Disclaimer: Joss Whedon and David Greenwalt own everything.

First of all, many thanks to those who reviewed my previous fics so kindly. It is great to get feedback of any kind, except of course the evil flame variety. This fanfic, like the others focuses on the early relationship between Cordy and Angel.

As always it’s a platonic friendship between C/A. Its practically canon, except that its set before Expecting and Wesley already works for Angel Investigations. Serena and Emily were featured in the episode Expecting and Jarod is my own character. Let me know what you think, its hardly ground breaking fiction and is probably irritatingly slow paced, but hell writing the stuff makes my nights at work pass quickly! On to the fic….

Body Armour.

"It's not here."

Offering a silent prayer to the gods of patience and serenity, Cordelia released a long breath and lifting her eyes from the blinking computer screen, she levelled a hazel gaze at the befuddled looking vampire in the adjoining room.

"Yes it is," She craned her neck backward and regarded him calmly, "I told you to check the second drawer down on the left. You haven't checked it."

His dark eyes glinted with enlightenment.

"On the left," Angel echoed, clicking his fingers as he twisted around to his desk. Sliding the darkened wood drawer outward, Angel rummaged through the medley of weapons, stakes and scrolls contained within, his hand finally tugging the Text of Aberyion from beneath some withered manuscripts.

"Found it," he declared cheerfully, waving the eleventh century journal at his young associate.

"Oh good" Cordelia murmured disinterestedly, her eyes shifting back to the computer screen. "Now, just sit and read your old book while I try to figure out how to print this invoice." Her face creased with concentration as she tapped the keyboard with tentative skill, the effort provoking an uncooperative beep from the obstinate computer. Slamming a hand against the side of the monitor, Cordelia inclined forward with a dark frown.

"Print, goddamn you."

"Need some help?"

"No," came the curt response from the reception area of Angel Investigations, "I've seen you struggle with a calculator.

Angels head jerked up, the movement quickened with indignation. He was quietly proud of his increasingly proficient technological abilities, as well Cordelia knew. Mastering the modern evils of computers and fax machines was no different to conquering the telephone or wireless and he had managed that with little difficulty. Angel would have informed his errant young assistant of as much, where it not for the small wax bound book tucked in his hand. His fingers curled around the spined binding, his thumb flipping the pages. Deciding that the passages within would prove more rewarding than a verbal battle with Cordelia, the vampire swallowed a retort with grim effort and instead clamped a hand on top of his leathered chair.

Sitting down, he languished back comfortably, his long legs extending beneath the mahogany desk till his feet tipped against the newly polished wood. The vampire trailed a hand across the smooth waxed cover of the newly retrieved text, enjoying the sensation of texture rippling beneath his touch. A familiar anticipation gripped him, fuelled by an expectation of the countless wonders lurking beneath the ornately decorated binding. Reading a new book was for Angel, a very old pleasure, and one that he enjoyed with ritualistic reverence. Slimming the cover upward and overleaf, he hunched forward and read the text with vigorous concentration, his understanding of the long dead language rusty but adequate. The accompanying illustrations caught his attention for a time but it was the words written by a long dead prophet that captured him and completely absorbed, Angel lost his thoughts in the ancient prophecies.

***********************

"Good computer. Good clever computer." Cordelia's congratulatory exclamation disturbed the brief silence, a few moments later. Chin cupped in palm, Angel lifted his head from the aged script and watched his assistant hop up gleefully to pad toward the dusty and rather temperamental printer perched on Doyle's old desk.

Must replace that printer, the vampire mused absentmindedly, every-time she tries to print something off, it causes …

His thought hung, suspended. Something about Cordelia had caught his attention and suddenly alert, Angel bestowed it upon her, undivided, his eyes clinging to her every movement. Her slim body curved forward as she leaned to inspect the invoice chugging shakily from the machine.

Something…

A taut rigidity stiffened Cordelia's long back, her slight frame strained with sudden tension and recognising the signs of an imminent vision Angel sprang to his feet, the sudden motion sending the chair beneath him flying backwards. The vampire pushed it aside with a grunt of impatience, his eyes trained on the almost imperceptible sway of her body as he moved toward her with an unnatural speed, fervency ground in every step.

He had to reach her.

Cordelia jerked in the first throes of her vision, her head snapping back, the first plaintive cry escaping her thinned lips. Angel circled her swiftly from behind, looping a firm arm around her waist, his free arm pinning her outstretched hands downward. She lunged away from him with a violent desperation, instinctively fighting for freedom. Angel coaxed her back, a gentle but insistent tug drawing her closer, his grasp only tightening as he felt her weaken beneath the almost unendurable strain of the vision. He spun around, she leaning against him. The vampire flung a quick gaze the length of the office and inwardly berating himself for leaving the Manthorian Demon Lore Collection scattered upon the nearby sofa, Angel finally settled on the windowsill.

"All right Cordelia, it's all right," Angel promised soothingly as he eased her shivering frame against the ledge.

Cordelia's face contorted in pain, some fresh agony rocking her head forward so that it tilted against his chest. Angel inched closer and placed a cold hand upon her shuddering back, a vague hope of sheltering his friend from the imagery battering her mind lurking in the recesses of his own. Dipping his head downward, he strained to hear the foreign utterances she whispered to whatever darkness invaded her mind, ardent promises of acquiescence begging for release from this torment. Cordelia's insensible mutterings were caught by a sudden wincing sob, some new sight evidently shredding the last vestiges of sanity. Subduing a familiar rising helplessness, Angel contented him-self with raging against the PTB.

Send me my own damn messages. Can't you see how hard this is for her?

She clutched him tightly, calming slowly as her wrenched breathing grew even, whispers familiar. Gathering herself with painful effort, Cordelia pulled back and looked up at him, her misery bound eyes filling with tears.

"You have to go."

She tipped backward against the window, it cool from the chilled night air, and hugged herself wearily. "You have to go," she repeated, her eyes dulling with resignation.

Angel nodded slowly, giving her a little time to adjust, regretting as always, that the inevitable interrogation he inflicted upon her in the aftermath of a vision couldn't be helped nor avoided, and allowing her a few half breaths, he began.

"Where?" he asked softly, deliberately keeping urgency from his voice.

With a nod of practised assent, Cordelia slid to her feet and slipped past him, a fragile grace in her step. Angel was beside her in an instant, drawing back as with an unsteady wave of her hand the teenager shunned his support. Instead she moved hesitantly but independently toward her desk, the anxious vampire hovering behind. One hand clutching the desk-edge, Cordelia reached for a pen and with trembling fingers, she scribbled the address on a memo, sinking into her cushioned chair as with a swift stroke, she underlined it. The girl held the small scrap of paper mid air.

"That’s where you need to go. There's a demon waiting for a girl that owes him something. It looked like she had completed half a calling ritual and he needs the rest done."

"Got it," Angel tugged the small scrap of paper from her light grasp, studying the address as he stretched down to open her drawer. He plucked a small bottle of aspirin from her open vanity case, nodding at the vial as he popped it in front of her. "Take two, if you need to. No more than that though, it can't be healthy taking painkillers too often."

He shoved the slip of paper into his pocket and tugged his black duster from the coat hook. Shouldering it on, Angel cast an uneasy glance at the young girl, "I can call Wes if you like, he can come stay with you till I get back."

Cordelia shook her head with careful movement, her small hand fluttering to her temple. "Believe it or not, Wes has a hot date tonight and I doubt he would appreciate my headache interrupting. Besides, I'm really not up to humouring his bedside manner tonight."

Angel exhaled as he glanced reluctantly toward the open doorway. "I have to go," his voice was filled with quiet apology.

"You do" Cordelia affirmed with firm conviction. Opening one painful eye, she managed a half smile, "Angel, don't just hover there wasting a good vision, go, shoo, do the whole demon kill thing"

Angel nodded shortly, a fire for battle already surging through his dead veins, "All right, just go downstairs, get some rest and I'll grab something for us to eat on the way back."

Cordelia nodded wearily as she massaged her temple, the circular motion doing little to ease the relentless throbbing behind her eyes. "Just be careful"

He swung the door back with a quick smile of reassurance. "Always am."

*********************

She could smell him, hear the heavy rasping of his breath as he neared his prey. She could feel his dark intention, his promise of death, insidious evil embraced with every fibre of his demon being.

Cordelia awoke with a start, the sudden movement immediately wobbling the precariously stacked manuscripts upon which her head rested. She lifted her head gingerly, the thoughts of toppling the painstakingly alphabetised pile too awful too bear. Her hands guided the journals into secure vertical uprightness and satisfied they would hold steady, Cordelia straightened, wincing as her muscles screamed with discomfort. She hauled her feet up and curled back into her chair, head leaning against the cushioned side. Her eyes drifted toward the window and the glittering city beyond, dark remnants of her earlier vision haunting her troubled mind.

A sickening dread settled in the pit of her stomach as with every vivid sense, she remembered the demon. She could smell him, see him, hear him. She had sent Angel out to fight him. The knot tightened in her stomach, ravelling itself into a cold fear.

"God Doyle," she whispered in the silent night air, "You never told me it was so damn hard."

His name spoken in the cold night inspired a familiar loneliness. A grief borne smile twisted her lips as memories of her friend played through her mind, a montage of stolen days, weeks, barely months, mockingly promising life without him. As a solitary tear escaped and strayed down her cheek, and closing her eyes, Cordelia remembered.

I can hear him laughing. I can hear his voice. As though he's just in the other room.

He's not. You're alone. You're all alone.

She brushed the rogue tear away with a slow sweep of her hand. "No more crying," the girl resolved softly, "No more crying." A smothering grief threatened, her words hopelessly meaningless beneath its weight.

I can hear him laughing.

Cordelia swallowed and scrunched her eyes tightly shut. Fighting an aching grief, she sought comfort in isolation. She clung to it, embracing the control it bequeathed upon her, allowing it to envelop her, its strange emptiness calming. Cordelia pulled her eyes open and rose to her feet, each limb uncurling with slow elegance. Standing perfectly still, in a surreal calm, she swept a long gaze around the dimly lit office, her eyes finally resting on Doyle's old desk.

You're all alone.

Cordelia shook herself as though to dispel the whispering voice from her ear. "No more crying."

Eyes dry, heart cold, she spun shortly on her heel, tugging her bag from under her desk. Cordelia dipped her head beneath the strap, the velvet clothed bag crossing her chest. She paused, her eyes still drawn toward the empty desk opposite.

"Goddamn you," she said finally, and her gaze fixed firmly upon the door, Cordelia walked toward it, fighting the urge to run.

A deep pounding roused her from sleep. A loud deep thumping pounding that was accompanied by an equally loud voice. The teenager groggily lifted her head from the uncomfortably hard sofa arm and pulled herself into a sitting position with a soft groan. Drowsily running her hands over her sleep-smoothed face, Cordelia tugged her hair over one shoulder, her eyes moving dazedly toward the source of all the noise, her gaze darkening at sight of her brand new door straining at its hinges.

A sudden brittle energy tightened her limbs, spurring her jump upward and Cordelia stalked toward the entrance to her apartment in a few angry paces. She flicked the lock off with a sharp turn of her wrist and grabbing the handle, she flung the door wide open, finding as expected, a 245-year old vampire apparently preparing to slam forward with all of his might. Or at least of much of his might as would be needed to free her door from its hinges.

"I knew it!" Cordelia glared furiously at the surprised vampire, "I knew it. You were going to kick my door in. Again."

Angel straightened self- consciously. "No I wasn't."

Her glare darkened.

Angel cleared his throat. "I wasn't going to kick it in. More like, gently nudge it with my shoulder."

Cordelia released a breath of deep frustration, stepping back to motion knowledgeably at the door. "An entire week's wages Angel. That's what it cost to replace it after you bashed it in last time." A grimace stretched her lips, "Which admittedly was when you came to save my life but that doesn't mean you can make a damn habit of flinging your great big hulk of dead flesh against it every-time you take the fancy. Got it?"

Angel shifted from one foot to the other, "You weren't answering. I was worried."

Cordelia threw her hands in the air, exasperation carved into every nuance of the gesture. "Okay, that would be because I was asleep. You know, sleeping, common mortal thing, hell you even indulge in it most days yourself."

"Its barely after ten, you didn't leave a note at the office, I thought maybe something was wrong…"

The Pope couldn't keep his temper in a situation like this. Cordelia gave up trying.

"So what, you were going to cause criminal damage because I didn't leave a note? Geez, overreact much Angel?"

"And you know what with the lights left on, office door wide open and no sign of you…" Angel shrugged with deliberate nonchalance, "But you're right, I overreacted."

"I turned the…" Cordelia began hotly when memory struck, silencing her momentarily. An expression of burning mortification worked its way onto her face, and she turned away from him, taut fingers raised to her forehead. "Oh" she said, pacing back into the apartment. "Oh. Oh God."

She swung around to face the vampire still hovering in the doorway. "Oh Angel, I am so sorry. Really, I am."

Angel stepped inside, his gaze scouring the apartment. "Its all right, I just wanted to check and see that you were okay." His eyes narrowed, "You are okay right, nothing happened earlier?"

Cordelia balanced herself on the edge of a chair. "Yeah, I'm fine. I was just whacked and I didn't think. I can't believe I didn't think."

Her employer dropped onto the sofa with a weary sigh and propped his feet upon the smoothed edge of her coffee table. He sank his head against the soft panel top and allowed his battled body to relax. Reaching over, Cordelia pushed his feet down mechanically, her eyes still trained on the tufts of carpet gathered around her shoes.

"I can't believe I did that."

Angel shifted his head sideways, "Forget about it. All's well that ends well and all that and are you even listening to me?"

Her head jerked up, an uncharacteristically shy smile jumping to her lips, "Sorry I know, no big deal right?"

A frown buckled his forehead. "Are you sure you're all right? No headache?"

