Ever been jealous of anyone? I mean, really jealous? So jealous you couldn't stand it anymore? So jealous that it consumed you, until it was all you could think about, until it took over your life? So jealous that you knew you had to do something desperate?

***

I've been in the LA Psychiatric Hospital for two weeks now. Wesley came in to see me yesterday, like he does every day.

"How are you feeling?" he asked me, concerned, stroking my hair.

"I've done a horrible thing, Wesley," I said quietly. "It'll take me a while to get over this."

"I know. I'm here for you." It was nice I had someone. Angel wouldn't see me. He hadn't since I'd come here. I didn't blame him. I longed for his forgiveness but I doubted I'd get it.

"Thank you," I whispered.

***

The jealousy began in my sophomore year in high school. There was a new student at school. Buffy Summers was blond, beautiful and from LA - a place that I'd always wanted to live, instead of growing up in tiny, insignificant Sunnydale.

I tried to make friends with her, but she ended up hanging around with Willow and Xander for the rest of the year. There was always something weird about her. I wasn't sure what it was, but it intrigued me. Any time there was something strange going on - and believe me, in Sunnydale there was plenty of unusual occurrences - she seemed to be in the middle of it. Stopping it.

So I came to her when I thought someone was after me around the time of the May Queen nominations. I was right. There was an invisible girl trying to ruin my life - and Buffy stopped her. Shortly after that, I saw her kill the Master, this super-strong vampire. And I saw how strong she was, how skilled.

And I was jealous. She had everything. She was the slayer, the only one in her generation with the ability to stop the vampires. She was undeniably beautiful. She had supportive people all around her. She had loyal and wonderful friends. And Xander was in love with her.

As soon as she walked into his life, he fell for her. Suddenly all the insults that he and I shared grew cold. It was as if he really hated me. Before she arrived, it had been a game between the two of us. Hating, loving, flirting, insulting - a game that neither of us were willing to stop playing, afraid we might have to reveal our true feelings for each other.

I remember the sophomore prom. She'd just stopped the Master. She danced with Angel, looking ecstatically happy, floating on air in her stunning long white dress. I wished I could be that happy, find someone I loved that much.

I saw Willow and Xander chatting together. I could see he was gazing at Buffy longingly. Willow left for the bathroom, and I walked over to him.

"You really love her, huh?" I said sympathetically.

He was wary. "Why do you care, Queen C?"

"Fine. I don't. I just thought you might want to talk. Obviously I was wrong." I was hurt.

"Sorry, Cordy," he apologised. He looked out at the dance floor. "She's changed things, hasn't she?"

I knew he meant "things between us". But he wouldn't say it. He was too afraid of saying it, in case I laughed and said that there was nothing between us. I knew because I was afraid of saying it too.

"Yeah. She has," I replied. I paused. "Do you think things could ever be the same again?" 'Things' again.

"I don't know," he said.

I saw Willow approaching, and left, with a "bye" to Xander. He understood. As I returned to Harmony and the others, they asked, "What were you doing talking to Xander Harris?"

I gave the same answer I knew Xander was giving to Willow's question, "What were you and Cordelia talking about?"

"Nothing much," I shrugged.

***

During the junior year, I started hanging around with Buffy and her friends. This was for two reasons - I was jealous of Buffy and I wanted to be friends with her in the hope I'd see she was, in fact, only human, and my relationship with Xander.

The friendship with Buffy wasn't exactly going well. We tolerated each other, I guess. But I knew she never thought of me as a friend.

The one good thing about junior year was Xander. We became a couple and it was amazing. To finally admit our feelings for each other was incredible. I loved him. He loved me. It was pretty simple. Sure we had our ups and downs - especially during Valentine's Day - but all in all, it was a pretty good relationship. And while we were together, I felt that he wasn't in love with Buffy anymore.

I was right - I think. He was in love with, of all people, Willow Rosenberg. After Xander and I had been a couple for nearly a year, I caught him making out with Willow midway through our senior year.

He broke my heart. I'd claimed to have been broken-hearted before, but this was different. This was a searing pain that just wouldn't go away.

In terms of intensity, it almost equalled my jealousy of Buffy.

