonight.”

He blanched. “Scent of a Woman? The blind guy who finds inner peace?”

“That’s right.” She gave him a triumphant smile. “And after that, we’re watching Untamed Heart, and after *that*, I’m going to dig up Meet Me In St. Louis.”

His eyes widened. “A musical? A Judy Garland musical? You can’t stand those. You only had that cause Willow got it for you.”

She gave him a smug glance. “That’s right. And you loathe them. Come on, Angel. You owe me.”

He groaned, holding his hands to his head as he followed her into the living room. This was not looking like a good night.

“Is it just me, or is Marisa Tomei so pathetically desperate in this movie?” The question came out of the blue, and Angel suppressed a yawn as he turned to look at her.

“The whole movie is pathetic, Cordy.”

Her answer was a smack on his shoulder. “No, the story is beautiful. It’s tragic. It’s supposed to make you believe in love.”

He squinted. “Cordy, we *are* the official lonely hearts club here in LA. How many times have you and I stayed up whining and groaning about Buffy and Xander in the last five years?”

She glared at him. “Go with it, Angel.” She grumbled, turning her attention back to the movie. “Just stop being cryptic boring guy and watch the movie. You might enjoy it. She shows her boobies and everything.”

“Oh, yay.” He kidded. She reached to smack him again but he caught her hand deftly, instead using her momentum to pull her toward him. Her body fell against his, and he immediately wrapped his arms around her, bringing her close.

“Hey.” She grumbled, her face muffled in his T-shirt, but didn’t complain, merely readjusted herself so she was lying flat against his body and turned her face so she could watch the screen.

It was a beautiful movie. By the end of it, Angel felt his eyes burning, especially when he saw Marisa’s brother pulling Christian Slater’s dog away from the grave, and then that monologue with Marisa telling Rosie how he was the only thing she never gave up on. He felt choked at the unfairness of it all. Christian Slater should have lived. They should have been able to be together. He had never done anything wrong, all he had done was loved her, loved her so deeply.

And then came that records playing thing. Oh, man. He felt slightly ashamed when he realized what he must look like to his friend, a 244 year old vampire allowing himself to get so affected. His eyes quickly drifted down to her face to see if she had noticed.

Her eyes were closed, she wasn’t even facing the tv. Her face had nestled into his chest, her body a dead weight. She had fallen asleep. He had been weeping buckets over this dumb movie, and she had fallen asleep.

He leaned his head back, sighing, feeling her body rise and fall above him. Checking his watch, he winced. He had to go. He still had things to do, and he had taken way too much time here anyway.

“Cordy.” He whispered, shaking her gently.

“mm.” She mumbled, her eyes not opening.

He grinned, sitting up, bringing her sleepy form with him to a sitting position. “Come on, mean girl. Wake up.” He cupped her face with his two hands and patted her gently.

When she opened her eyes, she was still in a feverish haze, his face was inches from hers. She blinked once, a soft expression in her eyes when she looked at him, and for a moment, Angel was taken aback by the tenderness in her face. It was something she rarely showed, and the fact that the emotion was directed at him filled with so many conflicting emotions he immediately pulled back before he would do something stupid.

“I gotta go.” He whispered hastily, leaning forward, planting a quick kiss on her cheek and scrambling up to the bathroom.

She watched him go, still sleepy, not quite awake enough to understand what had just happened.

“Kay.” She mumbled, falling forward on the couch again, drifting almost immediately back to sleep. “Bye.”

He came back, now dressed in his dry clothes, pausing in the entrance of the living room to watch her sleeping form. She was absolutely beautiful.

Groaning, he flung her door open and stepped out into the cold night air. This wasn’t supposed to happen.

Chapter Three

Jora Cinders had lived a peculiar life. In her life as a creature of the night, she had often preyed upon the weak, never showing mercy, never feeling compassion, always lusting, always wanting the inevitable, the kill. But she had never felt hate. Hatred was an emotion that had never seeped into her being, as foreign to her as was the idea of letting a weaker individual live. For her, it was about survival. In some instances, she was the hunter, in others, she was the hunted. Emotions played no part and hate, had no place.

Perhaps this was because of the peculiar fact that she loved her mate with a fervor that she herself often denied. The only other creature of her same origin she had met, she had fortunately found herself inexplicably drawn to him, and although she was much more vicious a killer than he was, and much older she found she admired him, loved him, kept him near her.

They were mated for life, had been for hundreds of years, living together, feeding together, and loving each other. This new feeding ground, Los Angeles, was new territory for them both. It was dangerous in itself, for they both had heard stories of the Slayer in the too close for comfort zone of Sunnydale, the fledging evil town whose power had almost drawn them. But the Slayer’s track record was too clean, and the two creatures, were smart. Los Angeles was bigger, easier to hide, easier to feed. It was their home.

They hunted in the shadows, killing those weaker, feeding off their thoughts and their emotions, petty human weaklings, moving throughout the town quickly and efficiently.

They might have never been found out if Doyle hadn’t encountered a very recent kill. He had picked up on the mysterious findings immediately, the trio of lone defenders of Los Angeles had worked for two months picking up their feeding patterns, finding their hunting grounds, readying for the attack.

