PART ONE

Disclaimer: All belongs to Joss and David.

 

Body Armour.

 

Run.

The thought became a command, her body whipping around in compliance. The elevator seemed an age away and focusing her eyes upon its sturdy metal door, Cordelia moved toward it, her pace clumsy. She was half way there, her fingers jerking to tug the door sideways when she felt his inevitable touch restraining her. Angel's hand clamped around her upper arm, gentle but insistent, pulling her around.

 

"Cordelia…"

 

She flung herself backward, hoping to loosen his clasp. "Let me go Angel."

 

Grip steadfast, Angel shifted closer, his voice even. "Cordelia, just calm down and listen to me."

 

Cordelia stilled, her breaths shallow. "You're hurting me. Let go."

 

"I will," Angel said gently "Just let me finish. I know you're scared right now, I know that…"

 

"I'm not scared," Cordelia interrupted angrily, her hazel eyes flashed "I'm not even surprised. It's just like you to snoop around, decide you knowing what's going on and make a better than thou, I know what's good for you judgment. You don't know anything about me or Jarod."

 

"I know about the dangers of Kanthros powder." The vampire leaned his head downward, "Do you? Did Jarod explain the risks before he started his hokey pokey on you?"

 

She twisted in his grasp, her eyes filling with frustrated tears. "I don't need to hear this crap."

 

Wrapping his other hand around her free arm, Angel pulled her closer. "Yes you do," he said grimly, "You need to hear this. The powder is addictive, Cordelia, you're an addict. Your new best friend didn't tell you that, did he?"

 

"God, could you just listen to yourself?" Cordelia managed a bitter laugh, her lips trembling, "I make a new life for myself, without you and that makes me an addict?"

 

Angel inclined his head forward. "No, the powder makes you an addict. Withdrawal makes you clean."

 

Everything stopped. Breathing, every nerve and fiber stilled as a slow knowledge crept into her senses.

 

He was serious. He was going to do this.

 

"You can't, you, " she stumbled, the words sticking in her throat. "You can't do this."

 

Angel smiled, a tinge of sadness gathering in his gaze. "I have to do this Cordelia."

 

She shook her head in desperation. "Let me go." His silence fuelling a sudden rage, she pushed against him, her voice elevating to a scream. "Let me the hell go."

 

Stepping back, Angel uncurled his fingers, releasing her arms. She backed away slowly, staring at him blankly, suspicious confusion creeping onto her face. Cordelia cast a panicked wild-eyed glance around the apartment, all the while edging backward, her eyes eventually drifting back to the silent vampire.

 

She paused, struggling to contain the medley of feelings swirling through her, conscious of a rising aching yearning.

 

I need to get out of here. Now.

 

"I've heard what you have had to say Angel." Cordelia's voice shook, "And I am leaving. Don't try to stop me and don't try to contact me again. I don't want to have anything to do with you. Our friendship is finished."

 

He stood perfectly still, his expression calm, eyes unreadable.

 

Cordelia smoothed her hands over her hips anxiously, unsure of what to do. Finally pulling her eyes from that impassive face, she turned away and walked briskly through the apartment. Dipping her head, she ascended the winding back stairs, each shadowed step taken with increased confidence.

 

Nearly there.

 

Reaching the top of the unlit staircase, Cordelia lowered her hand to the door bolt. She smoothed her fingers over the rough rust of the metal and tugged it sideways. It didn't budge. Sliding her other hand beneath to try again, her hand brushed against a new smoother metal. Frowning, Cordelia reached for the added appendage and palming her hand upward, she found herself holding a padlock.

 

A brand new shiny padlock.

 

A small cry of frustration pushed past her lips. Dropping the padlock, she watched the shiny weight disappear into its dark corner. Cordelia spun around and hurtled down the stone steps, pacing her way back through the apartment. Angel stood exactly where she had left him, his arms now crossed, his head bowed. Storming past him, Cordelia raced up the main staircase, pausing half way.

 

Another padlock.

 

Cordelia stared at it, knowing that rage alone wouldn't weaken it. She turned slowly, her slim shoulders stiff. She flickered a gaze to the elevator, unsurprised to find it's door now guarded by a similar lock. She descended the stair, the steps creaking beneath her. Cordelia paused beside the vampire.

 

"Angel," she said in a low voice, that dark burning sparking within. "Give me the keys."

 

He shifted sideways, lifting his head. "I can't do that Cordelia."

 

This isn't happening. This ISN'T happening.

 

The sound of her heartbeat pounded in her ears. "Angel, stop it. Give me the damn keys."

 

Angel straightened and moved away, leaning against the weapons cabinet. "Cordelia, we've been through this part. Why don't you just relax, watch some television or something and we can talk when you have thought this…"

 

"I want OUT OF HERE. NOW!" Her voice pitched to scream, every aching fiber on fire.

 

Angel looked at her, allowing her scream to fade into silence. He glided his hand over the smooth wood of the cabinet, his eyes fixed on the young girl.

 

"That’s not going to happen Cordelia."

 

"No," she said desperately, "This isn't happening." She pulled her hair back, taut as she forced herself to focus. To think. Somewhere in the hot burning muddle that was her mind, she remembered.

 

Phone. 

 

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

 

She was gone running toward the kitchen and Angel guessed as he lifted himself from the sturdy wooden cabinet, toward the phone. He followed her, reaching the kitchen as she fumbled with the receiver, her fingers punching in the numbers. Winding an arm around her tiny waist, the vampire scooped her away from the telephone, knocking the set to the floor. He could unplug it later. Right now, he had to contend with the bundle struggling in his arms. Looping his free arm around her, Angel pulled Cordelia against him.

 

"Stop it" he warned as she kicked against him. "You calm down or I'll put you under a cold shower until you do."

 

His threat evidently held some sway for Cordelia steadied herself, relaxing in his grasp.

 

"I'm sorry," she said a few moments later. "I'm sorry Angel, please just let me go."

 

"Cordelia, you have to…"

 

"Look its not like I can go anywhere is it? You've pretty much seen to that so let me go, and we can talk all right?"

 

Angel relinquished his hold, fully prepared for another flight. Not that she could get very far, he mused as he stepped away, the only other telephone was his cell-phone, protected by its own key-lock. Cordelia was to all intent and purposes, trapped.  

 

She moved a little away, dusting down her trousers, lifting her arms to hug herself, the very picture of vulnerability. She pulled a chair out and sat down, her eyes glued to the floor.

 

"Angel, I know you are worried about me but this, this is crazy. You can't just kidnap me like this. You can't just take control of my life this way." She raised her gaze, hurt and confused, to meet his own. "Don't you think you might be wrong? Don't you think I would know if what you say is true? Don't you think I would know if I was an addict?"

 

Looking at her, her face earnest and honest, Angel felt as though he was seeing his old friend and the tiniest flicker of doubt sparked in his mind.

 

What if she's right?

 

What if the powder isn't addictive in all cases?

 

 What if Wes and I are wrong?

 

 

 

What if I have just kidnapped my best friend for no reason at all?

 

That small spark of uncertainty was quickly extinguished as memories of the recent deceit and lies flooded his mind. Sighing, Angel turned and grabbed the Chronicles of Belejere from the kitchen counter. He flicked through it and finding the relevant passage, leaned across the table, swinging the book toward his young seer.

 

"Read that," he said quietly. "Read that and tell me I am wrong."

 

She did, a scowl settling on her face as her eyes raced through the medieval script. "So some old scroll tells you it's true and you believe it? You listen to some powdered wig dead guy before me?"

 

"Kanthros powder is addictive Cordelia. That’s a fact, I believe in facts. If you're so convinced you don't need the powder, staying here for a few days shouldn't be a problem."

 

Cordelia's grip on the page tightened. "Few days?"

 

"Four at the most" Angel said lightly.

 

"Four days?" Cordelia laughed, the sound brittle. "Angel, you know how crazy you sound?"

 

"If you don't have an addiction, you shouldn't have a problem"

 

"With someone kidnapping me and trying to control my life?" Anger flashed across her face, distorting her features. Bowing her head, Cordelia took a deep breath, evidently assessing her options. When she looked back at him, her expression was one of tight calm.

 

"So what, you're saying if I try to leave, you'll physically stop me, is that it?"

 

Angel nodded. "Pretty much."

 

She smiled grimly. "Fine. Then I really don't have a choice but to stay, do I? Whatever, you want to see that I'm not an addict, that’s what you'll see. But I hope its worth it Angel, because the cost is our friendship." Cordelia flung the Chronicles across the table, watching the book slide off to slap against the fridge with a resounding thud.

 

She rose to her feet, anger brimming. "I'll stay here Angel. But don't expect me to talk to you or want to have anything to do with you now or ever. Save your shrink talking for someone else. From what Faith said, you pretty much suck at that too."

 

Spinning on her heel, she walked away, leaving Angel in the quiet of the kitchen.

 

Wondering just how the hell this was going to work out. "So she agreed to stay?"

 

"I wouldn't say that." Angel said in a low undertone, as he tugged the cell-phone closer to his ear.

 

"Well, what would you say?" Impatience lined Wesley's voice.

 

"I think it was more a case of her accepting she didn't have any other choice. She's in there watching television now."

 

"Have you tried talking with her?"

 

"Wes, I'm lucky if she looks at me. It's been seven hours and so far all I've learned is that our friendship is over, I am a terrible shrink, a waste of dead space and she never once enjoyed my cooking. You getting the picture here?"

 

The Englishman sighed. "Completely. And she hasn't shown any effects of withdrawal yet?"

 

"She looks awful Wesley. She's edgy and fidgety. She can't damn well relax." Angel scratched his head wearily. "It's only starting, you know."