Cordelia smiled again. "No, nothing, like I said, just tired." She pushed herself backward into the chair, swinging her legs around deftly, "So, you caught the demon guy?"

"Yeah. Pretty ugly guy."

Cordelia shivered as echoes of the vision renewed their whispering. "Yeah tell me about it." She shifted abruptly, digging her heels into the corner of the chair, immediately regretting the movement, as she felt Angel's scrutiny of her intensify. She pulled her eyes upward to meet his own, pushing a fresh smile onto her face.

"So, bad guy killed, forgetful associate reprimanded, what else is on tonight's agenda?"

Angel didn't answer but leaned forward, his dark eyes contemplative. "What is it?" he asked finally, unconvinced by her apparent composure.

Cordelia shrugged blankly. "What's what?" She regarded him with outward calm, the quick moistening of her lips the only sign of her disquiet.

Angel nodded thoughtfully, as though her response had confirmed some silent suspicion. He ignored her question, instead pulling a slow gaze over her small peaked face, his eyes gradually attracted by the rhythmic tapping of her hand against the dark patterned cushion resting upon her lap. Suddenly aware of the movement, Cordelia stilled her fingers and slid her hands beneath the cushion with awkward unease.

Angel surveyed her, a quiet anxiety brewing in his dark gaze. Cordelia was rarely downcast and never subdued. There was an unnerving air of despondency about his young Seer, an uncharacteristic and a disconcerting vulnerability that he had sensed for some time now. Old angers surfaced and Angel fought them firmly. Getting pissed at the PTB or the demons who had killed Doyle or Cordelia's parents for allowing her to come to this hellhole city in the first place, was as Angel had discovered in recent weeks, a pointless exercise that inevitably led him to the same thought.

I don't know how to help her through this.

And yet, Angel mused, they muddled through. The visions, the investigations, life without Doyle, he and Cordelia were getting by. Though by the looks of his Seer, just about.

"Cordelia," Angel finally broke the pensive silence, his voice low and undemanding, "Are you going to tell me what's wrong?"

Cordelia smiled tightly. "Nothing Angel, I promise. It's just…"

Angel lifted a questioning eyebrow. "Just what?"

Cordelia twisted the frayed cushion threads through her fingers. "Tiredness, just tiredness."

"Tiredness" Angel's voice was filled with quiet disbelief. When Cordelia grew tired, she grew cranky. Not strangely quiet. "That’s all?" he prompted gently.

Cordelia pulled the cushion from her lap, dropping it to the floor. "That's all," she promised brightly "So, you know, I really should head to bed, catch up on some rest. Clambering to her feet, she mustered a quick smile. "You don't mind, do you?"

Vaguely conscious of the unnatural pitch of her voice, Cordelia stretched her smile, an inward hope that Angel would leave slowly dashed by the way in which he held her gaze, his eyes a peculiar mix of hesitant concern.

Please just go Angel.

Angel sensed her quiet desperation. She didn't want him to push. And he decided, pushing himself to his feet, he wouldn't, at least not, tonight. "Get some rest, take some time to yourself in the morning, there's no need to rush in."

Cordelia nodded and smoothed an invisible crease from her skirt, the task apparently consuming her attention. A distinct feeling of unease chilling his stomach, Angel stepped closer and tugged the soft cuff of her sweatshirt, pulling her reluctant attention toward him.

"You do know" the vampire said quietly, "If anything is bothering you, I'm here."

Cordelia evaded his searching look, dipping her head as she edged past him, so that he barely caught her whispered reply.

"I know."

*********************

A small smile crept onto her face, every trace of despair forgotten as she watched him, childlike in the mist, his figure lone beneath the arches. Her heart leapt with sudden pure pleasure and she chided herself for ever believing he had left.

What was I thinking?

Leaning against the cool marble walls, cold from the twilight chill, Cordelia followed his playful movements. He lifted his hand, only to drop it, watching with fascination as it vanished into the dense fog that curled around him. The Irishman lifted his head idly, his gaze caught by her own, a silent surprise leaping into his blue eyes. His sheepish grin acknowledged her presence and with an outstretched hand, he beckoned her forward.

Want to kiss a dead man Princess?

Cordelia eyes snapped wide open, the dark of her bedroom almost smothering. Dragging her sweat layered body into an upright position, Cordelia struggled to catch her breath, pulling short gasps from the warm night air.

Just a dream, the girl reassured herself as she shifted backwards, her spine knocking against the headboard, Just a dream. She kicked the duvet to the far end of the bed, and curving a clammy hand under her heaving ribcage, Cordelia concentrated on easing her breathing.

Beside her, the bedside lamp flicked on, throwing a dim slant of light across the bed. Cordelia turned nervous eyes toward it.

I am awake right?

Anxiety faded, a low jolt of relief rippling through the girl as she remembered that she wasn't alone after all.

"Dennis," she murmured, momentarily closing her eyes in quiet gratitude. Everyone should have a dead roommate.

Her cell-phone slid from the polished surface of her dresser, dipping down to float toward her. Drawing to a slow halt above her hands, the phone hovered uncertainly mid-air.

Cordelia pushed her sleep-tangled hair from around her face, "I'm okay Dennis, it wasn't a vision, I don't need to call anyone."

The ghost was apparently unimpressed by her response for the cell-phone jerked a little closer.

Cordelia sighed, a sudden irrational irritation surging through her, "Drop it Dennis" she said shortly as she slumped backward, "It was just a nightmare. Remember those from your non-dead days? Geez, I'd have thought your Mom inspired more than one."

The room temperature plunged to an icy cold, and the cell-phone dropped to the bed with a soft thud, the lamp switching itself off with equal abruptness, leaving Cordelia sitting in the pitch black of darkness. She sat in the quiet for a short time, her thoughts alternating between penitent ruminations and annoyance at her own thoughtlessness. Dennis was particularly sensitive about his mother and she knew it. Worse still, he knew she knew it.

Only I could manage to piss off a dead roommate.

"Dennis," she began quietly "Dennis, I'm sorry. I didn't mean that. I really didn't. I just, I just…" Her voice trailed into silence.

The lamp sparked beside her, her faltering apology evidently enough to appease the offended ghost. Cordelia exhaled deeply. "Thanks Dennis," she said softly, stretching to turn her alarm radio around.

5.30 am. A whole three hours sleep.

With deadened energy, Cordelia swung her legs around the side of the bed and stood, her feet sticky against the carpet. She padded to the bathroom, its clinical freshness jarring every weary sense.

Shower. Dress. Work.

Cordelia focused on the three simple tasks, managing to preoccupy her mind with the detail of each so that it wasn't until she stood under the streaming water, hair soaking wet, eyes closed tightly, that the dread, a sinking weight, returned.

************************

"You found the Text of Aberyion?"

Sudden enthusiasm lightening his accent, Wesley stretched forward and swung the journal around, dropping into a chair with an air of veritable delight. "I thought you had mislaid it."

"Hmm? Yeah it was in my drawer, Cordelia reminded me." Angel answered from the open doorway of his office where he stood, coffee mug in hand. He sipped on the hot drink, curls of steam gradually masking his face with a clammy mist, "Have you noticed anything odd about her lately?"

His fingers delicately separating the pages, Wesley murmured vaguely, "Ever so."

Angel lowered his mug, his eyes fixed on his employee. "Ever so what?"

Silence answered him.

"Wesley?"

The Englishman spared him a distracted glance. "Hmm? My word Angel, the quality of this edition is quite astounding. I haven't seen a copy in such pristine condition from that era before, I rather think…"

"Wesley" The vampire's voice was filled with quiet demand, "I asked if you had noticed anything odd about Cordelia."

Wesley looked up reluctantly, a hand settling his glasses more securely on the bridge of his nose. "Odd?"

Satisfied that he had the other man's attention, Angel leaned against the sturdy doorframe and took another gulp of coffee, "I think maybe something's wrong."

Wesley considered the vampire silently. So that was it, he might have guessed as much. Angel had been muttering quiet concerns about their young associate for some time now, concerns that couldn't be entirely held as unfounded. A hand loosening his tie, Wesley cleared his throat as he shifted in his seat. "I know she has been quiet lately…"

Exactly" Angel interrupted, wagging a finger knowledgeably at his fellow associate, "Quiet and listless and a bit too reasonable for my liking." He pushed himself from the oak doorframe and slid a hand over the polished wood. "Something's wrong" he said in a tone of certain finality, "Something's definitely wrong."

Wesley looked at him in quiet amusement, wondering not for the first time, just how Angel had survived for so many years. Considering he had lived through two centuries, numerous wars, countless battles and the perilous Sunnydale Class 99 Graduation ceremony, he could be exasperatingly dim.

"Angel," the ex Watcher said, mild irritation trickling into his voice, "Of course something is wrong."

Angel's hand stilled and he turned slowly toward the Englishman, his expression askance. "She's told you something?"

Wesley smiled thinly. "Angel, I don't pretend to know Cordelia as well as you do. However, I can only surmise that any individual, let alone a nineteen year old ex May Queen would find a new city, the loss of a dear friend and mind numbingly painful visions quite a lot to contend with. I would imagine that yes, something is quite wrong, I would go so far as to say Cordelia is struggling with all that she has had to face recently."

The vampire's face pained with sudden truth, the expression quickly masked by another of practised reserve. "I know," he said softly, running a finger the length of the Text of Aberyion, "I know she has had a lot to cope with. This city, the visions." His finger circled a wooden crevice. Throat dry, he swallowed. "Losing Doyle hasn't been easy."

Wondering if that sad guilt would always settle in Angel's eyes when Doyle was remembered, Wesley tried again, his voice filled with characteristic kindness. "I didn't mean to bring up painful memories Angel, I simply wanted to point out that for a nineteen year old, Cordelia lives a very strange life. Its entirely natural that from time to time, she grows a little reticent."

"That’s all you think it is?" Angel asked slowly, "Just reticence?"

"Cordelia is a remarkable young lady," Wesley told the vampire, quiet confidence etched in his tone, "She has the strengths and resources to carry her through. But there's no harm in keeping on you and I keeping a close eye on her."

Angel nodded in thoughtful agreement. "No harm at all."

*********************

Winding the fluffed towel around her damp hair, Cordelia tightened the belt of her bathroom robe, the fabric light and wispy against her bare skin. She wrapped her fingers around the crystal glass and drew the vessel to her lips. The scotch burned her throat, its liquid smoothness heating her deep within. Cordelia lazily ran her tongue over her teeth, soaking up the bitter taste of the spirit. Enjoying it.

"Dennis?" she pushed the words from her mouth with effort, this third glass of scotch taking effect, "Phone please?"

The telephone skidded through the air, slapping abruptly into her outstretched palm. Cordelia squinted at the dial-pad and with great concentration, punched the number of Angel Investigations. The girl sat upright, ignoring a sudden wave of dizziness.

Clear head, clear head.

"Angel Investigations. We help the hopeless."

A smile broke on Cordelia's face. Wesley, not a problem.

"Wes, hi its me."

"Cordelia, good morning. I was just about to call and see if you were…"

"Wesley" Cordelia couldn't quite manage a conversation and she didn't intend to pursue one. "I'm not going to be in today. I'm a little tired."

Well done. No slurring.

"That sounds wise Cordelia, Angel and I were just saying…"

"I know, he told me to take it easy, which is what I am going to do, so I'll see you tomorrow okay?"

"All right then, have a nice day Cordelia."

"Bye Wes."

Cordelia watched the receiver slip from her hand to the dark carpet beneath.

"Easy peasy, lemon squeezy," she murmured as her hand grappled for the scotch bottle. Refilling the glass, Cordelia watched the liquid swirl and churn its way around the vessel and as she stared, entranced by its agile swishing to and fro, for a time, she forgot.

***********************

The dance floor, sporadically illuminated with colourful flashes of artificial light, teemed with barely clad bodies.

"I'm clad," Cordelia announced, her voice ground with firm conviction. Serena slid a cool look sideways.

"Clad?"

"Clad" Cordelia confirmed gravely. Hands outstretched, she invited Serena to inspect her outfit, "Look at me, Clad girl, I'm clad".

Serena's lips twitched, a half smile escaping her. " To think I had to bully you into coming out with us tonight. Happy pills starting to work, Cordy?"

"Oh yeah" Cordelia agreed blissfully. She tilted her head back, her world weightless and free. "Happy, happy, happy."

"It's a good way to feel," the words floated past her, the voice smooth.

Cordelia spun around on her barstool, the movement slowed in motion. Steadying herself with a giggle, she looked up and found her gaze settling on a dark-haired stranger. He looks like Angel, she thought, immediately revising that impression as she scrutinised him more intently. He was tall and dark, yes, but shared nothing of Angel's striking features. There was something intriguing about him though, his slim face besetting a natural beauty, his quiet confidence drawing her closer.

"Feeling happy is good" she said with a small smile.

"But new?"

She hesitated, confusion furrowing her face. Her gaze clinging to his own, she studied him silently.

What would he know?

Exploring the depths, she found a wealth of experience in those eyes, a dark chasm of knowledge. He knew.

"Very new," she agreed slowly.

"It shouldn't. You should always feel happy. There's so much you have, so much you could have."

He spoke plainly, without fervour, the words delivered as undiluted fact. He stared into her eyes and she fancied whimsically, her soul, with steady conviction in his gaze. The music faded, those near diminishing in presence so that all else was forgotten.

"I understand Cordelia. I promise you, I know what it's like."

An irrational rush of happiness burst inside her, chemicals pushing through her.

He knows my name. He knows me.

"What's your name?" Out of the thousand questions, she chose the most important. Her voice was strangely calm and sounded terribly distant for she didn't feel at all calm or collected.

A smile glided across his face. "Jarod."

"Jarod." She liked the name. "How do you know me?"