The pair of creatures didn’t know this. They had no idea they would be cornered. They had no idea they would be separated, and Jora Cinders had no idea how much hate would enter her being in so short of time, how hate would consume her, and how her lover’s killers would suffer because of it.

“Are we almost ready?” Cordelia nodded breathlessly, fixing the knife on her belt as she tossed another to Doyle. The trio were dressed for battle, all in black. Doyle had discarded his trademark brown leather jacket, instead opting for the black sweater and pants, making him seem almost “normal”, according to Cordelia. Angel was as usual, in his long black trench coat, looking no different than usual except for the grouchy expression on his face that didn’t go unnoticed among his teasing friends. Neither knew the source of his agitation, though Cordelia assumed it was the fact that he always got a little grouchy before a battle, and rightly so, it was always scary as hell.

She was right, this was the reason, partly. Mostly he was formulating in his mind how to work in the stern talking to he was going to give his best friend about her choice of outfit. Dressed in what Doyle called the Zeta-Jones number, Cordelia wore a black catsuit, one that served her purposes very well, as it was an outfit she was prepared to get dirty and good for a workout. However, it made Doyle stare and Angel, who recently had found himself increasingly distracted by her assets, more and more agitated. The woman should realize her power over men, Dammit. They could lose their concentration and die if she bounced around in that thing. It showed every damn curve, and she had a lot of them.

But she paid neither of the men any attention as she grabbed a scrunchy and pulled her hair back with it, giving them a tight smile as she checked the time.

“We should move.”

They obeyed immediately, Angel in the lead, his two coworkers following behind him.

They drove silently, each lost in their own thoughts, each in their own way, preparing for what was ahead. Cordelia was the most unusually silent, her way of trying to get past the fear that she was really not suited for this whole monster killing thing was to chatter endlessly about dumb things until even the adoring Doyle had a pounding headache. But she said nothing.

Finally, Doyle, who was so used to the incessant chatter he felt he had to make up for the silence, spoke up. “So there’s two of them, right?”

“Yup.” Cordy nodded, tossing him the sheet of papers she had brought along. “Take a look.”

He blanched at the picture. “Yee-uck.”

“Big yuck.” She responded, a small smile on her face as she turned to catch his eyes. “Definitely don’t want to look at *them* for too long. Can you guys just kill them quickly, please?”

Angel felt himself smile involuntarily. “What, you’re not gonna help, Cordy?”

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Do I ever?”

Doyle smacked Angel on the arm from the back seat. “Come on, Soul Guy, you know our queen don’t like to get her hands dirty.”

“I just go for the show.” She clarified. Angel shook his head in amusement.

“And what a big help that is.”

“Hey! I did the research thing, okay? I earned my rent money... this time.”

Doyle snorted and she smacked him again, leaving Angel to shake his head at the two and keep driving, his grouchy expression turning to that of a soft smile.

It was dark and it was late. They had been waiting in the prepared spot for two hours, and it showed. Angel’s dark suit was wet and damp from the concrete, Doyle looked right at home, and Cordelia had quit complaining when she had fallen asleep. On Doyle’s lap.

Why the hell did that bother him so much? Cordelia and Doyle had been flirting since they first met, and he knew that Cordelia had always thought of it as a game, a fun game that the two of them played to keep things interesting. But Angel knew that if Doyle thought he had half a chance with her, he’d snap her up immediately. It was obvious in the way he stared down at her, one hand in her hair, softly stroking it.

Agitation built up Angel’s body, and he let out an involuntary growl. Her eyes opened immediately, and the pair looked up in surprise.

“Can you be any louder, Angel?” Doyle hissed, as Cordelia moved off of his lap to scan the scene. “What was that for?”

Angel shrugged. “Figured you two needed a wake up call. I’m not supposed to be keeping watch alone you know.”

“Well, you didn’t have to do the GRRR thing.” Cordelia muttered. “I was having a very nice dream.”

“Of me?” Doyle asked hopefully.

“Nope.”

Angel considered asking if he had made any entrances in her illusion, but decided against it. Doyle was about to continue the hopeful interrogation when Angel’s ears pricked and he waved them to silence.

“Here they come.” Cordelia breathed, moving up and shaking her head as she hid her knife. “I’m always the damn bait.”

Angel grabbed her hand and squeezed it hard, and she squeezed back. “Save me, you dorkhead.” She hissed. He nodded quickly.

She walked into the lone street, waiting for the inevitable, and it came. Out of the darkness flew two large beings. Cordelia didn’t have to fake her fear, it was very real as she shrieked and flew back. Immediately Doyle and Angel ran from their hiding place, each jumping on a demon.

They were hopelessly inept. Cordelia could only watch in horror as those hideous things flung her two friends around like they were nothing. Even Angel’s growls seemed pathetic compared to them, and the things didn’t look winded when poor Doyle kicked his in the groin.

This fight was going to kill Angel, and Doyle, if she didn’t do something. And so she did. She slipped the knife free, and choosing the weaker of the two, Cordelia leaned forward and slammed the point into the creatures head.

It screamed in agony, releasing Angel and falling back, dead before it hit the floor.

There was absolute silence when the mate turned to see her lovers’ body on the ground.

And then the silence was broken when the creature howled, pure raging pain in her voice, pounding at the body of what had once been her mate. It shattered the stillness and it sent shivers down even Angel’s spine, rendering all of then incapable of movement. She whirled, her mouth peeled back to reveal the sharp teeth as she spotted Cordelia.

