A World of Ick and Kissage...

It was almost as if it were meant to be.  

Beautiful and pure, so very right it was unbelievable that they hadn’t acknowledged it before. What had stopped them? Foolishness, it was all foolishness to not admit to their feelings for one another. Yes, meant to be… 

“They’re in love, isn’t that sweet?” Fred gushed, standing at the top of the stairs as Wesley and Gunn joined her and they looked at the couple below them. 

Wesley frowned, “Who is?” 

But Fred didn’t seem to hear him, too busy romantically sighing over the couple below as they watched each other from across the room. Gunn peered over the railing and shrugged, slightly nauseated. “Angel and Cordy,” he supplied and his frown matched Wesley’s. 

When had this happened?
*~*
For weeks now, they’d been dancing around the subject, around each other. The ballet had been beautiful and it was then, okay, after they broke that hundred-year-old spell, that they realized they were meant for each other. Longer than normal glances, a touch here or there, that wasn’t before. 

Just to see if it were real they went on a date, telling no one that was their intention. Dinner was normal, as if they weren’t trying their best to discern the other’s feelings. They talked shop in the darkened corner booth of the restaurant where Cordelia ate and Angel pretended to, and then went for a long walk on the beach, moonlight glittering off the ocean, the muted crash of waves following them. That was where they shared a kiss. 

It was sweet and beautiful and they wanted to take it further. But something stopped them. What, neither could accurately pinpoint, but they agreed to take things slowly. Angel said he was afraid of ruining their friendship, that he was hesitant to move forward incase he wasn’t really what Cordy wanted – or should want. Cordelia agreed to take things slow for Angel’s sake, after all if they waited for each other this long, a few more weeks couldn’t hurt.

They went out every night, sharing things with each other as if they really were in the beginning stages of dating. Angel held himself back, however, and consciously or not he didn’t tell her of his past, couldn’t because he didn’t really know how to, afraid of her reaction. Wasn’t sure she’d accept him if she knew the true extent of his crimes and sins. Cordelia had never really liked him to change into his true face in front of her, so he didn’t, keeping that careful veneer of civilization he’d perfected in place at all times.  

And even when they were fighting vampires and demons, he did his best to change back before facing her.  

She took him shopping, and he vowed to live through it, saying that if the love of his life (wait, what?) wanted to shop with him, then he certainly was going to go with her. Even when they arrived back at the hotel, he several pounds heavier under the weight of all the bags Cordelia acquired, Angel still smiled at her, caressing her cheek and kissed her lightly, sending both Fred and Lorne into peals of glee. They had, they said, known all along. 

Yes, Angel loved her, and if he could change for her then he would. Something tugged inside of him, telling him that wasn’t exactly right, that love was acceptance, but Angel ignored it. He loved Cordelia, and she him – at least he hoped that was the case, that she reciprocated his feelings.  

“You know I love you, right?” Angel asked with a faint smile for the woman before him. 

There, he finally said it. The words had been building inside of him for days, weeks, and he could no longer deny their truth. He had to tell her, almost as if coerced to do so, as if something was telling him he needed to tell her. But in a good way, make no mistake. Because that was how he felt, he loved this woman. (Didn’t he…?)  

“I do, yes. And I love you,” Cordelia responded and nothing ever felt more right than saying those words to him. (Wait, to Angel…?) 

Her smile grew and she took another hesitant step towards him. How could she not love him? Angel was everything one could ask for. Okay, he had a past, but didn’t they all? And, yes, his was longer and slightly more (much more but don’t think about that) gory than the average, but it was the past. She loved the vampire despite – or was it because of – his past. He wanted to amend for his sins and Cordelia wanted to help him. 

‘I’m good for exactly two things in this world, International Superstardom and helping a vampire with a soul rid the world of evil.’ 

Where had that come from?
*~*
“They are?” Wesley asked, certain he had heard wrong. “With each other?”  

They were? Since when? And where was he when this happened. Sure, they’d been spending more time together but that was, he was sure, a part of their friendship. But as he looked over the edge of the landing, eyes morbidly glued to the horror that was the scene before him, Wesley wondered if he was wrong on that account.  

No, surely not, Angel and Cordelia?  