His smile widened marginally, as though her question was ridiculous. As though she should know the answer. He leaned a little closer, his light breath warming her lips. "I would know you anywhere Cordelia. You're one of us."

*****************************

Take care of her.

If taking care of Cordelia Chase consisted of watching the girl sit by the window while she lost her dull gaze in the L.A. skyline then Wesley mused, as he stepped a little closer to his young colleague, he was honouring Angel's earlier request with remarkable industriousness. Deciding that a more pro-active approach was perhaps in order, the ex Watcher forced a polite cough, "Would you like some tea Cordelia?"

Silence answered him. Cordelia sat in perfect stillness, her inert form casting a slender silhouette on the adjoining wall. She stared into the night, her thoughts evidently lost in the city beyond.

Easing closer, Wesley placed a timid hand upon her shoulder, "Cordelia?"

Cordelia stirred from her reverie and pulling her eyes from the twinkling city night, she turned to him with slow grace, her face darkened with a familiar unease, a quiet unrest which would only be appeased Wesley knew, by Angel's safe return. Another vision had sent the vampire racing into the murky depths of downtown L.A., leaving his youngest associate gripped by hidden anxiety for his safety. She had sat wordlessly, her thoughts far away, tension seizing her small frame. The ex Watcher had spent many such nights watching over her in recent weeks, an unspoken agreement between he and Angel acknowledging that Cordelia mustn't be left alone after a vision. And so, night after night, the vampire entrusted the trembling, vision wrenched girl to Wesley's care with one simple instruction.

Take care of her.

Easier said than done, Wesley thought ruefully as Cordelia lifted those hazel eyes to meet his own. Apart from offering an aspirin and countless cups of tea, there seemed little he could do but watch over her. The vision would fade and the pair were left, the ex Watcher reading, the Seer silent and motionless, her entire being stressed with fear. A fear that was, Wesley often thought with a sharp unbidden longing, a testament to the friendship between she and Angel. Somehow, Wesley had grown accustomed to the warm relationship that existed between the sombre vampire and tempestuous ex-May Queen. They might and frequently did engage in verbal battles about the most banal and trivial of things, Cordelia more often than not exasperating the 246 year old vampire with her own unique and often questionable logic. Wesley had watched Cordelia tease their employer, the one time scourge of Europe and current terror of demon lowlife in L.A about his mono-themed wardrobe and rather remarkable brooding abilities. He had watched the same vampire silence Cordelia with a single glance, leaving the teenager to mutter darkly about the burdens of working with over-sensitive dead people.

And yet in the midst of such battles and dramas, Wesley had recognised the deep regard each held for the other. They cared for each other with the anxiety of family and while Cordelia might scoff at the idea of being a mother hen, her tender medical administrations to the oft-battered vampire, her habit of checking upon her friend first thing every morning and countless other subtle attentions all belayed otherwise. Angel was equally attentive, much to Wesley's initial astonishment. In Sunnydale, Wesley had always regarded the vampire with something akin to fearful awe. The man had always seemed so distant and remote, his detached presence silently intimidating. He remained an almost shadowed figure on the fringe of those surrounding the Slayer, watching and listening, occasionally offering his own thoughts on whatever dire crisis threatened. Wesley had paid a great deal of attention to the vampire in those early days, keen to determine the depth of the relationship between he and Buffy. The quiet affection, the private exchange of intimate glance, the fire with which he defended the Slayer in battle, all served to convince Wesley of Angel's intentions. He had found the vampire's remorse admirable, his pensive thinking impressive.

Since his arrival in L.A, Wesley had glimpsed the depths of the man, chiefly through his relationship with Cordelia. The vampire who had been to Hell, who had faced The First, the Mayor and countless other terrifying beings thought nothing of cooking hearty breakfasts for Cordelia, or collecting her from her various auditions with minimal notice. Angel had guided her through these early visions with an unwavering care that couldn't help but impress and touch the Englishman.

Just as he was impressed now, by the depth of concern settled in Cordelia's eyes, her expression softening with apology. "Hmm? Sorry Wes, I was daydreaming." Her gaze drifted back toward the large window, "Or I guess in this case, nightdreaming."

Wesley dropped into the chair opposite. "Perhaps," he suggested, propping his feet upon the edge of her book-strewn desk, "You should be sleeping."

A smile flickered on her lips. "Perhaps" Cordelia agreed softly. She shook herself as though to dispel the dark concerns haunting her troubled thoughts, and lifted her head, "Did he call in yet?"

Languishing back with a lethargic sigh, Wesley shrugged with deliberate calm. "Not yet. I shouldn't worry thought" he continued casually, drumming his fingers on the leathered side of his seat, rhythm in beat with his heart, "Angel may have some difficulty locating the demon. Your directions were a little vague."

Cordelia bit her lip. "I know," she said, quiet despair lacing her tone. "The exact address was in the vision somewhere, I just couldn't quite pull it out."

Wesley cursed himself in dismay. Make her feel inadequate, you bloody idiot. "Cordelia," he hurried to correct his mistake, "I wasn't trying to imply you were at fault, I merely meant to say…"

Cordelia waved a dismissive hand. "Oh God, I know that Wes. Don't mind me. I'm just tired and cranky and feeling sorry for myself is all."

"You should go home, you know, you look awful."

Tugging dishevelled waves of dark hair into a tight ponytail, Cordelia grimaced, "Gee Wes," she smoothed her hands over her face, smothering a yawn, "You sure have that British charm thing down to a tee. Talk about making a girl feel good."

"That’s not what I meant and you know it." Wesley said patiently, "It's just that these visions from the Powers that Be are still relatively new to you. You're bound to find them tiring." He leaned forward, his inimitable gentleness sparking in his grey gaze, "They will get easier Cordelia, I promise."

Cordelia resisted the sudden urge to snap, to ask him just how images of death, murder, evil and the darkest of mayhem could ever possibly be anticipated with anything other than sickening dread. If it were anyone else, she might have said just that. But Wesley, with his kind unwavering honesty and indomitable sense of chivalry didn't deserve that. Swallowing hard, she exhaled a painful breath, nodding with a tight smile.

"You're right Wes, I'll be like perfect vision girl in a month. And I will head home. Once I know Angel is safe."

"I am," a familiar voice calmly announced from the main office entrance.

The pair jumped in unison and turned to find their employer hovering in the doorway, blood splattered sword in hand. Angel nodded absent-mindedly at them, his eyes scouring the office, hunting. Spying the umbrella holder, the vampire moved toward it and leaning the sword against the metallic bucket, he stepped back gingerly, avoiding any contact with the red liquid staining the weapon. Satisfied that it would stand steady, Angel turned around, satisfaction relaxing his frame as he jostled his duster off.

"Anything exciting happen while I was gone?" The vampire wandered toward the coffee machine and inspected the tins lined neatly beside it, frowning as he queried, "We're out?"

"No I bought some this morning." Cordelia sprang to her feet with renewed energy, trepidation fading at the sight of her friend, safely home with all limbs intact, "It's behind the machine. Is that yours?" She pointed to the sword.

Snaking an arm around the back of the coffee machine, Angel spared her an indignant look. "Of course it's mine. Since when do I take trophies home from battle?"

Cordelia managed to look saint-like and smug all at once. "I meant the blood. I thought you might be hurt."

"Oh," Angel answered sheepishly, fully aware of how Cordelia enjoyed spontaneous fits of martyrdom, "Well, no it's not mine. All the other guys."

"That’s good becau…"

"Tough battle?" Wesley interrupted saving his employer from another sanctimonious comment from Cordelia, ignoring the glare he received from said individual. The girl viewed tormenting the vampire as a legitimate hobby at times, and lo and behold those who interfered in her pursuit of the sport.

Angel shot Wesley a look of quiet gratitude as he resumed his search for the coffee bag. "Tough enough," he answered, his teeth gritted as he tugged the bag from its convoluted entanglement in the machine wires. "It wasn't the brightest guy though, that always helps."

A sudden memory flashed in Cordelia's mind, that same demon towering over the helpless tramp, its menace deadly. She shuddered, feeling it close.

Angel caught the movement. He pulled himself upright. "Cordelia?"

Cordelia stood motionless, her eyes strangely riveted by the bloodied sword behind him. The vampire exchanged a worried glance with Wesley and the Englishman joined him in taking a tentative step closer to the young girl. Angel sidestepped, blocking her view of the weapon and waited patiently as she raised confused eyes to meet his own.

"Cordelia?" he said again, unsure as to whether she was actually seeing him.

She smiled abruptly, artificial luminosity forced onto her face. "I'm fine, just being total wig girl tonight. Just ask poor Wes."

Angel surveyed her, silent weariness consuming him. She seemed to slip farther and farther away from him each day, her presence fading into a mere ghost of the laughing young woman he remembered designing the agency emblem. So much had happened since then.

What if she can't find her way back?

"Cordelia" he began quietly, slow determination firing within him.

I won't allow her to stay this way. I won't allow it.

The telephone began a shrill ringing and Cordelia turned toward it with a low groan, "I swear if this is Giles again wanting me to look up some dusty old book…"

She switched to what she called her "pull em in" voice. "Angel Investigations, we help the hopeless, oh hi Serena. Oh my gosh, I had forgotten, no it's fine, I can make it,"

A warm smile jumping to her lips, Cordelia launched into an animated discussion with the caller and taking advantage of her distracted state, Angel leaned over to the Englishman.

"Has she been all right tonight?"

Wesley grimaced, "More or less as usual. Quiet and a little despondent."

"I have to go" Cordelia interrupted cheerily, replacing the receiver. She hovered over her desk, plucking a stray item here and there to fling into her bag. "It's Emily's birthday and I completely forgot so I have to run, see if I can pick her up something on the way."

Deciding there and then that the walking paradox that was Cordelia Chase was beyond his comprehension, Angel forced a bright expression onto his face. "That's great," he said enthusiastically, "You should go out, have fun. Be young and foolish. No don't be foolish. Be young and safe. Safe is good. Let me give you a ride."

"No thanks," Cordelia shifted manuscripts crumbled with age aside in her hunt for gloss lipstick. "Serena is picking me up around the block." She reached for the filo-fax and flipped through it, discreetly tugging her work-id free. "I have your cell-phone number if I need anything."

Flashing a quick smile at the two men, Cordelia looped her bag overshoulder. "See you two tomorrow then."

She swung the door open and was gone, taking the briefly vibrant atmosphere with her. Angel curved back on one heel and eyed Wesley hopefully, "So maybe, she's all right? She just needs to spend more time with her friends and do things that people her age do. I mean maybe," the vampire turned and paced back toward his abandoned coffee mug, "Maybe, I'm just overreacting."

Wesley jammed the door shut, his heart sinking. He had been reluctant to admit to concerns about Cordelia, fearing he would fuel Angel's fears unnecessarily. After all, he didn't have anything concrete or conclusive to offer.

Don't you?

The recent nights he had spent with her, her quiet form huddled away in deep thought. The faint whiff of scotch smothered by breath mints in the mornings. The stifled personality of a young lady he was proud to name a friend. Her sudden interminable chatter when Angel appeared, knowing perhaps that unlike Wesley, the vampire would push, get close.

She panics when we get too close.

"I think" Wesley said finally, "That she would very much like us to believe that everything is all right, when in fact" His grey gaze met dark and he saw his own anxiety mirrored there, "In fact, I fear Cordelia is quite lost at the moment."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Cordelia watched as Emily lurched on unsteady feet. Her friend swayed, her hands grappling for support.

"Where are you going Em?" Cordelia asked, impressed by her friend's efforts at mobility. She was perfectly confident that she would be unable for similar exertions.

Clutching her seat, Emily tilted around. She leaned down and inspected the line of empty shot glasses that curved around the circular bar table, a testament to the night's alcohol consumption.

"Looks like we are all out," the pretty blonde declared with a slight shrug.

Bleary eyed, Serena squinted at the table. "We drank all that?"

"And then some," Cordelia agreed with a shaky nod of her head, "Remember we figured drinking in single numbers was an omen that Em wouldn't get next weeks audition?"

Serena crumpled in a fit of uncharacteristic mirth, her howls attracting bemused smiles from the nearby tables. "We should stop," she finally managed, "Can you imagine the headaches we'll have tomorrow?"

A sudden memory of Doyle, crippled by an eye-burning headache, flashed in Cordelia's mind.

Doyle

A sudden grief ripped through her. I miss you. The thought almost blinded her.

"Cordy?"

Emily was peering at her with concern.

Screw it, Cordelia decided, time to forget. She indicated toward the bar.

"Go on then Em. Doubles all round."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Cordelia hid a smile behind her glass of water as she watched Emily battle the advances of a persistently amorous male. She was failing miserably when one scowl from Serena sent the poor unfortunate scuttling in the opposite direction. It would, Cordelia mused, take a very brave man to face off with Serena.

"Not up to dancing?"

She whipped her head around and found another had slid beside her on the couch.

"Jarod. Nice to be sneaked up on again."

He relinquished a careful smile as he reclined back, his arm resting on a rather tattered looking cushion. "I saw you sitting here alone. I thought, you might like some company."

Cordelia shrugged, her coolness deliberate. "Oh come on Jarod. I'm sure you know exactly what I like, seeing as you know me so well and all."

"Let me guess," Jarod said gravely, "You're generally nicer when you take happy pills?"

Her eyes widened with sudden indignation. "I'll have you know that I am considered to be a very nice…"

Mirth swam in his blue gaze, teasing her and rather than finishing her retort, Cordelia found herself grinning.

"All right," she admitted bashfully, toying with a strand of hair dipping over her face, "So maybe happy pills make me a little nicer."

Jarod shrugged innocently, as though his guess had been one of wild abandon. He smoothed a hand over the velvet cushion, tugging the small tassels apart, so that the strings of thread lay spilt and open. "But, you're not feeling quite as relaxed tonight?