The knife went flying, and before Cordelia could cry out, the creature launched onto her, heedless of Angel and Doyle’s’ cries of alarm.

The eyes were yellow and murderous, full of so much agony, hate, and rage that Cordelia was frozen in fear.

“I will kill you .” The hiss came in vapors, the clench tight and hurtful as the claws dug into her flesh. “I will kill you.” And the growl behind her made her turn, and reel in pain as Angel’s game face seethed at her. Jora fell back, her grip loosening on Cordelia, as she spit, and ran in the opposite direction. Angel ran to follow her, but was distracted immediately by the glazed looked of astonished fear in Cordelia’s face.

His steps faltered, and he found himself forgetting about the escaping demon as he leaned down and tenderly helped her up.

She smiled her thanks tightly, and then stepped out of his grasp, turning to recover her knife.

“Damn.” Doyle muttered, his breath coming out in soft puffs. “She ran. Coward.”

“It’s too late to chase it. “ Angel muttered, his eyes dragging to Cordelia, who was standing by herself about ten feet away, her expression masked by darkness. Her back was toward them. Doyle noticed her too, and swallowed.

“I’ll go get the car.” He said, running down the alley.

There was silence after the echoes of Doyle’s feet clattered away, and in the silence, Angel looked toward Cordelia.

"Are you okay?" He asked. She shivered, but nodded.

"Yeah, the girl is still out there somewhere, though, Angel. And she said she'd be after me." Her arms wound around herself, hugging tightly as her face became pensive and thoughtful. "I hate being a target." She muttered. "I'm always the bait."

Angel saw the true fear in her eyes and his heart went out to her. "Hey." He whispered huskily, leaning forward, his hands at clasping her elbows, moving her arms away from her body. "It's okay, I'm here. I'm gonna find that thing. It's not gonna hurt you. I'm gonna protect you." The desire to protect her was so fierce he could feel the demon within him stirring for control, to run and find that thing at that moment. Instead he looked into her hazel eyes and slid his arms around her, holding her close. She leaned in automatically, sighing as she leaning her head against his chest.

He swallowed, squeezing her tighter. “I’m gonna always protect you, Cordelia.” Her body was still trembling, but surprisingly warm, as she looked up at him with a sad smile.

“I know you will,” she said simply, and then in her eyes the same expression that Angel had seen the other day, the soft tender, loving look floated in. He felt himself suddenly airy, his eyes turning intense as he stared back at the complete trust and love in her own eyes.

She believed him, she really believed him. He felt himself smile, lost in the spell of her hazel eyes as he leaned down, and what seemed an eternity, captured her lips with his.

It should have caught her by surprise, but it didn’t, because in the split second she saw his head descending she had done what had seemed natural, she had closed her eyes and leaned forward, meeting him halfway.

It was a soft kiss, each taking their time as they explored the mouths as if they had tasted each other hundreds of times before, and were now only rediscovering what they had had before. His arms and body wound tighter as he held her to him, moving his lips against hers harder now, deeper, filling him with an odd sense of homecoming and genuine passion and need as she sighed, her breath fluttering against his lips as she moved against him.

Slowly, and regrettably, their lips moved apart, Angel kept his eyes shut tight, savoring the moment.

And then he opened them to see her staring at him in wide eyes shock and wonder.

Oh, God. He had just kissed his best friend. He leaped out of the embrace, feeling himself gasping for air though he needed none, and then he couldn’t stop staring at her, her swollen lips, her heaving breasts, her wide confusion and utter astonishment.

Oh, God, Buffy. He had betrayed his love for Buffy. He had betrayed his friendship with Cordelia. He had ruined everything.

Would she just *say* something?!

But she didn’t, she merely tightened her jaw and looked away, in the direction of Doyle, who had rounded the building and was now in sight.

The car pulled up and without a second look, she got in. Angel didn’t move.

“You coming?” Doyle asked sarcastically, his patience nearing it’s end.

Angel stared at Cordelia, who’s expression had turned unreadable, her eyes locking with his for one full minute.

He felt himself swallow. “No.” He croaked. “I’m gonna do... something. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Cordelia held his gaze for another second, and then she looked away.

Never had he felt so empty as the moment her eyes left his.

Chapter Four

She was uncharacteristically quiet. There was something about Cordelia’s voice that was a drug to Doyle. As long as Cordelia had that whiny devil may care attitude in her voice, life was always gonna be okay. He could come in cut up, ready to die, believing that life would never ever be the same, and then she would smile her small smile, and give a stupid remark, and he knew that he would go on.

But she wasn’t talking. There was not a sound coming from her, not one complaint about how dirty she was, not one peep about how she had lost her sleep, or how Angel and him were so inept that they didn’t kill one demon and she had to save the day.

She wasn’t saying one damn word, and as a result, Doyle was ready for an apocalypse. He kept looking at her, but wisely, the usually sarcastic man kept silent, his mouth pursed.

Something was bothering her, but something inside him told him not to press her. His queenie would speak, when the time came.

And it did.

"Doyle." She spoke up suddenly. He breathed a sigh of relief as he cocked his head and studied her. "When we flirt, I mean, like do you think that... I mean... you know it's not serious, right?"