***

For a few months, I was pretty depressed. I didn't belong in my old crowd, but I wasn't exactly sure whether I could be a part of the 'Scooby Gang' either. And the jealousy grew.

When I ran into Wesley in the library, I was very, very interested. I wasn't sure whether I was over Xander yet - would I ever get over that? - but I couldn't help feeling attracted to him. It annoyed me the way the others didn't take him seriously. I mean, he was Buffy and Faith's Watcher, but did they ever listen to him? Buffy just ignored him.

Maybe I'm just trying to find fault with Ms Perfect, but I love Wesley. He's my family. He's all I have left.

I wasn't over Xander, though. That much was clear. Even though he'd hurt me, I still loved him. And when, after my parents lost all their money, he paid for my prom dress - I felt so…cherished. Maybe he wasn't still in love with me, but he cared. I didn't have a lot of people to care about me.

I considered whether to go to LA or not. I'd always wanted to live there. And now that I had absolutely no chance of going to college, and I didn't want to stay in Sunnydale forever, I thought about trying to become an actress.

Although some, Angel for example, would disagree, I'm a good actress. I'm the queen of pretending not to care, not to be hurt. Acting cool and sophisticated and haughty even though inside I feel like a little girl sometimes. So, why not make a living?

"Good luck, Cordy," Xander said. I had arrived at his house to say goodbye. I was leaving for LA and he was leaving for his road trip. "Reach for the stars. I know you'll get what you want. You always do."

"That's not true," I sighed, giving him a meaningful glance. I want you. I want you to love me.

He understood. "Yes. You do."

Then we kissed - one magical, passionate kiss before we said goodbye.

I sobbed all the way to LA.

***

"Cordelia?" I hear Wesley say.

I lift my head from a photo album I have been flipping through. Photos from high school - me and Xander, me and the rest of the gang, me and Buffy at Homecoming, the prom.

"Hi," I greet him. Indicating the album, I add, "Just remembering my glory days." My glory days? The only glorious one was Buffy. We all know that.

He sees a photograph of the two of us at the prom. "Ah," he said. "Don't I look handsome?"

"Oh, yeah," I laugh.

He grins. "Maybe not," he says.

I turn to one of Buffy, alone, and my throat tightens. Wesley knows how I'm feeling, and puts a comforting hand on my shoulder.

"Is it ever going to go away?" I demand, blinking back the tears. "Wesley, I can't take it anymore. It's too much. The guilt is too much."

"Give it time," he murmurs. "You're in here to get over this. It'll just take time. Is your doctor helping you?"

"Not much," I tell him. "It's hard to talk to him - he doesn't understand. I can't tell him about the whole slayer thing, or explain about demons or vampires. He'd just think I was crazier than I already am!"

"You're not crazy, Cordelia," he assures me.

I laugh harshly and bitterly. "I'm not crazy? In case you've forgotten, Wesley, I'm in here because I've been forced to by the court. Because I pleaded insanity to murder charges. So don't tell me I'm not crazy."

"Do you want me to leave?" he asks quietly.

"I think that would be a good idea," I reply bitchily, knowing I'm hurting him and taking pleasure in it.

He turns and walks away. I can see him wiping a tear away from his eye as he goes out the door.

***

I know I hurt him and I'm glad. I really must be crazy. I am. I'm in the right place, locked away up here. Insanity has taken over me. Why do I hurt the people I love?

I hurt Xander by not forgiving him and being a bitch to him for the rest of the year, but that was because he hurt me first. I hurt Wesley and I don't know why I did that. I have no explanation except that I'm crazy. I hurt Angel in a way that I can never make up to him. He will never forgive me for what I did.

***

She arrived in LA on a Friday evening. Alone in the office, I could hear a tentative knock on the door. I put down the magazine I'd been scrutinising the fashion pages of, and opened the door.

"Buffy!" I exclaimed in surprise.

She looked perfect, as usual. Blond hair tumbling past her shoulders in waves, petite figure encased in tight red leather pants and equally tight black shirt.

"Cordelia," she replied. It wasn't exactly as friendly as I'd liked, and that annoyed me. And hurt me. I was so sensitive when it came to Buffy and her every word.

Fine, Buffy, I thought. Play it that way. "What can I do for you?" I asked in my most professional tone.

"I'm looking for Angel."