"I'm not under the influence of anything if that’s what you mean." Cordelia eased her neck from side to side, a small sheepish smile curving her lips, "At least," she amended a little guiltily, "Not anything illegal." The dark-haired girl raised the glass and sipped on her water, savouring the refreshing coolness. "And before you subject me to twenty questions again, how about you answer some of mine?"

Jarod abandoned the cushion and straightened, peeling his hands apart to spread them outright, "Work away."

Cordelia lowered the glass onto the stained beer mat. She turned back to him, evaluating him carefully. "I still can't place you so what's with the mysterious you know me thing?" Have we been in a drama class or something?"

"Or something"

Cordelia's eyes darkened. "Not an answer and I'm not playing this game anymore. Either you tell me how you know me or I leave."

Jarod heaved a long breath, "Cordelia, I wasn't lying that night. I know you." His hand resumed its caress of the cushion.

She waited in impatient silence. "Look," she said finally, "It's a bit freaky when somebody claims to know you but they're not willing to tell you how or why."

"I know what you are" Jarod broke in, his tone enveloped with sudden resolve, "I know what Doyle was and I know what Angel is."

Cordelia stared at him for a half breath, a thousand terrible thoughts flitting through her stunned mind. She backed away, flinging a hand under the table for her bag. "I tell you what," she struggled to control the tremble in her voice, forcing herself to concentrate on wrapping her fingers around the strap of her leather bag, "You stay the hell away from me, or you'll get to know Angel really well."

"Cordelia, I wasn't lying either when I said you were one of us. I'm just like you."

She raised horrified eyes to meet his blue stare. "Stop saying that."

"It’s the truth."

"I'm nothing like you. You talk about me like I'm a category, a, a…"

"Seer?" Jarod finished for her, quietly.

Cordelia sat, stricken. He knew. Oh God, he really knew. Her fingers stilled. "Who the hell are you?"

"I told you, I'm just like you." Jarod reached for her water and stealing a long sip, he moistened his lips with the liquid. He rested the glass on the bare edge of the table, his finger tracing its outline. "I'm a Seer, Cordelia. I know what it's like to have these visions that just rip you apart from the inside out. I know how it feels to lose every inch of who you are in someone else's torment."

Cordelia's eyes flashed. "So you say. But how the hell do you know about me? I don't advertise who I am, what happens to me."

"Angel's the big name in town Cordy. Everyone knows who he is and since a couple of weeks ago, what his Seer is worth."

Cordelia flinched at the mention of the auction. "What do you want from me?" She ground the words out, a dark hurt growing inside.

He just sits there and talking about my life, full of pretty words.

He doesn't know anything.

"I just want to be a friend Cordelia. We are alike, you and I."

Cordelia turned away and stared at the heaving dance floor in grim silence. She collected herself slowly and turned back to him, icy cold. "Thanks, but I have all the friends I need."

"Sure," Jarod agreed pleasantly, " A 245 year old vampire and an Englishman, both of whom think you're flighty and frivolous and all together too damn immature for the job you've been given from the mighty powers above. The same guys who don't understand what these visions do to you, what they drive you to."

"You don't know anything about Angel or Wes" Cordelia contested hotly.

"And they don't know anything about you," Jarod rejoined, his tone equally heated. He rose and slipped a hand around her wrist, pulling her to her feet. "But I do Cordy. I know exactly what it's like to feel that damn low. To see those horrors. And I can help you through it. You think you can't control what you can see, how you see it. You think you're just a tool? You're much more than that. The Powers that Be need you. So that makes you the strong one. You're the one with the power here Cordelia. It's up to you how you use it."

Cordelia slowly freed her wrist from his clasp. She regarded him in momentary bewilderment, allowing his words to reverberate through her mind, the meaning sinking deep within. His promise of clarity lured her and knowing she couldn't, wouldn't leave with questions plaguing her forever, Cordelia slumped back down, surrender in the movement.

"I believe you," she said simply.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"Here we are then."

Jarod scanned the property appreciatively. "It looks like a nice place."

"It is." Cordelia looked ruefully toward the door, "I would invite you in, it's just that my friends are staying over and", a small frown wrinkled her forehead, "Hang on, I take that back. I don't want you thinking I invite strange people in, not that you're strange but…"

"I understand" Jarod promised, amusement sunk in his features, "But you have my number, I hope you use it."

Cordelia clicked a silver heel against the ground. "You think I should?"

Jarod surveyed her, his gaze achingly steady. "You don't want to? After everything I've told you about your visions?"

"About your visions," Cordelia corrected him. She exhaled deeply, her gaze falling to her stiletto garbed feet. "Everything you told me tonight sounded great, I mean that you can control the visions, dictate what you want to see, when you see it but maybe that's not for me. I'm not good with responsibility. Handing the visions over to Angel, maybe that's what works for me."

"But you don't" Jarod interjected with that smooth confidence.

Cordelia's head whipped up. "Don't what?"

"You don't hand the visions over to Angel. You pass him the information, enough so he can go kill the demon but you're left with the horrors, the nightmares, and the dread. He can't help you with that. He doesn't even try."

"That's not true" Cordelia protested immediately, an old loyalty springing to the fore. "Whatever you know about these visions, you know nothing about Angel and I. About our friendship. I can talk to him about anything."

"So, you have told him about me?" Jarod held her gaze, his eyes demanding.

"There was nothing to tell, I didn't want to…"

"So, you'll tell him about me tomorrow?"

Cordelia lapsed into silence, her heart heavy. "No," she managed finally, unsure of everything except that she wouldn't tell Angel any of this.

Why not?

Because Angel wouldn't like it. Cordelia knew that for certain. She could just picture the countless questions and dark suspicions of endless possibilities. Best case scenario, Angel would insist on meeting Jarod, worst case, he'd somehow manage to make sure she kept away from Jarod.

Angel can't bully you like that, some rebellious part of her mind decided.

He can damn well try though.

Uncertain as she was of everything else, Cordelia was adamant in the darkest corners of her thumping heart that she couldn't stay away from Jarod. Not after everything he had told her, promised, the quietness of him that pulled her near.

She swallowed, her throat gratingly dry. "I'm not going to tell him."

"If it's worth anything, I think you're right not to tell him anything, just yet. Have a think about things, make up your own mind, independently. Its been a while since you made a decision for yourself" Jarod said softly, "I'll leave it to you to contact me this time."

With a small smile, he circled a turn and walked away, his step firm. Cordelia suppressed a sudden urge to follow, to beg him to show her all he had promised. Instead, she stuck her hand in her pocket and fingered a small slip of paper on which he had scribbled his number. Clutching it tightly, Cordelia watched as he disappeared into the night, stealing hope with him.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The voice slammed her into reluctant consciousness, pulling her from the comfort of deep slumber. Deep deep sleep.

"Cordy, please just look at me. You can do that much right?"

Cordelia groaned as she struggled to comply with what felt like an impossible request. Forcing her eyes to open, she immediately winced beneath the heavy weight that settled directly behind them. Pulsing, throbbing weight. The very notion of moving a limb seemed an insurmountable task. A dry parching thirst cramped her mouth.

Hangover.

"Oh God, please just kill me now" she mumbled into the pillow.

"I don't know about God, but your boss might. He just called to remind you that you were supposed to be at the office an hour ago."

"Angel called?" Cordelia's voice asked mournfully from the depths of the feather pillow, "He knows I'm still in bed?"

Serena nodded gingerly, a sudden headache dulling her own senses. She lifted cold fingers to her temples and soothed the throbbing pain with light circular motions.

"Yeah, I said you weren't feeling well but that you were on your way in. You want me to call him back, tell him you won't make it in today?"

The form in the bed somehow managed to shake her head. "No way." With tremendous effort, Cordelia pulled herself around so that she was facing her friend.

Cordelia looked, Serena decided, awful. Matted hair fell around a pinched face, hazel eyes deadened with exhaustion, her gaunt cheeks devoid of any colour.

"You should stay put." Serena spoke with conviction. No way would Cordy want to show that pasty face around town. "You really look like, well, like you should hide all day long."

"I have to go in. I have to drop my fake id-card back in the office before Angel spots that it's missing."

Serena looked painfully confused, though Cordelia reflected mournfully, the expression could be the natural consequence of drinking 11 shots of tequila the night before.

"My work-id is for when we have to go to clubs, looking for people or talking to informants" Cordelia explained hoarsely as she gingerly propped herself up on her elbows, "I'm not supposed to take it out of the office."

"He doesn't let you use it for carding?" Serena rolled her eyes, her face filling with characteristic scorn, "He's just your boss, how come he's so protective? Geez, for a young guy, he can act pretty old. "

"Tell me about it." Cordelia tossed the bedcovers free from her uncomfortably warm body and wriggled her legs in the cool morning air. "But I told you before, we were friends before this whole work arrangement thing ever came about and I guess he feels like he should look out for me."

She grimaced as she thought about just how overprotective Angel could be. "A lot. He'd kill me if he knew I used that card to get into clubs. Or if he knew I was drinking. Especially the amount I drank last night. He's just old fashioned. Obey the law and all that."

Cordelia turned regretful eyes to her pillow. It would be so nice not to have to pretend to be fine around Angel and Wes. So tempting just to slouch back onto the pillow, drift back to sleep…

"Cordy," Serena's voice slipped into expert mode, "You work like the strangest hours for him. You're entitled to a life in your time off. And if making use of a fake id-card helps make that life better, well then your boss should deal." "Besides" Serena asked with a slight shrug "What's he going to do if he finds you took it?"

Head precariously near the pillow, Cordelia tried to ponder the question rationally. What exactly could he do? Fire me? No, he needs the visions. Dock my pay? That’s illegal. Leave me in the office all day? He does that anyway. There's not much he can do except scold me. Cordelia might have felt marginally better, had it not been for the images of a darkly silent, intimidating employer that slowly pulled her logic to small pieces.

"Trust me when I tell you, he has ways of making me suffer. I'll just have to get up, get the id back and hope he hasn't noticed," she decided with a breath of deep conviction.

She dangled her legs over the edge of her bed and stood. A little too quickly apparently for a sudden wave of dizziness overwhelmed the nineteen-year old. She stretched a hand outward, grasping Serena for support.

"Oh yeah" Serena said wryly as she held onto her still swaying friend, "You get the id back and he'll never notice a thing."

Cordelia made a face at the other girl and began a slow hobble toward her wardrobe. "Emily still asleep?"

"Completely out of it," Serena replied as she slid back the bed. She curled back. "Cordy?"

"Yeah?"

"You gonna tell me about that guy last night?"

Cordelia tugged a pair of jeans from her wardrobe and busied herself with choosing a matching top. "Guy?"

"Yes" Serena drawled in amusement, "You know the guy you talked to all night long, the one that drove you home two hours after Emily and I got here."

Cordelia turned guiltily, "I'm really sorry about that, I mean I tell you guys to stay over and then I let you make your own way home."

"I'll forgive you," Serena smiled slyly, and pounding the pillow into a comfortable shape, she settled back, "If you tell me the story with that Jarod guy."

Cordelia rolled her eyes. "There really isn't a story."

At least, not one I can tell. Let's see, Serena, Jarod has been a Seer for three years. He has visions but has slowly learned to control them so that he can actually induce one when he wants to know something. He's not a messenger, more like a partner. He can teach me everything he knows. He has helped others like me, and hell, I don't even understand it.

"Cordy?"

Cordelia turned and hastily tugged a black blouse from a wire hanger. "Serena, honestly, there's nothing to tell and I really have to go, or Angel will kill me."

She smiled apologetically at her grumbling friend and bundling her clothes together, she disappeared into the bathroom.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"You know what? I just can't bring myself to like that Serena girl."

Wesley cast the ancient Sumarian sword through the air, each swishing movement expertly gentle. "Cordelia's unwell?"

"According to Serena," Angel said dryly, tossing blood vials into the refrigerator, "Cordelia's probably sleeping last night off."

Wesley stilled his swordplay and rounded the corner. "Angel, I merely said I had suspicions, that's all. I didn't mean to suggest that Cordelia has a problem, or …"

"A nineteen year drinking scotch first thing in the morning is a problem Wesley." Angel slammed the refrigerator door closed. He spun around and leaned back against the kitchen counter, frustration etched in his expression, "She's taken her work id out of the office you know and I have warned her not to do that before. She's using alcohol as a crutch Wesley, to get her through the day. That’s not a good thing. She's just going to have to talk about whatever is going on. When Doyle passed these visions on to her, I promised myself, I wouldn't let it affect her more than it has. I'd keep her out of the battlefield, keep her safe. She's only nineteen years old for Christ's sake" His palms dug into the counter surface. "That's all there is to it. End of the drama and the quiet listless Cordy, she's just going to have to talk."

Wesley cleared his throat politely. "Well, such a discussion would require a great deal of sensitivity…"

"Hey," Angel straightened self-consciously, "I'm Mr Sensitive. Hell, I touched the stick."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Ignoring the endless reverberation of painful thumping in her head, Cordelia plastered a bright smile onto her face and pushed the door to Angel Investigations wide open.

"Good morning," she greeted an empty office. Her smile vanished and Cordelia trudged wearily to the coffee machine, her bag slipping from her hand to the floor beneath.

"Thank you God," she murmured to herself as she flicked the switch on and watched the machine spurt to uncertain life. "Now why don't you be an extra nice deity and keep the office free of the living and the dead till at least lunch time."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The coffee tasted every bit as bad as it looked. Re-hydration is the name of the game, Cordelia reminded herself, as she forced the last few drops past her lips. Lowering the mug, she slid it to the edge of her desk and turned to her pile of paperwork with a heavy sigh.

Who ever would have thought demon hunting involved so much typing and filing?

The thumping in her head suddenly magnified, pounding against her skull. Every muscle clenched, her hands grabbed the sides of the chair. Not a vision, she pleaded in quiet mental desperation, I can't handle one right now. Relief soothed her slightly addled mind as the pain faded, apparently a mere reminder of her alcohol intake the night before.