The question came out of the blue, but his eyes weren’t surprised when he chuckled softly. “No, Cord.” He answered, his tone gentle, and a little sad. “I think if you had been serious, you would have done something a long time ago. It’s a game, that we both like to play. Though I gotta admit you win more than I want you to.”

She gave him a relieved smile, and then turned back to the window, her face taking the soft preoccupied gaze it had before she stepped into the car.

He pursed his lips, keeping his eyes on the road, his face deliberately casual when he asked, "So when are you gonna tell him?"

She looked at him, her face slightly surprised. “Tell him what?”

“That you love him.” He answered methodically, not looking at her. He could feel her gaze boring into the side of his face, could feel her expression rather than see it. It was shock, and then fear.

But he hit the nail on the head, he knew, he could tell with a slight slinking of his heart, because she merely turned away again, her face unchanged, her expression moving back to one of resigned sadness.

She didn’t answer.

She loved him. What a cruel damn joke by whoever was doing the cupid thing to play on her. It wasn’t just cruel, it was mean. Mean and cruel, and he was an ass.

She shouldn’t have let him kiss her. But it was such a tender moment, and it happened to so fast, and she was in his arms, and he was looking at her with such emotion-

The kiss, the kiss had been mind-blowing, and all because she loved him.

After that moment, that moment when they had pulled back and she had looked into her best friend’s eyes, she had wanted to die.

Because she had seen regret.

Her eyes closed, and for a moment, all Cordelia could do was lay her head on the desk. He didn’t love her, she knew that. Sure, he was probably attracted to her, she knew the power she had over the opposite sex, but he would never love her, because of Buffy. Beautiful, stoic Buffy, the first choice of every guy Cordelia had ever loved.

Even Xander. Xander would have dropped her in a second for Buffy. And Cordelia couldn’t hate her, because Buffy deserved it. Buffy was the Slayer, the savior of the world.

Who the hell was she?

The door to the office opened and immediately she wiped at her eyes and turned to the computer, her heart beat beating twice as fast at the person in the doorway.

“Hey, sweetie.” She swung, her eyes wide in surprise, then in half disappointment, half relief.

“Hey, Doyle.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Yeah, nice to see you too.”

“No, it’s just.” She didn’t finish her sentence, only took the papers he had brought and began to sifle through them. “Wait.” She said when her eyes stopped on one. “This isn’t the right form, Angel filled this out wrong.” Her eyes floated up to his, her gaze questioning, “Why isn’t he here, anyway?”

Doyle swallowed. Woman. He had never known how to handle woman, especially *this* one.

“He uh, told me he wasn’t coming, today. He had some things to do.”

She looked at Doyle for a full minute, her legs and arms crossed, her face impassive. “Right. Bull shit.” She muttered under her breath, sighing and turning back to her computer. “Fine.” She began breathlessly, her tone all business and leaving no room for anything else. “Doyle, we’ve got a very pissed off demon on the loose and it looks like we’re not gonna have much time to track it down before it tries to kill me for taking it’s honey, so lets get to work.”

Doyle watched her for a moment, looking so unaffected it scared him, but only nodded and sat down next to her.

“Let’s get going, Cordy.”

What the hell was he going to do?

He felt like he had run into a brick wall, and he was still trying to pick the pieces of himself out.

He wasn’t supposed to do this. Not with Cordy, not with the only woman besides Buffy who had ever meant anything.

In a way, Cordelia knew him better than even the Slayer had. For five long years, Cordelia had seen the best and the worst of him, she had accepted everything, from his lustful urges for blood, to his strange but remarkably “cute”, as she termed it, affection for ice-cream. She was his friend, his best friend, aside from Doyle, his only friend.

He didn’t want to ruin what he had with her, just because of this attraction that threatened to overwhelm him, because Cordelia would love him, and he couldn’t love her, he couldn’t love anyone.

He was scared to. The long fervent ardor for Buffy had almost destroyed everything he had loved, and he couldn’t do it again, not with Cordelia.

Cordelia knew, she knew what the dangers were, and yet she had kissed him back, so beautifully, he hadn’t felt that warm, that much emotion in a kiss since-

He sighed. Since Buffy. Turmoil filled his still heart, and he leaned against the lamp post on the street of his office.

He couldn’t love Cordelia. He would destroy her.

Checking his watch, he made sure it was late enough that she would be gone. He felt like a coward, avoiding her like this. But he needed to. If he saw her... he might just kiss her again, he so desperately wanted to kiss her again.

He walked up the steps, letting out an involuntary growl as he swung the office door open.

He immediately stopped when he spotted the object of his affection sitting at the computer at her desk, eyes red with stress, typing on the keyboard. She didn’t even look in his direction.

And yet even then, the memories of his lips on hers, the feel of her body pressed against him, sent shivers down his spine.

“What are you still doing here?” He asked, feeling panic threaten to seize him. He didn’t want to see her now. He needed to get a hold of himself, to control himself, to calm down before he could see her, so he could work it out, make things like they used to be. He couldn’t see her being so beautiful, it undid him. He couldn’t handle it.

But her face showed no reaction as they floated up to his. They merely gazed at him, dull and hard, before returning to the screen, the light flickering off the monitor to shine on her face. “I always work late this time of the month.” She said, typing so fast each click sounded like a machine gun going off. “You know that.”

