Chapter Eight

For a moment, she felt nothing. She felt almost as if she was drifting in some sort of numb buoyancy. Voices could be heard as she drifted back and forth, strangers speaking urgently over her, she felt feathers of hands moving her, back and forth, hands thumping.

It was a hazy experience, blackness intruded her consciousness, and time went by without a sense of it.

It was when the pain hit that she finally felt grounded. Aching agony coursed through her, made her freeze, made her feel as heavy as lead, and she didn’t dare move, fearful and scared, waiting for the pain to pass.

It didn’t. Slowly, ever so slowly, she began to hear things around her, beeping and humming, she felt hands moving around her, and then she realized her eyes were shut tight.

Groaning slightly, her eyes opened and immediately closed when the fluorescent lights hit her in the brain almost like a dagger.

She felt patting, and gathering her strength, her eyes slid softly open once more, giving herself time to adjust to the light.

“Welcome back.” A young nurse was smiling softly down at her, one hand on her arm as she wrapped some sort of IV around it.

Cordelia could only stare for a moment, swallowing, her throat felt so dry. “What happened?” She rasped, feeling the dryness tickling her speech.

The nurse had on a name tag, it said Patti. “You don’t remember?”

Cordelia squinted, trying to remember, and all she could see was flashes. Flashes of pain, flashes of agony, and something, something softer. “I remember leaving my apartment.” She said honestly.

“You were beaten. Attacked by some sort of vicious dog or something. We called the pound, gave them a good talking to about keeping those strays in control. If your husband hadn’t found you when he did why-”

Her eyes widened. “Husband?” She repeated immediately.

Patti gave her a soft smile. “He’s here, he left for just a minute. Normally we don’t let people stay here overnight, visitors I mean, but he was so adamant we finally had to stick him in the bed next to yours. He’s been sleeping there the last four days. Your brother is here a lot too.”

WHAT?!

Now her mind was bewildered and confused. “Four days?” She managed. “I’ve been out for four days?”

Patti nodded sympathetically. “You went under for a couple of minutes, you were so badly beaten. You’ll have a couple of scars, luckily those bruises on your face will heal nicely. But that gash on your stomach, will leave a nasty one.”

She closed her eyes, forcing herself to breath to stave off the pain before she opened them and went on. “It’s not virgin territory.” She remarked flatly.

The nurse said nothing, only rose. “I’ll go get your husband.”

“Wait, wait.” Cordelia rose her hand weakly. “You keep saying that. Husband? I haven’t been out long enough to get -”

The nurse gave her a confused look. “Angel. Your husband.”

As if on cue, the door opened, and a dark looking man in wrinkled black pants and a white T-shirt walked into the room. His eyes caught her open ones, and he froze for a minute.

Cordelia took the chance to study him. His face was strangely pale, his hair was rumpled. He didn’t look good, for a moment, it was like she was looking at the old cryptic Angel, the one she found in LA, lost without his Buffy to sustain him.

He came forward immediately, nodding to the nurse and sitting down next to her bed. “You shouldn’t be sitting up.” He said firmly, gently putting his hands on her arms and lowering her aching body back to the bed. “Can we get some water?” He asked the nurse, who nodded and blushing softly walked out of the room. “You must be thirsty.” His eyes never left hers as he arranged her body as he would a doll.

Cordelia could do nothing but watch, marveling at the tender way he handled her. “Husband?” She asked weakly, raising an eyebrow.

He shrugged. “They wouldn’t have let me stay here otherwise.” He sat down again, his thigh pressing against hers as he leaned across her, his right arm holding his weight over her. “Are you okay?” He whispered finally. “You had us so worried, we thought-” He trailed off, looking away, but grabbing her hand and rubbing his thumb across it tenderly. “I’m sorry.”

So bewildered at his caring actions, she could only ask, “Why?”

“I should have been there.” He whispered, his gentle hands suddenly gripping hers desperately. “But I wasn’t. I was being stupid.”

She shook her head, eyes wide. “Angel what happened to me? The nurse said I was attacked by some sort of dog.”

“Jora. Jora got you. You played dead.”

The nurse came in then, handing Angel the glass. He nodded, thanking her and then grabbing a towel off the rack near her bed, he cupped her chin softly and helping her drink the water carefully. She was too stunned at the gesture to complain he was treating her like a baby, so she merely obeyed.

Sleep pervaded her then, her eyes began to flutter, and when she yawned, he took the hint, arranging her pillows. She smiled her thanks, and drifted back to sleep. The last thing she felt was his fingers, stroking her face.

She was going to go crazy. It was official. She was going to strangle him. Angel was doing nothing but unnerving her and treating her like a damn baby. She would have given him a fair chunk of her mind had she actually had the strength, but she was in so much pain and was so weak she could do nothing when he fed her. She could do nothing when he changed her bandages, and made her drink water, and brought her gifts, and wouldn’t leave. He had practically moved into the damn hospital room with her.

Doyle looked almost amused when he came in to visit her, and the guy was there alot too. Patti had developed quite a crush on the Irishman, though Cordelia knew he had had a hell of time explaining why her “brother” had an Irish accent and she didn’t. The answer was complicated, involving divorced parents, boarding school, and a plot that sounded suspiciously like the Parent Trap.

She was getting very frustrated with Angel, she didn’t need him doing all this for her, with that tender touch that only confused her more than ever. He was acting like her lover and she didn’t need that right now, not when he had told her one short week ago that he wanted to forget everything.

But he never said a word. He would merely look at her in this odd way, as if he wanted to tell her something, as if something had changed, and then he would shut his mouth, and order the nurse to go and get something else.

Patti was nearing the end of her patience, Cordelia knew. Angel had the poor girl running back and forth, Cordelia had almost convulsed with laughter when she had whispered to her that although she had never seen anyone as gorgeous, how on earth could Cordelia put up with such a brooding guy?

She would have told her she *didn’t*, but her laughter had caused her stitches to tear, and she had doubled over in pain.

Today, he was doing it again, Patti was standing at the edge of the bed, her hands resting on a wheelchair, a pained expression on her face, calmly and firmly insisting that it was company policy that everyone needed to leave in a wheelchair.

Angel said she didn’t. Cordelia gave him a glare.

“Angel, DARLING.” She enunciated, with a look that meant “I’m killing you later”, “I really would like the wheel chair.”

He gave her a long look, grabbed her bag of clothes and tossed it on the wheelchair. Then with no warning whatsoever, he scooped her up, cradling her against him tenderly. He looked at her for one long moment, taking in her surprised expression.

“I want to carry her out.” He announced, his voice thick, his gaze not wavering from her face.

Patti gave them a quick look, and sighed. “Why not?” She finally agreed. “It’s not like you haven’t broken every rule we have in here already. What this hospital does for love.” Came her mumbling afterthought.

She had drifted to sleep as soon as the car started. When she woke up, she was back in bed, and she winced, knowing that now she was truly on her own. She didn’t want to be, as much as Angel annoyed her with his over protective father routine, the truth was, she needed his help, she needed to see him. Despite the circumstances, she still loved him.