"Never again," she vowed aloud, her body relaxing, "I am never ever going to do this to myself again."

"Do what to yourself?"

Cordelia started at the sound of Angel's low voice. Her eyes jumped to the doorway of the inner office, where the vampire hovered, Wesley by the sounds of it, clambering his way out of the elevator behind.

Angel carefully gauged her reaction to his sudden appearance and question. Her face fell at the sight of him, her wary guilt quickly vanquished by a forced smile. Her small shadow smudged face seemed paler than usual, her body burdened with exhaustion. Caging the urge to interrogate her, Angel merely raised an eyebrow in interest. "Well?"

"I am never going to allow my paperwork pile up like this again. Morning Wes." Cordelia tore her eyes from Angel and smiled at the Englishman.

"Good morning Cordelia. Did you enjoy your evening?"

"Yeah," Cordelia said cheerfully. She switched the computer on, and flicking her hair back, turned her attention to the paperwork, "I had a great time. Sorry I'm late this morning, we chatted all night."

"Its all right" Angel tugged a drawer of the filing cabinet open and began to rummage through the slender files, "We're quiet here, I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

"I'm okay." Cordelia murmured, suppressing the sudden flicker of annoyance that rocked through her. Angel could be so damn over bearing sometimes, it's like he thinks….

Sanity disappeared as a crippling pain flung her forward, a gasp escaping her lips. Sudden images tore their way through her mind, almost too fast for her to comprehend. The pain roared around her but beneath it's weight, she adjusted to the vision, forcing herself to see. It diminished, the sights vanishing, swallowed by those who sent the vision and dragging a long breath into her burning lungs, Cordelia opened her eyes.

She found herself steadied in Angel's arms, his dark gaze piercing her own.

"I'm okay," she said breathlessly, clutching his chest, not quite trusting her feet. Angel lowered her into the chair with gentle skill.

"I'm okay," she repeated. "You have to go to 1118 Old Ocean drive. There's a kid, he's like seven, at home with some woman. I think maybe his dad's new girl." Cordelia swallowed unpleasantly, bile rising at the memory. "Surprise. She's a demon."

"I'm on it" Angel muttered, releasing his hold upon his young Seer. He spun around and grabbed his coat.

"Wes," he began.

"should go along," Cordelia finished. She raised a hand to silence Angel's predictable protest, "The demon looked nasty, I don't want to have to worry about you all afternoon. Besides, I want to pick up some supplies and things so I have plenty to keep me busy."

She transferred a stern stare upon the Englishman. "I mean it, big demon with lots of horns. Definitely requires two."

Behind her, Angel's gaze grew strangely gentle. Moving closer, he placed a hand on Cordelia's shoulder, "If you're sure."

"Positive," Cordelia promised, slapping his hand affectionately, "Go already."

Nodding sharply at Wesley, Angel tugged the weapon bag over his shoulder and moved toward the door, the ex-Watcher a half step behind. "We'll be back as fast as we can." The vampire paused, "Hang about here though, I want to speak to you about something."

Cordelia lifted tired eyes. "Sounds mysterious."

Expression inscrutable, Angel opened the door. "Nothing major. We'll talk later."

Cordelia nodded nonchalantly and watching the door swing closed behind the vampire, she reached for the phone.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"What am I doing?" Cordelia muttered to herself, as she scanned the coffee pavilion. She tilted back in the metallic chair and fidgeted with the afternoon menu. Calling Jarod a bare half hour ago had seemed logical, instinctive almost. Now though… if Angel knew…

Casting another harried glance around her, Cordelia comforted herself with the thoughts that the vampire was safely on the opposite side of town, battling a slime demon. Besides, she reminded herself, I'm not doing anything wrong, I'm just meeting a friend. A tingle of excitement spindled through her as her thoughts turned to Jarod.

Nothing wrong with meeting a friend.

And yet, it felt strangely forbidden. Illicit almost. Cordelia had never thrived on a clandestine way of life. Concealing her ill-fated romance with Xander Harris had proved one of the most stressful experiences of her life. She wasn't used to lying or being deceitful.

I think it, I say it. Its my way.

"Cordelia."

The voice pulled her from the sudden darkness she had plunged into, dragging her thousands of feet to safety.

Jarod stood in front of her, his gaze searching. "Are you all right?"

Brandishing a warm smile, Cordelia motioned to the seat. "I'm fine. Just fine."

He pulled the seat outward and settled down, arranging himself comfortably within the tight confines of the metal chair. "You sounded upset on the phone."

The girl moistened her lips, her smile slipping. "I had a vision."

Jarod leaned forward, "Bad?"

A small laugh slid though her lips and Cordelia nodded slowly, "Pretty much. Big slime demon threatening a little kid, I sent my best friend out to fight it, so yeah, you could say bad."

His hand caught her own. "Come on," he said pulling her to her feet, "Time to show you good."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Cordelia slipped her key into the lock and nudged the door open. The offices were blanketed in dusky gloom but through strained eyes, she could make out a familiar form in the inner office.

Angel had a penchant for sitting in the quiet of black, lost in thought.

"I'm back" Cordelia greeted wearily, her eyes throbbing. The afternoon seemed an age away, the magic of conversation lost. And yet, she recalled each minute with a sudden pulsing joy, that sudden unfolding of knowledge, the litany of wisdom springing from his lips. The meditation, the dream-like vision he had guided her through with gentle care, the sudden clarity…

"So I see."

Her drifting thoughts dissipated, and she found herself staring at the now standing Angel.

"Yeah" she murmured, moving to the lamp on her desk. She switched it on, an eerie glow shining from its weakening bulb. "Remind me to replace that tomorrow."

"Will do." Angel moved quietly into the outer office, his hands resting lightly in his pockets.

Cordelia surveyed him curiously. Something was distracting him. "You okay?"

"Yeah" Angel answered slowly, leaning against the wall. His gaze grabbed her own, his eyes gently demanding. "Are you?"

The words died in the silence of the night.

Don't tell him.

The urge was primal, the need to protect instinctive. Angel couldn't know about Jarod, he wouldn't understand.

I have to tell him something. I know him, that look of persistence, he won't let this go until he thinks he has everything fixed.

So let him think that. It's not a lie. Things are good. He doesn't need to know why.

Cordelia hitched a breath and smiled uneasily. She tilted back against her desk, her nails digging into the wood.

Fine, I can do this.

Cordelia was good at a great many things. Lying to Angel, she was quite sure, wasn't one of them.

Limit the lying.

"You know what?" she began haltingly, the words catching in her throat, "I haven't been. Okay that is, not for some time now." She risked a glance upward, her heart tightening at his expression. Honest, open, trusting. Trusting her. "I haven't been okay and I haven't been able to manage that. At least not very well. I guess you've noticed."

"Once or twice." Smooth humor lined Angel's tone, his eyes gentle.

"Yeah, well I have been stupid. Drinking when I shouldn't be. Not eating or sleeping or really doing anything that resembled healthy living and that all kind of hit me today. I've spent the afternoon thinking about it and between Doyle and the visions, you know I've had it tough. I am entitled to feel lousy and I guess I just have to accept that while things will get better, they're not going to today. And in the meantime, I'll just have to take care of myself and remember that nothing or no-one has ever beaten Cordelia Chase." She bit her lip, the pain forcing tears to her eyes.

Look believable.

"At least not yet."

"Not ever" Angel resolved slowly as he heeled himself from the wall.

"Not ever" Cordelia agreed, allowing him to pull her into a gentle hug. Her face smothered in his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around her, Cordelia squeezed her eyes closed, fighting the sudden self-hatred that swamped her.

It wasn't all a lie. It wasn't all a lie. It wasn't all a lie.

It just wasn't the truth.

*****************************

The sand trickled through her toes, tickling her. Cordelia stepped out of her open toe sandals and swished her feet through the warm sand, the feathery grains massaging her weary skin. Gazing out at the ocean, an expression of pure delight crossed her face and turning, she flung her arms around her companion.

"It's beautiful here" she murmured into the soft of his neck, "Thank you."

Jarod squeezed her gently and stepped back, nodding toward the shimmering water. "I didn't create it, just found it."

Cordelia nodded enthusiastically as taking her hand, Jarod led her down the dune. "It's so quiet, no people or screaming children, or…"

"Lifeguards" Jarod said teasingly, earning himself a solid slap from Cordelia. He threw himself down and tugged her beside him, "I found this place a few years ago. I wasn't doing so well and I found the quiet resting." He turned to her speculatively, "I guess you'd understand."

Cordelia surveyed the ocean, confusion creasing her brow. "It’s so peaceful here, so tranquil, it's hard to believe here, that there is such darkness out there. All that pain," her voice fell to a low whisper, "all that grief."

She fell silent, sudden disquiet settling within.

"It's out there," Jarod promised softly, staring ahead "You know it, better than many. It's out there but in the midst of it, you have to hang on to here. Find it and keep it."

Cordelia followed the lazy path of a young seabird, "You really think I can?"

Jarod slid her a sideways glance. "You've done it before. Let me show you how to again."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

The sky swirled above her, mingling with every sense. She could touch the damp feather tresses of each cloud, her skin tinged with vivid blue.

"Can you feel it?"

That voice, as natural as the breath she drew, soothed her, called her home.

"Yes," she breathed, "I can feel it all."

And she could. Slow understanding had dawned, this power to embrace with every sense.

He sprinkled a little more powder on her brow, "What can you see?"

Cordelia concentrated, softly pulling the images together. "There's so much," she murmured, hardly aware of his light squeeze of her shoulder, "There's a bright light, surrounded by darkness but that light, it won't, it can't be dimmed." Something caught her attention and she turned a slow gaze toward it, "There's a warrior, guiding the innocent to safety. And two, torn apart and there's you." Cordelia's voice raised a pitch as she stared in wonderment, "There's you."

A wincing ache caught her and she cried out in sudden pain, her body drained and limp. Hands lifted her into a sitting position, the sky vanishing and she found herself staring into now familiar eyes.

"What happened?" Bewilderment carved into every feature, Cordelia slid a hand up his shoulder. "I saw everything and then it vanished. It hurt."

"Only because it's new," Jarod assured her gently. Lifting a sand-grained hand, he pushed ragged strands of hair from her face, caressing her cheek tenderly, "You'll be fine. Just tired for a while."

"I saw it all," Cordelia said, eyes gleaming, "I saw things, just by trying."

"You did very well," Jarod told her, his hand stilling on her cheek, "You saw me?"

Cordelia searched his enigmatic gaze, "You were there, as a strong presence. What does it mean?"

"It's like any other vision," Jarod told her, slipping an arm around her waist. He lifted her to her feet and pulled her against him, walking her against his frame, "It’s a message but this time, it's not for Angel, or anyone else, it's for you. So If I was in it, it means…"

Cordelia drew to a halt and surveyed him thoughtfully, the dying sun glinting in her dark hair. "It means that you're part of the future, in some way or another."

Jarod dusted a hand on his trousers, a smile her reward. "I certainly hope so Cordy. But come on, we need to get you back home."

"Back to work, you mean."

Jarod looked at her in surprise, "You have to go back? I thought we could do a little more…"

"No can do, I told them I was at an audition," Cordelia said very definitely, "What can I say, Angel is a real stickler about hours."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Allowing a wave of tiredness and a deadening weight of despair to envelop her, Cordelia wallowed in it for a half moment, the prospect of staying awake for much longer unbearable. Her hand slid against the wall, support slipping and pulling herself together with a sharp jerk, Cordelia straightened.

Fainting not an option.

Vision enhancing powder another definite no-no. Dusting her forehead, Cordelia inspected her hand for any trace of the substance and satisfied she was powder free, she took a deep breath and wrapped her fingers around the brass door handle. The office door loomed over her, diminishing her afternoon. Behind it, lay questions and memories, terrible memories clutching her, pulling her down.

Wanna kiss a dead man, Princess?

"No" Cordelia muttered firmly, remembering the sky. She dragged another long breath into her lungs and swung the door open.

Wesley looked up pleasantly from his chair, a leather bound book in his hands. "Cordelia, nice to see you back…" He paused and frowned, "Are you all right, you look…"

"Is that her?" Angel's voice shouted from the elevator.

"Terrible" Wesley finished, as their employer appeared in the office.

"Hey guys" Cordelia mustered a smile as she slung her coat across the leather couch, "Sorry I'm late. The audition ran slow."

Angel drank in the sight of his young associate, absorbing every detail of her. Her small face was drained of anything resembling color, her eyes dull. An air of fragility curved every movement, already slowed by apparent exhaustion. She looked, quite simply, wretched. A memory of Buffy, cradled in his arms after he had drunk from her, flitted through Angel's mind.

That's how bad Cordelia looks.

"Cordelia," Angel swallowed hard, "Are you all right?"

"Fine," Cordelia said, her smile distant. "I'm fine. Anything going on here? "

Angel looked at her uncomprehendingly.

No way can she act like everything is okay. Can't she see it herself?

Her artificial smile, the flash of her white teeth promised him she couldn't. A slow fear coiled in Angel's stomach as he surveyed her wordlessly.

I can't reach her anymore.

The thought reverberated through his mind, the echo growing louder until it grew into a sudden roaring wisdom. His young Seer was locked into some private misery, the distance between them stretching a little more every day. Angel studied her carefully, as though seeing her for the first time. There was a horrible, deadened air about her, a vulnerability that frightened him.

Anger swayed through him. It wasn't as though he had simply ignored her despair. Angel had considered Cordelia his responsibility, long before she became his Seer. She was nineteen years old, alone in a strange city, with no friends to speak of. He had taken care to keep her away from the darker elements of the job, limiting her involvement to research and re-con. Cordelia had seen enough terrors in Sunnydale, the vampire had decided early on, she could stick to reading about them now and for all her complaining that she was turning into a mini-Giles, Angel hadn't for the most part, wavered on that point.