It was at the moment that he caught the trace of anguish going through her. He did know that, and he knew what he was putting her through. He was acting like she was a stranger, when for the past five years, she had been his every reason for living.

He nodded, the silence not being helped when she ventured no conversation, simply kept her face to the screen, the click -click of her fingers on the keys the only audible sound.

He looked away then, going to his desk to pull out his keys and locking it before pulling on his trenchcoat again.

He wavered at the doorway, unsure of what to do, how to say he was leaving, how to say goodbye for the night when usually he would go and kiss her cheek. He wanted more than anything to do that now. But he didn’t move.

“I’m going to patrol.” he finally ventured. She nodded shortly, not turning away from the screen.

Her cold face almost killed him, and he finally burst, “Cordy will you at least say something?!”

She turned, studying him for a minute. “What do you want me to say, Angel?”

He raked a hand through his hair in a frustrated gesture, and he shrugged helplessly.

She continued to study him, crossing her arms and legs as she swiveled the chair, shutting the computer off to give him her full attention.

“Until last night, I thought we were going to get past this.” She began quietly. “I thought we would still be friends, work through whatever happened, and then you didn’t show up. And now, you’re acting as if I’ve got some sort of plague.” The pulse beneath her jaw beat, and then it was gone. Her eyes were unnervingly clear as she studied him.

“So this is how it’s going to be.” She questioned, her patience gone. “This awkward silence, you averting your eyes everytime you look at me, LOOK AT ME.” She said, every word enunciated. She waited until he did, his eyes threatening to dart away as soon as they met hers. She swallowed, crossing her arms as she tried to remember that she was her best friend. Her voice softened, and she gazed at him, her eyes intense, her voice softer, yielding, trying desperately to find some sort of middle ground.

"Angel, I mean... don't you think we should talk about this?"

"No." He said quickly. “I don’t. I think we should forget it Cordelia.”

She almost winced. The way he had said her name, so cold... she wasn’t seeing Angel anymore, she was seeing a stranger. The dark man that had kissed her last night, her best friend was gone.

She looked at him for another moment. Suddenly her eyes moistened, and her jaw hardened. “You know what? Fine.” She grabbed her bag, shouldering it as she brushed past him, not even looking at him as she headed for the door. “You wanna throw away five years of friendship because of a damn kiss and a guilty conscious, that’s just fine with me.”

His hand shot out, grabbing her arm as he felt panic seize him. She couldn’t leave. She couldn’t leave. She froze, her gaze on his hand one of furious distaste. He licked his lips, and let go, feeling suddenly foolish.

He wanted to say something, anything to keep her from leaving, but he couldn’t find a single word to tell her. Finally he felt his mind grasp for his last straw.

“We still need to work together, to get Jora-”

“Doyle and I will take care of it.” She answered shortly. He froze, but forced himself to continue.

“I promised you that I would take care of it, Cordelia.” he said in a low voice.

She shot him an icy glare. “It’s my problem, Angel. I’m the one that killed him, I’ll catch her.”

He couldn’t look at her, but his voice was firm when he answered, “I’d like it to be both of our problems. We’ve always taken care of each other.”

And she laughed. She actually laughed, a short burst that sounded more like a charge of pain than anything else, it cut right through him.

“Well, Angel.” She began, sliding her jacket on, “Maybe you should have thought of that *before* you kissed me and took it back.”

He felt a rise of anger welt in him and he spit out, “You kissed me too.”

She froze, her back toward him. Her voice was soft, quite a contrast from the furious edge she carried before. “Maybe. But I meant it.”

She closed her eyes, took a breath and forced herself to walk away from him. It was the closest she would ever come to admitting she loved Angel, and that was all she was going to give him. Hastily she brushed her tears away. That was all she was ever going to give him.

Chapter Five

She didn’t see him for three whole days after that, and she didn’t allow herself to think about him. If she thought about her old friend, her beautiful old vampire friend, she would break down with loss and sadness, and Cordelia Chase, a small remnant of her proud old self shining through, was not going to allow even that tiny bit of satisfaction. Doyle was her only communication with the dark vampire, and she made no mention of him either, only conversing with Doyle on business, laughing and talking to him like nothing happened. Most of the time, he would play along.

But once in a while, she could catch him looking at her, a sad expression in his face, as if he was wondering, always wondering, as if he could see in her very soul the emptiness that she was feeling. But her eyes always hardened, her smile always widened, and her work always grew. He could say nothing, because she only piled more work on him.

Work was a drug to her, unlike her old Scooby Gang days, she relished the challenge of catching the evil dangers of Los Angeles. It gave her life meaning, at a time when she felt she had none. She would always be alone, she was in love with a damn vampire who would never love her, this was all she had.

It was times like these when she thought about Xander. Xander and Buffy and Willow and Giles and Oz. She dug up every piece and scrap of note that they had on Jora, and began to use her mind to work on the problem of locating her.

The reason they had never caught Jora was that they could never find where she slept. During the day she remained hidden away, waiting for her moment.

Never had Cordelia felt so alone. There were times, when she felt shivers on her back, like someone was watching her, but she never dwelled on them, simply kept going with her work.

She would get through this, she had too.

Even if she felt like she was dying inside.

