It had started out as a typical day at the office.

He had been sitting at his desk, in his hands the newest mystery novel, completely engrossed. They were between cases,  and had had no walk-ins for a couple of weeks.

Cordelia, in her typical Ice Queen way, had made complaint after complaint about their lack of work, despite the even bigger complaints she made when she was forced to undergo the “mind numbing migraines” that clouded her mind she had a vision.

It would usually take him five minutes of wheedling and petting her hair and getting her to drink water before she would finally calm down enough to tell him what they were, then another five minutes to make any sense out of them.

It didn't quite help that Wesley was out of town, usually, Cordelia would spend her time with him, much as she did with Doyle, she liked being the center of attention, and with Wesley, she almost always was.

Angel was also grateful for the sometimes annoying Wesley's presence.  The ex-Watcher would distract him, keep him occupied, make them a trio, much like Doyle used to, though it could be said that no one could ever replace Doyle, and it showed. In the days after Doyle's death, Cordelia and Angel had clung to each other, and he had realized that they were friends, and very close ones at that, and it wasn't Doyle that had kept them together.  The arrival of Wesley had kept that friendship what it was, friendship, and for that Angel was grateful.

When Wesley was out of town, the rules seemed to change. He found Cordelia at his house more and more, found his refrigerator stocked up with food, and usually found himself expecting her, never really thinking about how much he looked forward to the dinners, only remembering that he usually planned each meal in advance and the two talked more than before.  They had an unspoken rule to be together when they were alone, and Angel knew how dangerous it was.

He had seen the problem that had arisen when Cordelia had come to him for a favor, a disastrous favor that ended with him kissing her quite soundly, her feeling nothing, and him with quite possibly one of the biggest hardons that he had ever experienced.

The result of that fiasco was an overwhelming attraction to his best friend, one that he knew wasn't wise. Not only was Cordelia  his only friend, she was also his seer, and she was one of Buffy's old... well... semi friends.  She was also young, too young to be trifled with, and his relationship with her too precious to be ruined with a petty fling over his hormones.

And Wesley was out of town again, and that meant Cordelia was coming over again, and that meant Angel had been finding himself increasingly distracted by her many assets.  He needed Wesley to come back, he needed to stop thinking about those lips, and that smile, and that marvelous laugh that always made him smile in response.

He needed to stop thinking about Cordelia in that way, and he needed Wesley back to do it.

Damn the girl for being so oblivious about the clothes she wore.

The sound of the door opening shook him out of his day dreaming. Feeling suddenly hot despite the acrid temperature of his vampire body, Angel swiveled in his seat, putting his cold hands on his face to feel the warmed skin.

Closing his eyes, he let out one small frustrated groan of  anger. This had to stop.

Opening his eyes at the clicking of heels on the linoleum floor, he looked to the open office door to see the object of his present lust studying him from the doorway.

Without even knowing he was doing it, his eyes suddenly roved downward, inspecting her short skirt and long legs before forcing his eyes back to her face.

“Cordelia.” He managed, his voice placid, managing no emotion.

Something was different, on her face was an odd expression, one that made him tense and look at her with wary eyes.

“What?” He asked when she didn't say a word.  She shrugged, and then came forward slowly.  He watched in wary rapture as she walked to his side and slowly slid up on the desk, crossing her legs and watching him.

Feeling his body on edge, his hands gripping on the side of his seat, he waited.  She only smiled at him, and then leaned forward, and chastely kissed him once on the lips.

At his astounded expression she smirked.

"Thank you." She said softly, her eyes dancing slightly.

He gave her a bewildered look, on his face a shaky grin. "For what?"

She grinned, a typical, dazzling, Cordelia grin. "I got it."

"Got what?" He asked, his expression blank. She rolled her eyes and re-crossed her legs, waiting with raised eyebrows as he contemplated the source of her gratitude. Saving her life a dozen times, taking her in, being her friend?

"The audition, silly." She said, sliding off of his desk and plopping on the chair beside it. "You're vampy lip lock actually worked! I got the part, after like, ten callbacks." She shrugged, but grinned excitedly. "Can you believe it?"

He let the words register and then found himself grinning back involuntarily. "That's great, Cordelia."

She nodded, "It's national!"

"So I guess you won't be wanting to hang around here anymore, now that you're miss soap girl." He cracked, watching her anxiously.

Despite the joking that the two had always had, about her leaving when her career actually hit pay dirt, Angel had never really believed she would ever really succeed, ever really leave. Now the possibility actually seemed plausible.

It hit something inside him that made his body tense, waiting for her answer.

What he got was the rolling of her eyes, and a sigh.