She sighed, grimacing when she felt the blood seep from her wound. The move must have disturbed the injury. She moved to get off the bed when she felt hands hold her down.

“Don’t move.” She looked up in surprise to find Angel staring down at her. She looked around quickly and discovered she wasn’t in her bed at all. She was in Angel’s apartment, in his room,in his bed.

"Angel?" she asked, wondering as he continued to move around her, arranging the blankets so they curled around her feet.

He stopped then, looking in embarrassment at her wondering glance. "You're going to stay here, until you can get better."

She rolled her eyes, grimacing as she attempted to sit up. "Angel, I'm not that bad-" She was cut off quickly at the pain that loomed when she moved.

He gave her a self satisfied smirk. “Right.” He remarked. He looked down at her shirt, and hesitantly reached for it. “Can I?” He asked softly.

Her heart tremoring, she nodded ever so softly. He slid the shirt up to reveal her wound, his face furrowing when he saw that blood had seeped through the white cloth.

“I’ll help you change it.” He responded, “Patti showed me how.”

She gazed at him with soft eyes as she allowed his fingers to graze her skin, carefully removing the blood stained patch.

“I know it hurts.” He said gently when she sucked in her breath. “I’m sorry.”

She flushed, deciding not to tell him it was the contact of his soft fingertips on her skin that had made her gasp and not the pain.

He noticed she was quiet, because he remarked, “Are you tired?”

She nodded. He smiled, leaning forward to press his lips softly on her forehead before he rose.

“Go to sleep, Cor. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

Chapter Nine

She was confused. He could see it in her eyes, when he touched her, when he carried her, when he looked at her.

She didn’t know what to think. She didn’t ask though, she just let things happen, almost as if she was hoping to try and figure it out.

He wasn’t sure he wanted to explain. He was scared of telling her he loved her because he knew then it would come out in a dark torrent, telling her how he had almost died when he had thought he had lost her, how he had never left her side, stayed with her, urging her to stay alive, pleading that he knew the truth.

The truth was he couldn’t live without her. The truth was that in his dreams, she was the woman in his bed, she was the one that drove him crazy, made him happy.

She was the woman of his dreams.

He could feel her tension when his fingers caressed her skin, when he held her, when he kissed her forehead. The words she had told him the night she was attacked were always fresh in his mind.

She loved him. The woman he loved, his other half, his reason for living, loved him. And he had almost lost her because he had been stubborn. Because he had acted like a baby. He hadn’t known what he wanted.

He knew now. He wanted her, but he couldn’t tell her, because it meant so much from her. It meant danger, it meant asking for his faith that he would always love her, even when she was old, and ragged and he was still young and strong.

It would mean sacrifice, and change. He couldn’t ask that of her, not yet. Not before she knew for sure that he loved her.

So he tried to show her. Everytime he changed her bandage, everytime he fed her, everytime he carried her to the bath and then in nothing but a bra and underwear, he would bathe her tenderly, never taking advantage, only being there as a friend, not yet as a lover.

She was getting better every day. She was stronger, she was healing, and pretty soon she was complaining, loudly, that she didn’t want to be stuck in bed all day, that she could do work, that she wanted to go home.

Now that he would NOT allow. Maybe it was the fear of losing her again, or the joy of being able to wake up and walk into his room and see her first thing, or just the calming presence she had on him, but he knew that there was no way she was leaving his apartment. She belonged with him.

He had even begun to bring her stuff in with him, he and Doyle began moving her clothes, then her toiletries, then her odds and ends.

She was still weak, and he hid most of her stuff in the guestroom, aware she wouldn’t take it too well to see everything was already moved in.

He still didn’t tell her in the days that followed. Before he told her, there was still one more thing he had to do, one more loose end to take care of.

He made Doyle stay and care for her, and he went out on his own, carrying something he never used, never thought he had to. He was carrying a gun.

It was different now. He was hunting a killer.

Doyle was drowsing when the door opened. He looked up curiously and his jaw almost dropped when he saw a torn and bloody Angel stumble into the doorway.

“What the hell? What did you do?”

Angel gave him a triumphant scowl. “Jora’s dead.” He spat the name with hatred, and Doyle recoiled. Angel was carrying a scarf, and Doyle immediately recognized it as Cordelia’s.

“She had it?”

Angel nodded. “She was wearing it. She was actually wearing it.” He shook his head, swallowing. “She’s not gonna hurt Cordy again.”

“I believe you.” Doyle murmured, shaking his head.

Angel looked toward the door. “How is she?”

“You’ve got a hell cat on your hands. She found her stuff today, started walking around. And she’s ready to kill you. At least she was, right up until she went to sleep. But to let you know, it was all your fault. That’s what I told her.”

Angel rolled his eyes. “Thanks.” He started to move to the bedroom.

Doyle pulled on his jacket, smiling with amusement when he called out, “Wash your face at least, you’re gonna give her a heart attack lookin’ like that.” Angel paid him no heed, and Doyle merely chuckled, heading out the doorway.

She was still asleep when he opened the door. He was quiet, almost reverently still as he leaned forward to trepidly sit on the edge of the bed. She stirred then, her beautiful face lifting from the pillow, her bruises visible even in the soft light.

He didn't move, watching as her eyes fluttered open, registering him. her mouth quivered into a soft smile, then froze when she got a better look at him.

"Angel?" she whispered, her throat husky with sleep, sitting up to stare in wonder and concern at his bruised face.

He swallowed, and then reached into his pocket, pulling out a familiar red scarf.

"I got this back for you." he said, putting it in her lap. She looked down at it in bewilderment, then back up to his face, her eyes clouded.

"Angel, you killed her?"

He nodded, his throat full, his hands in his lap.

"It wasn't for you." He said quickly, when her mouth opened. She closed it, her cheeks flushing as she looked away.

"Thanks." She said sarcastically.

His throat dry, he continued. "It was for me. I couldn't stand that thing being alive, not after what it did to you."

Her eyes rose to meet his then, and her gaze not wavering, she lifted one trembling hand to his face. His eyes closed at her touch, the sensation of her silken fingertip against his bruises and cuts made him go still, made him forget everything and everyone but the feel of her.

His eyes darkened as he gazed at her, his eyes wide open now, as he leaned up and captured her hand in his, threading his fingers through hers.

"I love you." The words came out before he knew they had, and yet, he didn't regret them, his dark gaze only reaffirming what he said.

Her face didn't change then, but her eyes slowly grew moist, clouding the hazel behind them with soft spots of moisture.

So slowly it was almost imperceptible, he leaned forward, cupping her face with the broad palm of one hand.

She smiled, her lips quivering ever so slightly. "Men are so easy." She whispered, her voice shaking with emotion. "I only had to almost die to get you to admit it."

His grin was only slightly discernible before he gently placed his lips on hers. They opened immediately, her mouth slanting under his, a soft moan escaping her as he tasted her intimately. He shuddered at the sound of her voice sliding a hand possessively around her neck, bending it so he could kiss her more deeply.

Her lips pulled at his, tenderly clinging to his, then releasing for breath, only to come back to meet his in a moist, endearing kiss.