The visions of course, had changed that. They brought their own torments, from which she couldn't be protected. If anything though, they had fueled Angel's determination to guard his young friend, to keep her safe from the demons that plagued her mind, to steer her through the visions with an unfaltering support. The visions had brought Doyle his own torments, the recklessness, the drink, the gambling. Angel had long since vowed that Cordelia wouldn't need a crutch, any crutch.

Except maybe him. Looking at her now, Angel was quite sure he had failed miserably.

"No," the vampire said with deliberation consideration, "You're not fine. Something's wrong. Something has been wrong for a long time now and it's time we sorted it out."

Flinching under his steady scrutiny, Cordelia edged back in instinctive defensiveness. "Angel," she said, her smile barely held, "Chill out already. All is well with Cordy. Trust me."

Angel trailed his gaze over her. She looks so damn lifeless. "I don't" he said finally, determination striding across his face, "Something is happening here and you need to start talking about it."

Ire flashed in Cordelia's blackening gaze. "Need to start talking?" Her laugh was brittle, "Turning into a shrink now, Angel?" She shook her head sharply, her expression stony, "You know what Angel? It really doesn't matter what you think." She stepped closer, her voice dropping to an icy low, "I have to tell you about the visions Angel, nothing else. Don't forget that."

At least she's reacting. At least she's showing some damn spirit. Time to provoke some more and maybe pound some truths home while I'm at it.

The vampire regarded her impassively for a short while. He nodded thoughtfully and cleared his throat as he took a half step closer.

"You are my Seer" Angel pushed grim resolve into every word, "That means you and I have a responsibility to each other. I intend to live up to that responsibility, whether you like it or not, so I suggest that you don't forget that."

Wesley coughed politely, "Perhaps you two should just…"

"Don't bother Wes," Cordelia said tightly as she swung past him to stalk toward the coat rack. She pulled her coat down, bristling anger fumbling every movement.

Angel paced behind her. "Cordelia, we're not done here."

She turned on him, fury lighting her eyes. "We are so done Angel. Go find some damsel to save because I am damned if I am going to stay here and listen to you rabbit on about something you know nothing about."

Angel palmed a hand outward, "So tell me," he said calmly.

"What?"

"Tell me, fill me in. What don't I know about? Because you're not going anywhere until this is sorted out."

Cordelia stared at the vampire in momentary disbelief. Was he deliberately trying to provoke her?

Yes. Realization pierced her, raw anger billowing deep within. She subdued it instantly, willing control as she sealed her lips, dry and thinned. He wanted to provoke her, to drive her to hollow empty tears, to cry out her troubles, to tell of the nightmares, the dark fear and vision flashbacks, so that she would break in his arms and he could put her back together piece by piece.

Not going to happen, Angel. I don't cry anymore.

And you might lose a piece.

"Forget it Angel" she said coolly, rage contained, "Like I said there's nothing to talk about."

"Well I think there…"

"I already told you I don't care what you think." Cordelia shot back, "It may surprise you to learn that I am managing okay. I am learning to cope with these stupid visions, learning to how to use them for my benefit so…"

"Coat in hand, you must be finished work right Cordy?" a voice interrupted from the opening door of Angel Investigations. The three swung around to see a slim, elegantly dressed girl step inside, her small figure poised with deliberate composure.

"Serena," Awkward surprise heightened Cordelia's tone, "Serena, hi."

"Hi" Serena raised a perfectly plucked and questioning eyebrow. "You ready?"

Cordelia masked her face with sudden warmth. " Just let me get my things." Spinning around, she slid past the vampire, quickly finding her elbow locked in a firm grasp.

"Cordelia" Angel said with a warm smile of his own, "The research on the Corrigan case remember? I'm afraid I need you here for a few hours."

Cordelia eased her elbow from his clasp. "All done," she smiled with sweet vehemence, "On your desk."

"Cordy," Serena clicked her stiletto heel against the wooden floor impatiently, "Believe it or not, the party will start without us." She smiled icily at Angel, "Besides which, I'm sure Cordelia's clocked up her working hours for today. She certainly looks like she has. Tired much Cordy?"

Deciding he didn't like Serena one little bit, Angel transferred his cool gaze on Cordelia's friend.

"Flexible working arrangement. I need Cordelia to stay late tonight."

"I think she can go ahead Angel" Wesley offered quietly, "I am familiar with that particular investigation, I can fill in the blank spots." The Englishman rose to his feet, picking Cordelia's bag from the sofa. He passed it to her with an affectionate wink. "Have fun."

She smiled brilliantly at him, relief flooding her face. "Wesley, you're a star." Turning, she curved her way past Angel and busied herself at her desk, "I'll just be a sec Serena."

"A real star Wes" Angel said, his eyes dark.

"I do what I can," Wesley replied smoothly, his hand resting on the gray filing cabinet.

Angel wasn't listening, having turned to watch his young assistant rustle in her drawer. "You need a ride home later?" he asked quietly.

Cordelia avoided eye contact with admirable skill. "No" she answered shortly, pushing her small make up compact into her velvet handbag. She pulled it over her shoulder, "I can manage."

She strode past Wesley and Angel, her head held high. "See you in the morning."

"Bright and early" Angel said evenly.

He caught the hesitancy in her step and knew his light remark had hit home. This would be sorted out. Just not tonight.

"Night Wes," Cordelia said quietly, patting the Englishman's shoulder as she passed, "See you tomorrow."

Wesley murmured goodnight and moved to slide the door closed behind them. His hand lingered on the cold metal handle.

Angel stuck his hands in his pockets, his fists tense. "So Wes," Sarcasm laced the vampire's voice, "You want to tell me why you helped Cordelia worm her way out of here?"

His hand slipping from the handle, Wesley turned to his employer, gravity ground in his expression. "Because," he said solemnly, "We're in more trouble than we thought."

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

"There was a distinctive smell from the moment she entered the office" Wesley scoured the bookshelf, finally selecting a volume of Prophecies of Foretelling. "You didn't get it?"

"No" Angel answered shortly from the kitchen table, "I was too busy having a minor seizure at the sight of her. She looked, she looked awful. Like death on legs. "

"Agreed" Wesley affirmed heartily as he sank into a chair opposite. He flipped the book open and began flicking through the pages, "She looked appalling."

"And you helped her avoid sorting whatever is going on, why?" Angel struggled to control his impatience. His entire body felt swelled with anger, with himself for letting things go on as long as they had, with Wesley for interfering and Cordelia, for her damn stubbornness.

Wesley glanced up, light reflecting in his immaculately polished glasses. "So you didn't get a smell when she came into the office?"

Angel looked at his employee in confusion, "A smell?"

Wesley inclined his head. "Think back. A distinctive odor."

Angel closed his eyes, tilting his head back. He forced his body to calm as he recalled the recent encounter in the office above. I was in the office, searching for my Mandolian sword, trying not to worry about the fact Cordelia was late. I heard Wesley greet her and I went out. She looked so awful, so damn exhausted, like she was about to keel over. She looked deathly under the wall lights, and that smell…

Angel strained every sense.

His eyes snapped open. "Kanthros powder. It was burned."

Wesley nodded grimly. "That’s what I thought. And this text confirms the use of the powder as an…"

"Agent to induce visions or hallucinations. Demons commonly use it to seduce their prey, project a desirable image. Its other main use is…" Angel slowed, his eyes darting to Wesley's tightening face, "among Seers. Those with the gift of visions use it to access their gift, expand it."

Wesley referred to the page beneath his whitening thumb, "In effect, it allows a Seer step into the realm of visions. For example in Cordelia's case, she would be exposed to the realm of the PTB, she could in effect, see a number of things which may or may not be meant for her. She may see things that the PTB…"

"Don't intend showing anyone." Angel finished softly. He heeled his palms against the oak table.

"Wesley, the risks, what are the damn risks?"

"Considerable. Seers have experimented with such rituals over the centuries, the immense burden of her visions almost intolerable. But such experimentation inevitably leads to harm for the Seer. Some have fallen into a state of permanent delusions or psychosis. The mental strain is unendurable and ultimately leads to complete collapse, possibly death."

The Englishman sighed, a deep concern for his young friend spiraling through him. "Angel" he said slowly, "Cordelia could do real damage to herself. I suspected as much upstairs but I wanted to confirm the exact nature of the powder before confronting her. I can't understand how or why she would start toying with such a substance. I wasn't aware she had any knowledge or indeed interest in such rituals."

"Someone is guiding her through it." Angel said, his mind slowly churning a truth, "Cordelia doesn't know anything about rituals. She said something upstairs. 'I am learning to cope with these stupid visions, learning how to use them for my benefit'. Someone is showing her how Wes."

"Anyone who knows about this ritual would understand the risks," Wesley leaned forward, his thoughts darkening, "If someone is leading Cordelia through these expanded visions…"

"They are doing it for their own benefit." Anger clashed with fear in the vampire's eyes. He tilted himself back and heaved onto his feet, beginning a slow pacing the length of the kitchen.

Wesley watched him silently, his own mind ticking over. "Right," he said with an air of finality, "We know what's going on. We know what Cordelia has been hiding. We know someone, or something has been influencing her. The question is, what are we going to do about it?"

Angel heeled a halt, the demon screaming for revenge. The idea that someone was guiding her into her own destruction sickened him to the barest bone.

I am the Warrior.

I am responsible for her.

Angel placated the demon with a silent promise.

I'll fix this.

I'll save her.

From herself if I damn well have to.

The vampire turned to regard his friend. "We're going to find her and do what needs to be done. Simple as that."

Thoughts firing ahead, Angel reached for the book on the table. He flicked through the pages, ready to absorb every relevant piece of information ever written about the damn ritual.

"Angel." Wesley said evenly, "There's another complication with the ritual."

Angel glanced up from the fading page. "What is it."

The Englishman moistened his lips. "The powder isn't just harmful. It’s a drug. It’s addictive Angel. Which in and of itself present a whole other set of issues. Whoever is leading Cordelia through this madness is likely to be a strong influence and she is not going to be willing to walk away from him or her. The powder itself is extremely addictive. She is in effect addicted to the bliss of the expanded visions, regardless of the associated dangers. It isn't going to be easy to help her through what will essentially be cold turkey should she choose to walk away from this person."

"She doesn't get a choice in that." Angel said curtly, "She needs help, she's going to get it."

Wesley nodded his slow agreement. "I am merely pointing out Angel, that the measures you may have to take may be rather extreme."

Angel turned his attention back to the text, a surge of determination firing in him. "So we take them. Whatever it damn well takes to get her back."

*****************************

He's not going to let this go. He'll keep pushing and pushing until he finds out about what's been going on, about Jarod.

"I cannot believe you are missing this party. It's like, the party of the month, if not the season."

Serena's irate voice sliced through her, knifing her back to reality. Blinking, Cordelia found herself staring at her apartment complex, the building darkened with night. Pulling her eyes from the cab window, she caught the expectant gaze of the driver in his rear view mirror.

"That evens out at seventeen dollars."

"Right." Slipping her bag from a tanned shoulder, Cordelia fumbled for her wallet. "Seventeen dollars. Right."

Beside her, Serena exhaled moodily. "I mean everyone wants to go Cordy. At least everyone with a functioning brain."

"Mine's not. Functioning that is." Cordelia tugged a twenty-dollar bill from a tight pocket of her wallet and creasing it, she offered the note to the driver. "It's tired and mushy and it needs sleep." She managed an apologetic smile. "I'll make it up to you Serena."

"Whatever," Serena answered with cool dismissal. Shifting slightly, she crossed her legs smoothly and fixed a dark gaze on her friend.

"If you ask me, you need to get a new job. That Angel guy works you to death and he acts like it's okay to do it. Friend or not, you need to get out of there."

I need more than that. Much, much, more.

Cordelia clicked the door handle, a smile gripping her face. "Maybe you're right. Look, I'll call okay and you know, just have a good night."

"Guaranteed." Serena told her aloofly, pulling a compact from her own bag, "Guaranteed."

****************

The door whined plaintively as Cordelia pushed it open, it's moan echoing through the shadowed apartment.

"Dennis. It's me."

A sudden light bathed the living room, the radio clicking to life as she slimmed out of her jacket.

"Thanks" Cordelia murmured, impatiently discarding the wine jacket. She dropped to the floor, a harried search in her bag retrieving her cell-phone. Powering it to life, Cordelia dialed the number and waited, her body twitching with nervous anticipation.

Please be there. Please just be there.

"Hello?"

Relief embraced every tingling nerve. "Jarod."

"Cordelia? Is that you? Where are you?"

A slow safety settled deep within, the aching warmth of his voice promising sanctuary. "At home. I'm at home."

"All right" Jarod said slowly, "Are you okay?"

"It's Angel," Cordelia answered haltingly. "He and I had an argument, he said, he thinks there's something wrong, he thinks I am…"

"In trouble?" Jarod quizzed gently.

Cordelia flexed the phone wire taut and letting it go, she watch it spring back into a curl. "Yeah," she confessed. "That’s his theory. Angel can be pretty persistent when he puts his mind to something Jarod. If he thinks I am in trouble, well, he won't give up, no matter what I say. He'll just keep pushing. I'm afraid he will…"

"What are you afraid of?" His voice anchored her, stemming the flowing cold fear.

She took a breath, forcing oxygen around her trembling body. "I am afraid he'll find out about you. I am afraid he will take you away. And that can't happen Jarod."

"Why not Cordelia? Why can't that happen?"

She paused, some vague sanity reminding her that Angel was her friend, Angel her anchor. That thought grounded in fact drifted meaninglessly through her mind, swallowed by a sudden desperate longing.

The visions, The seeing, Jarod.

