"ANGEL!"

Angel groaned, looking up from where he was filing in the direction of Cordelia's voice.

"What is it, Cordelia?" he called, turning back to his work.

"Can you come here for a minute?" she answered in a sugary voice -- the voice she used when she wanted something. Over the course of the last few weeks, he'd heard it a lot. It seemed that now that he worked for them she felt she could order him around.

Angel was getting just a little sick of it.

Cordelia seemed to be under the very false impression that she could make Angel do whatever she wanted, whenever she wanted. It was like she thought that because he was trying to earn their trust and friendship again he would do *anything* she told him to -- and that just wasn't the way it was. He was the employee now, but he was also a take-charge Alpha that didn't take too kindly to someone telling him what to do and when to do it.

He sighed as he dropped the folders he was holding onto the cold tile floor and stood, brushing his knees off absentmindedly. After watching it pile up for days, Angel had realized that none of the others were going to take care of it and took the job on himself. The cabinet had been a war zone and Angel had spent the better part of the day reorganizing everything that Cordelia had done to it.

He should've expected this kind of treatment -- especially from Cordelia. None of them had welcomed him back with open arms, and he hadn't expected them to. Too much had happened between them for things to be forgiven and forgotten easily. He had made some bad choices, and now he was paying for them.

That didn't mean he relished his new position. Truth be told, Angel was finding it harder and harder to follow their lead, listen to their plans, do what they said. Gunn and Wesley weren't as bad as Cordelia -- they listened to him once in a while -- but they didn't make much of an effort to include him. He had over two and a half centuries of fighting skills and tactics in him, and they just brushed him off when he made some suggestions.

Not being appreciated sucked.

Cordelia was the worst. She had no problem ordering him around, making him do all the grunt work. She seemed to think that she had been the one who had been hurt the most, even though Wesley had been shot and Angel had tried to commit suicide. True, she'd been hurt; he'd hurt them all. But now was the time to move past that pain, to build a new future together. Unfortunately, Cordelia didn't see it that way. None of them did. It was making Angel just a tad bit ornery.

Warily, Angel walked across the dark-tiled floor to the office area. Cordelia sat at her desk reading the latest copy of 'The Hollywood Reporter'. Wesley and Gunn were nowhere in sight, and he surmised that they'd gone out to get some lunch.

"What do you want, Cordelia?" he asked, leaning against the doorframe.

Ignoring his question, she said, "How's that filing coming?"

Angel took a long, unnecessary breath and resisted the urge to comment on her condescending tone. He really should be used to it by now, she'd been using it ever since he'd gone crawling back to them. "You called me all the way over here to ask me that?"

"How's the filing coming?" she repeated, not bothering to look up from her magazine. Angel nearly growled at the display of power.

"It's almost done, Cordelia," the unhappy vampire replied through clenched teeth.

She nodded absently, flipping the page of her magazine. "Great."

He waited for more, but she didn't offer anything. The brunette just sat reading in her swivel chair, not paying a bit of attention to Angel. It was like this, either she was ordering him around or she was ignoring him. He wanted to get things back to the way they had been, but he could only do so much.

As he turned to go, Cordelia called out to him. "Angel? Get me some coffee."

Angel stopped in his tracks, his eyes flashing golden. He was willing to do a lot of things...well, he was willing to file. And let them use the hotel space free of charge. And use his books. But he was NOT a lap dog.

"Get your own coffee, Cordelia," he snapped over his shoulder as he moved back over to the filing cabinet. His eyes flickered to the door and he shared a glance with Wesley and Gunn, who had entered in time to hear his comment, before dropping back down to continue his work.

"Angel, I want some coffee," Cordelia persisted. "You're not doing anything, you can get it for me."

"I'm filing. You're reading a magazine. Figure out who's not doing anything, and then get your own coffee," he said, rolling his eyes.

"Angel," she warned as she appeared in the archway, straightening her jade-colored halter.

"I'm not getting you coffee, Cordelia," Angel repeated. "You don't pay me, remember? You want an assistant, go hire one."