Warmness filled his cold heart, as she slowly pulled away, sighing ever so softly. She took a breath to recover, leaning her forehead against him, so that her breath fell on his neck in light, feathery puffs.

He pulled her close, planting a soft kiss on her crown, too shaky to speak. She had made him weak. His precious crazy vixen.

She looked up at him then, her eyes moist. "Come here." she whispered huskily, pulling his body up on the bed with her.

His eyes narrowed, his voice choked as he felt his body react immediately. "Cord... we can't." He whispered.

She rolled her eyes in response. "And yet again the soul guy thinks I'm an idiot." She swatted him, for a moment regressing into her normal tone of voice before it went softer. "We aren't you dolt. Like I would be able to right now anyways. I just want you to hold me. "

He smiled then, half in relief, the other half in sad disappointment, and yet contentment flooded his heart as he gathered her closely to him, inhaling the scent of her hair, feeling her heart beat against his chest.

They were still then, the pair holding each other as if they were born for it. They said nothing for a long time, right then, they knew, words were not necessary.

Chapter Ten

Reality struck her about six PM the next day.

That was when she woke up, and she just suddenly felt better. The doctor had told her about that, about how she would feel like hell and then just one day, she would just feel so different she was almost healed.

The pain didn’t hurt so much, she could get out of bed and she didn’t need any help. This was a good thing, because Angel wasn’t around, he had gone patrolling with Doyle.

The night before, he had come in, and his eyes were so tender, his touch so soft, his words so sweet, she had felt consumed, her anger at his moving everything of hers gone the instant he had sat next to her, his bleeding face a testament to his words.

Now she was awake, and alone, and able to think. Not a good combination.

The last time she was in this position, after she had discovered the man, or the boy, she loved had been cheating on her with her best friend, she had been broken, numb, and completely defeated.

Her conclusion to that disaster was that she had gotten soft, and she had proceeded to purge herself of every reminder of Xander Harris, everything, including his friends.

Or at least she had tried. She had almost succeeded, but by some oddity of the Hellmouth, she was here now, five years later, completely in love with a dream.

That was all this was. She knew that now. She and Angel were living a fabulous dream, and it would crash land very soon.

She knew this because of one simple reason. Angel had a soul, one that could be lost very easily, and make him into the demon killer she had feared for so long back in high school.

She hadn’t understood Buffy’s pain then. She hadn’t trusted her, she had been afraid, because she didn’t understand.

Now she understood the guilt, because she was in love with a demon, and if he ever became Angelus, she knew she wasn’t strong enough to kill him. Not that beautiful face.

Buffy couldn’t do it, and she was a Slayer. Cordelia was just... Cordelia. She wasn’t a Slayer, she wasn’t anybody really.

Angel didn’t seem to understand that. For some reason, he thought she was here permanently, Doyle had been the victim of quite a temper last night, when she had discovered most of her articles lying around the apartment.

Hello? She couldn’t sleep here anymore without actually sleeping with him, and he knew that, they had both felt that blatant passion last night.

There were two reasons he had done it. One, he was a complete moron. Two, he figured he didn’t love her enough for him the get the big happy.

As much as she accused him of it, Angel wasn’t stupid. And she didn’t want to comprehend the second answer, call it denial, that was what it probably was, but she didn’t want to face that.

Then she could add in all the nice factors about him never aging, staying young, living forever while she withered away, if she even lived long enough to get wrinkles.

There would be no children. She was no Susie Homemaker, but she did want them, eventually.

Plus there was that whole Buffy/Xander thing. What would they say? Oh, right, Cordelia the skanky ho, finally got her claws into Buffy’s man. She might lose their friendship, and that scared her.

Despite all this, she still loved him.

It was too much.

She needed to get out of here, get away from his scent that pervaded every part of this room, she needed to think.

Sneaking out wasn’t the best plan, but because of the wound in her side, she had no alternative, she had to move slowly. She was almost to the door with a duffel bag of clothes when he walked in.

Immediately her heart skipped a beat, and she stared at him in surprise.

“You’re early.” She remarked quickly.

He didn’t say a word, his eyes went to her bag, to her fully dressed form, and he pursed his lips, closing the door behind him. “What are you doing?” He finally asked, motioning to the bag.

As if surprised she was still gripping it, she gave it a startled look. When she stared back at those beautiful dark eyes, she couldn’t find the heart to say she was leaving him. With a desperate sigh, she only shrugged.

He gazed at her for a full minute, his face unreadable, the only expression visible was one of sad concern, and finally he seemed to deflate. He came forward, taking the bag from her by gently prying the handle from her frozen hands and taking it back to the bedroom.

“You’re staying here.” He said over his shoulder.

She watched him go, and suddenly felt her anger rise. Since when did she take orders from him? What, one kiss and he was already playing possesive guy?

“Angel what the hell are you doing?! Since when have I given you permission to run my life? Who died and made you Tarzan!” She cried out, following him. He met her halfway out of the room, taking her hand and pulling her out into the living room with him.

“Why were you leaving?” He asked thickly.

She groaned at the hurt tone. “Angel-” She began, and then trailed off. There was so much to tell him, so many reasons why they couldn’t continue whatever the hell this was, and yet, looking his face, she couldn’t think of one damn thing. She felt her chest heave, and she pulled out of his grasp. “You know why.”

He cocked his head, studying her. “The Soul thing.”

She gave him a startled look at the dismissive way he said it, the casual way he seemed to toss it out, and she almost glared then. “Among other things, yes.”

“Do you love me?” The words were fired out rapidly, and mutely, she nodded. “You’re afraid.”

“Well aren’t YOU?” She snapped, finally losing patience.

“Yes. But I’m happy.”

“And therein lies our problem, sherlock.” She muttered, looking back at her forgotten duffel bag just inside the doorway.

He seemed to be thinking, and then once again he pulled her, this time to the couch, sitting her down gently, ever aware of her tender state.

Pausing, he almost seemed to take an unneeded breath of air before producing a white envelope from his pocket.

He passed it to her. She took it, staring at it in confusion. “Read it. “ He urged, and his voice seemed oddly choked.

After looking at his face, she nodded ever so slightly, taking her time looking at the paper he had seemed to handle like it was some sort of priceless treasure.

He was waiting in apprehension, she could see the flecks in his eyes almost dancing, though with joy, or guilt or some other emotion she had no idea.

She turned back to the envelope, pulling out the paper and unfolding it carefully. The words were typed, there was only one sentence.

To Doyle-

The council is appeased. Reasons sound. Angel is cursed forever. Details to follow.

Dana

The words ended, and she found herself staring at it again. Angel is cursed forever? The curse? The SOUL CURSE?!

Forever?

Not sure, her heart beating loudly, she looked up at him with wide eyes.

"Angel?" she asked, hoping somehow, he could explain this. He sat down across from her, his dark eyes intense as he gently pulled the letter from her grasp and set it aside, pausing before gathering both her hands into his, covering them and holding them tight.