 

"I suppose so." Wesley considered slowly, "You know I am here if you need me, Angel, don't hesitate to, "

 

"I know that Wesley," Angel interrupted quietly, "And I am grateful for it. I don't know how I would manage by myself."

 

"You'd do just fine," the Englishman answered with certainty.

 

"Not so sure about that." Angel hoisted himself to his feet, smoothing the rumpled bedcovers,"I am going to go, try and get her to eat something."

 

"Good luck," Wesley said dryly. "And take care"

 

"Will do."

 

Inspecting the buttons, Angel powered the cell-phone down.

 

"Right then Ms Chase," the vampire murmured as he tucked the phone under his pillow, "Let's see how you're doing."

 

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

 

"Are you all right?"

 

Cordelia stared at the television screen, seemingly absorbed by the documentary on medieval monarchies in Italy. She had managed for the most part, to ignore him for the past five hours, instead occupying herself with the muddled turmoil of her mind. She had assessed the situation from every possible angle, with as much objectivity as she could muster and found herself reaching the same conclusions.

 

She had to get out.

 

That conclusion reached, Cordelia forced herself to answer the difficult questions. Could Angel be right? Was the powder addictive? Was the awful trembling fire in her stomach burning into a desire for powder, for a vision?

 

The barest memory of a vision eased the burning, relieved the fire. And with that, Cordelia had found a simple truth.

 

I don't care. I don't care if he is right. I need the bliss.

 

"Cordelia, are you listening? How are you doing?"

 

I can't get out of here, ignoring him. I can't get anywhere, ignoring him. Let him think we are back on track.

 

She turned her head slowly, her hair smoothed against the soft leather chair. "Not so good."

 

The vampire paused, caught by her unexpected reply. He nodded cautiously. "I guess so. You want to talk about it?"

 

"What's to talk about?" Cordelia turned her eyes back to the flickering screen, her face illuminated by it's light. "I could do with a sandwich though."

 

"Sandwich, right." Angel agreed enthusiastically. He held out his hands, weighing up the possibilities. "You want salad, meat or fish?"

 

"Salad" Cordelia replied. "Cheese salad."

 

"Consider it made" Angel said, his grin unchecked. Cordelia eating was always good, she was far too weight conscious. Cordelia eating right now was great.

 

After all, she was going to need her strength.

 

 

 

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

 

The sandwich looked enormous. Salad sandwiches, Cordelia thought with well-contained disgust, were supposed to be thin and compact. Not overflowing with every vegetable imaginable. Her stomach revolted at the bare idea of a bite. Or was that her head. She felt so damn fuzzy, she wasn't quite so sure.

 

Fuzzy. The clouds had been fuzzy in her vision. They had all intermingled into one giant hazy cloud.

 

Her mouth was so damn dry.

 

"Thank you" Cordelia tugged the plate onto her lap, her fingers clutching the crusty bread roll.

 

She was going to be sick.

 

Aware of his expectant presence, she lifted the sandwich to her lips, forcing herself to take a bite.

 

Chew. Chew till it's nothing at all. Till you barely have to swallow.

 

"It's all right?" Angel queried beside her.

 

Fighting the urge to gag, she swallowed, her eyes fixed firmly on the television set. "Yeah" she managed, barely hearing her words over the pounding pain in her head. "Is there any juice?"

 

He was gone, muttering promises of a variety of fruit juices. Steadying the plate on the side of the chair, Cordelia rose to her feet quietly, her eyes scouring the room.

 

Every weapon, every goddamn ancient sword and stake gone. Weapon cabinet firmly secured.

 

Somewhere in between the roaring muddle of her mind and the sudden shakiness of her body, Cordelia remembered the cleaning box. There was always some battle-muddied weapon flung in there, left for later attention. She swirled, creeping beneath the mahogany table, her trembling fingers lifting the lid, revealing a small knife, layered with a green film. Cordelia eased it from under a half broken crossbow, the marble handle cold in her hot hand.

 

"Cordelia."

 

She was on her feet, moving faster than she had thought possible.

 

Angel stood, a glass of orange juice in his hand, an expression of muted disappointment on his face. Stretching a hand sideways, his eyes never leaving her face, Angel placed the glass beside her plate.

 

"What are you planning to do with that?"

 

His voice was filled with calm, almost soothing the boiling within her. The vampire stood, his stance relaxed, characteristic self-assurance in his voice.

 

"Cordelia?"

 

He stepped closer.

 

She flung the knife outward, her eyes desperately searching the apartment. "Don't. Just don't."

 

Half way through a slow step, Angel paused, his lips twisting into a knowing grimace as he heeled back. He chose his words carefully.

 

Go gentle.

 

"All right. You want to let me in on your plan?"

 

"Just stay there. No, get me the keys or the phone. Get me one of them. No, get me both."

 

Her mouth was on fire, her eyes stinging and she begged for tears to quench the heat.

 

"Cordelia." A hint of worry embraced his tone. "Be careful with that thing, all right? Just drop it, you know you can't hurt me with it."

 

She looked at him, eyes gleaming with cold. "I can hurt myself. I can dig it right into my stomach and then you'll have to let me out. You won't leave me here to bleed all over your nice floor, would you Angel? Stains wouldn't come out. You'd have a hard time explaining that to…"

 

She blinked and he was there, knocking the knife with one smooth tug of her wrist. He kicked it across the floor and she careered past him, her hand stretching for it. Angel reached down and pulled her shrieking form back into a tight hold.

 

So much for the gentle approach, he reflected as he wrapped his arms around her tightly. The young seer was wild with rage, bucking against him for freedom. "Cordelia…" The vampire ducked as an arm freed itself and swung back aggressively. He re-captured it and tried again.

 

"Shush, its okay Cordelia, just relax, please just calm down."

 

Barrages of expletives were his only response. Releasing an unnecessary breath, Angel eased himself back against the wall, gripping her firmly against him and knowing she would tire herself out, the vampire let her fight it out.

 

Cordelia did just that. She fought him, cursed him and struggled against him with all of her might, sudden bouts of energy and rage fuelling her. Holding her easily, Angel remained silent, ignoring every yell and threat, grateful he didn't have neighbors.

 

 

"You can't do this to me. You cannot do this."

 

"You haven't a fucking clue about anything, you know that? Not a fucking clue."

 

"You bastard, I am going to stake you, you hear me?"

 

"Why wouldn't I want to leave? You fucking killed Doyle didn't you?"

 

Cordelia wore herself out and quietened, still wriggling in his grasp. She strained against his arms, her small frame curving away from the vampire. Worried that she might hurt herself, Angel shifted so that she fell back against him. To his surprise, Cordelia didn't resist, instead resting against his chest, her eyes damp. They stayed like that, close together, one strong, the other unbearably weak, the chatter of a talk show, the only sound.

 

She finally spoke, her small voice filled with misery. "Why are you doing this?"

 

Angel squeezed her gently, his chin resting on her head. "Because you need me."

 

She sniffled, releasing a long weary breath. "You don't know what I need. You have no idea."

 

"I know that" Angel acknowledged truthfully. "I know I can't possibly understand what this powder is like. I know that Cordelia. But I know you need help and I am going to give it to you, whether you like it or not. Its not going to be easy and I am guessing we'll have a few more bouts before we get there but we will Cordelia. I promise it will get better."

 

"Angel, I need to go" Cordelia whimpered, her head suddenly light. "Please don't make me stay, please just help me. Let me go."

 

"I can't do that, I…"

 

She weakened in his arms, her faltering sudden.

 

"Angel," she murmured, her voice almost incoherent, "I don't feel so good."

 

"All right, its okay." Angel unwrapped an arm and gently lowered her to the ground. Her head flew forward, almost slapping against the ground. Angel palmed her hot forehead back, sweeping her hair back from her moist face.

 

"I'm here Cordelia. I'm here."

 

The young girl leaned forward, retching. "Angel, I …" She vomited violently, her stomach flipping every content forward, her throat aching with the effort.

 

"Oh God," she cried intermittedly, hot tears rolling down her face, her body limp, "Oh please God."

 

Angel placed a cool hand on her back, rubbing her gently, images of every way he would like to torture Jarod racing through his maddened mind.

 

"It's all right Cordelia," he soothed, a helpless hand on her back, "I'm here."                                                           

 

Stroking long strands of hair from her flushed face, whispering low comforts, Angel tended to his young Seer as best he could. He had managed to carry her to the bathroom where the bout of vomiting continued for almost twenty minutes, the constant retching exhausting her.

 

She lay against him now, spent, her body limp with lethargy.

 

He slipped an arm from behind her. "Cordelia, I'll be back in a minute all right? Just rest there."

 

She didn't respond, didn't acknowledge him but simply sat there, her hazel eyes hollowed by exhaustion.

 

"One minute." Angel affirmed needlessly as he left her, reluctance in his step.

 

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

 

Cordelia groaned as another wave of nausea swept through her. The young seer bent forward, long dark hair circling her face. Cordelia clutched her waist as cramps tightened her lurching stomach, a low moan escaping her and she closed her eyes, willing some semblance of equilibrium to settle in her body.

 

And then he was back, crouching beside her.

 

"Cordelia, take a sip."

 

She opened her eyes, a glass of water greeting her. Her stomach flipped.

 

"I can't," she croaked, wrinkling her nose in revulsion. "Angel please just…"

 

He tilted her chin up, guiding the glass to her lips. "Just one sip."

 

Incapable of fighting him on this one, Cordelia's lips parted obediently, cool water gushing into her mouth. She swallowed, wetting her parched, grating throat.