"You don't *want* money, remember?" she mimicked. "We're not paying you because you won't let us. The difference between now and when *we* were working for *you* was that we were SUPPOSED to get paid," she snapped.

Wesley stepped in. "Cordelia, it really isn't your place to--"

"Keep your big British nose out of this, Wes," Cordelia said, her eyes locked on Angel's as she pointed a finger in the Englishman's direction. "This has nothing to do with you."

"Yes, Wesley, it's about Cordelia and her need to order me around," Angel added sarcastically. She had gone too far, and now he was pissed. At least along with his epiphany he'd rediscovered that he had balls. He wasn't about to let anyone push him around anymore. Another thing to thank Darla for before he staked her.

"You know, I'm really getting tired of your attitude," Cordelia stated as she started over to him. "I would fire you and get it over with, but then I'd be *just*like*you*."

Angel stared at her, his mind reeling. She'd always been able to push his buttons, but now...now it was so much worse because she was using his mistakes, his weaknesses, against him. And he knew he deserved it, deserved her anger, but it didn't make it hurt any less. And now...now he was getting upset.

"You have a mental breakdown, hit rock bottom, and try to commit suicide, and *then*, when you're just like me, you'll be able to ask me to get your coffee," Angel snapped. She was standing in front of him now, glaring daggers.

"Oh yes, let's all feel SO sorry for Angel. He couldn't handle having his sire back so he decided to repress and go psychotic," Cordelia said, her dark eyes blazing with anger.

Angel growled. "You don't know what you're talking about, Cordelia. You're not even scratching the surface."

Gunn tried to intervene. "Hey, why don't y'all just chill for a minute so we can discuss this rationally," he said as he dragged Wesley over to where Angel and Cordelia stood squaring off.

"I think rational left this place right around the time Angel's sanity did," Cordelia said haughtily.

Angel felt his anger boil over at that snide comment. She didn't understand, she had made no effort to. Sure, he hadn't exactly offered up information, and that was his own fault. But that was about to change. Cordelia needed to know the truth, they all did.

"You don't get it, do you? Of course not, Cordelia Chase is perfect. She never makes mistakes," Angel said mockingly, lashing out at her in his anger. He slowly circled her as he continued, "She can't possibly be bothered to try and understand why people do what they do. She claims to be your friend, to care about you, and then as soon as you start to fall apart she tells you to get over it. Why should she be bothered to actually help?"

"That's not fair!" Cordelia shouted, spinning around to face him. "You didn't want my help! You pushed me away, pushed us away!"

"Does a person have to get down on their knees and beg for help before you'll get it? I thought we were friends, Cordy." His voice cracked at that, and he had to repeat it. "I thought we were friends. But I realized that you don't know what a friend really is."

She stared at him with wide, unbelieving eyes as his comment sunk in. He knew that it stung her, and that had been the point. If he had to spell it out for her, he would. He wasn't all that great at the friendship thing himself, but he knew what it was supposed to be like, supposed to feel like. And they had never really been friends.

"Oh, that's rich," she said, her tone betraying her, "that's *real* rich coming from you. You didn't even know what a friend was until we came into your life!"

"You think I started living a year and a half ago? I've been around for two and a half centuries, Cordelia, I know a lot more about friendship than you ever will."

Cordelia snorted. "Then bestow your wisdom on me, oh ancient one. Tell me all about what it means to be a friend, because you're just so good at it yourself."

"Perhaps we should--"

"SHUT UP, WESLEY!" they shouted together. The Englishman looked taken aback for a moment, but (wisely) kept his mouth shut.

"Come on, Angel, tell me what I did wrong! Tell me how I was such a horrible friend when YOU'RE the one who abandoned us!" Cordelia shouted.

"You didn't try," he said simply. "I didn't exactly try either, and I'm not saying it's all your fault. But none of you tried."

Frustrated, she threw up her hands. "Give me a little more than that, Mr. Cryptic. Buffy might have thought that that little routine was cute, but I don't."

"When I started dreaming about Darla--"

"You mean Psycho Bitch," she interrupted.