Angel needed someone after Buffy’s death and subsequent resurrection. It was only natural he turn to the one person who knew her, knew how much he and the slayer went through. How much the brooding vampire loved the blonde, longed for her despite all they’d done to keep their distance from each other. Wesley, erroneously it now seemed, assumed that Cordelia was doing the friend thing with Angel. Certainly not anything romantic!  

“Lorne agrees,” Fred sighed as the couple below them moved closer to each other, still smiling sappily and sickingly at each other. 

“Don’t ask me, Fred seems to think so.” As Gunn spoke, the green demon rushed through the lobby carrying a thin book and a heavy looking bag. The couple was still whispering quietly to each other, completely in their own world, and didn’t notice the sudden commotion as their demonic friend rushed up the stairs.  

“Oh, thank the gods, you three are here!” He whispered the words but the gushing was still present in his voice. “I was worried that I’d be too late. And then where would we be? Horrors, that’s what would have happened! Horror of horrors! Angelcakes over there would have his buns roasting, I tell you! Or maybe ours…” 

Lorne glanced over his shoulder and shuddered. It was almost too late now, and here he was babbling like a schoolgirl. Well, honestly, what did anyone expect? Dumping this on him with barely an hour to gather the supplies and race to the hotel before something happened.  

What did they think he was, Superman?
*~*
How had she been blind all this time? How had he? It was so obvious now it was almost scary. Yes, this was meant to be, they were meant to be, it had to be. Moving closer to him, smiling at the rightness of this (his Irish blue eyes a-smiling…blue, but wait, Angel’s were brown…) Cordelia couldn’t believe the joy that sang through her veins, the hum in her heart. 
*~*
“Quick,” Lorne said and shoved the bag into Gunn’s arms. “We need to set this up before anything…physical happens.” 

“What are you blathering on about?” Wes finally asked, lost and confused and not a little aggravated over the green demon’s prattling. Not to mention slightly sickened over the display below him. 

“Angel and Cordelia! Do you see that, that…that?!” 

“I thought,” Fred said in a timid voice, “That you said they were meant to be together.” 

“What? I did?” Lorne shrugged. “Alright, so I did. But I didn’t realize what I was reading was all wrong! Wrong, I say, wrong! As in not supposed to be and just plain…trust me, munchkin, it’s wrong.” He shuddered again and turned his back on the disgusting display below, one that he found sweet and endearing but hours before. 

“Lorne…” Gunn and Wesley said his name simultaneously and in the same threatening voice, demanding answers.  

“Short version,” Lorne said as he backed up a step from the menacing faces. “Because they’re about to lock lips and then who knows what’ll happen after that and if it’s not broken before serious physical-ness, it’ll be too late. Spell cast over Angel and Cordy. Bad evil spell that made them think they were in love. Once bad evil spell is gone, everything will go back to the way it’s supposed to and poof! Everything will be right once again in the world.” 

“Bad evil things,” Wes repeated, “As in Angelus?” 

“What? Oh, no. Well, yes, but not…I’ll explain later, but right now…time, people, time is of the extreme essence.” 

Okay, so he was leaving things out, like how he knew and why and, more importantly, who had cast the spell. That wasn’t the point; the point was to remove the spell as quickly as possible before it was permanent and undoable. Once that was done and everything was right again, he’d tell them. 

And even if everything weren’t set to rights, the wrongness that was Angel and Cordelia in love would be over. 
*~*
“Angel?” Dawn called in a soft hesitating voice.  

She knew he’d be able to hear her, if he was there, but didn’t want to attract attention of anyone else. She came to LA for the vampire’s help, not to be sent back to Sunnydale like a child. The fact that she’d run away like one meant little to the teen when no one in Sunnydale seemed to care if she did or not anyway. 

Pushing open the door further, Dawn risked a glance in. At first she was confused by the scene before her. A small crowd circled Angel and Cordelia at a good distance, Dawn recognized Wesley, who looked relieved as he lighted the last of the candles, but a skinny woman just looked confused. A circle of powder lay just beyond the two – Angel and Cordelia – halfway between them and the larger group, candles burning at regular intervals as well. The circle of four stepped back, and then took another step back.  

Frowning now, Dawn looked to Angel and was about to call his name again when he and Cordelia kissed. 

“Oh my GOD!” The teen screeched, hands flying up to cover her eyes, dropping her satchel with a loud thump in the process. “Oh, eww! That’s just gross! I so did not just see that! Yuck, what was that?” 