 

"Good girl," Angel said quietly, lowering the glass to the tiled floor. He studied the young girl before him in silence, his eyes drinking in the terrifying sight that was Cordelia Chase. "How are you doing Cordy?" he asked quietly.

 

The question tickled her and she smiled, her head lolling back, immediately steadied by his hand.

 

"Just great," she slurred, her world fading to black. "Just great."

 

"Cordelia, Cordelia, look at me."

 

"Cordelia."

 

Two hands grabbed her shoulders, shaking her violently.

 

"Cordelia Chase, you look at me right now."

 

Her head snapped up, eyes blazing. "Stop that. Leave me the hell alone."

 

Angel took a long and completely unnecessary breath. "Well, quit going to sleep on me."

 

Cordelia felt her brief energy drain away. "I feel tired."

 

The vampire nodded in understanding as he reached behind him, producing a dark colored garment. One of his t-shirts. "I know. Let's get you cleaned up and you can go lie down all right?"

 

She shook her head weakly, the barest idea of moving far too awful to contemplate. "Angel, please just leave me be, you don't understand, I feel like I…"

 

Angel paused, the t-shirt half straightened in his hands. "Like what?"

 

She focused on him, her eyes boiling with a parching aridity. "Like I'm on fire. Every single bit of me."

 

Cordelia could have told him about her pounding head, her pain twisted stomach, her tingling arms or the fact that she could feel every fiber in her body ache. She could have told him, had she been able to distinguish one agony from the other. As it was, they all melded into one utter misery.

 

Not that it mattered. Angel knew of all the symptoms and more to come, courtesy of Wesley.

 

"I know Cordelia," he said softly, moving closer. "I'm going to help you feel better."

 

"The powder," she murmured, her teeth clenched as another cramp dug into the pit of her stomach. "Angel, please, the powder."

 

He was lifting her top, ignoring her whimpered protests, Cordelia's hot skin tilting back against the blessedly cool tiles. And then he was moving her forward, guiding her into his t-shirt, a familiar smell of Angelness enveloping her. He lifted her effortlessly, leaning her against him, tugging her trousers from her waist, slipping the t-shirt over her hips.

 

"Angel" His name stumbled from her mouth. "Please just call Jarod for me, please I just need…"

 

Angel held her tightly, looping an arm around her to support her weakened frame, ignoring her quiet pleading. He had been dreading this part, fearful that his ability to care for her would fail him. Angel knew his strengths. He was good at brooding. He was really good at fighting demons and ogres. He was quite confident he would be a terrible carer and yet it felt entirely natural, almost instinctive to take care of Cordelia. Seeing her this way quite simply, hurt him. The vampire felt a hundred other emotions, anger and fear, protectiveness and misery, but at the root of it all, lay a deep and abiding hurt.

 

Cordelia was almost broken.

 

So this part wasn't that bad, after all. He could fix this, help her. He hadn't been wrong.

 

She had needed him.

 

Planting a sudden kiss on her damp, sweat lined head, Angel lowered her back to the floor and turning, he reached for the shower cord.

 

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

 

The sound of splattering water roused her a little, a dim horror breaking through. "Oh God, Angel no please, just leave me."

 

Head spinning, Cordelia rose unsteadily. She tottered toward the open doorway, strong arms pulling her back. The seer hunched up in his grasp, raising her arms, wriggling away.

 

"Come on Cordelia," the vampire said firmly, lifting her from her feet. He turned toward the shower.

 

She buried herself in his arms. "You don't understand it burns, it burns so bad."

 

"It will make you feel better pet, I promise," Angel soothed, pulling back the shower curtain. The vampire stepped inside, carrying her over the edge of the bath, lowering her to her feet. She clung to him, her small hands fisting against his chest.

 

"Angel, please don't make me do this. I'll do anything you want, just please."

 

Forcing himself to remember the reasons he was doing just this, Angel stepped forward, forcing her back under the water. She screamed as the water hit her skin, the pain-filled sound ripping through him, tearing him into little pieces. He held her close, her drenched t-shirt soaking him.

 

"Shush Cordelia, it will get better, I promise. Just hang on in there."

 

Cordelia sobbed relentlessly, the agonizingly cold water assaulting her burning, boiling skin. The pain overwhelmed her, rocketing turmoil through every sense. She turned inward sinking into despair, closing off every feeling. The pain, as Angel had promised, subsided, her skin chilled to a bearable heat, the water a welcome relief. She stood there, a dripping sopping mess, fingers wrapped in Angel's shirt. 

 

Cordelia Chase had hit rock bottom.

 

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

 

Cordelia sat on the edge of the bed, silently quivering, her small frame rattling with every breath. She hadn't uttered a single word since Angel had carried her from the bathroom. Not a syllable when he gently smoothed droplets of water from her pink skin, nor a murmur when he eased her into warmed, dry clothes.

 

When she finally spoke, her voice was low and hushed. "I can't do this Angel."

 

The vampire paused and then resumed untangling her hair with smooth sweeps of her silver hairbrush. "Yes you can," he promised quietly, "You can do this."

 

Cordelia shook her head sorrowfully, turning to him slowly. Her face shimmered with desperation, eyes filled with tumultuous disquiet. "No Angel, I can't." She took a long shaky breath, her lips twitching nervously.

 

"You're right." The confession hurt, carving her apart. "I know you're right about the powder. I have a need. I feel a need." Cordelia faltered, confusion engraved on her face. She lifted her eyes, a strange knowledge filling her hazel gaze. "I know you're right but what you are asking me to do? I can't Angel. I'm not like you. I've never been like you. I haven't ever beaten anything in my life. I can't beat this."

 

Angel shook his head. "You're wrong. You can beat this Cordelia," he smiled, suddenly, briefly. "You've accepted you have a problem. That’s the first step out of the tunnel."

 

Cordelia laughed, the sound harsh, hard. "Tunnel? There's no tunnel Angel. This, what Jarod showed me, this is my life. This is the meaning in my life. I don't want to walk away from it Angel. I can't walk away from it."

 

"You have to."

 

"I won't." Cordelia said calmly. She reached back, flinging her damp hair behind her shoulders. "I know the risks Angel. I understand the dangers. Don't you see? If anything, you've convinced me that my choices, my decisions were right. Jarod should have told me about the side effects. He should have warned me of the potential consequences."  She paused, moistening her lips.

 

"But knowing all this, I would still choose him."

 

Angel stared at her, a horrible comprehension dawning upon him. This was the Cordelia he knew, her steely determination, grim resolve apparent in every word, every pale feature. She meant each word.

 

She can't think straight. The drug, the illness, she couldn't think rationally. And yet, the vampire knew. This was the depth to which he had allowed her to fall, these were the burdens the powder had lifted. It wasn't Jarod alone who had guided Cordelia away from her friends, from the only family she really had. He had done this. He had left her drifting, hurtling through nothingness, coping with the visions and Doyle and the nightmares that appeared in their office every other week.

 

"I know you mean it." Angel said finally, his voice pained. "I know you do but I am going to get you back. I'm going to get you back to where you'll change your mind. To where you'll choose me."

 

Cordelia smiled softly, his ignorance almost amusing her. "It doesn't work that way Angel. I can't go back to her. I've seen too much. I've felt too much. And I've found the escape."

 

"An escape that could kill you." Angel interjected angrily.

 

"Without it." Cordelia returned quietly. "There is no living. Not for me."

 

 Angel shook his head again, promise in the movement. "I won't let you go."

 

That small smile again. "In the end, you'll have to."

 

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

 

Cordelia grew quiet, accepting the impasse between them. With a final silent glance, she curled back onto the bed, closing her eyes. Her limp body shivered, heaving shudders wracking her bones. Unearthing blankets from the closet, Angel smothered her with warmth, somehow hoping to alleviate the icy cold gripping his young seer. Cordelia thanked him, her voice small and tired. Sleep slowly overtook her, restlessness haunting her in slumber, low whimpers a testament to her disquiet.

 

The vampire stood guard, watching over her.

 

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

 

"Angel you can't give up."

 

"I have no intention of giving up Wesley" Angel said impatiently, opening the bag of blood with one fumbling hand. "I am just saying that she seemed pretty damn sincere. I don't know if I can get her back this way."

 

"What do you suggest then? Turn her back to Jarod and hope she reaches enlightenment by herself because…"

 

"Lose the Giles tone Wes. I know what you're saying all right? Have you found anything else?"

 

"Well," Wesley cleared his throat, always a sign he had news to tell, "I have managed to investigate our friend Jarod."

 

Angel squeezed the bag tightly. "And?"

 

"And he has been in L.A. for the past two years. He has worked as a spiritualist in a healing center outside the city."

 

"A spiritualist."

 

"Apparently quite a good one. Donations to the center increased dramatically after his arrival. But there's more. Jarod spent three years in Tibet studying an ancient religion Pacar."

 

The vampire's brow creased. "Pacar? That doesn't sound familiar."

 

"No reason why it should. The last Pacar tribe died out over eight hundred years ago. The tribe was composed of seers dedicated to learning more about their gift. For centuries, they used their visions to aid their people, to guide the communities in judgment. From the ancient writings, it appears that some of the seers clamored for a greater use of their powers. They rebelled against the chieftain's teachings and began to expand their visions. Their subsequent experimentation led to insanity among the chief rebels and a massacre ensued, killing the entire tribe."

 

Angel digested this new piece of information. "And Jarod studied these people."

 

"He did" Wesley confirmed grimly. "It would appear he was an avid student, teasing out the seers various experiments."  

 

"The powder" Angel said, almost to himself.

 

"That's not all" Wesley continued, his voice serious, "The ultimate aim of the rebels was clear. They wanted to achieve Kancelev."