Angel silenced her with a look. "When I started dreaming about *Darla*, you brushed it off. You didn't try to help me search for her, you didn't try to help me figure out what was going on. You didn't try to understand what I was going through, and you didn't try to listen. You and Gunn and Wesley just seemed to think that it was just a phase; that I'd get over it. Well, guess what. An obsession isn't something you just get over."

"You didn't try to explain anything to me!" she shot back angrily.

"Yeah, man, you weren't exactly Mr. I Love To Share," Gunn added in defense of himself.

"I tried. At the beginning, when I first told you guys. I believe Cordelia told me I was 'crazy' and 'needed professional help'. Those don't exactly open the window for a deep conversation," Angel told her. The brunette clenched her fists by her sides.

"What else was I supposed to say when you started dreaming about your dead ex-honey?"

"You could've helped me find out what the fuck Darla was doing in my room every night," Angel snapped. Cordelia's eyes widened at the curse word. He *never* cursed.

"Don't you DARE blame this all on me!" she shouted. "You didn't 'try' either. You didn't need my help!"

"Yeah, but I wanted it!" Angel said, a lump suddenly forming in his throat. "You were the second real friend I've ever had. Or at least I thought you were. I thought you, of all people, would stick by me, would fight for me no matter what I did.

"But you didn't. You didn't care enough to make me talk, make me explain why I was acting the way I was. And that's why you don't know what a real friend is, Cordelia. Because if you did, you wouldn't have let me fall. You would've caught me."

Cordelia held his gaze defiantly. "You're a big boy, Angel, you should be able to brace your own fall."

"No one's big enough to do that," he replied, wisdom creeping into his voice despite his best efforts to keep it from doing so. The last thing he needed was to come across as condescending. "Friends stick by one another, and you guys didn't stick by me." Angel paused. "I'm not saying it's all your fault, because it's not. But it's not all my fault, either. I needed you to yell at me, to talk to me, to listen to me. And you just blew me off because that would have been too much work for you to do. It didn't focus on you, so you couldn't be bothered."

He turned to regard Wesley and Gunn as well. "And I'm trying here, I'm trying to make things better. But I can't do that alone. If you guys don't want to try this again, if you don't want to do this, tell me. I'll leave. You're making it pretty clear that that's what you want me to do."

"That's not fair!" Cordelia cried, unexpected tears welling in her eyes. "You were too busy obsessing over your stupid sire to even try to talk to me! And then you didn't want anything to do with me! Or Gunn, or Wes! You wrote us off long before we ever wrote you off."

"I didn't write you off, Cordelia," Angel said, his voice tinged with desperation. "I had a mission to fulfill, and I couldn't afford the distractions. And I'm not referring to after Darla got turned, I'm talking about before." Cordelia turned away from him and squirmed at that. Maybe he'd underestimated her. Maybe she already knew that. "You didn't make an effort to help me then, and I gave up trying."

"And that mission of yours was, what, to get laid? Congratulations, you had your orgasm. I hope it was a good one," Cordelia snapped.

"It wasn't about that. It was about feeling something...feeling nothing. Never having to feel the pain and the helplessness again. I didn't have sex with Darla to have sex. I did it to end this!" Angel shouted, pointing at himself to indicate his existence. The wounds were still raw, and even his epiphany hadn't soothed them. It had happened because he had tried to end it, tried to lose his soul so he wouldn't have to live in a world that was evil to the core. "It was my suicide attempt. I was too cowardly to walk out into the sun or stake myself, so I tried to end it like that."

"Angel..." Wesley started, shuffling his feet. Angel held up a hand to signal him to stay quiet. He had a lot to say to them, things that needed to get out into the open, and if he didn't do it now he was afraid he'd never do it.

"Darla -- human Darla -- didn't represent my past. She represented my future. I thought...I thought that if I could save her...I might be able to save myself. And then when she died -- when I LET her die...it was like there was no point. I couldn't fight a losing battle, and that's what I saw. All my hope, my whole existence, it just...there wasn't a point to it anymore. And with you guys just brushing it off, brushing her off...it was like you were brushing me and everything I stood for, everything I was working for, off."

"But we didn't..." Cordelia stopped. "We didn't mean to."