Cautiously removing her hands, Dawn looked to the group and noted the pained looks of Angel and Cordelia. They still stood beside each other, hands entwined, entirely too close for Dawn to handle.  

“Angel! What are you doing! Ugh, I’m too young to see horror shows like that.” Dawn shot Wesley a pointed look when the former watcher snickered. She turned her glare back to her sister’s (former) boyfriend and asked, angry and disgusted. “Cordelia? Hello? Are you listening to me? What do you think you’re doing?” 

Shaking his head, as if to clear it, Angel said, “Dawn,” then looked confused by the name. “Dawn, what are you doing here?” 

“I don’t know, I forget!” She replied honestly enough. She looked down as if the floor held the answers to his question, and could erase the scene she’d just witnessed and spotted her satchel. “Oh, right, help, I needed your help. Because I couldn’t go to Buffy and hello! What about Buffy, love of your unlife?” 

Frowning again as if he didn’t know the name, Angel questioned, “Buffy?” 

The entire room stilled. Cautiously Wesley asked as if he were afraid of the answer, “Do you remember Buffy, Angel?” 

The vampire just shook his head again. “Buffy?” He said the name softly, reverently, and as if he should know it, but couldn’t place it. 

Dawn looked like she was going to cry and held herself rigid as she spat, “Buffy, blonde slayer? Died recently and was resurrected?” She may be angry with her sister, hurt over Buffy’s seeming lack of interest in her, but no one messed with a Summers. It was a law. “Love of unlife, perfect moment of happiness, soul? My sister?” 

Looking confused, but as if he were honestly trying to remember, or fight to remember, Angel parroted, “Slayer?” 

“I think I’m going to be sick,” Dawn said, picking up her duffle bag and looking a little green. She glanced at Cordelia who had that same look on her face as Angel, the one that said she was trying to remember but it wasn’t working, before turning to Wesley. 

“What’s going on here?” The youngest Summers demanded as her stomach churned. 

“Would you believe me if I told you that Angel and Cordelia think they’re in love?” 

The bag dropped again and Dawn’s eyes widened, as she turned even greener than before. “Huh?” 

“In love,” Cordelia said, less firmly than moments ago when she declared that love to Angel. “We’re in love…aren’t we, Angel?” 

The vampire nodded absently, then turned to the woman in his arms and smiled. “Yes, we are.” He leaned in to kiss her again but stopped at Dawn’s strangled scream and shouted, “Ugh, stop already, just…stop. It’s gross and wrong!” 

“Let them go, munchkin,” a tall red horned green-skinned demon told her and Dawn would have been at least a little cautious if she hadn’t seen stranger things in her life. “We’re ready.” 

Still feeling ill, wondering if ‘moving on’ really meant ‘losing one’s mind,’ because, really, she couldn’t remember Angel ever giving Cordelia the time of day let alone falling for her, Dawn stared at the creature before her. Too shaken up to more than stare, she finally uttered, “Huh? Ready for what?” 

“Trust me, sweetie,” he said and handed her a pouch of dried stinky herbs. “And sprinkle these over the couple when I say so.” 

Not understanding a bit of it, not wanting to, but willing to help with any magick she could since Buffy banned her from having any kind of fun due to Willow’s “addiction,” Dawn took the pouch. The couple went back to ignoring their friends and making googly eyes at each other, hands still entwined, mouths inches away from the other. Dawn found it more than a little odd that they didn’t question the presence of the others in the room or the presence of so much magickal paraphernalia.  

Or, hell, the fact that they were ‘in love.’ Ugh, there went her dinner.

Dawn looked away, torn between righteous anger on behalf of Buffy and serious confusion. Since when were Angel and Cordelia in love? She struggled to listen to the green demon, resisted making comparisons to Kermit, and watched as the circle glowed blue, the candle flames rising higher than the oxygen content of the air warranted. 

The couple’s lips were locked now, and the demon was chanting faster as they started to leave the blue circle. Oh, God, please, please, don’t tell her they were going to do…oh, no, it was too horrible a thought! The magicks became almost tangible in the air and Dawn shivered from the strength of them. Generally speaking, Dawn thought as she caught the frantic green hand signaling her to toss the herbs on Angel and Cordelia, and despite her desire to learn about them, she always found it safer to be away from such strong magicks, experience taught her that, if nothing else. 