 

"Kancelev?"

 

"It roughly translates as 'carrier of power'. The rebels believed that by accessing the expanded visions, a seer could ultimately control the events they saw. Change them. Instead of being messengers for the Powers that Be…"

 

"They become the Powers that Be." Angel finished softly. 

 

"In essence. Jarod was trying to become a PTB, control the future, and shape the events around him. He could only have a small window of opportunity in which he could have done so, inevitably the powder would have destroyed Cordelia."

 

"As well that bastard knew." Angel glanced down at his damp hand, blood splattered drying between his fingers.

 

I wish that damn bag were Jarod. This blood, his blood.

 

The vampire reveled in a sudden cold urge to kill, old habits rising to the fore. He subdued the darkest thoughts and returned his attention to Wesley.

 

"He won't give up you know Angel," the Englishman was advising. "Cordelia is the only seer of the PTB, to the best of my knowledge and as such, Jarod will be anxious to get her back."

 

Angel moved toward the sink and turning the taps, he watched the water gush, cleansing his soiled hand. The blood dripped, diluted, away, the metal sink briefly reddened.

 

"He's human right? I didn't sense any demon parts."

 

"He's human" Wesley established with certainty. "But that doesn’t mean he's not dangerous. After all it's not as though you can simply kill him."

 

"If he tries to hurt Cordelia." Angel said evenly, his fingers cold under the flowing water. "I'll drain him dry."

 

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

 

Elusive and fleeting, lucidity taunted her. She was sweat drenched, the damp cloth on her forehead only serving to relocate the heat into her burning cheeks.

 

Somewhere, in the darkness, he moved.

 

It wasn't supposed to be this hot. It was supposed to be cool or at least bearably warm. Cordelia could remember days when it had been bitterly cold. Her cheeks icy and numb. Switzerland. It had been cold in Switzerland. Her ski had broken. Mom had laughed.

 

'It's all right sweetie. Once you're all right. Have them bring up another set.'

 

Xander had been cold. Afterward. She had burned him with her heat.

 

"You're the useless part of the group. You're the Zeppo. 'Cool', Look it up. It's something that a sub literate that’s repeated twelfth grade three times has and you don't."

 

She had burned him deep. But he had done the same, hadn't he? She couldn't quite remember.

 

He moved closer, his shadow melting in the darkness.

 

The light switched on.

 

"Too bright," she protested. "Too bright. My eyes are on fire."

 

He whispered something, his words a wind in her ears, his gaze digging into her.

 

"Stop that" Cordelia ordered crossly, jerking back indignantly. "You mustn't do that."

 

He paused.

 

She shook her head, her sweat lined hair loose. "You couldn't be expected to understand," she told him confidently. "Mom wouldn't allow you to ski."

 

Her fingernails tugged the sheet from around her body, freeing her. "You shouldn't anyhow, its dangerous, you know."

 

He spoke again and though the wind still howled, this time she understood. "Why's that Cordy?"

 

She smiled kindly, not wishing to upset him. "Because people die that way. They die. There's only minutes left and one great leap decides everything. He can't come back after the leap you know."

 

"I know" Angel said softly, lifting a hand to smooth the dampness from her cheeks. "I know sweetheart."

 

Cordelia nodded sadly. "It's bad luck all right, if you only saw the..." she halted, her eyes widened, a sudden clenching pain driving through her

 

"Too bright" she gasped as her mind exploded with a hundred different images.

 

" Far too bright."

 

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

 

Cordelia nestled against his chest, her eyes vacant, her mumblings incoherent. The twelve hours of almost constant hallucinations had finally faded, leaving her a rambling stricken mess. Angel held her close, arms wrapped tightly around her.

 

He wasn't sure it helped her. It helped him. She was safe in his arms. Nothing would hurt her here. He wouldn't ever allow anything to hurt her again.

 

She was safe.

 

Enjoying her warmth, relishing the small hands clutching his arms, her head curved against his chest, Angel allowed himself to relax. Morning had arrived hours earlier, an anxious Englishman having spent it pacing the kitchen and peering into the rumpled bedroom, witnessing Cordelia's agony with a grief private to himself. Wesley had watched her swamped with foreign visions, struggling for freedom, her small body easily held by the vampire. She had called to him, her voice broken.

 

"Wesley please, stop him. He's hurting me Wes. You have to help me. Please God, just help me."

 

The Englishman had done his best to soothe her, allowing Angel a few moments respite, whispering comforts he was sure wouldn't help. But she had calmed and smiled longingly, intertwining his fingers through her own.

 

"We can't keep secrets from each other."

 

Wesley had returned a warm smile, hoping to somehow comfort that wistful face. "We won't Cordelia, we won't."

 

She had slept then, intermittedly, occasional bouts of rage, fear and pain rousing her. And all the while, Angel had tended to her gently, caring for her lovingly, while Wesley, for the first time in years prayed for their girl.

 

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

 

It had been one hell of a day.

 

Long hours punctured by rare minutes of fitful sleep, the evening passed. Cordelia had descended into an abyss of dark pain, her cries awful howls of agony, disturbing the otherwise deathly quiet of the apartment. Lonely and distant, she keened in the approaching darkness, flinching from touched, locked in a private despair. All the while Angel hovered close by, administering remedies remembered from two centuries of watching the living tend to their ill.

 

Finally, mercifully, her hazel eyes fluttered closed and her breathing slowed, regular now, nightmares lost in a peaceful sleep.

 

I just hope she hangs on to some of that peace. She damn well needs it.

 

"Here."

 

A warm mug was pushed into his hand, a sudden heat tingling his palm. Thoughts disturbed, Angel glanced sideways.

 

"Thanks Wesley."

 

Wesley, pale and gaunt, managed a weary nod. "I was afraid you'd head for the warmest snack if you didn't eat soon."

 

Angel smiled crookedly as he inspected the contents of the mug. "You're safe Wesley. I'm not all that partial to British blood."

 

"Glad to hear it," Wesley responded dryly, dropping onto the leather sofa behind, his eyes drifting toward the bedroom. He propped his legs upon the small coffee table. "You should relax Angel, she'll be out for a few hours."

 

"I hope so," Angel swallowed, the blood sneaking warmth all the way to his stomach. "She needs some rest."

 

"She'll get it," Wesley said confidently as he placed his hands behind his head. "The human body may be resilient but it needs sleep. Cordelia can't fight that natural urge."

 

"I don't see why not." Angel drained the last of the blood and sat back with a groan. "She's fighting just about everything else." He shifted uncomfortably, wincing as weary muscles ached in protest. "I'm just glad I haven’t had the chance to teach her those self defense moves she used to harp on about. I'm so damn tired, I think she might just about floor me."

 

Wesley quietly smiled at the idea. "Slightly melodramatic, don't you think?"

 

Angel shot the Englishman a pointed look. "You try wrestling with her for two days."

 

Wesley shook his head. "I don't think I could Angel. I don't think anyone could do the job you've done these past few days. You truly have been a good friend to Cordelia, more than a friend."

 

"Family" Angel murmured absentmindedly. "I'm family. At least the only family she has around    here."

 

"I suppose so," Wesley answered thoughtfully. "She hardly ever mentions her…" The Englishman jumped, startled by the vampire's sudden lurch forward. Angel was on his feet, standing perfectly still, attentive and alert.

 

"Angel," Wesley stood cautiously, casting a slow gaze around the apartment. "What is it?"

 

Angel turned quietly, his eyes raised upward. "I hear something."

 

Wesley frowned. "Something?"

 

Angel stepped past him, tension tightening his expression. "Someone," he amended, sparing a glance backward. He turned back to Wesley, full brief attention on the Englishman. "Stay with her. Don't leave her."

 

"But Angel," Wesley hissed at his employer's back, "Why don't you wait, at least grab a…"

 

The vampire was gone, having disappeared up the spiral staircase with characteristic stealth.

 

"Damn bloody fool," Wesley muttered darkly. Hurrying toward the weapon chest, the ex Watcher unlocked it and rummaged around for his favorite crossbow. Gripping it tightly, he moved toward the bedroom doorway and dropping down, the Englishman sat and waited.                         

 

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

 

Slipping the padlock from the door bolt, Angel gently nudged the door ajar, half expecting a creaky protest to break the silence. Relaxing in the quietness, Angel eased his way through the half opened door, pausing to close it with ginger care. He moved forward, his eyes searching the night. The main door to Angel Investigations swung open with a light touch and stepping inside the main office, the vampire easily identified his visitor.

 

"Hello Jarod."

 

Angel watched with quiet satisfaction as the intruder jumped and whirled in the darkness, his eyes fruitlessly hunting him. The vampire inched forward, relishing his intimidating entrance. He cut a formidable figure he knew as he stepped from the blackness enveloping him, his eyes as dark as the night.

 

"Angel." Jarod's voice was steady, no hint of fear there.

 

That would change.

 

Angel drew to a halt, fixing an appallingly direct gaze on the other man. "You want something Jarod?"

 

Jarod glanced slowly around the office, his eyes finally falling on Cordelia's muddled desk. "I came to see a friend."

 

Angel shrugged slightly, flippantly. "No friend of yours here. There never was."

 

Jarod inclined his head politely. "I beg to differ. Cordelia is a dear friend to me."

 

"Cordelia." Angel's tone grew dangerously quiet, "will never see you again. You won't attempt to see or speak with her or contact her in any way. Ever again. You dispose of every ounce of powder you've got, you keep your nose clean and you'll keep breathing. Are you understanding what I'm saying here Jarod? Because I'd hate for there to be any confusion on this."

 

Jarod smiled thinly, resting a hand on the edge of the desk. "Still making decisions for her, Angel? Don't you think she's entitled to think for herself?"