"But you did." Angel paused and ran a shaky hand through his hair. His long speech was making him more nervous than he'd been in a long time. "I think we share an equal amount of blame in this, and I'm willing to own up to my half. I don't know if you guys are willing to do the same."

Stunned silence settled over the large lobby of the Hyperion, and whatever gall Angel had been possessed with seemed to evaporate instantly. No one dared to say a word to him, and Angel took the opportunity to escape up to his room. The others watched him as he turned on his heel and trudged towards the stairs, his shoulders slumped in defeat.

At the landing that lead out to the garden he stopped and turned back to face them. "I'm sorry," he said softly.

Angel climbed the stairs up to his room in silence.

---

"Okay, does someone want to *please* tell me what that was all about?" Cordelia asked long after Angel had ascended to his room. Gunn and Wesley looked equally stunned as she turned to look at them, obviously trying to grapple with Angel's revelation, too.

"Angel gave us a clue into what's been going on in that perfectly-coifed head of his," Gunn offered.

"Oh, good, I thought I was the only one who got that," she replied sarcastically as she rubbed a hand over her eyes.

Wesley kept his eyes trained on the stairs. "Well...that was enlightening." He paused. "Did you actually ask Angel to get you *coffee*?"

Cordelia squirmed. "Well, I...I didn't think he'd mind. He's been walking around here doing everything -- well, some of the stuff we've told him to, I figured he'd be happy to get me coffee. And it's not like he doesn't owe me for all the visions."

"I can't believe you had the balls to ask him," Gunn said. "You really are stupid."

"Hey! It's Angel! I didn't think he'd mind," she cried, trying to justify herself. Inside, she was reeling. "And I--Buffy."

All eyes turned to the doorway, where the tiny blonde Slayer stood hugging herself tightly. She was gazing around the cavernous room with wide eyes, taking it all in.

"As if this day couldn't get any weirder...first Angel pours his *soul* out to us and now Buffy!" Cordelia brushed her short hair out of her eyes. "I really need a demon-free vacation. Preferably a permanent one. This is just...too much."

"Is...is this a bad time?" Buffy asked softly, her voice barely audible in the loud room. "Because I can..." She made a gesture towards the door in emphasis.

"No, no, stay," Cordelia said distractedly, waving a hand at the Slayer. "We're just having a little...internal trouble. Okay, so maybe it's more like a *lot* of internal trouble...man, when Angel gets talking he just lets it all out. I think I'm in shock. Does anyone know what shock feels like?"

Buffy shifted uncomfortably and hugged herself tighter. "Is everything okay?"

"It's a few counties over from 'okay'," Cordelia told her with a sigh as she moved over to the smaller girl. "What are you doing here?" She gave Buffy a brief hug, adding with a whisper, "I'm so sorry about your mom, Buffy, Angel told us. I wanted to go down for the funeral, but...I didn't want to impose on anything."

Buffy pulled away awkwardly from the brunette. "Thanks, Cordelia." Her voice was drawn, quiet. She glanced around again. "Where's Angel? I really need to see him."

"He's upstairs, Buffy," Wesley said as he moved over to join them. Hugging was too personal, so he just reached out and squeezed her hand. "How are you holding up?"

"Not so good," she whispered, her eyes luminous with tears. "Which is what you can expect, I guess."

"So, this is the infamous Buffy," Gunn said lightly. He walked up to join the small group at the door. "I'm Gunn. Charles Gunn."

"How very James Bond of you," Cordelia said with a roll of her eyes. "Don't mind him, he hits on everything with legs."

"That's not true. I never hit on you."

Cordelia glowered at him before turning back to Buffy. "So, what brings you to the City of Angels?"

"I...I needed to get out of Sunnydale, and Angel, he--he said if I needed him, I could come," she said, pulling her large black knee-length coat tighter around her tiny frame. It had been her mother's, and she couldn't seem to take it off. One of the many things she'd kept as a sort of memento. Thinking of that made her remember that her mother really was gone, and Buffy tried desperately to hold herself together. "Can one of you point me in his general direction?"