"Angel, I may be getting national exposure but I'm not exactly gracing the cover of Vogue yet," She remarked, grabbing his empty cup and walking to the coffee machine just outside the office. "Sides" she added, her voice louder.  "It's not like I can exactly get up and go, what with these stupid visions and all. I'm sort of here for the long run."

He felt himself almost smile at that comment. She was right, she WAS here for the long run, nowadays, she was just as supernatural as him. It wasn't like she could just get rid of those visions anytime she wanted to. She was stuck with him, just like he was stuck with her.

And God help him, the possibility actually sounded kind of nice.  She smiled at him and he found himself smiling at her, found his gaze following the lines of the perfect smile, sliding lower to her tank top, found to his appreciation that it was cut low, allowing him a very nice view of her quite well endowed chest.

Her eyebrow narrowed when she realized where his eyes were. "Uh... Angel?"

He found his eyes jerking back to her face. "HuH?"

"If you were any other guy, I'd accuse you of checking out my boobs." She said, her face clouded in concern,  "But on you it just looks like pensive face. What's up?"

He felt himself go red, and looked away before she could catch the guilty expression that floated on his face.  Dammit, she was right. He was the only guy around this place that never looked at her in that way, he was the one guy that she trusted to treat her like a person, not like a woman.

He was a horny bastard.

"I'm just wondering how Wesley's doing." He said quickly, getting up and walking to the window. "It's been a while since I heard from him."

"He's fine." She quipped leaning back in her chair recrossing her legs as she leaned back.  "I got a phone call from him, AGAIN. Wanted to make sure I wasn't missing him." She chuckled.  "As if."

He closed his eyes as a painful knot twisted itself in his stomach.  Dammit. What was the matter with him. A week ago he was fine. Now he couldn't stop staring at her, and now... he was ... jealous of all things? What the hell? Of Wesley?

"Poor guy doesn't stand a chance with you, does he?" He said, forcing a sad chuckle, turning back to her.

She didn't even glance in his direction. "Not the way he kisses."  She remarked flatly. "But it's fine. I've got another potential whose lips are just tantalizing."

The smile that had floated on his face at her retort about Wesley quickly fell at the mention of another.  It's none of your damn business, Angel. He told himself flatly.  He pursed his mouth shut, sat at his desk, and looked at his book, found his eyes trying to bore into it as if he had laser vision and he could burn a hole right through to see his assistant.

"Well?" Came the voice on the other side of the desk. "Don't you want to know who it is?"

Oh, thank God, she asked.  "Um.. who?" He said non chalantly, cursing himself for sounding too eager.

She didn't seem to notice, her eyes seemed to take on a dreamy look, and in an excited gaze that seemed more for a girlfriend than a boss, she leaned forward. "Well, in this soap commercial, we're in a shower-"

"Whose we?" he blurted out, his eyes suddenly picturing Cordelia Chase in a shower and getting very mixed feelings. He'd have loved to see that, but only him. Her in the shower with a bunch of male crewmen watching seemed to make him growl and simmer.

"Hank, you dodo!" She said, smiling. "Oh my god, Angel, this guys is just... hot. I mean, beautiful. Anyways, we were rehearsing, and the producers wanted to see if we had any chemistry, so they made us kiss. And I remember what you showed me and..."

He drowned her out, his thoughts a jumbled mess of feelings. Out of them all, he could sense that he felt slightly angry. Sure, she was single, sure they weren't dating, sure he had no right to govern her love life, but the fact that she was even THINKING about another guy while he was going nuts trying to sort out his own jumbled feelings for her.... it just felt wrong.

There was no way in HELL she was dating until he tried to make his crazy hormones stop.

"And I take it the chemistry was there?" he choked.

"Boy, was it ever." She sighed, fanning herself. "Anyway, he's really nice, and he's picking me up tonight. We're going to dinner." She grinned excitedly, and he narrowed his eyes. No, no no. This wasn't right at all. If she wanted companionship, let her hang with Wesley. She said so herself, she didn't need this... HANK guy.

"Hank? This guy's name is Hank?" He said, obviously disgusted with the name.  "Sounds like... a farmer."

"Yeah, and XANDER, and DOYLE and WESLEY are just so MANLY." she retorted rolling her eyes. "And it's not like ANGEL is such a GI Joe name either." She finished pointedly.

Okay, so making fun of the guys name wasn't getting him anywhere. Angel looked at her, and decided to go a different route. Crossing his arms, he looked down at her and gave her his best parent face.

"Cordelia, I don't think it's a good idea to be dating a guy you're working with." He said, his eyebrow furrowed.