He waited a moment, preparing his words, before he licked his lips and began. "Before, getting this letter meant..." He paused, but continued, "meant that I could finally be with Buffy. Now... it means I can be with you." He learned forward, keeping his grip tight, his thumb rubbing softly over her palm in a soft caress. "I want to make love to you, Cordelia. I don't think I've ever wanted anything more."

She was stunned speechless for a moment, her heart ceased to beat, and then it jump-started, beating twice as fast when she began to register just what he was saying.

"Wait, you ... this.. Oh, god, Angel." She breathed, pulling back to cover her mouth with one hand. He reached up, pulling it back into his grasp.

"I know what I’m asking is... alot of you Cor. Hell, it's more than dangerous. But.. I love you, and the thought that I could *be* with you, completely.." He stopped, flushing for a moment. "I need you." He finished, looking away.

She watched him silently, her emotions now running at a full whirlwind. He wanted to make love to her, he wanted to be with her. He actually thought that she, his best friend, stupid, bitchy Cordelia Chase could make him happy.

But could she? Could she, in a hazy night of passion and emotion, actually fill him so much that he could actually -

She swallowed. Fear filled her, not assuaged by her doubts. This should have been Buffy's right, and he was giving it to her. He loved her.

But was it enough? She closed her eyes, attempting some semblance of control, and when she opened them he was looking at her, his eyes waiting, the spark in them filled with hope and love. At that adoring gaze, she felt her wall of resistance crumble.

Without a word, she went on her knees, sliding her arms around him, and pulling him close. His arms went around her immediately.

"You know I can't say no to you, dork head." She whispered. She felt his body relax suddenly with relief, his eyes wet as he cradled her face with his palm, and brushed her lips tenderly with his.

"I love you, Cor." he whispered.

She closed her eyes and sighed, her heart still hammering as she leaned her head against the top of his spiky hair, pushing aside her doubts and fears for that moment, allowing her body to connect with his completely, pressing tightly against his rock hard frame.

"I know." She answered slowly, her words released in a half breath.

Chapter Eleven

Doyle had always thought that the day Angel and Cordelia realized their little unbridled passion for each other, the day they realized they could do the sex thing and have no problems, would make them the happiest couple in the world.

It sure didn’t seem that way. And the weight seemed to be more on Cordelia’s shoulders than Angel’s. Up until that moment, Doyle had never realized just how strong his little vixen actually was. These past few weeks had taken so much out of her, she had visible changed. Her beautiful face was a little paler, she was thinner, there were still bruises on her face, yellow remnants mingled with black that seemed to mar her flawless complexion only slightly. She still seemed to grimace when she moved too fast, her stitches healing, though slowly.

Her eyes were a little less bright, seemed darker and deeper, as if they were the eyes of a great storm that was raging all around them, and everything was swirling into their darkness.

Doyle understood her pain, her anxiousness, it was something he had momentarily forgotten. Cordelia had fallen in love with a vampire. For a bright young woman in the prime of her life, this held repercussions he knew she didn’t appreciate. Any sane person would walk away.

But she hadn’t. She had agreed, she had loved him that much. Doyle allowed a soft moment of bitterness, the thought that he had never, in his centuries of living, had one person that had loved him that much, where his dumber mentee had two.

He brushed it away, knowing somehow, that his time would come. Instead, he leaned forward, handing Cordelia what she requested.

“You don’t know much about spells and stuff, Cor.” He warned. “I doubt this will do much for you.”

She gave him a look that said, duh, before nodding. “I know some one who does.”

He raised a curious eyebrow. “Oh?”

She nodded. “Willow is coming down from Sunnydale to do some research for Giles. She wants to have lunch. She thinks she’s a bad ass wiccan, I figured her looking over this wouldn’t hurt.”

Doyle watched his anxious friend in silence. “You’re nervous, aren’t you?”

“Aren’t you?” She shot back.

He closed his eyes, shrugging. “At this point it seems almost surreal.”

She chuckled then,and when he gave her questioning eyes, she smiled sadly. “We’re taking an awful lot of preparation just to have sex, don’t you think? I feel like one of those breeding studs. Picking a date, taking precautions, you having to be in the next room-” she bit her lip, blushing slightly. “I just... I don’t know if I can do that, it’d be like... doing it with my mother in the next room or something.”

Oh, great, his object of desire was likening him to her mother. Just peachy.

“Not like I’m really looking all that forward to it, either, my dear Queenie.” he cracked, winking. She rolled her eyes. “Look, we’ll try and figure out some way to get around that, but... to be honest Cor, if I had the choice between a little awkwardness and having you dead, I’m choosing the awkwardness.”

She looked up then, recognizing the truth in his words, nodding as she stood. “I love you.” She whispered, kissing him lightly once, before taking the papers and walking out of the office.

He stared after her, a soft smile on his lips. “Love ya too.” He whispered back.

To say that Willow Rosenberg was positively glowing would have probably have been an understatement. She looked the very picture of true happiness, and Cordelia felt a rush of relief as she laid eyes on her old semi friend, who was waving like a maniac to her from the table.

“Cordelia! Guess what!” She said, before Cordelia had a chance to sit down. “Wait, what happened to your face?”

Cordelia’s hands went up to her fading bruises and she gave a soft grimace. “Workers casualty. I’m fine.”

Willow gave a soft grim smile of sympathy, two seconds before her face lit up again.

Cordelia felt her mouth curl into an involuntary smile at Willow’s excitement. “What?”

A hand with a small diamond ring was thrust into her face, and Cordelia had to lean back to inspect it properly.

“Wow.” She said appropriately. “So you and Oz finally decided to make it official huh?”

Willow nodded excitedly. “And you are ordered to come.”

Cordelia gave her a weak smile. “Can I bring Angel?”

Willow’s smile faltered, but she nodded again. “Yeah, that’d be fine. Buffy’s all in love with her boyfriend, so it’s fine.”

Cordelia’s face drifted into a sincerely happy expression. “I’m glad to hear that.” She looked down at her hands, “Thanks for meeting me.” She breathed, her hands nervously folded in her lap. Willow gave her a cocked eyebrow.

“ You okay, Cordy?” She asked. “you don’t seem yourself somehow. “

Cordelia laughed a little too loud. “Yeah, well, it’s been a while.”

“At least a year.” Willow agreed. She studied her friend again, and shrugged her shoulders. “What was it you said you wanted to show me?”

Cordelia bit her lip. It was now or never. Taking a breath she reached into her bag and pulled out the precious letter.

“This.”

Willow took it dubiously, and opened it, her eyes studying it quickly. Suddenly she froze. Cordelia placed another packet on the table. “The details are in here.”

“Wow.” Willow breathed. “Oh, wow." She said again, her eyes glowing as she re read the letter. Scrambling for the shuffled papers, she looked over the details, her face lighting up as she met Cordelia's anxious eyes. "Is this what I think it is?"

Cordelia smiled weakly. "Yeah. He's gonna be all soul having no matter what."

"Oh, my God!" Willow squealed, leaning forward to hug her impulsively. "This is great!"

Cordelia let out a relieved laugh. "Yeah."

"Wait till I tell Buffy! She's been waiting for something like this!"