The words tumbled from her lips, feeling locked into every one. "I need you."

There was a silence, a pause and for a half breath Cordelia feared she had lost him, her confession too much.

He cleared his throat. "That's not enough."

Confusion swamped her. "Not enough? Enough for what?"

"To protect you. To protect us. Angel won't willingly allow you to leave him Cordelia."

"Leave him, I don't want to leave him, I just want him to understand…"

"He won't ever understand Cordelia. Angel will fear our friendship and he will do everything in his power to prevent it." Jarod's voice rang with self-belief. "You cannot stay with him, if we are to be friends. I can't show you what I know, if he is fighting for your mind, your loyalties. You must make a choice Cordelia. Are you Angel's Seer, are you bound to him? Or are the visions for you, your own gift?"

"I can't fight the demons I see…" Cordelia managed weakly.

"So don't see them." Jarod answered swiftly. "You see what you want to see, I've shown you how. You don't have to be cursed by images of people you can't help. So its time to make a choice Cordelia, that's where we are at. I won't become involved in a battle against Angel, I will walk away if that what you want. I'm not going to force you to do anything. Can you say the same for him? You make the choice. You can call me later, let me know what you have decided."

Thump. Thump.

In one single heartbeat, the choice was made. She couldn't, wouldn't walk away.

The visions, The seeing, Jarod.

"I can do it Jarod. I can leave. I just need to forget, you know? I need to see, that's all I need. Can you please come get me? Please?"

She could hear the smile in his voice, her heart soaring at his words.

"I'll come get you Cord. From now on, it's just me and you."

*********************

Giles often bemoaned California's constant humidity. Wesley himself found the lack of rain and temperamental weather changes rather refreshing. He quite enjoyed a day one could depend upon, at least weather wise. In his line of work there were few other certainties. Tonight, if anything proved as much. Pulling his eyes from the neon lit city speeding by, the ex Watcher cleared his throat. "Right then," he said cheerfully, addressing the silent driver, "What's the plan again?"

"We didn't make a plan Wesley." Angel gazed steadily ahead, one hand guiding the steering wheel.

"Yes, well that's really the part I am having difficulty with." Wesley blew a deep breath "You see, in a delicate situation like this, we really should have a plan. Plans are good."

Angel threw his employee a sideways glance. "Fine. How's this for a plan? We find Cordelia, we fix her. We find who ever is behind this, we fix them."

Wesley raised an ironic eyebrow. "Well, it's a plan."

"That it is."

The Englishman shifted, allowing his hand to dangle over the edge of the convertible. "It won't be an easy fix"

Angel's head snapped around, "What's that then?"

"Cordelia. She won't be an easy fix."

Angel's jaw tightened, his frame stiffening. "Any tips?"

Wesley adjusted the side mirror. "The texts all say the same. The Seer's dependency on the powder is linked to his or her exposure to it. The most comparable drug in societal terms is heroin. The Seer craves not the powder itself but the bliss of the vision. Take away that bliss and you have one very angry, vulnerable, helpless individual, experiencing appalling withdrawal symptoms."

The vampire's gaze alternated between the road and his friend. "Such as?"

"Severe migraine, vomiting, sweating, delusions, weakness, exhaustion, bouts of sudden energy. Emotionally you can expect uncontrollable rage, anxiety, upset. Like any other addict Angel."

Angel's grip on the wheel tightened imperceptibly. "How long will it last?"

"A few days, three, four at most if she does it cold turkey. However we could try weaning her from the powder, reduce her use over a week, maybe two"

"The risks?" Angel prodded, his mind mulling over every possibility.

Wesley sighed. "Complete withdrawal is the safest way. There's the potential of flashbacks or prolonged visions with extended use of the powder."

Angel nodded quickly as he slowed for a red traffic light. He glanced at Wesley. "So, we take the hard route."

Wesley thought for a moment. "Not at her apartment, her neighbors…"

Preparing for the light change, Angel flicked his gaze back to the road. "I know. Look, I'll tell her I need her back at the office for some research or something. Downstairs is secure, we won't be disturbed there.

Wesley swallowed hard, an unpleasant taste settling in his mouth. What they were going to do, what they had to protect Cordelia from, she was going to hate them, "Angel…"

Angel nodded again, his eyes unfathomable. "I know Wes. I know."

*********************

Cordelia held the candle reverently. She could feel the energy, the untapped power within.

"It's beautiful," she breathed.

Jarod smiled, intertwining his fingers through her own. "The strength you feel in this small candle is nothing comparable to the joy you will experience in its burning. The powder will fill every sense, open you to new sensations."

She lifted her eyes. "And visions?"

He laughed, smoothing his fingers up and down her hand. "Yes Miss Impatient. Visions."

Mirth rolled through her in waves, promised joy tantalizingly close. "Lets begin. I want to try to extend it, last as long as I …"

The loud rap of the doorknocker silenced her, ecstasy fading as her eyes darted to the doorway. "Damn it."

"Cordelia? You in there?"

Jarod tightened his grip on her hand, demanding her attention. Cordelia forced herself to calm and relaxing she relinquished the candle to him, watching him drop it into the case. Drawing herself to her feet with slow, quiet movement, Cordelia indicated to the bedroom.

"In there" she mouthed, "He'll go away."

"Cordelia, I need to speak with you." Angel's muffled voice insisted outside.

Painfully aware of the vampire's perceptiveness of life and movement, Cordelia eased her feet from her shoes and barefoot, allowed one foot to glide past the other, Jarod behind. She paused and mentally calculated the steps to her bedroom, ruminating over the route that would avoid the creakier floorboards when a sudden cold rush filled the room and lifting appalled eyes from the floor, Cordelia's gaze jumped to the doorway, her heart filling with dread.

Dennis wouldn't.

Dennis did. The front door flung open, swaying back to reveal a familiar figure. Angel paused, caught momentarily off guard. He looked around the room with a sharp nod, as though in gratitude to his dead accomplice before transferring his steady gaze to Cordelia. With almost deliberately slow movement, the vampire stepped inside, his eyes fixed firmly upon his young Seer. Behind him, an anxious looking Wesley followed.

Somewhere, from the desperate lurching of her stomach, Cordelia found her voice. "Angel, Wes."

Their names were about all she could manage.

"Cordelia" Angel greeted her evenly. "You didn’t hear me at the door?"

"I knew, I knew Dennis would get it." Cordelia forced the words out, her throat tightening with grim apprehension. Angel lifted that merciless gaze from her and for a moment, she allowed herself to breathe. A bare moment for Angel stared past her, his eyes resting inscrutably on,

"Jarod." She whispered his name.

"Jarod" Angel repeated, cocking his head, a hint of a smile on his lips. "I'm Angel, a friend of Cordelia's, nice to meet you. This is Wesley."

"Likewise." Jarod moved forward, looping an arm around Cordelia's waist. She rested against him, uncertainty stiffening her limbs. "Cordelia talks about you a lot about you both."

His eyes glinting, Angel inclined forward. "I can't say the same about you, I'm afraid." His eyes drifted back to Cordelia. She was gathering some semblance of control for she had straightened, her hands flitting to her side. Somewhere in the dark corner of his mind, the demon howled but Angel dismissed it with practiced ease. Jarod could wait. Cordelia was his priority. Heeling back, his stance relaxed, Angel allowed a hint of apology to seep into his voice. "Sorry to interrupt but we need you back at the office. A case has come in and it needs the entire team."

His young Seer moistened her lips, one lip rubbing against the other in slow nervousness.

She always does that when she's nervous.

Jarod squeezed her slightly, quietly pulling her attention to him. She turned her eyes darkened with misery to him. His own gaze filled with warm understanding, an acknowledgement of her fear, an acceptance of her. And deep within his eyes, she found a message, a silent communication.

It's time.

Banishing the dread and the sudden urgent craving for the candle bundled into his small case, Cordelia nodded and turned back to the vampire.

"Angel," She forced herself to meet his eyes, resolve in her voice. "I've been meaning to talk to you. About working for you, that is. About, how I don't want to, anymore. Starting from now."

She could have sworn Dennis had deliberately silenced every tap, every creak, every noise familiar to the apartment. A ghostly silence descended upon the room, it's occupants mute as the vampire surveyed his young associate, deep thought settling on his face. Cordelia clung to the breath she was holding, afraid that if she released it, she would forget how to haul another into her burning lungs.

It's done. I've done it.

Wesley inched forward. "Cordelia" he said gently, predictable candor in his tone, "This seems like a rash decision."

She gratefully flicked her gaze to the Englishman. "It's not," she said with sudden brightness, "I mean you guys know the detective thing wasn't exactly my gig or career choice. I haven't been happy in some time and I've been doing a lot of thinking lately and you know, it's time to pursue acting, seriously commit myself to my future?"

"So what, Jarod's your agent?" Angel inquired.

Reluctantly returning her attention to the vampire, Cordelia found him as she had left him. His posture relaxed, his face calm, his tone light and easy. Anyone else might feel relaxed by his apparent nonchalance. Knowing him as she did, Cordelia was anything but relaxed. This was classic Angel. He might outwardly appear unperturbed but inside, he was churning. Thinking a thousand times faster than she ever could, pulling every piece of information he could find useful from the room, from her. Planning. Calculating. Deciding.

I know him. I know every inch of him. He can't damn well intimidate me.

"Jarod's my friend." She answered softly, controlling a sudden fire inside. "And yes he has helped me to make this decision. He supports it."

Angel nodded slowly, his hands disappearing into his coat pockets as he half circled back at Wesley. "Looks like we're just a double act now Wes." He raised a questioning eyebrow, confident that Wesley would interpret his meaning.

We make a move?

"It would appear so," Wesley answered with a brief nod of affirmation, knowing in his heart, this battle was a long way from won. Angel might bundle Cordelia Chase's body into the car behind but Wesley was quite certain, her spirit was far from this room.

Angel shifted his attention back to the others, longing to focus it directly on Jarod. He was human, of that Angel was sure. A supreme confidence leaked from him, shone on him. He didn’t fear Angel.

Yet.

That last thought comforting him, Angel ambled to the coffee table, his hand smoothing the small metallic case perched there.

"Be careful" Cordelia took a step forward, slowing as Angel raised an interested gaze. She swallowed, "That's Jarods."

"Oh sorry" Angel backed up, somewhere in the movement sliding his hand forward, the case tumbling to the ground. It flipped open exposing a set of small candles, rosy hue against the cream carpet. "Oh damn it, I'm sorry." Angel apologized again as he leaned down to pick them up. He slotted them back into the case, propping each into an individual holder. He held the last, twirling it in his hand.

"You like candles Jarod?" Angel asked quietly, carefully replacing the last in the case. He slotted the lid down, resting the small metallic box on the coffee table once more.

Jarod shrugged. "From time to time. Candles are wonderful to use in meditative practice. They've been traditionally used in spiritual ceremonies since their very conception. I guess I'm old fashioned, stick with simple tools."

Placing his hands on his knees, Angel rose to his feet in one limber movement. "That’s a good way to be." "Cordelia."

She almost jumped at the sound of her voice and pulling her eyes from the box safely encasing the precious powder, Cordelia glanced at Angel.

"Are you serious about this?"

A sudden pain darted through her as she caught a hint of something in his expression. She was hurting him. This hurt him.

I need the powder. Get this done.

"Yes" she croaked, the word drying in her throat.

Angel nodded, a sudden wisdom carved in his face. "I don't accept that."

Cordelia hesitated. "You don't have a choice."

"Sure I do," Angel answered lightly. His eyes rested on Jarod. "We all have choices." The vampire turned and heeled back toward the door. "Come on Cordelia, we'll discuss this at the office."

Her feet rooted firmly to the ground, strength deepened within her. "Angel, you're not listening to me. I quit, I'm not going with you."

Angel stilled. "Cordelia." He spoke softly, not turning around. "The car is outside, get in it. Now."

She took a deep breath and curled a hand around Jarod's. "Wesley, get him out of here."

The Englishman looked at her, compassion digging into his gaze. "Cordelia, we merely want to talk with you. You know we have been worried about you recently and now you say you want to leave on the spur of the moment? Come down to the offices, we will talk this out."

Quiet desperation tore through her. "I will call you tomorrow Wesley, just please go now." Cordelia turned pleadingly toward him. "Get him out."

Wesley heaved a breath of regret. "Cordelia, we can't walk away from you. You know that."

"So drive." Jarod said meaningfully.

Angel turned, his face implacable. " Sorry Jarod. You don't get to have an input on this. It's business related."

"I get to have an input when my friend is upset. That bothers me." Jarod smiled lightly, half nodding to the vampire.

Angel nodded back. "You know, I think you are right Jarod. I think maybe you and I need to have a long talk about what's bothering Cordelia. In fact maybe we should do that right now."

The vampire stepped forward, dark meaning in his eyes. Cordelia instantly side-stepped, placing herself between the two men but she was too late. Angel had caught it. The slight glimmer in Jarod's gaze, the half quake backward of his left boot, the sudden hesitation. For a half breath, Angel had scared the other man witless. Angel permitted himself a half smile, relishing his success, enjoying the other man's countenance. Jarod knew it too.

"Angel," Cordelia's breathless voice focused his thoughts and looking down, he found himself looking into twin pools of misery, conflict and longing. This had to be fixed now. "Angel, stop it."

Her warm breath tickled his chin. Ignoring the sensation, Angel picked his words carefully. "Cordelia, if you won't talk to me, maybe he will. However I convince him. You can't expect me to let you walk away without a conversation. You can't leave me and Wes worrying about whatever the hell is going on here. You've found yourself a new life, I can accept that. I can't accept you walking away from the old one without a damn explanation. Which is why I insist we talk."

The tight grip on her gut loosened.

He doesn't know anything.

I go back.

I talk to him, relieve his damn worries and walk away.

I walk back to Jarod.

For Good.