Except, of course, she amended and dumped the rest of the bag over Cordelia’s head, making sure to get as much as possible in her hair, when breaking a spell that went against all laws of God, Man, Demon, the Natural Order, Entropy…the list went on as far as Dawn was concerned. 

Angel answered Cordelia’s smile, drawing her more securely into his strong arms, settling his hands around her waist (something was wrong there, the waist was too high, the hips were too lush) and lowered his lips to hers. He had wanted to do this for a long while now, wanted to feel her lips under his as a prelude to feeling her body under his, wanted to know that she felt for him what he did for her. Wanted to consummate their love in a beautiful giving and taking of their bodies. 

Even Angelus was silent within Angel and the soul could only think it was because the demon loved Cordelia as much as the soul. It was unfortunate for Angel that the spell also somehow muted Angelus who was screaming himself hoarse over the vulgar display he found himself a part of. And they said he was the repugnant one. At least he had taste! 

Angelus began his berating once he realized that there wasn’t enough of anything in this world or the next to cause Angel to have a moment of true happiness with Cordelia. Therefore, he wasn’t likely to get free and if there was no chance of that, then there was no reason to be a party, however indirectly, to this abomination. 

(Curse, damn it! What about the curse?)

Curse? No, there was no curse on this, their love, them. It was peaceful and loving and as Angel lowered his lips that fraction more, he knew it was everything he ever dreamed of. 

Perfection, happiness…Perfect Happiness…wait…there was something there. But Angel didn’t care, and neither did Cordelia from the smile she gave him, hesitant, loving, shy (Cordelia shy?) and aroused.  

The moment their lips met sparks shot through them. 

No, literally.  

As in bright blue electrical sparks surrounded them, and Angel gasped, pulling away from Cordelia with a jerk that left her stumbling for her own balance. Her eyes shot open, accusatory and hurt to stare into his own panicked brown ones. 

“What the hell was that for, Angel?” She asked as she found her balance on her sneakers. Sneakers? Since when did she wear sneakers for anything but her too-good-to-really-sweat-exercises with her personal trainer? 

“I don’t know!” He said and wondered what she was asking and what he was answering. 

“You don’t know why you left me to fall?” 

“I don’t know why I kissed you!” Where had that urge come from? He remembered thinking that Cordy was beautiful, but he never denied it, she was and he had eyes. He remembered thinking that there was something special about her and then everything was muddled. 

What was he missing between beautiful and kissing? It had to be something; he’d never voluntarily consider kissing Cordelia. She was attractive, sure, but he didn’t want her, he only wanted Buffy. Angel’s eyes shot to Dawn and he fought to keep his composure. Buffy… 

Answers came crashing through his brain and then Angel wished for the muddledness of moments before. In love with Cordelia? Nausea churned through him at the mere thought. No, he wasn’t, he cared for Cordelia, she was a close friend, his closest, she helped him through so many things, Buffy, losing Doyle, guilt, Faith, Buffy, guilt, Darla, Buffy…Buffy. He needed a longer résumé there. 

In love with her? Angel shook his head. What had he been thinking? 

“Oh, that. Wait, what? Kiss?”  

Angel kissed her? No, that couldn’t be right.  Sure, Cordelia admitted that she’d been attracted to Angel, hello, woman with eyes here! But she never thought about him as anything more than a friend since she began working with (for) him a couple of years ago. 

“Oh ick!” Cordelia screeched as she remembered the kiss, ugh, and there had been more than one of them! And, more horrible, the fact that she thought she was in love with Angel. “Ick, Angel germs! Oh, ew, I kissed Angel!” 

“No need to be overly dramatic, Cordelia,” Angel muttered as she raced for the refrigerator and a bottle of water. Angel turned to watch her, wondering why he’d think that he loved Cordelia and then suddenly why he, well, didn’t. Really, though, he was just as happy not thinking he was in love with her, thank you very much. 

“At least that reaction I understand.” A voice muttered and Angel turned to look at Dawn. 

“Dawnie, what are you doing here?” 

“Oh you remember me now? You know, Angel, if I wanted people to forget me, I’d have stayed in Sunnydale. And hello! Kissage over there!” 

Angel shook his head again, still trying to clear the fog that settled over his brain. 