Cordelia's smile immediately froze, as Willow went on, rambling to her self happily. "I mean, she's dating David, and he's nice and all, but she's always loved Angel,and-"

"Willow." Cordelia said softly.

"Oh, wow, I knew it would work out! Not as in, having the slightest idea, but I just knew!"

"Willow-"

"Xander will just flip!!!"

"Willow!!" Her voice was raised several notches, and Willow looked up curiously at her.

"What?" She asked quickly, slightly hurt at being cut off.

Cordelia felt sweaty, her heart was pounding and she couldn't quite meet her eyes when she began slowly. "Buffy's not the one he wants to sleep with."

There was a dreadful silence then, and she swallowed, gathering the courage to look at her friends expression.

There was none. Only confusion.

"What do you mean?" Was the soft reply, and Cordelia felt herself go red, but she held her back straight, and kept her eyes on her. Slowly the realization came to Willow, and her expression suddenly became horrified.

"What, YOU?!" She whispered. "He and... and... you?!"

Cordelia shuffled in her seat. "Why is that so hard to believe? It's been five years, Willow."

"But... oh, God, Xander!" Willow's hands rose to her mouth, and Cordelia's brow furrowed.

"What does Xander have to do with this?"

Willow flushed, and swallowed. "Nothing." She managed to say, as her hands came down, and she leaned forward. "Cordelia... this is Angel! Remember? Angel and Buffy?"

"Of course I remember, Willow!" She snapped, feeling the tension threaten to break her. “It kind of just happened!” She buried her hands in her face, and then composing herself, she looked up. “Would you be able to curse him again? I mean if the council is giving us a bunch of bullshit?”

“Wait.” Willow’s face was dubious, uncertain as to what she was asking her. “you want me to WHAT?”

“You cursed him once, you can do it again, right? If this doesn’t work?”

Willow’s face was beyond shock. “You can’t really... you want me to be a PART of this?”

Apparently this was something absolutely horrible, and the tone hurt Cordelia beyond measure, because to her, “this” was something beautiful, it was what she had been waiting for her whole life.

“Does he love you?”

Cordelia almost chuckled at the insanity of the question. “Yes.”

Willow looked down then. Her voice was softly persuasive, and for a brief moment, Cordelia felt oddly as if she was talking to a shrink.

“Don’t get defensive Cordy, but ... do you honestly think you can? Like you know... give him the happy?”

Cordelia couldn’t look at her then, but her voice was full of conviction when she answered, “He thinks so.”

Something about the way she said that made Willow’s eyes darken slightly. “Do you?” She pressed.

Cordelia swallowed. “All I know is that I love him.”

“But you could die.”

“Yes, I KNOW.” She heard her voice rise, and she cut herself off before she would say something she would regret. “You don’t believe it, do you? That he could love me? Like he loved Buffy?”

Willow slowly shook her head no. “What do you two have in common? How can you be sure?”

Cordelia's jaw hardened to the point where it was clenched so tightly, she felt her teeth grinding against each other. Her shoulders bunched up, the tension making the muscles rock hard.

Her anger had changed, and at that moment she became furiously still, changing modes from hysterical to deadly.

"For five years I've been his best friend, Willow." She began, her eyes narrowed and bright with emotion. "I know every part of him, I know how he pees, okay? I know that he likes ice cream, and I know he likes steak, and I know he hates Judy Garland, but LOVES Doris Day. I know that he gets scared when he thinks he's alone, I know he hates to stand in the rain. I love him, Willow, because I know him. He's not some hottie that I'm lusting after." She leaned forward, her voice harder. "You think this is easy for me? Going up against you, against all of them? Knowing how you'd react? I'm scared, Willow. And if you want to help me, fine, if not, I'll find some other way to do it. Because he wants it, and because I love him, I'm helping him anyway I can."

The rant ended abruptly, and the two woman leaned back, not looking at each other.

"Okay." Cordelia looked up, her eyes surprised when she faced Willow.

"What?" She asked. The redhead gave a small shrug of defeat, her eyes slightly dull as she looked at her.

"I said fine. I'll help. As much as I don't... I .. don't know how to feel about this, the last thing we need is even the *possibility* of Angelus running around, Buffy wouldn't be able to handle it, not after all this time, and you, well, Cor, you don't look like you're up to that prospect yourself."

Cordelia swallowed, feeling the accusation directed at her, and forced a haughty, careless look upon her face. It was harder than she thought, she wasn't used to it, after all this time with Doyle and Angel, she had begun to feel like she didn’t' need it. Yet one lunch with Willow and already she was feeling the inner bitch again. What was it about Sunnydale that did that to her? Was it the people? The stereotype she had always tried to shake came back so vividly with them, because they never believed she could change.

She hated that. She *had* changed. Anger filled her at Willow’s accusatory look, and she swallowed down the sharp retort that would have been so easy to whip out.

She merely got up, and nodded. "Thank you."

Willow nodded back, and silence befell the table. "Xander was asking about you." She ventured. "He wanted to come see you too, but he's still in grad school."

Something about the way Willow mentioned her ex boyfriend made her look up, and Willow's face, usually so open and frank, was now unusually misty.

"He missed you."

Cordelia felt tears brimming as she thought of the only other boy she had ever truly loved, and nodded a tight smile.

Willow kept that sad gaze on her, and finally she rose also. "Take me to see Doyle." She finished. "We need to work this out."

Chapter Twelve

The ride to the office was short, but the dead quiet that accompanied it made it seem to last forever.

At that moment, Cordelia realized the ramifications of her choice. Willow had taken it hard, how would the others? Xander, who had always hated Angel, Buffy, who had loved him so much, and at times, hated her too.

She was giving it all up for love, everything that made her who she was, and it scared the hell out of her.

"Here we are." She breathed, pulling the car up to the curb outside the office. Checking her watch, she grimaced. Angel would be there. They shouldn't have had the late lunch. Willow looked near a heart attack as it was.

"She's scared," Doyle said matter of factly.

Angel's brow furrowed. Concern flooded him, as he remembered how dreadfully young his Cor had seemed, when she looked so scared the night he asked her to be with him. She had all the disadvantages,and in that moment, Angel felt extremely old.

"Do you think it's fair, what I'm asking her?" He inquired softly.

Doyle gave him a wry grin. "She loves you man, she said yes. That's gotta mean something."

Angel felt his throat catch when the door open,and she walked in. He felt an involuntary smile on his face at the sight of her, and he rose immediately.

"Hey." He said, coming forward.

She gave him a tight smile as he laid a soft feathery kiss against her lips.

He had only time to register her worried eyes when he caught sight of Willow looking at the two of them.

He froze, feeling his stomach sink. The urge to feel guilty was immense, to pull away from his soon to be lover's warm body, but one look back into Cordelia's eyes, the insecure hazel pools of liquid staring at him, he only held her tighter, sliding his arms around her waist, and pulling her more possessively against him.

He didn't have to feel guilty. He didn't want to feel guilty. It wasn't their fault they fell in love.

"Hello, Willow." His voice was soft, almost pleasant as he reached forward to hug her quickly.