Her face slid into a solemn expression, and when she spoke, her eyes were strangely moist.  "If I had dated the guy I worked with, I'd probably have been in love with Doyle, and that doesn't sound like such a bad idea." She said, looking away. "But I didn't, and I lost him. I'm not going to make that mistake again." Her voice got louder, her eyes sparkling as she tried to stave away the emotion.  "Sides, my love live has been virtually nill, and don't you dare go big brother on me. He's sweet, he's normal, and he's adorable."

"What about all that stuff you said about wanting a guy that was more than that?" He asked angrily.

"Must have been something I ate." She said flippantly. "So stop getting overprotective already, and DON'T give him the third degree."

His sense were whirling, but the one phrase he caught on was the note about him being a big brother. The thought seemed so ludricous to him, since at that moment he had been seriously thinking about hauling her on the desk and kissing away HANK's (the name was just stupid) kisses with a hot, searing one of his own. The thought seemed so tempting he actually chuckled.

She looked up. "That's funny to you?" She asked, getting up, her eyes flashing. "My love life is funny to you."

His smile slid off of his face, and he felt his body still. Uh-Oh. He had hit a sore spot. "No, Cordelia-"

"Listen, Angel, I'm sorry if I don't have one of the tragic love stories of all time. I'm sorry if I'm never going to have to send someone to hell because they became psycho killer. But I WANT a decent relationship, what the hell is so funny about that?"

His eyes flashed at the mention of his last relationship, he felt the anger at the situation that he was facing now, and had faced before. "Don't you dare talk about Buffy like that." He whispered.

She rolled her eyes. "What like they don't talk about me? Gee, Angel, what did Willow tell you when she saw you? Did she mention me at all? Probably not, and if she did, it was something stupid right?" She huffed, trying to gather her wits, and then began  again, her voice slower, "They don't care about me, why the hell should I care about them, or you for that matter."

"I care about you." He said fervently, coming forward, so that his face was inches from him. "God, Cordelia, I care about you. I care about you."

"Oh please." She whispered. "And if Buffy came back to you, if you two found some way to be together, would you even take ONE SECOND to think about what that would do to me? Where I would go?"

He was about to retort, to refute that statement, and then stopped. Memories of his lost day flooded him, and he remembered, he remembered being so caught up in his love affair not seeing Cordelia, not caring about what happened, not caring about anything but Buffy, so not caring about anything that he had pretended not to see the hurt in Cordelia's eyes when he had brushed her off, and dismissed  Doyle's attempt to bring Cordelia's concern into his focus. He had seen nothing.

Oh, God.

She had been waiting for something, and apparently she saw it, because her face closed up, and she crossed her arms.  "I'm fine with that. Really, Angel. I don't care. Because I want a normal life, Angel. I want someone to love me, and all I want, is to come home and not have to worry about vampire with souls, or half demons or renegade rogue wannabe demon hunters, or headaches with moving pictures of icky things." She whispered.  "A normal life."

"You don't deserve a normal life!" He roared, and then felt the room still. Oh, God. That had come out wrong.   He had meant she deserved more than that, much more, someone who loved her for more than her cup size but the way it had come out... oh, God. He could see the anger, the flashing in her hazel eyes.  His face immediately changed, became softer, repentant. "Cor-" he began to whisper, stepping toward her.

She stepped away from him, on her face a look that for a second looked like shock, then supreme hurt, then flashing into her most unreadable face, the face that always told him she had reached past her boiling point. He felt himself swallow. He had never reached that point with her, he had never hoped to.

"Well, in that case, Angel, I think I do." She whispered icily, grabbing her coat. "As a matter of fact, I think I'll start right now, ending with this godforsaken place. Find yourself a new assistant Angel, I quit."

His eyes widened, she was quitting? "You can't quit!"

"Watch me." He grabbed her, trying to block her exit.

"You're my link-"

"Oh, you bastard, do you think I CARE anymore!?" She shouted, her eyes flashing painfully.  "I don't! I have nothing to atone for! Find some other way, because I'm not your seer. Not anymore." And with that she jerked away from him. "Don't call me, don't ever come to my apartment. You're not invited. Not ever."

Walking away she slammed the door behind her so hard it shook the frame, the glass shattering from the impact. Angel watched in numb silence, then walked forward, the soles of his foot crunching on the shards of glass. Kneeling down, he picked up a piece, one that held the "AN" from the sign that she had ordered.  He looked at the window, saw it in pieces, and with it saw his life.

She had weathered the visions, for him, for him and for Doyle's memories. And now she was gone.  He didn't know how to do this without her.

He had taken her in because he thought she needed him, because she had needed to be taken care of. He had know idea how long she had been taking care of him instead.  His fingers closed over the glass and he pressed hard, watched as he saw the blood eeking onto his hand. He felt no pain. At that moment, he felt numb.

There was nothing. Not then.

FIN