"He's not here," I replied. I paused, knowing she was waiting for more information.

"Well, where is he?" she demanded.

"He's off saving someone from vampires," I informed her. "That's what he does here. What are you doing here, anyway?"

"I want to see Angel. What business is it of yours?"

"You going to break his heart again? Because I think that's the last thing he needs right now."

"No. I'm not. I just need to talk to him."

"Well, I guess you should come in and wait," I said. She did, seating herself and waiting patiently. I sat at my desk and tried to look as if I was doing something important.

Angel walked in the door fifteen minutes later, followed by Wesley.

"How did it go?" I enquired.

"Fine," Angel replied. "No trouble at - " he broke off as he saw Buffy. "Buffy."

She stood up and walked towards them. They kissed passionately, hungrily. I watched in envy. Then I turned away and caught Wesley looking at me. He'd noticed the jealousy. It was written all over my face. I could tell he thought I was jealous because I was in love with Angel or something like that, and I had to explain to him that it wasn't like that.

"I guess I'll be going," I said.

"Me too," Wesley said, and together we walked out.

"Wesley, I know what you're thinking - " I began.

"It's all right, Cordelia, you don't have to explain your feelings to me," he said.

"I'm not in love with Angel," I stated.

"Oh. Oh, well, that's good."

"I just wish - I wish I could find someone who loved me that much. Buffy's so lucky. She has everything. At the moment I feel like I have nothing."

"You have me," he said.

I smiled. "Yeah, I guess I do." Somehow I felt slightly better.

***

The following morning, although I technically didn't have to work, I arrived at the office. Angel was there, looking through some paperwork.

"Where's Buffy?" I asked.

"She's downstairs, sleeping," he told me. "We stayed up talking all night."

"As long as that's all you did," I said, slipping my hand into my purse, where I had a bottle of holy water hidden away. Just in case.

"That's all we did," he smiled.

"Just checking!" I responded sweetly. I wandered around the office aimlessly for a couple of minutes before asking, "What are the two of you doing together? I mean, are you together, or friends, or what?"

"For the moment, we're just taking things as it comes," Angel answered.

"It didn't work out before - why do you expect it to work out again?"

"Because I love her. And she loves me. And I think that's enough to make it work."

Maybe it is. Maybe it isn't. How would I know, right?

***

Wesley arrived at the office a few minutes later, with a case for Angel to investigate - something vampire-related. I wasn't really paying attention. I stayed behind while they set off. As soon as they'd left, I went downstairs to Angel's apartment.

She was curled up on the bed, asleep. Even in slumber she looked perfect. She looked too beautiful to be real.

So perfect. So angelic. So sweet. I hate you, Buffy Summers.

I honestly didn't know what I was doing when I was struck by the urge to destroy this perfect creation. Grabbing a pillow, I pressed it down over her face. I felt an incredible sense of power as I held it down.

She struggled only slightly before she died. Even in death she looked perfect. I grabbed a knife and began cutting her face. It reminded me of Marcie, and what she'd almost done to me.

That thought brought me out of the trance I'd been in. I looked down at the bloody knife in my hand, the beautiful dead woman lying on the bed with a slashed face, and I fell to my knees and began trembling.

I was still there when Angel and Wesley returned. They came down and found me there. They knew what had happened right away. Angel walked over to her, looked at her, and then turned to me.

"Cordelia, get out."

I finally found the power of speech. "Angel, I - " I don't know what I was going to say, all I knew was that I had to say something. Tell him that I hadn't known what I was doing.

"Get out," he repeated.

"Angel - " I tried again.

He responded to this by throwing me across the room. I crashed against the wall and crumpled to the floor in a heap. Wesley crossed the room quickly and knelt down beside me. "Are you all right?" he asked.

Was I all right? The very fact that he'd asked that question to me, with so much concern, after what I'd done, brought me to tears. Then I thought of exactly what I'd done, and I sobbed harder.

Wesley gathered me up in his arms and carried me upstairs, while Angel sat on the bed staring at the dead love of his life.

***

The next time I saw Angel was in court, where he testified he'd seen me next to the body with the knife in my hand. He was cold and unfeeling as he spoke, which made it worse. If he'd been angry I would have understood. Instead he just seemed to hate me, bitterly.