Willow's face was odd, almost as if only now that she finally saw it did she truly believe it.

"Hi." She answered mechanically.

Doyle rose, extending a hand. "You're Willow, huh?"

Cordelia burst into nervous laughter at his totally inappropriate introduction, and gave a helpless shrug to Willow.

"That's Doyle." She said, waving an arm in resignation.

At Angel's questioning glance, Cordelia began to explain. "Willow's going to help, Angel. Just... just in case."

He gazed at her, and finally nodded. "Thank you." Was his sincere reply to the hacker, who could only nod back.

As her fiancé Oz would say, this was... curious. To say the least. Willow Rosenberg had come to Los Angeles expecting to find a frivolous and lovable May Queen, she had received strict instructions from her Slayer best friend to give every detail of what Angel looked like, and the truth was, he hadn't changed.

Except his eyes seemed to sparkle when he laid eyes on Cordelia, and there was a softness in Cordy's when she looked back at him.

This was too much. Willow didn't want conflict. She didn't need it. Things were finally settling down. Buffy had been happy with David, Xander.... Xander was on a quest, one only she knew about, and at that moment, his mission was now inconsequential.

Cordelia had stopped waiting. Even worse, she had fallen in love, with Angel.

And she was helping. Would Buffy ever forgive her? Would Xander? Willow closed her eyes, feeling rather than hearing the conversation the three closenit friends were having.

Cordelia wasn't a Scooby Gang member anymore. Maybe she never was, just like Angel, she had always been an outcast. Maybe they fit. Maybe this was right.

But how could it be right? Mixed feelings were running rampant in the notoriously romantic Willow's heart, as she saw the blatant tenderness and depth of feeling Cordelia and Angel seemed to share. They seemed to understand the chance they were taking.

It was almost as if she had come into the very last chapter of their little romance. Every struggle until now had only succeeded to make the bond stronger.

Five years. What a difference five years could make.

The conversation was so serious it was almost comical. They were, of all things, discussing the proximity of the whole night, and Cordelia was having issues. Very understandably.

"All I'm saying is, I'm not going to be spending... you know with Doyle and Willow in the next room! Gross much?!" She wrinkled her nose at the thought.

Angel looked pained. "I know it's weird, Cor, but it's for your sake."

Willow cocked an eyebrow. "Don't you have the apartment downstairs, Doyle?"

He nodded. "But by the time we get up there..."

"What if I'm willing to take that chance?" Cordelia asked. The room grew quiet and everyone turned to look at her.

"Are you sure?"

Angel looked concerned, his eyes dark as he turned, whispering so that only she could hear. "Cord, I don't think."

She laid her hand on his squeezing softly. "Listen you dolt, don't you get it? I want our first time to be special, and it's NOT if it's gonna be if we have them in the next room. Downstairs in another apartment, a little less icky,I can deal. Don't you want to remember this night without the chaperones?" He grinned at the twinkle in her eyes. She turned back to them.

"Okay?"

Doyle and Willow slowly nodded. "BUT, you'll leave the door unlocked, okay?"

She nodded, appeased for now. Willow felt her throat catch when she saw Angel's fingers absently rubbing at Cordelia's collarbone, and the way Doyle grinned in amusement, and at that moment, how excluded she seemed from their tight little trio.

Is that how Cordelia must have felt? When she had pushed herself in with them back in high school?

Damn, five years was a hell of a long time.

Chapter Thirteen

Tonight was the night that would decide her future. Good way of looking at it Chase, she mentally reprimanded herself. Put even more pressure on.

She stared at herself in the bathroom mirror, putting the comb down. She was dressed in a cashmere robe, feeling oddly like she was on her honeymoon. Angel hadn’t said anything about forever, but it seemed to hang in the air.

This night, it was forever, for her anyway. This was the rest of her life, everything she had ever done, starting with the night Buffy grabbed her in the bronze and held a stake to her chest, had been leading up to this.

Willow was downstairs. She had lied to Buffy about a follow up to the research party. Only Giles knew the truth, and Cordelia had had to endure a rather lengthy phone call with the caring older man in which he did nothing but make her remember all her doubts scared her more than ever. But Cordelia went through with everything, and all it took was one night on Angel’s lap, watching movies and feeding each other popcorn for her to get her resolve back.

Willow had brought her spell books with her, and at the moment, Cordelia knew she was probably instructing Doyle on what to do in case the worst thing that could happen happened.

By then it would be too late to save Cordelia, but it would save others. Unless Angelus decided to toy with her, and in that event, death would be more welcome.

The knowledge that that demon lay in the man she loved scared her more than she wanted to admit.

She had never imagined this. Never in her life.

The door rapped softly, and Willow stuck her head through the doorway. “Hey.”

Cordelia gave a startled wave. “Willow? What are you doing here?”

Willow’s smile was a tight one as she slid in through the crack of the doorway. “I wanted to, you know, wish you luck.”

Cordelia cocked an eyebrow, her eyes unsure at her about face.

Willow bit her lip at the doubtful glance. “I’ve had time to think things over, Cordy. Looking at Buffy, how happy we are that she’s moving on, I guess I knew Angel would too, one day. I just never thought it wouldbe with you.”

She smiled weakly. “But why the hell not, right?”

Cordelia gave her a gracious grin. “That wasn’t a swear word, was it, Will?”

“Hell? Nah.” She looked Cordy up and down and nodded. “You look like you’re going to get laid.”

Cordelia threw her head back and laughed, before smoothing down the robe and nodding. “That was the idea.” She whispered, winking, and the two again erupted in nervous giggles.

This time when Willow smiled, it was sincere. “You look beautiful, Cordelia. I mean it. Good luck.” The Wicca gave her a cheesy thumbs up, and disappeared.

Cordelia took a breath, peace filling her for just a minute.

She looked good, she knew that. She had chosen the lingerie because she knew Angel’s tastes, a perk from being the buddy all these years.

Her hands trembled for a minute, and she quelled them, taking a deep breath, and opening the door.

Boy, he had really set the mood. The room was dark, the only light was provided by candles that flickered. From the other side of the room, her lover emerged.

She felt her breath catch in her throat as he moved into the light, shirtless and in a pair of black pants.

Had there ever been any man more beautiful?

He smiled at her, his eyes misty for just a minute, and suddenly the awkward situation was all too obvious. They burst into laughter.

“Can you believe we’re really doing this?” She burst, chuckling. His shoulders shaking with mirth he merely shrugged.

“Careful Cordy, we’re crossing that line.” He waggled his eyebrows at her, and she giggled again.

“Ross and Rachel moment much?” He grinned, and produced a bottle of wine.

She pretended to glare. “Planning on getting me drunk?”

“No, just tipsy.” He remarked, and she came forward, taking the glass from him and sipping it lightly.

“So you just wanna go at it?” she joked.

He gave her a stern tone. “Have you no capacity for romance?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Hey. I’m wearing an extremely uncomfortable piece of lingerie that cost a pretty hefty amount, and all your wearing is black pants, so you better not talk to me about romance.”

He raised an eyebrow. “What color?” He asked, his voice oddly strained.