"Buffy, I...I'm not sure you want to see him right now. He...well, we had a fight and--"

"Cordelia," Wesley interrupted, "I don't think Buffy wants to hear about that right now. Angel can always explain it to her if he feels the need to. I'll take you up to him."

"Thanks, Wesley," Buffy said, a forced smile gracing her lips. "It was nice to meet you, Gunn. Cordelia, I'll...we'll talk soon."

"Yeah," Cordelia agreed. "If you ever need someone to listen, I'm here. Just...try and pick a time when I'm not so disoriented. Or tell Angel not to drop so many bombshells on us."

Buffy looked over her shoulder, hearing the note of sincerity in Cordelia's voice. With a nod, she whispered, "Thanks."

"That's Buffy? Angel's Buffy? I thought she'd be...taller," Gunn said as he cocked his head to stare after her. "She's a hottie, though."

"Down, boy. Angel's got the whole star-crossed lovers thing going with her, you don't want to get in the middle of that. We just have to keep them from killing each other," Cordelia said. She watched the way Buffy leaned heavily against Wesley as he guided her up the stairs, recalling the dark black circles she'd seen underneath the other girl's eyes. Though Cordelia wasn't all that close with her own mother, she couldn't imagine losing her.

"She's the one Angel went to see in Sunnyvale, right?"

"It's Sunny*dale*," Cordelia corrected. "And yeah."

"She didn't look too good," Gunn said as he turned to face Cordelia again.

She nodded. "That's what losing your mom will do to you." A beat, and then she shuddered and said, "I need to get out of here and clear my head. Want to go get drunk?"

"After you," he said, sweeping his hand towards the door.

---

Buffy knocked tentatively on the closed door. When no answer came after a few moments, she carefully opened it and peeked her head inside the darkened suite. Spotting a brooding form seated in a chair on the far side of the room, she straightened and, taking a deep breath, entered.

"Buffy?"

It was so soft that she hardly heard it. She removed her jacket before crossing her arms protectively over her chest again and moving over to where he sat.

"Hey," she whispered. "Am I interrupting an important brooding session?"

Rising to meet her, Angel opened his arms and let her fall against him. She began sobbing before she even touched him and he wrapped her tightly against his chest, letting her cry as he rubbed her back soothingly. They didn't speak for a long time (Minutes? Hours?), only remained where they were, taking comfort in the other's presence. Finally her sobs quieted and she pulled away from him.

"I really needed that," she said as she wiped at her cheeks and sniffled. Angel took her coat from her and draped it over the back of his chair.

"I noticed," he replied, taking her gently by the arm and leading her into his bedroom. They sat together on the edge of the large bed. "How are you?"

"Suddenly wishing people would stop asking me that," Buffy told him, unconsciously pulling his hand into her lap and playing with his fingers.

"Well, now I know not to ask again."

"Good. Because I'm not so good. I just...I had to get away," she said heavily, her head drooping to rest on his shoulder.

Angel wrapped his arm around her body, replacing the hand he'd taken from her with his other. "I'm glad you're here."

And he was, more than she'd ever know. Going back to Sunnydale had allowed him to face a lot of things, his relationship with Buffy included. He didn't exactly know where they stood, but he knew they had talked a lot and were comfortable with each other. He was there for her, and she was there for him. And at this time in their lives, when everything was so unsure, so fragile, they needed that support.

"Are you?" she asked as she pulled away to look at him. "I hated barging in here without calling, it's just...I couldn't take it anymore. It was so...it just got to be too much." Her eyes searched his. "I couldn't stay in Sunnydale any longer."

"I told you to come if you needed me, and you did. Why would I be upset about that?" he countered gently.

Her hands twisted in her lap, playing with his helplessly. "I just...I know you're going through a lot right now, and...and Cordy told me about your fight. Maybe this isn't the best time." She moved to stand, to get away, because suddenly she was suffocating. Everything, her entire *world*, had crashed down on her and here she was trying to share her burden with Angel when he had his own problems to deal with. Why was she always so selfish?

Almost as though he could sense what she was thinking, Angel tightened his grip on her shoulders. He kicked his shoes off and waited for her to do the same before tugging her back with him against the headboard, and as Buffy settled naturally into the crook of his arm, she sniffled and wiped at more of the tears that blurred her vision while curling up against him.