 

"I think you don't know anything about Cordelia. Or me. I think you should be grateful I'm not dissecting you limb by limb right now."

 

"But you don't have time right?" Jarod's lips twisted into a sneer. "Too busy playing white knight to…"

 

A hard-hitting punch silenced him, knocking him into a backward stumble. Jarod grunted, pulled himself up and promptly slipped back, his head slapping against the wooden floor. His eyes groggily focused on a pair of black shoes planted in front of him.

 

"Maybe you're right." Angel said from above, cold control gripping his voice. "Maybe I should take the time now."                                               

 

The vampire reached down and hauled the other man to unsteady feet. "See Jarod, I was going to wait. Make sure that Cordelia was okay before I went looking for you." Angel peered at the shorter man. "You hearing me okay, Jarod? You're looking a little groggy there."

 

Heaving short shallow breaths, Jarod lifted a vehement gaze to the vampire.

 

Angel shook his head sorrowfully. "You know it's rude not to answer a question. I hate bad manners." He hit Jarod again, his savage punch sending the man reeling. Angel watched him fall back, blood and saliva spluttering onto the floor. A cold calm settled in the vampire as he matched Jarod's retreat, his eyes never leaving the shaking body.

 

"You want to answer me now Jarod? Hmm?" His shoe swung through the air colliding with the other man's underbelly.

 

Jarod groaned horribly, his hands flying to his stomach. "Please."

 

"Please what Jarod? Please will I let you live long enough to destroy someone else? Please leave your tongue in your mouth so you can lead someone to the hell Cordelia's in? See, those options just don't appeal to me Jarod." Angel hunkered down, his hands on his knees. "Killing you or at least maiming you badly, those are the choices that appeal to me."

 

"The PTB have a…" Jarod dragged a painful breath, "real gem in you."

 

He was rewarded with another punch, this time sending him hurtling into the base of the filing cabinet.

 

"Yeah, you were checking out job opportunities with the PTB weren't you Jarod?" Angel lifted the man and began to dust down his shirt with deliberate care. "Some aspirations there, haven't you? Becoming one of them. Your high school counselor ever tell you, that you were over ambitious?"

 

Contempt sparked in the human's gaze. "Why not? You disgust me, so passively acceptant of their existence. Never questioning, never wondering what their purpose is, what it could be."

 

"So you decided to use Cordelia to find that out for yourself huh?" Angel leaned closer. "You knew what it would do to her."

 

Jarod sank back almost imperceptibly. "It had to be done," he said finally, flatly. "I didn't want to hurt her but every cause has its sacrifice. She was, still is, mine." Somewhere between the bleeding and aching, Jarod mustered up some courage. "You can't change anything, you know. She will come back to me."

 

The vampire drew back, considering this. He surveyed the other man, his expression darkly thoughtful.

 

"I'm guessing," Angel said as he shoved the other man across the office, "She won't find you if you're dead."

 

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

 

He pounded with expert skill, each blow delivering deadly pain. The human skull was so damn fragile. Back in the days of Angelus, he had known a hundred ways of keeping someone conscious in torture.

 

Nothing worse than a victim who can't appreciate your talent.

 

He could smell the blood on his knuckles, feel the bruising beneath each blow.                                                                                          

 

And still the hatred consumed him.

 

"Angel."

 

The voice, calm, cool and familiar tugged him back. Reining the demon in, Angel turned slowly to see Wesley standing in the unlit doorway.

 

"I told you to stay with her," he rasped.

 

Wesley ignored him and instead stepped inside. "You've done enough here Angel."

 

Angel managed a tired laugh. "I couldn't if I tried, Wesley."

 

Wesley nodded in understanding. "You can't make her feel better up here. Just yourself."

 

Angel shifted back, turning to gaze down at the huddled form at his feet. Broken and battered, Jarod was easing his way to his knees. Glancing back at Wesley, the vampire nodded shortly.

 

"I know."

 

He crouched down, gently tilting Jarod's head up to face him. He waited as the other man focused bleary eyes upon him before speaking.

 

"Don't ever come back here. She belongs with me, you understand me? Don't ever come near her again. You do and I'll feed your liver to my neighbors dog, you got that?"

 

"You… can't … stop… the… inevitable." The words slurred through broken teeth, were defiant.

 

Angel rose to his feet. "You've been warned," he said quietly. "Don't be here when I come back."

 

Moving silently away, Angel passed Wesley without a backward glance. The Englishman stared, transfixed by the human misery struggling on the floor.

 

Jarod twisted his neck, his smile manic through pain. "You going to… watch or… you… going to help..."

 

Wesley swallowed a sudden rush of bile. "I'd rather leave but first a word of advice? Listen to what he said. Next time, I won't be here and he won't be as merciful."

 

"You're… a … fool…"

 

"Actually," Wesley tore his eyes away and he turned to follow Angel downstairs. "I suspect history will judge the man who tried to steal the seer from the souled vampire as the blithering idiot."

 

 

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

 

 

He slurped greedily, the chilled blood trickling down his throat, each gulp cold and clotted. Angel dropped the crumpled bag into the blood-splattered sink and heaved a long breath, his head bowed.

 

"He'll get over it." Wesley remarked quietly from the kitchen entrance.

 

Angel stiffened before straightening slowly. "I don't want him to," he answered in a low voice. The vampire turned, his face dark and haunted. His penetrating eyes drifted over the other man's face and he sought some silent permission to continue, to confess the darkness within. "I don't want him to get over it Wesley. I want to find him crippled, with maybe a few bones left for me to break. I want to kill him." He paused, his voice strangled in a guilty pitch. "I wanted to kill him."

 

Angel willed a reaction of contempt, of complete and utter revulsion.

 

Willed a reaction to the beast.

 

To himself.

 

Instead, his admission was rewarded with a shake of a very British head. "You didn't kill him Angel." Wesley reminded his friend gently. "He's still very much alive."

 

The vampire shrugged helplessly, his expression tight and pained. "You don't get it Wes," he explained finally, brown eyes burdened with self-disgust, "I still want him dead. If you hadn't have come along when you did, I might have…"

 

"You might have killed him," Wesley agreed as he leaned back against the wall. "That doesn't make you Angelus."

 

The vampire's stomach twisted, a knot tightening as a horrible knowledge possessed him. "I know," Angel almost whispered under the weight of this terrible wisdom. "It makes me worse."

 

"Nonsense," Wesley replied firmly. "Angel if you plan on torturing yourself for the next week, let me know and I will go now. I don't intended staying around to watch you play the martyr act."

 

Angel's head whipped up.  "I'm not…"

 

"Yes you bloody are," Wesley continued sharply. He shifted his weight from the wall, propelling himself to steady feet. "It wasn't a demon who beat Jarod up there, Angel. It was a man. A man defending his best friend, protecting someone else from the hell she's been put through." Wesley regarded Angel, a weary smile on his lips. "Don't you see Angel? What you did up there was a very human thing to do. It’s the price of family you see, that burning urge to guard them, fight for them. Those emotions, those feelings aren't demonic."

 

"Wesley," Angel said softly, "I might have killed him."

 

"Any man might have." Wesley returned. "Any demon would have, without question, without conscience, without reason and without remorse. Don't feel guilty over this one, Angel. There are many that couldn't have walked away the way you did."

 

The vampire relaxed, minutely, just enough to allow his muscles uncurl from their wrenching tightness. There would be time for self-recriminations later and possibly, Angel considered with grim humor, the occasional fit of martyrdom. For now though, he was needed elsewhere. Nodding slowly, the vampire cleared his mind, forcing focus as he asked, "How is she?"

 

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

 

She was asleep, sound in slumber. Damp curls fell around her face, tousled hair sticking to her clammy cheeks. Angel bent down beside her and smoothed them away, untangling soft knots with his fingers.

 

"She looks better."

 

"She's over the worst." Wesley confirmed from the doorway. "The cravings will subside completely over the next day or two and toward the end of the week, she'll feel a little more like herself again."

 

Angel rested his hand on the back of her head. "Who's that then?"

 

Wesley furrowed his brow. "Excuse me?"

 

"Cordelia told me there was no going back. Things wouldn't be the same again. That they couldn't ever be."

 

Reluctant acceptance in his voice, Wesley offered slow consolation. "She may be right, but then again, perhaps she won't remember much and you know…"

 

His voice drifted away, lost in the sudden palpable silence.

 

"Wesley," Angel finally spoke, his voice calm and even. "You should head home. Get some rest."

 

Wesley thought to argue, to offer some other assistance, however meaningless. Instead he nodded pointlessly at his employer's back. "All right then. I'll see you in the morning."

 

The vampire didn't answer but instead seemed to melt further into the surrounding darkness. The Englishman stepped back and moved away quietly, leaving Angel to watch over Cordelia.

 

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

 

                        

 

He wrapped an arm around her waist, carefully pulling her toward him. Her head dropped forward, resting against his chest and her small hand brushed against his leg, her breathing steady all the while. Content sleep would keep her safe, Angel closed his own eyes, just for a moment. For a bare minute.

 

When he woke fifteen hours later Cordelia was gone. 

 

 

 

The bed howled under the vampire's hurtling weight as Angel scrambled to his feet, unraveling the cumbersome duvet from around his body while he moved, swift paces carrying him into the living room. 

 

"Cordelia?" His eyes feverishly darted around the room, finding nothing there to pacify the gnawing fear digging into every bone. "Goddamnit, goddamnit. Godamnit." Clenching his quivering jaw, Angel forced himself to calm and consider the possibilities.

 

The padlock on the upper door. Damn thing had been rusty when he put it on.