“I think I’m going to be sick,” he whispered and staggered to the stairs, flopping down on them before he could be sick. Or pass out.
**********
“I don’t get it,” Angel said a few minutes later, still from his position on the stairs, still feeling as if his insides had been ripped open and washed out with bleach and holy water, shaken stirred, and closed – rather sloppily – once more. Cordelia continued to scrub her lips off in an attempt to wash away his kiss. Not the best thing to see, Angel thought as she went on and on with it, but understandable.  

“Get what?” Cordelia asked as she continued to fanatically wipe her now raw lips. “God, therapy for the rest of my life!” She glared at Angel again, as if this were all his fault, and didn’t wait for anyone to answer her question. “This is all your fault, buddy,” she pointed at Angel, then, dramatically, “Repression is the only way to go on this one.” 

“Okay, Cordelia, you can stop with the lip wiping.” He was starting to get offended. Not that he wanted, necessarily, for her to have enjoyed them, but still…maybe repression was the only way to go… 

“Someone care to explain?” The question was directed at the group in general but Angel’s eyes strayed to Lorne who still clutched a book to his chest as if that would help the demon answer any and all questions anyone cared to pose. Failing that, somehow protect him from the wrath of Cordelia. And Angel, but the vampire looked more ill than anything at the moment. 

“Well, duh! You and Cordelia are, ah…were? In love,” Fred volunteered helpfully, as if it was obvious, to the gasps of horror and shock from the aforementioned couple. “Really, you were, Angel. You went on dates, took romantic walks along the beach, shared ice cream,” she continued as if listing their so-called romantic exploits would help them realize they really were in love and Lorne’s little spell didn’t stop that from being so. 

“Dates?” Cordelia screeched, “We went on dates? As in more than one? Ick, you mean we kissed more than this once?” She glared at Wesley and Gunn as if it were suddenly their fault. “And you let us?” She hissed at them.  

“Wait, to the beach? Vampire here,” her arms were flailing about and she, too, looked nauseous. “No beach, beach bad for him; and wait, we ate ice cream together? Ice cream for the vampire with no active taste buds? I so don’t think so.” 

Angel looked pained and for a moment his group thought maybe, just maybe, he really was in love with Cordelia. If he was, then her ranting on and on about the things they did, and in the worst possible way, would hurt him. But then he abruptly stood. “I don’t go the beach, Fred, and I don’t eat ice cream,” he said firmly, then added in a whisper that carried over the hushed group. “Not any more.” 

Cordelia whirled to the gapping group, having some vague recollection as to why Angel didn’t go to the beach, but willing to ignore that faint memory for the moment. “Someone mind telling me what happened?” She demanded arms crossed across her chest, a look of fury on her face. A foot was tapping rapidly and her eyes shot sparks of fire at her so-called friends.  

“If you are really my friends,” she reasoned at them, still nauseous and angry, “Then you wouldn’t have let things get as far as they obviously did between Angel and I.” 

Someone should have stopped the madness.  

“I can explain, Angel-cakes.” Lorne said and looked relieved to be able to do so. He didn’t know what Angel was talking about with the ice cream but no one else seemed to either, so maybe it was a form of vampire-memory loss? Unimportant at the moment. “It came, quite literally, to me in a dream. I thought it was one too many sea breezes at first, but this demon told me that you were under a spell from Wolfram & Hart, they were trying to make you lose your soul with Cordelia.” 

Wesley, Gunn, and Dawn looked to Angel. Dawn grew angrier for a moment then looked and really saw the obvious pain on Angel’s face. Biting back the scathing comment she was about to make, the former key said nothing. From the looks of things, Angel wasn’t really in love with Cordelia and laying into him for betraying Buffy wasn’t what Dawn was here for, anyway. Still, she shot him a dirty look and knew he saw it. 

Wes snorted in laughter before managing to control himself, adopting an innocent face and listening attentively as a good watcher was supposed to. He pushed his glasses higher on his nose, a classic watcher move and cleared his throat. “Demon? Who was this demon, Lorne?” 

“No idea; he was blue-skinned, with spikes on his face. Said he worked for the Powers and that it was up to me to break the spell. And that if I didn’t do it within an hour, it would be too late and the spell would be permanent and unbreakable.” 

As one, the group turned to look at Cordelia who looked pale, remembering what they were about to do when they were, thankfully, interrupted. She chugged more of her water and wiped at her lips again, shuddering as she did so. They looked at Angel and the vampire glared back. He, too, looked a little paler than usual. 