“What?”

“Can I see?” He moved forward with every intention of looking under the robe. She squealed.

“NO! I’ll show it to you when I’m good and ready.” She kept her robe shut tight, and he grinned wickedly, putting down the glasses and catching her around the waist as she tried to scramble from him.

“Come on, Cora. Let me see.” He began to tickle her viciously and her face grew red with laughter as she struggled to get out of his arms.

“I said no, you undead moron!” And with that, she nipped a finger. His grip loosened and she bounced away.

“Ha! I win.” She remarked, happily.

He pretended to nurse his finger, though the large grin he was attempting to hide showed he wasn’t hurt at all. “You bit me. That’s my job.”

“Yeah, and now you know what it feels like.” She remarked, settling down on the bed with him.

“It hurts.” He insisted, “I’m still in recovery from my little fight with that girl you pissed off.”

“Oh, boo-hoo.” She mocked, rolling her eyes. “I was only freakin’ unconscious for four days.”

He gave her a hurt pout. “I’m not joking. Look, I got all hurt and everything.” He joked, pointing to a bruise on his chin. She giggled, and then suddenly quieted.

She leaned forward, and he felt his body tense when her soft hair brushed against his chest and her velvet lips pressed to his wound.

He was absolutely still, the only movement visible was the closing of his eyes as he gasped an unneeded breath of air and slid his arms around her waist.

He felt a tremor go through his body when her tongue flicked out and softly licked the area.

She pulled back slowly, and found him gazing at her with eyes so dark they seemed black, so full of depth they appeared to be an abyss.

Her chest began to heave, her heartbeat increasingly rapidly when he brushed his lips against hers. Softly at first, then when her mouth opened, deeply, feeding his desire and his need until she was molding herself against him.

His hands slid down her neck, caressing her shivering skin as he pulled the robe off her shoulder. At that moment, they stilled, looking at each other softly.

“Are you scared?” She asked.

He swallowed his eyes misty with desire. “Yeah.”

She nodded, closing her eyes and sighing. “Me too.”

He gazed at her, for a moment, his heart full. “I love you, Cordelia.”

She smiled for a fraction of a second. “I love you.”

Their lips met again, softly, as his hands moved quickly over her shoulders, pulling the robe open.

He gasped.

She stopped her caresseses, her tone soft and husky. “What?”

He swallowed, and he seemed to be reverantly solemn when he said, “It’s red.”

He wasn’t looking at her face. She smiled at his wide eyes, and leaned forward, taking her lips with his as his hands moved over her satin covered stomach.

Her hands slid down his trembling chest to the buckle of his pants, at the same time as her mouth nipped at the vein just below his jaw.

He groaned.

Springer was on. Willow was watching in horror as the now thoroughly gray-haired man was interviewing a group who were self defined, “Racist transsexuals in love with their farm animals.”

Doyle’s foot could be heard tapping anxiously, and when Willow finally looked over, his face was pained.

“I feel like a pimp.” He announced.

Willow gave him a distracted smile. “Me too. Maybe we should go on his show.”

Doyle let out a peal of laughter. “Yeah. I can see it now, Demon good guy and Wiccan Slayerette, The Undead Soul Guy and the May Queen who loves him.”

Willow chuckled. “You knew she was the May Queen?”

He shrugged. “We know everything, Willow.”

Everything. Something in the way he said that made her shiver, and she gave him a scrutinous look. Slight guilt pervaded her and once again she was filled with the feeling that she was being pulled two ways at once.

Xander would die when he found out and Buffy would come close, Cordelia had fled Sunnydale because she had no one, nothing, and that was partly because of her. If she and Xander hadn’t cheated, then maybe he and Cordy would still be together.

“You don’t get it do you?”

Willow gave him a startled look. “Get what?”

He pointed up to the ceiling. “That they love each other. You think it’s wrong.”

Willow shrugged. “Not wrong. . . . more like.... tainted.”

“Tainted?”

“They’ve got ties, Doyle. I’m trying to understand, but ... some of the others, they won’t.” She didn’t elaborate but Doyle’s eyes seemed a bit sadder, his accent a bit thicker as he sighed.

“So why does it always have to be about them? The others? Even with those two. They always acted like you guys in Sunnydale were more important. It doesn’t make sense to me. Why can’t it just be about them for once?”

Willow leaned back in her chair, her eyes glistening as she thought of everyone of her friends. Doyle didn’t understand. Or maybe he understood more than anyone.

“Maybe.” She said softly. “Maybe it is.”

He didn’t want to let her go, his head resting in her neck, his arms wrapped around her tightly, trying to recover.

Her eyes were closed, her arms moving softly up and down his back, fingering the tatoo that marked his back, feeling him tremble from the contact. She was sweating, gasping for air, until his lips moved up to kiss the tears off of her face.

“I love you.” He breathed again, his eyes opening to gaze at her. When hers opened, they were misty, dazed.

“So.” She mocked, her voice so weak she could barely keep the tone a half whisper. “Was it good for you?”

He stared at her in surprise, and suddenly he grinned, laughing as he kissed her again, before rolling off of her and bringing her with him, so she was cradled against his chest.

His knuckles rubbed against her swollen lips,and his voice was raspy. “Do you realize how happy you made me?”

She only closed her eyes, feeling the fear settle in. It was coming. If he lost his soul, it would happen soon.

“Oh, God, Angel.” She breathed. He pulled her closer, sensing her fear, kissing her once.

“No, it’ll be okay.” he said urgently. “Open your eyes. Open them.” He demanded. When she obeyed, he nodded. “Look at my eyes. Do you see me in them?”

She looked into the dark lashes, saw his humanity, saw his love, and nodded. “Okay. I’m in there, Cordy. Just keep looking. Keep talking to me, and keep looking. We’ll make it. I know we will.”

She felt her throat fill up with unshed tears, and she nodded. “You want to talk?” She whispered.

He nodded breathlessly.

Taking a breath, her fingers slid through his hair tenderly, and she smiled tightly. “Tell me about Buffy.”

“What?”

“I want to know, I think it’s important to know about her.” She shrugged, her face never wavering from his. “She’s a part of you. And I want to know every part of you.”

He swallowed, and nodded. “We never lie to each other, Cordy.”

She kissed him softly. “Never.” she agreed.

Chapter Fourteen

“Willow.”

She was having an odd dream. She was skipping along in a meadow when Oz showed up with flowers, and Oz was one of those half goat, half people things, and suddenly she was running from him, and to keep him from catching her, she had turned into a tree of all things.

Then Xander the lumberjack came to cut her down and Buffy -

“Willow.” She was shaken again, and this time, she awoke.

“Huh? What?”

“Wake up. It’s six am in the morning.” She sat up, blinking.

“Nothing?” She asked sleepily.

“Not a peep.” Doyle said.

Willow eyes drifted up to the ceiling. “It must have worked.”

“I hope so.” Doyle’s face was tense. “But I really don’t know.”

Willow swallowed, pushing herself out of the chair. “I said we’d check in on them at five thirty if we didn’t hear anything.”