 

Whirling around, Angel pounded up the staircase, his hand grabbing the wooden banister, feet leaping three steps at a time. Dulled with orange rust, the padlock was sturdily intact, the door secured steadfastly.

 

Spiral staircase.

 

He turned with an impatient growl, his jumbled thoughts already racing ahead.

 

Where would she go? How long was she gone? What the hell would she do to herself this time?

 

The vampire paused, his hand clutching the dark banister as he drew to a sudden halt, hurry forgotten. He stiffened, every sense alert and aware as he lifted his head toward the bathroom opposite. The door was slightly ajar, a thin slice of light glimmering beneath the doorframe. His body slowed, Angel descended the final few steps, his gaze locked on the door ahead. Easy stealth in every footfall, the door creaked beneath his touch, moaning a soft whine as it pushed inward.

 

She stood staring ahead, her pale reflection gleaming in the solitary mirror. Her hands dangled by her side, hazel eyes unblinking.

 

"Cordelia," Angel edged inside, caution in his step. "You had me worried."

 

She didn't move. "I didn't always look this way. I remember not looking this way." Cordelia spoke in a monotone, her face expressionless, those haunted eyes gliding over her pale image seeking some solace there.

 

Finding none.

 

Finding nothing. A gap, a void, vacancy. She was empty, bled dry of anything resembling life. She could remember more than this. Somewhere in the cold recesses of her mind, tiny sparks of warmth reminded her.

 

"Cordelia," His soft voice hummed in her ear. "Lets go and sit down all right?"

 

"I used to be more than this, didn't I?" She turned limply, her exhausted eyes settling on the man opposite. "You remember, don't you?"

 

Angel surveyed her quietly, guilt, grief and a thousand regrets carved onto his somber face.

 

Before L.A. Before Doyle. Before the damn visions.

 

"I remember."

 

She drank in his sorrow, those features marred by a dark weight, his face stricken, broken. A new agony in his eyes.

 

Had she done this? Had she cluttered him with sadness? She moved closer wonderingly, her small hand fluttering to his cheek. "Did I do this?" she murmured, her eyebrows dipping in mild bewilderment.

 

Angel stayed still, subduing the hope building inside. This might be nothing more than a dream to her. She may not be home yet. "Do what Cordelia?"

 

"Burden you. Make your eyes so heavy." Cordelia said softly, smoothing his skin with her outturned hand.

 

Angel swallowed, a harsh ache burrowing into his throat. "Not you," he managed, his voice breaking, "Not ever you Cordelia."

 

Cordelia raised her eyes, scanning his face for the truth of his words. His face, so familiar now, every feature stamped on her heart.

 

How had she forgotten? How had she forgotten him?

 

Her face crumpled in sudden grief, her back shaking with a half breath. "Angel. Angel, what have I… " She faltered, voice failing her. "What have I done? What have…"

 

Angel caught her and held her to him, strong arms wrapped around her shuddering body. "It's fixed," he promised her fiercely, "Its fixed now."

 

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

 

Hearing the bathroom door click open, Angel paused mid-pace and busied himself with the bookshelf, turning calmly as her footsteps padded closer. His young seer stood in front of him, looking a little lost in a pair of oversized tracksuit bottoms and a long shirt, her long hair damp and unruly.

 

Angel clapped his hands together briskly. "Feeling fresher?"

 

Cordelia smiled tightly. "Yeah. I do." She eyed the coffee table wryly. "Expecting an army?"

 

The vampire tilted his head self-consciously. "Well, you know, you haven't eaten in a while and I wasn't sure what you'd like so…"

 

"You made a lot of everything." Cordelia finished as she squeezed past the laden table, dropping onto the sofa behind. She sat back and tucked her feet beneath her.

 

"Something like that." Angel replied sheepishly. He followed her path, taking a seat beside her, his larger frame crouching forward, one hand linked through the other. His voice dropped to a soft low. "So, how are you doing?"

 

Cordelia sighed grimly. "Oh boy." Distress bit into her tone. "I really must be in trouble, you're using your 'speak nice to the helpless person' voice.

 

Angel shook his head, staring ahead, the silver lining of the leather bound books catching his eye. "You're not helpless Cordelia," he told her evenly. "You've never been helpless."

 

A distant thought curled in her mind as she remembered the faces of those who had sought Angel's help in the past. The desperation, the panic, the cold curdling fear in their eyes.

 

"Yes I am," she admitted in a whisper. Cordelia waited as he leaned back and shifted his head sideways. His brown eyes wandered across her face, filling with understanding as they recognized her intent.

 

"I wanted out of here so badly." Cordelia began haltingly. She pulled her drifting thoughts together, fingernails digging into the back of her hands, that small pain blessing her with focus. "I still want out. When I was in the shower, I thought of a million ways to escape. Not one brilliant Shawshank redemption escape among them." She stared at him meaningfully. "But if there was one, I'd be gone."

 

Angel nodded in thoughtful agreement. "I know."

 

Cordelia looked away, tears pricking her eyes. "So what does that make me then? I'd go back to him, even though I know." She thoughts of the visions, the powder and felt the burning ache inside, that blinding pain. "God, how I know."

 

"What do you know?" Angel asked softly.

 

She flung an angry sideways glance at the vampire. "You don't have to psyche me Angel. I know what Jarod is, I know what he's done to me. I know all that all right? I just don't know how to stop wanting it. Wanting what only he can give me." She shook her head furiously. "I don't know if I can ever stop this."

 

"You've already begun," Angel informed her calmly. "It may not feel that way but it's already begun. Two days ago, you wouldn't speak to me. You wouldn't look at me. You've come a long way since then."

 

Seeing a silent air of despondence droop around her slumped shoulders, Angel pressed a little.

 

"Cordelia, you're ill. You couldn't see that and you needed Wes and I to help you out. You still need us but every hour, less and less. You're getting better. I know you still feel far away from us, I know you want nothing more than some of that powder but I promise, I'll keep you safe. I'll keep you with us till you're ready to come back to us."

 

Tears dropped, smudging her shirt. "What if I can't?" Cordelia asked lowly. "What if I can't?"

 

"That’s not an option." Angel said calmly, a slight headshake of disquiet at the thought. "You're half way back."

 

"Back to what?" Cordelia wiped her damp cheeks and glanced at him through long damp locks of dark hair. "Angel, what have I to get back to? I wasn't lying when I said things can't go back. I've lost my family. I've lost Doyle, I can't stand these visions, I don't want them and I hate myself for it. I've lied to you, I've lied to Wes." She buried her face in her hands. "I'm better off forgetting that. The powder lets me forget."

 

"That’s crap." Angel interjected more brutally than he had intended. "Cordelia, how long will it let you forget? Until your brain fries and you can't form a logical thought? Until Jarod owns every part and discards you piece by piece? Until it works and you can't remember what the hell you were trying to forget in the first place?"

 

Realizing his voice had jumped to a yell, Angel paused and managed a slight shrug for his surprised seer.  "Hey, at least I've lost the helpless person voice, right?" Congratulating himself on eliciting the first natural smile he had seen in weeks, the vampire soldiered on. "We haven't had it easy these past few months Cordelia. I know that and I know maybe I haven't watched out for you the way I should. It's just that I couldn't seem to reach you. You were so far away."

 

Sadness lingered around her. "I know."

 

"I couldn't reach you." Angel repeated, his hand drifting outward to clutch her own. "I tried but I just couldn't reach you."

 

"So you kidnapped me instead." Cordelia smoothed her palm against his own, her voice small, unheated.

 

Angel cocked his head. "I didn't have a choice Cordelia. I needed you safe."

 

She nodded knowingly. "That may be but Angel when I told you the cost of this may be our friendship, I wasn't lying. So much has happ…" she shifted her eyes to her knees. "It’s a lot to get over. I don't know that I can."

 

Heart daggered, breaking, Angel somehow found his voice. "Let's just get you healthy first, all right? Then we can look at how we go on."

 

Cordelia uncurled her feet, rising to her feet with careful movement. "I'm going to go dry off my hair." She eased past him, disentangling her hand from his own. He caught it, holding her back.

 

"I don't want to lose you," he said quietly, almost a whisper.

 

She pulled her hand away, the movement slow, almost tender. "I know."

 

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

 

The days passed uneventfully, Cordelia spending her time watching television or perusing through the library collection. Angel occupied himself with watching over her discreetly, over the top of a book or through a hooded sideways glance. The cravings eased. Slowly but surely, the ferocity of their urge diminished and Cordelia found herself increasingly confident under their attack.

 

"It's like I've found my stake," she explained from the kitchen table where she sat cross-legged, watching him cook. "I can feel it coming and I can close it off, hold the urge in until it goes. Does that make any sense?"

 

"Plenty." Angel answered from the oven. "It's almost done. At least I think it is. Anyway, that makes perfect sense. You are taking control. It means you're winning."

 

They shared a mutual grin before remembering to fall back into that terse silence. Immersing himself in the lasagna preparations, Angel waited for her feet to pad away to isolation before allowing his shoulders to slump in defeat. For the most part, he managed to stay cheerful and ignore the tension stretching between them.

 

For the most part.

 

Wesley helped. With his characteristic kindly ease, he smoothed over the rough patches, enquiring after Cordelia as though she were recovering from a cold. He asked how her day went as though she were a guest rather than a prisoner. Cordelia responded, small smiles rewarding the Englishman's efforts. Wesley, Angel decided ruefully, had the better part of the deal. Not for him, caustic glances or sharp remarks. No, he got the thanks you's and ample conversation about reruns of The Love Boat.

 

"She apologized."

 

Angel jumped at the unexpected voice and turned around with a low growl.  "Wesley, hi."