I can do this.

I can convince Wesley.

Hell I can convince Angel.

I can do this.

I'm damn actress for Christ's sake.

Her expression grew cautious. "Just talk?"

Angel half shrugged. "I'm asking, no, I am insisting on an hour of your life Cordelia. Is that so much to damn well ask?"

Cordelia bit her lip. "All right, I'll come. For an hour." She backed around to Jarod. "I won't be any longer than that, I promise." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "I promise."

Raising a thumb, Jarod rubbed it across her lips. "I know you won't" His smile, filled with promise, comforted her and Cordelia turned away, joy lightening her exhausted face.

"Let's go."

The vampire held Jarod's attention for a half moment, communicating a thousand silent menaces in one single gaze. Cordelia slid past him, hovering expectantly nearby. She wasn't about to step out of hearing range, knowing Angel's habit of barely muttering threats.

She knows me so damn well.

Satisfying himself with the thought that he and Jarod would inevitably have that long conversation he had promised, Angel backed up. Digging his hands into his pocket, the vampire retrieved his set of car keys and flung them to Wesley.

"How about you do the honours Wes?"

Wesley nodded smartly. "Nice to meet you Jarod."

The other man inclined his head slightly. "You too Wesley."

Cordelia squeezed Jarod's hand one last time. "You'll stay?"

He nodded, his voice quiet. "Like I promised."

Wesley was already striding through the open doorway, out to the car beyond. Placing a hand on Cordelia's shoulder, Angel guided her out, the girl flashing a final smile to Jarod on the way. They stepped into the night and freedom ahead.

Turning, Angel pulled the door over, a half smile directed darkly at the man left standing in the center of the room. Much as he would like to leave him with dark promises of injury and worse, Angel controlled himself. He had gotten Cordelia this far. He had managed to get her out of her, remarkably on her own two feet and he wasn't about to jepordize that for anything.

A sudden thought occurred to the vampire.

Subtle threats are the best kind

"Dennis" he said lightly as he pulled the door closed. "Be sure and look after Cordelia's houseguest while she is gone." Pulling the door closed, Angel was quite certain that Jarod was about to be treated to hospitality, Phantom Dennis style. The thought of the protective ghost's grim revenge might have been enough to cheer the vampire where it not for Cordelia and the hours, nights and days ahead.

Cold Turkey.

*****************************

Smoothing her tongue over lips, Cordelia quietly savored every last speck of candle dust. Jarod's apparent sign of affection in the apartment had in fact been a gift, for within the dust, between the tiny particles of candle wax were tiny molecules of the vision powder enough, she hoped to sustain her through the next hour.

Or two or three, the girl thought miserably as she slumped back, the entire rear seat her own. Angel's claim that he just wanted to talk was she knew quite well, a guise. The vampire's true intention was an interrogation. She could just imagine the questions that would hurtle her way once they reached the office. A marathon session.

Why do you want to leave Cordelia?

Why so suddenly? What's been going on?

What about the visions?

What about us?

Who is Jarod?

Cordelia shifted in her seat, that last question jarring her senses.

Jarod. Angel would concentrate on Jarod. The vampire's entire demeanor in the apartment had screamed suspicion. That speculative probing, the slow casual evaluation deliberately designed to intimidate. He hadn't given the other man a chance. Anger flared as she considered his treatment of her friend. It was classic, predictable Angel. She had expected as much. The vampire's complete incomprehension of her friendship with Jarod was hardly a surprise, nor was his reaction. He would insist on seeing Jarod as a threat.

She had been right not to trust him with her new abilities, with the seeing. All that wrestling with her conscience, her guilt, it had all been misplaced. Angel wouldn't understand the importance of the visions and the powder, if she had told him about them, he would have kept her away from it, away from Jarod.

She shivered at the thought of losing Jarod, a dark trembling tingling down her spine.

Angel caught the movement, turning slightly. "You cold?"

Cordelia shook her head, her eyes sullen. "No."

"Because I can give you my coat…"

"I said no."

Angel nodded casually. "All right." The vampire straightened, firing a side-glance at Wesley. The Englishman raised a knowing eyebrow.

Damn right, its not going to be easy.

A quiet fury filled the back seat passenger as she caught the silent exchange.

They sit there quietly confident in their own omnipotence. I'm the loony, I can't possibly know what I am doing, walking away from a 245 year old vampire and his less than adequate sidekick, walking away from a job that puts me at daily peril, walking away from visions that leave me broken. Oh yeah, I am the loony.

I shouldn't be here, I should be with him, the candles burning beside me, in me…

Just get this over with. Get back there.

"I don't see why we had to come all the way back to the offices. We could have talked tomorrow," she struggled to cool the burning anger in her voice. "This is ridiculous."

Angel ran his hand the length of the seat belt stretched across his chest, considering his answer carefully.

Keep it short. Don't make her mad. Just get her there.

And then the fun begins.

"Wes and I figured we should sort it out tonight Cordelia, we've been worried about you."

"Wes and I," Cordelia mimicked from behind. She laughed harshly. "You think maybe you two could actually give me a break? I can take care of myself and I can make my own decisions. You think because I don't involve you, it means there's something wrong?" She cast an anger bitten gaze at the passing cars, longing to be in one of them, anywhere but where she was. "You know, I survived in this city long before you came along Angel."

Angel resisted the urge of reminding her of the roach infested apartment and Russell Winters, instead he inclined his head slightly, jaw tense, voice calm. "I know that Cordelia."

He subtly raised a hand, motioning it forward. Beside him, Wesley half nodded and eased his foot down on the accelerator. Satisfied that the Englishman would get them back as quickly as possible, Angel switched his gaze to the side mirror, where Cordelia's scowling reflection held his attention. If the teenager were to snap in an open top convertible racing through the city, she wouldn't be easily managed. Not easily managed perhaps, but managed she would be, Angel decided with a confident grimness. Cordelia could scowl and pout all she liked but she was staying put.

If he had to clamber back there and hold her down, she was staying put.

*****************

Cordelia stepped out, slamming the door behind her. She held a hand outright.

"Keys please."

Angel looked at her blankly as he closed his own door with a little more sensitivity to the hinges. "Excuse me?"

Cordelia sighed impatiently. "I don't have my keys. We can't open up without them."

"Right," The vampire dug a hand into his pocket and retrieved his own set. He dropped them into her palm. "Why don't you just…"

She was gone, storming ahead toward the building entrance, keys clutched in her hand.

Angel released a long and completely unnecessary breath. "Christ," he muttered as Wesley circled around the car toward him. "She's not happy."

"No" Wesley agreed, "She's not." He looked at his employer meaningfully. "This isn't even the beginning, Angel."

"I know," the vampire said softly as he watched his young Seer disappear into the building. "I know. I hate this. She's going to hate this."

Wesley shook his head. "Actually Angel, she's mostly going to hate us."

Angel nodded, his eyes fixed on the swinging doorway ahead. "I know that too. But even if she can't forgive me, it's worth it…"

"because she'll be healthy," Wesley finished for him. Clapping the vampire on the back, Wesley said determinedly. "Let's get it done."

Angel straightened, placing a restraining hand on Wesley's chest. "No" he said quietly, equal determination lining his tone, "Get downstairs and secure the place as much as you can. Don't forget the latch window in the bathroom. Then get out of here. Find out what you can about Jarod. Get Dennis to pack a bag for her, drop it by in the morning but make sure and call downstairs first and if I can, I'll come up to you."

Wesley stared at his employer in disbelief. "Angel, you can't be serious. You cannot do this alone."

Angel lifted his head, his eyes unusually gentle. "I have to Wes. Its bad enough that one of us see her this way, it's not fair on her that both of us…" His voice trailed off, his thoughts distant. The vampire shook himself, suddenly purposeful. "Besides" he said, a trace of humor in his tone, "I'll be bad cop, you drop by with clothes and food and you'll be good cop, right?"

Wesley managed a weak smile as he nudged his glasses steady. "You'll call me? For anything at all?"

Angel heaved himself from the car and nodded toward the other man. "I won't need anything." His eyes drifted toward the office windows, resolve replacing dread. "Except time."

Wesley watched the vampire move away, each pace steady. This was perhaps, the Englishman mused, Angel at his best. The vampire was fuelled by determination, a belief in his mission shaping every action, his single mindedness his best ally. Angel would, Wesley knew, bury his affection for Cordelia, ignore her pleading, her rages, her tears, remaining steadfast before her. He would drag her back to them with a tenacity and ferocity of self-conviction that Wesley Wyndham Price could not hope to possess.

Surmising that Cordelia quite simply didn't have a chance, Wesley followed his employer slowly, comforting himself with the hope that perhaps at the end of it all, she would thank them.

********************

The vampire lingered, allowing Wesley time to secure the apartment downstairs. The Englishman finally emerged a bag filled, presumably with medieval weapons in hand. Nodding at Angel, Wesley disappeared, his own job at least for the night, done. Angel paused for a moment, gathering his thoughts, preparing for the night ahead. He pulled the door open finding as expected, an exasperated Seer.

"Finally" she rose to her feet, her expression sour, "It's bad enough that you interrupt my plans for the evening but it takes you twenty minutes to walk from the car? Some of us actually have a life Angel and we tend to live it in the evenings so could you please hurry this up?"

"Sorry about that," Angel said lightly, plucking the keys from her desk. He turned to lock the door. "Wesley decided to do some follow up on the case that came in earlier so we got caught up discussing it. Lets get downstairs, its chilly up here."

"You don't get cold. Dead remember?" Cordelia snapped as he strolled past her. "And what do you mean Wesley decided to do some follow up? Wesley was the one who practically begged me to come over."

"He'll drop by later," Angel swung the elevator door across, pausing to eye the young girl. "I need to check something in the library for him. It won't take long."

Cordelia hesitated for a half breath. Something wasn't quite right. Angel seemed so damn reasonable, relaxed. Wesley had been so insistent, this all felt staged. She regarded her employer carefully, gauging him.

What kind of game is this? What, he thinks I'll stay because he plays at being Mr. Nice for a night?

No chance Angel.

She stalked past him into the elevator, her head high, eyes cold.

Angel stepped beside her, relaxed.

You've got her.

"Fine," she said shortly, her arms crossed. "You do your stupid research, we have our little chat and then I'm out of here."

Angel stepped beside her, silent as he crunched the door across. The elevator whirred downward, it's clanking the only sound and as it rested with a slight thump on the ground floor, Cordelia moved forward to slide the door open, Angel a pace behind.

"Let me just check that information for Wesley first."

Cordelia was walking through to the kitchen. "One hour Angel. I don't care how you use it."

"There's soup in the microwave, it just needs reheating." Angel called after her, inwardly hoping for a favorable response. She was going to need her strength through all this. She needed to eat.

"I already ate" Cordelia lied as she sat down. She glanced around, her gaze automatically settling on a simple etching hanging on the wall opposite. It was framed, having being hung there after careful deliberation and as she looked on it now, Cordelia's eyes burned with an old sorrow, one she hadn't felt in quite some time. And yet it stung just as hard and deep as it had before.

Oh God, Doyle.

She sat frozen, her gaze glued to the penciled drawing, a hand rising to wipe the tears.

"He'd be pretty upset to see you leave us." Angel's voice was low but gentle.

Cordelia smoothed the damp from her cheek, her hand soft. "Doyle would understand," she said quietly, knowing it to be true. Doyle, above everyone, would understand. He had suffered just as she did, every aching torment of the vision, his own. Just as he would understand the ecstasy, the bliss, the freedom of the powder enhanced visions.

"Doyle would get it," she murmured again, finally lifting her gaze from the drawing.

Angel moved forward to lean against the fridge, his arms crossed. "Think so? Seemed to me like he was pretty committed to this place, to what we do."

"Maybe he thought he had no other choice," Cordelia straightened, efficient now, "Maybe he thought that this was all there was."

"And you've found more?" Angel asked softly, his eyes dragging over her tiny frame, her thin drawn face, her eyes charred with misery, worn with weariness.

Cordelia regarded him silently, lips pursed. It wasn't his fault, she realized with sudden clarity, she shouldn't expect him to understand the pain of the visions or the bliss of the powder. He was, in his own blundering way, trying to help her. Cordelia softened, as she looked at him, so earnest there, so very sure that he could help, she couldn't be angry with him for not understanding. She couldn't blame him.

"Yes," she said softly, a small smile on her lips, "I have found more. I can't explain it to you Angel, at least not so you'd understand. But I have found more, more than I ever thought I could and it's time for me to move on."

"With Jarod." There was a familiar edge in his voice.

Cordelia inclined her head gracefully, her eyes held by his own. "Yes, with Jarod."

Angel nodded, his lips twisting into a grimace. "See Cordelia, that’s where we have a problem. If you told me you wanted to leave to pursue your acting career or some other ambition, I'd be upset but I'd let you go. But if this is your plan, to leave with Jarod, I can't let you go. I just can't."

Cordelia shook her head in mild disgust, rising to her feet, pushing her chair aside. "I was crazy to think you could discuss this maturely. I am going to go, tell Wes that I…"

"I can't let you do that Cordelia."

Cordelia lifted her head to glare at him. "Excuse me?"

Angel shifted against the fridge, the movement propelling him forward. "You can't leave Cordelia. Not any time soon. You see we know."

She froze, unable to breath. "What is it you think you know?" she finally managed.

Angel took a step closer, his voice steady, "We know what you've been hiding. The visions, the powder, this Jarod guy. You don't know what you've been playing with Cordelia, that powder makes you ill, really sick. I can't let you leave until I know you're well, till I know you're safe." He edged closer, conscious of her trembling. "You have to trust me on this one Cordelia, can you do that?"

Seeing the sincerity, the meaning and determination in his eyes, Cordelia Chase managed to form one thought.

Run.

PART TWO

| Fiction Search | Home Page | Back |