“I’m not going up there. If it worked, I don’t want to see.” Doyle said, his face looking very much like a five year old who didn’t want to touch girls because of cooties.

Willow gave him a look that said, “Grow up”, before walking to the door. “I’m gonna check.”

He nodded, wiping the sweat off his forehead.

She opened the door to his apartment hesitantly. It was still dark in the rooms, and she walked slowly to avoid hitting things. Switching a small lamp on to guide her, she made her way to the bedroom.

Closing her eyes, and praying not to find anything she didn’t want to see, she turned the knob with a trembling hand.

A small shaft of light from the lap slid into the room,and illuminated the bed. In it were two bodies. Willow’s heart stopped, then slowly began to beat again.

Cordelia’s head rested on Angel’s chest, her eyes were closed, she was breathing evenly. Angel’s arms had slid around her body, his eyes shut, and the oddest expression was on his face.

He looked .... happy. Peaceful.

Willow quietly closed the door, feeling her body deflate with relief.

There was rubbing at his chest, and it was this sensation that caused him to flutter open his eyes. The warm body pressed against him, slid tighter as he wound his arms around it, and he felt a soft expression of happiness and wonder pervade his face.

“We made it.” Was her sultry whisper, low and contained despite the incredible excitement that was hidden in her voice.

“Cor.” was all he managed. He couldn’t say anything else. He was feeling too much. More than he had ever allowed himself. He felt a rush flood his body, and it convulsed, felt something gnawing, threatening to tear, and then it was gone.

He opened his eyes. He turned to his love, gazing at her intently. “Look at my eyes.” He whispered.

She did, a soft sheen of moisture in her own as she placed her mouth on his briefly. “It’s you, Angel. You’re still here.”

He felt his heart heave then, and he pulled her tighter, kissing her deeply. For the first time in a while, the dead guy felt like he could live.

“Let’s do this again shall we?” He grinned.

“Wow.” She said, laughing at his reaction. “Now that’s what I call gumption.”

She was packing her things when Cordelia came to see her. “You’re leaving already?” She asked, her eyes roving about her now bare apartment where Willow had stayed.

Willow nodded. “I said I’d only be gone for a couple of days. Strangely, I miss Oz.”

Cordelia smile, hugging herself, the room silent before she finally looked up, her eyes misty. “Thank you, Willow.”

Willow was quiet, forming her words before she actually said them.

“Cordelia, you won’t be able to keep this from Buffy, They’re gonna find out.”

Cordelia looked away,her heart leaden. “Will you tell them?”

Willow shrugged, on her face a sad smile. “I don’t know if I can. I don’t think Buffy would forgive me for having a part in it.”

Cordelia almost winced at the self loathing in Willow’s voice. She didn’t want to hear this. The sad resignation that emanated from Willow’s voice almost made she and Angel’s relationship seem tainted somehow, and she couldn’t believe that. That beautiful night, so filled with love and passion couldn’t possibly be tainted. There was no way.

“Don’t tell her that you had a part in it.” She answered evenly. “If she asks us, Angel and I will deny it.”

Willow closed her eyes and nodded, sighing. She hugged herself then, leaning forward. “If Xander and I hadn’t ever done what we-”

“You did.” Cordelia said shortly. Willow bit her lip and nodded.

“Right.” Realizing the situation was awkward to say the least, she got up. “You’ll always be my friend, Cor.” Her voice was meaningful and she leaned forward impulsively, hugging her quickly. Cordelia closed her eyes, not allowing them to water as she tightened her arms around her old friend desperately.

“Thank you, Willow.” She whispered.

Willow released her, her eyes bright with unshed tears as she shrugged. “I won’t forget, Cordelia. I understand. If you or Angel ever need anything. If you need a friend.... I’ll be around.”

Cordelia nodded. The girls walked out of the apartment.

They walked in silence to Willow’s car, Cordelia watching as Willow placed her bags in the back. She smiled tightly waving as Willow opened the car door to slide in. She paused, and then looked up again.

“Good luck, Cordelia.”

She waved, and then she was gone.

Epilogue - Fifteen

She was living with a vampire. Oh man, this was weird. But, good weird. She sighed, walking up the stairs to Angel’s apartment and using her brand spanking new set of keys, opened the door.

Sliding it open, she couldn’t resist. “Honey, I’m home!”

He poked his head out from the door. “Hey!” He gave her a quick kiss. “Doyle was just here. He says that he’s only gonna put up with the couple goo goo eyed mushy stuff for a week, so we better make the most of it.”

She smiled. “Saw Willow off.” She reported. “No work tonight?”

He shook his head. “Los Angeles is okay. Doyle is patrolling, but nothing big.”

They fell silent, hands in pockets.

“So what now?” He asked. She shrugged, crossing her arms.

“Well, we could, you know, go on a date.” she said.

He raised an amused eyebrow. “We’re a little past that, don’t you think?”

“No.” She returned, wryly giving him a mock glare. “I want courtship, Mr. soul guy. I want candle lit dinners, and bouquets of roses, and Barry Manilow.”

“Barry Manilow?” He winced. “Can we compromise?”

She thought for a minute, then nodded acquiescing. “Fine. Boys II Men, the old stuff, and if you act like a gentleman, and not a GRRR, you just might be able to ask me to stay the night.”

“Now *that’s* where I draw the line.” he said quickly, getting up slide her arms around her waist. He leaned down, nipping at the crook of her neck with his teeth. “You,” he began between kisses, “Will be in my bed now, and every night, from now on.”

She groaned when his lips covered hers.

“Fine.” She relented somewhat weakly when he had kissed her long and thoroughly. “but if you insist on making me a kept woman, I will demand certain privileges.”

“Oh, Lord.” he groaned. She grinned kissing his chin.

“Now, where’s should we eat?”

“What do you mean where?”

“Meaning, as in I don’t cook.” He chuckled, groaning.

“That’s right, I forgot I had a high maintenance girlfriend.” She raised an eyebrow. “There’s a great little Irish pub-”

“Irish? You want me to eat potatoes and beer. How many pounds do you think I’m gonna gain?”

“None. You’ll be eating with a lucky man. We don’t gain.”

“As in Lucky charms?” She shrugged. “Well you are magically delicious.”

He gave her a glare. “No. You've never heard about the luck of the Irish, have you?" He asked, grinning a wicked grin.

She rolled her eyes. "Angel, you aren't exactly the role model for that saying."

His smile faltered, but he continued, a small pout forming on his lips. "I still say you haven't lived until you tried Irish food."

She cocked her head. "Fine." she huffed, and as she crossed her arms, she gave him a sly grin. "But see, Italian delivers. We can order in." At that exact moment, she sat down, allowing her skirt to ride up just a tad, exposing a little more skin.

He looked, his eyes darkening, and then he seemed to relent immediately, pulling her body to his. "And Italian it is." He remarked quickly.

She gave him a smug smile. "See? that just proves my point."

He gave her a confused grin. "Which is?"

Her answer was a proud smirk. "Men, and Vampires, are so eas-"

He cut her off then, and the last thing she heard before his lips covered hers was a laugh.