“What? Don’t blame me; blame Wolfram & Hart. I had nothing to do with this.” 

“How do you know this demon was trustworthy, Lorne?” Gunn asked, wondering, if he let loose the laugh that was building, who’d kill him first, Angel or Cordelia. Angel was faster, stronger, definitely the more dangerous of the pair, but from the looks of things, Cordelia wasn’t far behind in the willing to be dangerous mode – at least this once. 

“Ah, well, see, I don’t know.” He admitted and shrugged. “What? I was so thrown by the whole thing, by the their love is a spell and if I didn’t fix it in a set amount of time – time which was very short, might I add – then the spell would be permanent and Angelus would get lose!”  

Dawn, though, knew Angel. She knew Wesley and Cordelia only slightly and the others not at all, but had to pose the question. “How do you know that Angel having…” Lord, she couldn’t say it. It wasn’t the sex word she was having trouble with it was the Angel and Cordelia having sex that she was. “Ah, with Cordelia would have brought Angelus back. I thought Buffy said it was a perfect happiness thing, not a sex thing.” 

Angel looked pained again for a moment, the broody look Dawn always associated with him back in full force. Much better than that sappy vacant look he had on earlier while he was drooling over Cordelia. Dawn shuddered again at the mental image. 

Lorne looked puzzled for a moment. Admitting with a helpless shrug he said, “Ah, cupcake, well, I don’t know. Maybe Angel-cakes can answer that question.” 

They turned back to Angel. His face was a mask; nothing could be read on it. His brown eyes were blank, reflecting the light of the lobby, his slanted cheekbones looking more angular at the moment as if he’d suddenly lost weight. When he spoke, it was with a quiet assurance none had heard from him in a long time. 

It wasn’t with the outspoken quality they’d come to expect from him since Buffy’s, ah, resurrection, it wasn’t with the forceful commanding tone he’d taken during that dark time with Darla. It was simply Angel’s voice, pained, bearing the weight of a thousand, thousand chains, centuries of guilt and culpability. And, if one listened closely enough, a small thread of hope. 

“This demon, Lorne, you said he had pale blue-whitish almost greenish skin?” At the green-skinned demon’s nod, Angel continued in his low steady voice. “And small whitish spikes?” Another nod and Cordelia was looking every bit as apprehensive as Angel’s intense questions were making the rest of them feel. Did he know this demon? 

Swiftly crossing the space separating them, forgetting for a moment that she had just tried to rub her lips off from several remembered kisses – and other’s she’d rather repress –Cordelia’s sneakers softly slapped against the tile flooring as she locked eyes with Angel. Reaching out a hand, touching his tensely muscled arm, bound steel under the softness of his shirt; her voice was a hushed whisper across the lobby, clear to the fascinated audience. 

“Angel…? Do you think it was him?” Hope, sadness, unfulfilled longing filled her voice. 

Angel laid his hand over hers, nodding once. “Sounds like him, doesn’t it?” 

“But, but, he’s…we saw, flash of light…and the visions. Do you really think so?” Her eyes were bright with unshed tears. She would not let them fall, she was Cordelia Chase and despite the severe decline of her circumstances, and whatever had recently happened to her, that she’d so rather forget, she would not let other’s see her pain. 

“Maybe he’s still looking out for us, Cordelia,” Angel said in assurance and support, squeezing her hand once more. 

“Who?” Gunn asked, slightly suspicious. “You know this demon Lorne’s talking about?” 

“Knew, Gunn, and possibly.” The vampire said nothing more and Cordelia didn’t elaborate. No one asked any more questions for a few moments before Angel looked up and locked eyes with Dawn. One question at a time, then. And it was time to move onto the next. 

Angel took a step up the stairs and looked back at Dawn. “Dawnie?” 

Understanding the look, the youngest Summers grabbed her bag for the second time, and jogged to where he waited. Neither looked back.  

Angel ushered her into his room, closing the door behind them and leaning against it for a moment. Tonight had taken a lot out of him, spell, awkward love something between he and his best friend, strange revelations about long dead and still terribly missed friends. All he really wanted to do was sleep. Well, maybe sit in front of his window with a glass of Scotch and a book of poetry he probably wouldn’t read and…think. He didn’t brood. 

“Want to tell me why you’re here, Dawn?” Actually what he wanted to ask was more along the lines of ‘Where’s Buffy,’ ‘How’s Buffy,’ “Why isn’t Buffy with you,’ but those could wait. For the moment, five at most. 