"There's no such thing as the best time, Buffy, you should know that by now," he said after they had gotten situated.

"I still should have called. I know it was selfish of me to come here, Angel, I should be back in Sunnydale with Dawn and Giles--"

"You shouldn't be anywhere but where you want to be," he interrupted, giving her a reassuring squeeze.

She craned her neck to look at him. "I want to be here. With you. You...you make it hurt less."

"I do what I can," he said simply. It was all he really *could* say.

They sat in silence for a long time, Buffy didn't offer anything and Angel didn't try to push. She needed his support, like he needed hers. Just having her there, holding her in his arms, was enough to make him feel that hope again, the hope that had eluded him for so long. The hope he'd tried to explain to Cordelia and Wesley and Gunn.

"I was selfish to leave Dawn all alone with Giles. She needs her big sister right now, especially...*especially* now." Buffy swallowed the lump in her throat and held her tears back. "But...well, I guess I'm just weak. I couldn't stand to be away from you."

"We can be weak together," Angel whispered as he dropped a kiss on her temple. Buffy turned her head to gaze at him and he felt her anguish, felt it as though it was his own. Maybe it was, it seemed as though as soon as they were in the same room together they shared emotions like people shared air.

"Angel, I..."

"Shh," he whispered. "You don't have to say anything, Buffy."

Suddenly Buffy was straddling his lap, her legs wrapped around his middle, her arms around his neck. She clung to him desperately, wanting to crawl inside his skin so that she could hide from the harsh reality she suddenly found herself facing. All she had to do was climb into Angel's arms and then it didn't hurt as much, because she was too overcome with love and hunger for him to remember that her mother had just died and that she felt empty inside. He helped her feel something again.

She wasn't sure who initiated that first kiss, one minute they had been staring at one another and the next their lips were touching softly. It was tentative, but neither questioned it, secretly knowing it was what they needed. It was comforting, it was loving, it was everything every kiss between them had ever been. They needed this brief escape from the world. They deserved it.

"Angel," she whimpered as she ground herself against him, the desire she felt for him burning deep inside her. Suddenly she was on her back and he was looming over her, and it felt so *right* that she started crying again because it had been too long since she'd felt anything like this. His hands caressed her through her clothing and then suddenly it was all gone and she was naked beneath him. That was okay, though, because he was nude too and he was kissing and suckling and licking up her tears.

She was ready for him without preamble, without preparation -- she didn't need it. She was soaked with her need for him, her inner thighs slick with her honey. Spreading them with his large hands, Angel seated his pelvis firmly on hers and pushed up and into her body.

They froze like that for what seemed like an eternity, their bodies and gazes locked. Trying to speak was pointless and unnecessary -- *this* was the true way for them to show how they felt about one another. Nothing else mattered, they were one and it was perfect and the outside world and all the pain, loneliness, and tears melted away, rolling off of them like the sweat on their skin.

Their union was gentle, loving. Angel braced himself above her on his elbows and pressed his forehead to hers as he moved within her body. He was cold and she was hot and they soothed one another as they rocked together, creating the friction so long denied to them.

It was so slow that Buffy thought she would die, and so sweet that she never wanted him to stop. She stretched her hands out to her sides and grasped handfuls of the bedspread, arching up against him as Angel bent to suckle her nipple and reached out to capture her hands in his. Fingers interlaced as he pumped into her again and again, his eyes crossing at the sensations of her walls clinging to him hungrily.

Their skin was damp with their mingled tears.

Finally, after hours of gentle lovemaking, they came together, crying the other's name softly, lovingly. Angel rolled them over while staying buried deep inside of her, draping Buffy over his chest. She clung to him, her sweaty cheek sticking to his skin as her hands found his again and their fingers entwined just as their bodies, souls, and hearts were.

"Angel?" she whispered, placing a gentle kiss over his unbeating heart as she sighed.

"Hmm?"

"Can I...can I stay here...for a little while?"

He smiled, tightening his arms around her. "Yeah."

 

The End

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