Wesley was also called on to verify what Angel had said. He did so, but added that I'd been distraught and clearly horrified at what I'd done.

I pleaded insanity. It wasn't an excuse to get out of doing jail time. It was because I felt as if I was insane. I still do.

***

I hadn't been allowed go to Buffy's funeral, or to see her grave. First I'd been held in a cell, thanks to Detective Kate Lockley, until the trial. Ever since then I'd been in the nuthouse. Where I belong.

I close my eyes, as I do every night, and try to sleep without being haunted of the images of Buffy's beautiful face destroyed, covered in blood. As usual, I fail.

***

I wake from a restless sleep in the middle of the night. The room is dark and yet I sense there is someone in the shadows. Childish fears perhaps? No, I've often been awake in the dark and yet known there was nothing to fear. This is different. I'm aware of an evil presence.

"Angel," I say.

He steps forward, out of his hiding-place. "Cordelia. How nice to see you." His voice has that same cold, unfeeling quality to it as it did in the courtroom.

"Get away from me," I tell him. I am scared. Scared because I know he is here for a reason. The purpose of this visit is almost undoubtedly murder.

He walks closer to me, but suddenly my fear lessens. I have a guardian angel looking out for me, and the ironic thing is, I think it may be Buffy. All I know is, Angel will not be allowed kill me. I'm sure of that.

"Get away from her," another voice says, and Wesley steps out of the shadows, holding up a cross. He holds it up to Angel, who attempts to knock it out of Wesley's hand. He's stronger than Wesley, and for a moment I'm scared he's going to succeed. But my guardian angel is watching out for me again, and Wesley moves and presses the cross against Angel's chest, burning him. Angel jumps back and leaves. He knows when he's beaten.

"Wesley," I breathe, and he comes to me. Holds me.

"I was afraid he was going to try something like this," he says, worried. "You're not safe here. He's dangerous and unpredictable."

I nod in understanding. "But where will I go? Back to Sunnydale? I can't go back there. Not after what I've done."

"I was thinking the best thing to do would be to ask to be transferred to the Psychiatric Department at San Francisco. Angel won't be able to find out, and you'll still be completing your hospitalization. If you simply leave here, there will undoubtedly be a huge fuss over it, and it's a lot easier to hide from one vampire than several police officers, don't you think?"

"You're right. Can you arrange that? They won't let me make any decisions for myself."

"I'll do it first thing tomorrow morning," he promises. "In the meantime, I think I'd better stay here with you tonight, in case he comes back."

"You don't have to," I tell him, thinking of how I upset him earlier.

"It's all right. I want to."

"Thanks," I say. I slide under the covers of my bed and close my eyes. For the first time in weeks, the image doesn't come to me. Perhaps it's because Wesley's here, watching over me.

"I'm sorry," I add softly, before I drift off.

***

When I wake up in the morning he is there beside me. He looks exhausted.

"You can go now," I tell him. "Get some rest."

Tenderly he strokes the side of my face, then he brushes his lips against my forehead before leaving.

I want to call after him, ask does he forgive me for yesterday? His forgiveness is important to me. He's all I have left. But I think he might have.

He makes me feel safe, secure, protected. Last night was the first in weeks that I didn't have nightmares.

***

The following day I was transferred to San Francisco. Wesley found an apartment there a few days later and moved. I was grateful to him for that.

His visits remained daily. Talking to him was much more helpful than talking to my doctor. And slowly I began to feel as if I was getting better. Finally after two months, they let me go, proclaiming me of sound mind.

I moved in with Wesley. Slowly but surely, our friendship was developing into something more.

I was alone in the apartment one evening when the door was knocked down. It was Angel.

"How did you find me?" I demanded, grabbing a stake from the top of a cupboard. It had been there ever since I'd moved in. I was afraid of something like this happening.

"Never mind, Cordy, it won't concern you when you're dead," he said. He had a knife in his hand. "Dead and mutilated. Just like you did to her."

"I'm not afraid of you," I stated, and at that point I realised it was true. I had no fear.

"You should be," he said. He stepped closer. Before he could make another move, I drove the stake through his heart. He disintegrated into dust. Sweeping it up and tossing it into the garbage, I thought, "My second kill".

It felt good.