“Ah, right. Hehe, you’re probably wondering why I just showed up looking like a runaway and begging for a place to stay.” 

Amused, Angel raised an eyebrow. “You haven’t asked for a place to stay yet.” 

Dawn blushed and fidgeted with her hands for a moment. “Ah, Buffy is working at some fast-food dump, Willow’s addicted to magicks, Tara isn’t talking to her, Xander screwed up his wedding to Anya and is moping around like he’s King of All Who Brood – when we all know that’s you – Anya is who knows where. Spike doesn’t have any time for me since he’s so far up Buffy’s butt and Buffy doesn’t have any time for me since she started doing the super-slayer, I can work and patrol, sleep and clean and whatever all else she does thing.” 

Angel took a moment to digest the single-breath information Dawn had dumped on him. He didn’t like it, not in the least. Buffy working at a fast food dump? And what was this about Spike? His grandchilde was supposed to watch Angel’s mate, not do…a low growl escaped him, making Dawn jump. Best not to think on things like that, going on a rampage now, hunting Spike down for the imaginative images Angel now had flashing through him mind wasn’t for the best. Even if it would make him feel better.  

His mate did not work; his mate did not do anything with any other vampire except him. Then again, he hadn’t been there to see that she didn’t do any of the things she wasn’t supposed to. But damn it, that was why Angel (and Angelus) allowed Spike to live! 

Point against him, Angel. 

Spike should have, Angel thought again as a growl rumbled though him at the thought, as his grandchilde and even if they never really got along, it was his duty to see to his Grandsire’s mate. The more he thought of Dawn’s words, the angrier Angel grew over several things, not the least being that he should have done something about Buffy’s circumstances and not whatever horror he’d been doing with Cordelia.  

Another point against him. Then again, was it his fault someone put a horrible spell on him and made him act as imbecilic as he had been the past few weeks? No, so point for him. In the end, it probably didn’t even out. 

Dawn continued to watch Angel as the vampire scowled and growled, mumbling to himself every few moments. The younger Summers had to wonder how well his friends actually knew the vampire in not seeing that he was obviously still upset over Buffy’s death and not catching the Angel/Cordelia thing. Not that she did know him, not all that well, but she knew the romance between he and Buffy, and the fact that Angel always made time for her, Dawn, whenever she needed him. That was enough. Even if it hadn’t been real, it felt that way, and that was definitely enough for Dawn. 

The scariness that was Angel talking to himself ended with a, “I’ll kill them all,” followed by, “My mate does not work.” 

Turning impassioned eyes to Dawn, Angel stated, “So you ran away, Dawnie?” 

“Uh, no? I just came to visit a friend?” He wasn’t buying it and Dawn thought that had as much to do with her wording as her tone. “Yeah, I couldn’t take it. No one understands me, no one even wants to, and…” to her horror, she felt her eyes brim with tears. Blinking furiously to hold them at bay, Dawn completely broke down when Angel’s arms came around her, holding her securely in his embrace. 

She wasn’t aware of being led to his bed, of curling up on his lap as she cried, telling Angel of her anger and sorrow for her mother, for Buffy’s death and resurrection and her guilt that she wanted and needed her sister so much that she didn’t care Willow brought Buffy back from the dead. Even if it was heaven. For her loser of a father she really didn’t care about but it would have been nice if he thought about his children once in a while. For the fact that she had no one to listen to her, because they were all so wrapped up in their own lives. 

Angel rocked the girl in his arms, suddenly and forcibly reminded of Buffy. How she used to cry over her parents fighting when she was first called and he watched her from the bushes outside her window. He rocked Dawn until she fell into an exhausted sleep and still he held her. 

What had happened to them? Angel wondered as he absently rubbed Dawn’s back, his large hand a comfort to the girl even in sleep. He and Buffy used to be able to tell each other so many things, go to each other when they needed help or just a shoulder. Granted, all that changed when he left Sunnydale and her, but he never really wanted to leave her. He just wanted… 

Maybe he was selfish. Maybe he was afraid of his weakness, which, granted, was there in a full-color poster: Buffy was his weakness. He couldn’t be around her without wanting her to the point of foolishness and he couldn’t be away from her without pining over her and the heartbreak he’d caused them both. Maybe he was afraid that he wasn’t what she wanted or needed. Only in the last year or two, after he effectively left Buffy and made it on his own – or tried to, had Angel discovered that he was the man she thought him to be all those years. 