He was stalking her. It was a very bad habit of his, started when he first laid eyes on Buffy and continued ever since.

He was used to lurking in the shadows, but he had to be extra careful around Cordelia, because she had developed the very odd ability to be able to "sense" him. There were times in the last five years, when in a playful bout he would try and sneak up on her but she would always catch him because he could, turning and giving him an annoyed glare for even attempting such a feat.

She probably had sensed him, but didn't dwell on it, her mind was furiously occupied, he could see it in her pretty hazel eyes. She was in work mode, and that meant nothing else crossed her mind.

And he was worried sick. If she couldn't sense him, or refused to sense him, then that meant she wasn't paying attention, and the threat on Jora's lips had been real. She was in real danger, and she wasn't taking care of herself. '

Sometimes Cordelia could be such a ditz. He wanted to run up to her and shake some sense into that brain of hers, but he couldn't move, he only stayed in the shadows, watching her, making sure that she was all right.

He had never really known how much he needed her to talk to him, to smile at him, before now.

He missed her, he missed her dreadfully, and he had no idea how he was going to fix this.

Yet again, he was jealous of Doyle. Doyle, who saw her every day, who worked with her, who she smiled at and tossed papers too.

But she had kissed him. And because of that, Angel had lost the only friendship he had ever shared.

When she walked up to her apartment, up the stairs and into the door, he finally dragged himself away. She was safe for the moment, that was all that mattered.

There were times in Doyle's many years that he truly wanted to strangle someone. At this particular moment, that some one was his undead mentee, the hauntingly handsome Angel. He had absolutely no clue as to what Angel had exactly that caused every woman he had ever known to fall in love with the brooding vampire, but it frustrated him to no end.

Not to say he was jealous, Doyle was past that, he wasn't chopped liver either, and he knew there were plenty of girls who were just as happy with an Irish accent and a person that looked like him. Even the elusive Cordelia, with her feminine wiles continuing to haunt him as always, was not above a good flirt, even if that was all it was, and he knew she loved doing it.

Course, that was before she fell completely in love with a moron. That was what his little vampire friend was. A moron. He had no idea how precious Cordy really was, and Doyle knew, cause he had looked.

Angel, for all his two hundred years, was pretty inexperienced when it came to love. Doyle had figured that out a long time ago. As a vampire, Angel didn't know love, only passion, when he was cursed with a soul, he spent the majority of his time scampering around in sewers, until he met the Buffy girl. Then he was in love. That was all he knew.

Angel didn't know how to let go. He knew how to walk away, but he didn't know how to let go. They all knew that Buffy had a very serious boyfriend now, the news had come from Sunnydale a while ago, and yet Angel continued to harbor this illusion in his heart, that one day, he and Buffy would return to each other. It was like a fairy tale fantasy, and there was nothing wrong with that, 'cept for the fact that Angel had inadvertently become obsessed with Cordelia.

So here was stupid Angel, still holding his heart for Buffy, and fighting an attraction to the undeniable Cordelia.

Fun, fun, fun.

Doyle might have enjoyed Brooding Guy's turmoil if he hadn't already known how much it was hurting his Cordy.

Consequently, he wanted to strangle him.

Course he was already dead, so it was a moot point. And at that moment, Doyle had a much bigger problem.

The appealment to the gypsy council was something he did on the fly, when he began to suspect that Angel might be falling in love with Cordelia. Normally, he would have sent him away, but he couldn’t do that. Cordy was like family to them. Doyle would miss her terribly, more than even he wanted to admit.

This presented a problem. Cordelia was a very passionate woman, and although she was very smart, sometimes, she let her emotions control her. Angel was a vampire with a soul, if those two ever acted on their little urges-

Well, then they'd most likely have Angelus running around.

Not a good thing.

Finally he decided there was only one thing to do, tell the council that they screwed up their stupid little curse and to fix it. What was the point really of the whole curse thing if Angel could just lose it again?

They were a bunch of morons.

But they were morons with sense, and Doyle was a good persuader, he was about to find out how good in a moment.

The sound of the office door opening took his attention away from the letter in his hand, and the dark Angel strode in.

“How is she? Is she still mad?” he asked immediately.

Angel shrugged, sitting down heavily in the chair across from his. “I couldn’t talk to her.” He said softly. “I chickened out.”

Doyle sighed, for a moment allowing a soft whisper of hesitation to escape his lips. “She’s worrying me.”

Angel nodded his throat seeming to catch as he responded. “Yeah, me too. She’s not herself.”

Doyle felt a rush of anger fill him as he looked up at his friend. “You happy now, Angel? Doing what you did to her?”

The harsh words hit Angel like a bullet, and he could say nothing, he merely looked away. Doyle was quiet for a moment, sighing as he leaned back, fingering the envelope carefully.

Angel looked up curiously as Doyle began to open it slowly. “What is that?”

Doyle didn’t answer, he merely tore at the flap, his face placid as he lifted the stiff paper out of the envelope and unfolded it.

He stared at the letter for a moment, reading the contents several times, before looking up at Angel with a glint in his eyes.

“Why’d you turn your back on her, huh Angel?” He began quickly.

The vampire didn’t want to even deign an answer. The myriad of fears and self loathing, of guilt and despair seemed too much to answer his mentor, too much for even himself to admit.