 

The Englishman beamed at him, apparently delighted with his stealthy entrance. "Sorry about creeping up on you there but I wanted to fill you in. Cordelia apologized."

 

"Apologized?" Angel straightened, dropping the oven gloves on the adjacent counter.

 

Wesley rocked back on his heels. "Yes, remember how she called me a useless, nerdy jumper wearing immigrant?"

 

The vampire blinked. "You know Wesley, she said a lot, I don't remember everyth…"

 

"Neither did I," Wesley continued brightly. "I mean she did refer to me in less than complimentary terms on several occasions so that particular incident doesn't stick out and Cordelia said herself she may only have thought it but the apology was nice all the same. Progress wouldn't you say?"

 

Resisting the urge to remind Cordelia that Wesley was an accomplice in the week's events, Angel satisfied himself with a tight grin. "Oh I'd say."

 

Wesley nodded enthusiastically. "I thought you would. I don't suppose she has apologized for the no life-shrink wannabe-probably has a damn leather thong- creature of the night comment has she?"

 

"No Wesley, she hasn't but thanks for bringing that one up again." Angel said darkly. He took three plates from the cupboard. "She hasn't said much of anything. And when she does, its like she fades away more than ever afterwards. Farther away from me."

 

"But she's getting better."  Wesley offered, solemn now.

 

"Yeah" Angel agreed with forced heartiness. "She's getting better."

 

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

 

"You want anything to eat?"

 

Cordelia looked up from her book. "No thanks and you know you don't have to keep asking that every ten minutes. I'm pretty much at the whole 'I can fix myself something to eat without falling over' stage.

 

Something resembling hurt crossed Angel's face, almost too swift to notice. Almost.

 

"Angel," Cordelia said gently. "I didn't that to sound all snappy. I just, you knowing I'm feeling okay now."

 

Angel half shrugged. "I know that. I'll stop the mother hen routine. I know you're better."

 

Cordelia lowered the book to her lap, her hands crossed over its leather cover. "I am. So much so that I think maybe in the morning, I should go."

 

He tensed, her suggestion unexpected. "Go. Go where? Cordelia?"

 

"Go home," she told him calmly, her eyes intent upon him "Back to my life, whatever that is now."

 

"Cordelia," Angel murmured the beginnings of a protest.

 

"Angel" she cut in brusquely, "You've done it. You've taken me out of there and you've helped make me, me again. There's nothing more for you to do. You can't live my life Angel. You've given me back my choices Angel. It's time for me to make them."

 

"I won't allow him near you." Angel said evenly, his voice as calm and sure as her own.

 

She nodded. "I know that, just as we both now you couldn't really stop me from living that life if that’s what I truly wanted." Her nails scratched the smooth book surface. "But I don't. Not anymore. I know I can't go back there again." Her smile dimmed, just a little. "Whatever life this is, whatever shell I am, this is my life now. Not Jarod's and not yours. It's time for me to get on with the living thing."

 

Angel stared at her speechlessly, struck both by her eloquent confidence and understated determination.

 

Cordelia Chase was very much back.

 

"You're right," he finally rasped, the words reluctantly ripping from his throat. "I know you're right."

 

Cordelia rose, the book falling onto the seat edge. "Thank you."

 

There was a goodbye in her small expression of gratitude, one recognized by both of them. Holding his gaze for a bare moment, Cordelia mumbled a goodnight before turning for the door.

 

"Is that it then?"

 

His words pulled her back, locking her feet to the floor. She swallowed and turned, cheeks flushed. Angel was as she had left him, sitting back-legged on a small wooden chair, his eyes having drifted to the far wall.

 

"Is that it?" he repeated, dragging his gaze back to her. "You thank me and walk away? You leave me in the morning and that's it?"

 

"We'll always be linked Angel." Cordelia returned softly. "The visions…"

 

"The visions?" Angel snarled a laugh. "You can leave them with Wesley or the answering machine Cordelia. I am talking about us. About you and I."

 

Cordelia took a breath. "I don't know Angel. I don't know how that’s going to play out."

 

"That’s not an answer I'm prepared to accept" Angel replied easily. "That's not enough."

 

Cordelia's eyes gleamed. "Things have changed. You made choices that affected what you and I are to each other. The things you did…"

 

"To save you. For Christ's sake Cordelia, to save you." Angel roared as he rose, flinging the chair across the room, shards of wood splintering over the floorboards.

 

They paused, eyes caught by the other. He could hear her heart pounding almost fearfully. "Cordelia."

 

"The things you did." Her voice cracked as she continued, ignoring his interruption, "changed what we are. I don't know if we can go back. I wish I could say it could but I can't. So much has changed Angel."

 

Angel gestured outward, one desperate hand flung toward her. "I know that. You think I don't know that? I wish I hadn't had to do what I did Cordelia. I wish you felt what I'd hoped you feel which was all delighted and grateful."

 

"It's not that I'm not," Cordelia said slowly, tears glistening. "But all that hurt, the pain of this week

 

when I think of it, I think of you. I know you did it to save me but now I'm restored to this shell, to this life and I know I should be grateful and I am and yet I'm not." Her head dipped, chest heaving short breaths and when she raised her eyes again, they were filled with distress. "I have to go on now. You've allowed me that but it's all still there. I was lost long before Jarod found me. I was nothing. I felt nothing. And now I'm back to that. Your salvation gave me that."

 

"So what?" Angel's eyes found the ceiling. "Now you give it to me?" He lowered his head in the silence to look upon his seer. "Because if you leave me Cordelia, if you walk away from me, that's what I get. I get nothing. I've been there these past few weeks, watching you fall so damn far away from me." Using her muteness, grabbing a lifeline, the vampire stepped closer. "All I have here is you Cordelia. I know you miss Doyle, I know the visions are hard. I know the powder's power but I also know that you and I can rebuild, we can mend."

 

He gritted his teeth. "I know you hated me having to save you. But please save me now. Don't leave me."

 

A rogue tear escaped, trickling a damp path down her cheek. "Angel."

 

"Cordelia. Please, let me finish. I care about you so much it scares me. This fear that you'll leave me eats me up from the inside out, consumes me. I can't lose you. You understand me? I can't do it. So it's your turn to save me. You save me Cordelia," He finished, each word punched with slow feeling and clarity of meaning.

 

His shoulders shrugged almost imperceptibly, helplessly. "You save me."

 

Cordelia stared at him for a half breath, her breathes hitching into a sob. "Angel." She said his name longingly, her feet carrying her to him. Flinging trembling arms around him, she buried her head in his chest.

 

He clutched her just as tightly, unwilling to ever let her go. Her tiny sobs and shaking body enough to hold him there forever. And somewhere from his dampening shirt and full arms, the words drifted, warm and loving.

 

"I'll save you."

 

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

 

 

They talked for hours, the night slipping into dawn as a friendship was slowly reclaimed, warm and close as ever. Her head rested against his broad shoulder and curling comfortably against him, the seer quietly confided a thousand woes to her warrior. The warrior listened intently, his head dipped to catch her faltering whispers. Interjecting with an occasional comfort, Angel filed every pained confidence away to the safety of memory, to be visited again. This was the first of many such conversations he silently vowed, clasping her small hand all the tighter as beside him, Cordelia shifted, her eyes drifting upward to meet his own.

 

"I am so sorry." Her lips trembled, her eyes gleaming with sad wisdom, "All that I have done, all that I …"

 

Angel shook his head, dark determination buried in his features. "Don't. Don't apologize Cordelia, this wasn't your fault. Not any of it."

 

Cordelia smiled briefly, sorrowfully. "I wish that were true, Angel." The girl hesitated, words momentarily failing her. "I knew though. What Jarod was, I knew. I just didn't care." Her voice filled with longing. "Angel, everything was so simple. He offered me an escape and I took it. I knew the price I would have to pay. What I would put you through and I took anyway."

 

"He took advantage," Angel began.

 

"No," Cordelia fought the suggestion with a vehement shake of her dark head. "No, he didn't. I mean, yes he did but I let him Angel. Don't you see?" Cordelia paused, a breath hitching, guilt inscribing itself on her face. "Even if I had known, I would have gone with him. I would have done it all anyway. So you see, he didn't really take advantage. I allowed him to take me, as I was." Honesty mingled with shame in her hazel eyes as she slowly finished. "I couldn't let him leave me. I couldn't let him go."

 

"I should have been there," Angel said hoarsely. "I should have stopped it when it began."

 

"You couldn't have known…"

 

"I should have known." Angel interrupted harshly, his fingers curling into the palm of his cold hand, his fist clenching tensely. "It's my job to know, Cordelia. That’s what I'm supposed to be good at. The damn visions, Doyle, how could I not have known?"

 

 

"Stop" Cordelia commanded, her hand sneaking across to pull his fist apart, her palm smoothing lovingly against his own. "Stop it. This wasn't you. You couldn't have done anything, Angel. Losing Doyle…" Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Losing him was the hardest thing." Cordelia's eyes shone as she looked up at him, her face softening with memory. "He had come to mean so much to us, you know?"

 

Angel nodded, unable to speak.

 

"I miss him. I miss him still." Cordelia swallowed, a tiny headshake restoring control. "Losing him, gaining the visions, I lived from minute to minute, hating this. Hating what my life had become. This isn't what I wanted. When I left Sunnydale…" Cordelia sighed, the breath filled with misery. "This wasn't what I wanted."

 

Angel flinched, her words ripping away the security he had come to know over the past few months.

 

She didn't want this. She didn't want him.

 

"I know," he said quietly.