But then too much had changed between them and they could never go back. Or had it, could they? 

Carefully he lay Dawn on the bed, slipping off her shoes and socks. He debated for a moment on taking off her jeans and shirt, but despite the number of women he’d had in his bed over his very long life, it had never been his only love’s little sister. The clothes stayed on. Pulling the comforter over the girl, he smoothed her hair to the side and kissed her temple. 

Turning, Angel walked out the bedroom, paused to look blankly around the rest of his rooms, then out the door, quietly closing it after him. Dawn’s arrival, while obviously because the teen felt traumatized by her life, had sparked something in the vampire. And it had nothing to do with the spell he’d been under until recently. Shuddering at the memories, Angel wondered if Cordelia’s repression techniques might be for the best. Maybe a memory loss spell? No, can’t really trust those, besides, magick? Not on the best of terms with the souled vampire. 

Everything, it seemed, was back to normal when he returned to the lobby. Gunn was polishing weapons, Wesley was pouring over a large dusty tomb in his office, and Cordelia and Fred were talking near the phones and computer. 

“But you and Angel, Cordy! Moira and Kye-rumption! I know it; I can feel it. Maybe the spell was just a strange side-effect of something, and okay, maybe by the evil law firm, but it just shows something that’s already there!” Fred was typing away on the computer as she said this and was oblivious to Cordelia’s glare.  

Slapping her hands on the counter, Cordelia leaned over to the computer nerd. “Let’s get one thing straight, alright, Fred?” When she was sure she had the shorter girl’s attention, Cordy continued. “That little horror between Angel and I? A world of bad and icky. He’s a brooding vampire with a soul who does good. He can’t get happy and Lord, mental image! I don’t even want to think of being the one who gives him that. He’s, he’s…” 

She sputtered here, clearly worked up over the whole thing. And was looking a little green again as she shuddered over everything she was doing her best for forget. “Lord, Fred, Angel’s like my brother!” She shouted and went back to rubbing her lips, “Ugh, gross!” 

Her hands – they needed a manicure, Cordelia couldn’t believe that falling ‘in love’ with Angel caused her to neglect certain mandatory aspects of her appearance. And the sneakers? So gone. Her hands covered her eyes as if in doing so she could block out the memories and that nasty inner third eye that caused her to remember such atrocities.  

Stupid eye, if she could cut it out, she would. 

Glancing up when Angel crossed the lobby, Cordelia paled and stood. “I’m going home. Don’t call, don’t visit, when I’ve forgotten all this, I’ll see everyone again.” She grabbed her purse, where on earth had she gotten such a hideous thing? And left. She didn’t look back.  

In not doing so, she missed Gunn’s snicker and Lorne’s guffaw. Fred still looked confused and Wes ignored everyone as he continued to study his book; he was smirking behind the thick musty pages.

Angel looked relieved. How could he think that he loved Cordelia? All right, possibly in a small sisterly way he cared for her, but in love with? Ugh, gross, he could hear the echo of Cordelia’s words and smiled. Shaking his head, Angel still found it hard to believe that even a spell could make him think he was in love with anyone other than Buffy. Never. He was only ever in love with one person and she still held his heart.

Which concerned him. If Wolfram & Hart wanted him to lose his soul, thus reverting to Angelus once more, then why didn’t they just put the spell on he and Buffy? Much as he hated to admit it, or remember the pain he put his beloved through, it was a tried and true method.  

Was there something else going on that he didn’t know? Walking to Wesley’s office, Angel didn’t bother to knock. “Wes, we need to find out what spell they used on Cordelia and I and why. And how far back the spell went. And if it really was Wolfram & Hart and if it was, why Lorne was so easily able to break it.” 

Looking up from his book, Wes nodded. “I’ve already begun researching it, but Lorne’s scarce on details. I’m trying to backtrack, using the information we have on the cure to see what was used in the actual spell.” 

Angel nodded and left. Next step: Call Buffy or not? Dawn hadn’t specifically said not to, but he knew the slayer had to be worried sick over her sister. Maybe he’d give Dawn until morning.

Hopefully, by then they’d have more answers.

Those Who Will Be Coming Back...

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