Doyle watched him silently, and then he threw the letter into his lap.

Angel looked at it curiously, picking up the open sheet and glancing at it, before feeling himself freeze, gasp for a breath of unneeded air, and read it again.

For a moment he was stock still, not wanting to believe, not daring the feel anything but numb shock.

“Is this a joke?”

Doyle shook his head no. “It’s real, Angel. The Gypsies are giving you a permanent soul.”

Disbelief filled him for a half second, then replaced with pure elation, which in turn gave way to resounding fear, and dread. He had waited for so long, feared so much, it was too much.

Seeing the conflict of emotions, Doyle sighed, leaning forward. “So who is this for, Angel?” he asked,pointing to the letter silently.

Chapter Six

Cordelia Chase worked best when the music was on full volume. Something about the furious noise, the percussion so loud it drowned everything out but her thoughts on the subject. She needed and craved it. It would have driven her landlord crazy, but fortunately, he was an old man who was deaf in one ear, and therefore heard nothing. The other tenants never minded the music. Most of them were her age, had parties every week night and invited her to every one of them.

She rarely went. Usually she was busy, doing things for the jerk and his brigade. She felt her heart tremor for just a minute before she turned up the volume and pushed it away. She was close to something, she knew, very close. She could feel it, a tingling on her skin, the slight acceleration of the beating of her heart, she was close.

Quickly she looked over the charts she and Doyle had made, her eyes roving over it quickly, thinking maybe she had missed something. She read quickly as she lifted the coffee mug to her lips and then proceeded to promptly spit it out.

“Oh, God.” She whispered, slamming the mug down and grabbing the paper with both hands. “DUH!!!” She smacked her palm to her forehead. “How could I have miss-”

Her hand automatically reached for the phone and before she knew it she was punching in Angel’s phone number.

She stopped herself six digits in. Staring hard at the receiver, she deliberately pressed the flash button, waiting for a moment for the dial tone to appear before she punched in Doyle’s voicemail number more slowly.

The answer came out choked. “Buffy, of course.”

“Buffy.” The word was spit back. Intense disappointment flitted through Doyle’s face, and even Angel looked surprised at the conflicting emotions the words filled him with. Doyle rose, snatching the letter from him. “Let me tell you something, you bastard.” He bit, his Irish accent thick with emotion. “I didn’t fucking do this for Buffy. I did it for Cordelia. And if you’re so blind you can’t see what’s in front of you-” His rant was cut off by the sound of his pager going off. He bit off his words, automatically checking the number. He raised an eyebrow at Angel, forcing himself to breathe. “Well.” he began softly. “Speak of the vixen.” He leaned over, picking up the phone to dial in, then pressing the speaker button.

Immediately, Cordelia’s harried voice filled the room. “Doyle! I got it! The pattern! I got the lock! I just need to run it into the computer and we’ll have a fix. I’ve found out where she lives! It was right in front of us, I can’t believe- Look. I’ll meet you at the office in twenty minutes okay? Meet me there. I found out how to kill her! Doyle it was so easy-I’ll just meet you there. BE THERE.”

Doyle crossed his arms, one hand on his chin. “That’s one smart cookie.”

Angel said nothing about Cordelia’s brain power. There was only one thing that filled his mind at that moment. “Why did she call *you*?” He asked immediately. “She usually pages me when she has something.”

Doyle gave him an incredulous look. “I’m teaching her how to make a soufflé.” He cracked, rolling his eyes. “Geez, Angel. You just kind of acted like a complete ass. Why do you *think* she didn’t call you?”

He cocked his head at the wince and pain that filled the tortured vampire’s face. “You might want to get out of here before she gets here.”

Angel shook his head. “She’s acting like a damn baby.” He retorted. “Ignoring me like this. She needs my help.”

Doyle just gave him a passive stare. “She does?”

Angel just glared at him. “She’s got a demon after her!!! Who wants to kill her!”

“She’s aware of that.”

“I’ve always taken care of her-”

“And when you go to Buffy?” Doyle cut him off, one eyebrow raised. “Who’s gonna take care of her then, Angel?”

Angel felt his face drain of color. The thought that he would have to leave his other half had never crossed his mind. Who *would* take care of her? The way she deserved to be taken care of?

“She’s a survivor.” Doyle answered himself flippantly. “Always has been. You know that.”

Angel sank into the leather armchair, burying his head in his hands. “I need to talk to her.” he whispered. “I need her just to listen to me.”

Doyle only stuck his hands in his pockets, not even close to looking sympathetic. “She’s not going to listen to you, man.”

“She has too.” Angel answered. “I’m waiting for her.”

Seeing he wouldn’t budge, Doyle finally just shrugged, sitting at the desk chair and starting up the computer. “Whatever. But Angel?”

Angel looked up. “You hurt my Cordy again, I will kick your ass.”

Angel didn’t even respond to that. He just resumed his previous position of his head in his hands.

Sliding on her jacket, she made sure to grab her mace and her keys before sliding the papers and disks into the duffel bag and slinging it over her shoulder. Every thought was concentrated on what she needed to do when she got to the office, the database she needed to search, how they would defeat Jora.

Thank God she had figured out the way. Skipping down the steps, she walked quickly to her car, fumbling for her keys.