 

Cordelia glanced at him sharply, following his thoughts. "No Angel," she protested immediately, quashing his gnawing doubt. "My life with you here has been exactly what I wanted. What I want. I thought I could leave the demons behind in Sunnydale. I couldn't. None of us ever could. Not Willow or Xander or Oz. Or me."

 

Cordelia smiled softly at that truth, straightening as she moved to face him. Her gaze settled upon him, a slow warmth rising in her eyes. "I don't want to leave them behind. I got scared Angel. I got scared and I thought there was no escape. I thought that these visions would lead me to death just like Doyle. I wanted out and there is no out. Not from our work."

 

"I'm sorry" Angel said fervently, "Cordelia, I am so…"

 

"Don't apologize." Cordelia rejoined. "Visions or not, there is no out for me. No 'get out of demon hunting' card. This has been my life for the past three years and it's around time I faced up to that. The visions aren't a curse." Clarity bit into every bone, a sudden truth unfolding in her mind. "They're a gift, Angel. A blessing."

 

His eyes scanned her face searchingly. "You're sure," he said finally. "You're sure this is what you want?"

 

She nodded, a calm belief flooding her. "I'm sure. It's not going to be easy. I'm not saying I'm going to be all joyful every time I get one of those mind-crunching visions but I'm in. We're in this together Angel."

 

The vampire grinned unexpectedly, finding delight in the promise of her words. The promise of times ahead. "Sounds good to me."

 

Cordelia returned his grin. "Yeah but don't think this whole bonding thing means I can't ask for a pay-rise." Her smile dimmed a little and she stretched a hand out to his face. She smoothed his cheek affectionately, her hand dropping self consciously as wonder sparked in his eyes.

 

"I've never had a friend like you before Angel. When I'm with you, I'm happy. I'm proud of who I am. That make sense to you?"

 

Drinking in the sight of her, suddenly terribly grateful for her, Angel answered with easy honesty, "Completely."

 

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

 

"Donut?"

 

Cordelia surveyed the selection of frosted pastries critically. "You didn't get jam."

 

"One would usually thank a colleague for going out of his way to pick up donuts on the way to work" Wesley informed his younger associate. "Normally, one would be appreciative of the effort before complaining."

 

"Simple task, whole selection of donuts. Really not that hard to manage, Wes." Cordelia answered unrepentantly as she plucked a strawberry coated donut from the flimsy box. "You know, I'm beginning to think university was a waste of time for you."

 

"Well, I could say the same of you but let's see, you didn't go to university." Wesley dropped the box on her desk with a pointed smile.

 

"I'll have you know." Cordelia flung hotly at the Englishman's retreating back. "I was accepted to a number of prestigious universities where you needed more than a snooty accent to get in. I mean the Watcher's council probably threatened Oxford with a Mayor sized demon to get them to accept you."

 

Wesley settled himself comfortably on the sofa, lifting some demon illustrations for closer inspection. "Actually, I joined the Council after Oxford." He looked up with deliberate nonchalance, "They sent me back to do a postgraduate course in ancient history."

 

Cordelia smirked. "Oh so they made you boring? And all this time I thought you were born that way."

 

Wesley opened his mouth, an insult on the tip of his tongue. He paused, a smile jumping instead to his lips. "It’s nice to have you back, Ms Chase."

 

Surprise melted in Cordelia's eyes, leaving hazel pools of warmth. She regarded him teasingly. "Oh God Wes, don't start turning into a mushy Brit on me. Angel has been emotional enough for all of us."

 

"Angel was emotional?"

 

Cordelia shrugged as she sank her teeth into the donut. "Well," she said between chews, "He sighed deeply once or twice. That's emotion for him, right?"

 

"Most certainly." Wesley agreed solemnly. He flicked a gaze to the demon illustrated on the parchment on his lap, remembering the raw anger in Angel. The savage beating he had inflicted upon Jarod. "So, you two sorted everything out?"

 

Cordelia nodded, reaching for a napkin as she swallowed, "Oh yeah. We talked for ages. I got over the whole kidnapping thing and he got over the being afraid I'd go do something stupid the minute his back was turned thing and well, I realized how damn lucky I am to have you guys and voila. Cordy gets her life back."

 

"I'm glad." Wesley held her gaze meaningfully.

 

Her eyes sparkled, brimming with sudden gratitude. "I know."

 

"May I come in?"

 

Cordelia's carefully reconstructed world fell apart in one breath. She turned fearful eyes toward the doorway, the figure there, painfully familiar as she whispered his name.

 

"Jarod."

 

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

 

Wesley was on his feet, moving past her in a blur. "Out. Now."

 

There was a muttered conversation, unguarded British threats and calm, belligerent assurances in response. Finally, fighting through the cloud that had somehow swamped her, Cordelia found her voice.

 

"I'll talk with you."

 

Wesley spun around, his expression stony. "Cordelia, go downstairs. Now please."

 

Cordelia smiled at the Englishman. "Wesley it's all right. I'll speak with him. I have to speak with him." She turned to Jarod, her eyes flickering over his bruised face. "Come downstairs. We can talk there."

 

 

 

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

 

"You get five minutes."

 

Jarod blinked, a slow nod of agreement. "That's not a lot of time."

 

"It's all you get." Cordelia answered evenly. "Less if Angel gets back. I've a feeling he might add to those bruises."

 

Amusement settled on Jarod's face. "So everything's back to normal then Cordelia? Angel still living your life for you?"

 

Inside, she trembled, quivered with a fear of falling, sliding back, to him. "What is it you wanted, Jarod?"

 

He shrugged, his dark eyes fixed upon her. "You," he said, what she had known he would say. "It's always been you Cordelia."

 

She moistened her lips, remembering she was alive now. "I can't do it Jarod. I can't make the sacrifices you ask of me. And you don't want me without them. It’s the visions you want."

 

"Not just the visions. You too. You know that."

 

Cordelia smiled wistfully, knowing in her heart that there was some truth in his words. "It could have been different Jarod if you had taken just a little. But you didn't, you took it all. You took all of me."

 

"I won't," he edged closer, gazing upon her. "I won't this time. Please Cordelia."

 

She raised a finger, slowly tracing the outline of his face. "You broke me Jarod. You watched me fall apart."

 

"Angel…" he began harshly.

 

"Don't" Cordelia shook her head in mild exasperation. "There's no point. You don't know what he did or didn't do. You don't know Angel and you don't know me. But I know you, Jarod. Every single part of you." She regarded him calmly, all anger and fear fading, sudden self-assurance in her voice. "And I don't like one bit of you. It ends here Jarod. This is goodbye."

 

 

 

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

 

"She's what?" Angel exploded as he loomed over the Englishman, his face darkened with fury.

 

"Angel, just listen…" Wesley edged around the vampire, placing cautious hands on Angel's chest.

 

His employer glowered threateningly. "Wesley, get out of my way."

 

"Angel," Wesley sidestepped to match the vampire's movement and throwing caution to the window, shoved him backward. "Would you just listen to me for god's sake?"

 

"I just listened to you, Wesley." Angel answered through gritted teeth. "I just listened to you tell me that you allowed Cordelia to go downstairs with the man who nearly killed her."

 

"I checked he had no powder, I equipped Cordelia with a Mantholian sword and I've sat at the top of the steps listening to them until you came in just now."

 

Angel visibly deflated. "Oh."

 

Taking advantage of the other man's momentary lapse into silence, Wesley continued gently, "Angel, you can't tell Cordelia you trust her and then charge in when you disagree with a decision she's made. She deserves better than that."

 

"I know. God I know." Angel shifted from one foot to the other, his body wracked with unease. "I'm just scared that she'll…"

 

"So deal with it." Wesley interrupted with uncharacteristic roughness. "Deal with it and get over it and get back to being her friend. That’s how you'll serve her best."

 

Wondering, not for the first time how he had ever pegged Wesley as a blithering idiot, Angel nodded, burying his misgivings and instead, placed his trust in his new friend.

 

"All right then. Calm it is."

 

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

 

Angel watched Jarod hobble past, one crippling step after another. The vampire's intense glare followed the other man's slow path out the door, out of their lives.

 

"You know, he doesn't have eyes in the back of his head so really, that whole dirty look thing is wasted on him."

 

Angel turned to his seer. She stood with quizzical amusement on her face, her hands tipping lightly against her hips. Relief swamped him, the tension of the past few days fading away, diminishing in the light of her smile.

 

She was okay. She had seen the bastard and she was okay.

 

"You're okay?" he asked softly, just to be sure.

 

She nodded confidently. "I am. It sounds corny but there's closure now. Well done on the not violent approach, by the way. I'm impressed."

 

Behind them, Wesley coughed discreetly. Angel eyed the Englishman wryly before returning his attention to Cordelia. "And he didn't…"

 

"He didn't do anything." Cordelia promised. "He just listened and he left. For good this time."

 

"You're sure?" Angel couldn't help but ask, needing her reassurance.

 

A slow smile glided across her face as she recognized his quiet worrying ways. "I'm sure. You see," she continued simply. "It turns out he didn't quite understand. All that time with him, I forgot to make things clear. So, I told him I didn't belong with him. I told him I belonged with my family, that I belong here, with you."

 

Cordelia waited, allowing her words to sink in. Angel cleared his throat, trying to formulate some kind of answer. He needn't have bothered for she moved past him, her hand lightly squeezing his shoulder, loyalty and love promised in her touch. She was gone, quickly engrossed in the lamentable arrival of bills which apparently couldn't possibly be paid, at least not until they averaged more than one paying client a week. 

 

Listening to her idle chatter, clinging to her voice like a lifeline, the vampire remained perfectly still and reveled in life, content in the knowledge that he too, belonged. 

 

 

 

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