She was so lost in her thoughts, she never noticed the figure coming up behind her.

Chapter Seven

“Half an hour ago, she was supposed to be here HALF AN HOUR AGO!!!” Angel roared, and Doyle winced as his friend’s anger shone through so much that his face was momentarily transformed into that of a demon.

After that, he barely acknowledged Doyle’s prescence, every part of his body was focused on the door, as if by his sheer will he could get Cordelia to come into the door, giving a harried insult.

But she didn’t come, and Doyle was worried sick.

It seemed though, even if it felt impossible, that Angel was more worried than he was. “Damn, girl.” He breathed. “When I find you, I’m giving you the lecture of your lifetime.” He barreled out the door so fast Doyle had to scramble to go after him.

“CORDELIA!!” He slammed the door open, his eyes searching wildly through the apartment. Fear filled his still heart so much at that moment he was frozen stiff. She wasn’t here.

Doyle looked in her closet. “Her coats gone. So are her notes.”

Angel cursed, and walked out again. He had to find her. He had to find her.

Her car was still outside, and he ran to it, running his eyes over the area surrounding. A glint of metal caught his gaze, and he felt his throat choke up. Doyle picked them up, his face a mask of worry and dread.

“Her keys.” He breathed. She had never even made it to the car.

Angel had never felt so much fear in his life. His chest tightened, and he looked wildly around him, arms splayed as he searched desperately for his best friends form.

“CORDELIA!!!” He screamed into the still area. Doyle didn’t scream, his face was tight, as his hawk eyes peered into the still night. Angel pushed at him. “GO!” He roared. “That way! Try and find her!” He obeyed immediately, running off down the street. Angel held his hands to his head, forcing himself to try and calm down.

She was okay. She had to be okay. Oh, Cordy.

He closed his eyes then, feeling the demon in him take over, feeling the pure animal come alive. He stood stock still, and then he sniffed. Once.

He sniffed again, and then he began to run. He ran through the dark streets, sniffing momentarily, picking up her soft scent as if it were a part of him. The need to find her, to make sure she was okay, consumed him. He needed to find her.

She could sense him, couldn’t she? That meant he could sense her. He could try, he needed to try. Oh, Cordy.

“CORDELIA!!!” He screamed into the stillness, and then his eyes caught a dark alley. Feeling his feet stop, his face froze, and dreading what he would find, he walked into the alley.

It was murky, dark, filled with trash and boxes. He closed his eyes, drowning out all the sounds and all the scents except for his Cordelia’s.

His eyes opened, and he walked directly to one spot, kicking away a box, and for a moment all he could do was stare at the scene in horror.

This couldn’t be her. Oh, God it couldn’t be her. No, not Cordy.

The woman lay motionless on the ground, gashes all over her body, a huge wound gaping out of her side, blood rushing from it, as if teeth marks had gouged at her.

She looked dead.

No, oh God no. He leaned down, gathering her to him tenderly, fear coursing along with the blood in his veins as he searched for any sign that she was alive.

The woman covered in blood gave a painful moan, and Angel suddenly felt hot tears coursing down his cheeks. Oh, Cordy. “Cor.” He whispered roughly, his voice shaking, his demonic face slipping away as he looked down at her broken form.

Her eyes opened slightly, barely seeing him, almost as if the life was flooding out of her at that moment. “Played.... dead...” She rasped so softly he had to lean forward to catch her words. Her eyes darkened, and she managed to raise on hand painfully to his face. “Ang.....” She struggled. “Love you.” Her hand fell away, and her eyes closed.

He felt his throat constrict, and panic flooded him. “No, Cordy, don’t . Don’t leave me, Cordelia.” He began to speak, grabbing her so tightly she seemed to meld her bloody form into him. “CORDY,NO! I can’t do this without you.” He whispered. The sounds of boots came running up behind him, but he barely acknowledged Doyle, every sense on Cordy.

“Hospital.” He rasped, stumbling up, clutching her to him, so full of torrid emotion he could barely speak. “Hospital. She can’t die.”

Doyle nodded, his eyes strangely red as he followed Angel out of the alley.

An orderly named Daniel took her away as soon as they walked into the door. Angel watched in beseeching silence as suddenly his reason for living was swept up by doctors, nurses and medics, barking orders, rolling her away.

He immediately rose to follow her, but was stopped by a small woman. “No, sir, you can’t come in. You’ll have to wait in the waiting room.”

He pushed her away. “I want to be with her.” He rasped. “I have to be with her.”

The nurse planted herself in front of him again. “You CAN’T go in there. Not now.”

Doyle saw the wild eyes, the last vestiges of control slipping away in Angel’s fragile mind, and he stepped forward, his voice odd through his tears. “He’s her husband.” He said, speaking up. The nurse studied Angel’s haunted face, and her resolve seemed to soften.

“I can’t let you in, but I can show you where you can watch.” She relented. Angel nodded mechanically following her.

Doyle sank into a chair, the weight of the last few days so heavy on his mind he seemed to be buried with it.

“Sir?” He looked up to see a young nurse smiling sympathetically down at him. “We need someone to fill out her forms. Her husband looks rather wild right now.”

“I’ll do it.” He said, tearing his eyes away from the door where they had taken her away.

“Who are you, sir?”

He swallowed down the tears. “I’m her brother.”