Now I Remember Why I Don’t Like You

It took Angel five of the longest minutes of his life to shut Fred up, quell Gunn’s laughter, shoo Wesley off to his research, and usher Buffy back to his room.  

Closing the door with an audible click and doing the same for the door to his bedroom, so as to not awaken Dawn, Angel tried to gather his thoughts. Unfortunately, Buffy was glaring at him as if he’d just confessed to being Quinten Travors in disguise who planned to do unspeakable things to Dawn to discover the secrets of the Key. Best get right to it then.  

“There’s a lot of back story, Buffy, but the general gist is this: Wolfram & Hart, that law firm I told you about, wants Angelus loose. They don’t realize that loose or not, neither of us will follow their lead. They also don’t understand the logistics of the curse, which is probably just as well, and think it’s sex that releases my hold on the body.”  

Buffy’s glare turned to green slits of ice as Angel explained the problems he’d had in the past months. Lilah Morgan, the Senior Partners, Fred thinking that there was something more to his friendship with Cordelia, and finally this spell. “So they tried to get you to have sex with…Cordelia? Angel, really, Cordelia?”  

Shaking his head, trying not to remember the past few weeks, it was much better that way, he held up a hand. “Buffy, please. They obviously know about you if they know about the curse, but…” Should he tell her of his suspicions about his soul? Suspicions he hadn’t fully worked out himself. No, that wasn’t part of the current discussion. “Anyway, that’s for another time. And we will talk about that,” he stressed with a hard look at her.  

“So,” he continued, looking distinctly uncomfortable. “They cast this spell over the two of us, Wes is researching that, to make us think we were in love. And, ah, it seems that the spell was irreversible once we, ah, consummated that so-called love.” He admitted haltingly. Then, faster and with obvious relief, “But Lorne had a dream about it, realized it was a spell, found out how to break it, and did so before anything…untoward could happen.”  

“They wanted you in love with Cordelia?” Buffy asked as she tried to work past the jealous anger that clouded her vision. “Now I remember why I don’t like her,” the slayer muttered.  

“Why?” She questioned, trying to understand. “Was there something there before? I mean I know you work with each other, but maybe they did it because they thought there was something more to your relationship and worked with that. You can’t just create love out of nothing, can you?”  

Crossing the room to where Buffy stood, Angel grasped her shoulders, forcing Buffy to look at him. “Buffy, look at me. I care for Cordelia; she’s a friend and has been a good one over the years. But it’s nothing more than that, it never has been and it never will be. Just because I don’t love her as more than a sister doesn’t mean that I want harm to come to her; maybe they confused that with something else, I don’t know.”  

Buffy scowled but said nothing. She was going to have to have a little talk with this law firm. And Cordelia, oh, yes, Buffy planned on speaking with Cordelia, too, just in case there was something…more on the brunette’s part. The other woman was always jealous of Buffy’s relationship with Angel, Buffy thought, why should anything change that? Then Buffy remembered the shared look between Cordelia and Doyle. Maybe something could change that.  

“Remember what I told you?” He asked with a slight smile, one that guaranteed her knees to weaken. “I’ll only ever love you, in all my years.”  

Her entire body relaxed with that her hands moving up to clasp his wrists, and Buffy smiled. “I remember, Angel. But I’m still going to find whoever put this spell on you and make them very, very sorry.” Then, because the jealous haze had cleared a little, “What did you mean by they didn’t understand the logistics of the curse? They think that it’s just sex, don’t they.” Buffy nodded, remembering his explanation on what happened, and what she once told Dawn about the release of Angelus.  

“They don’t know it’s contentment, love, belonging, do they?” Buffy smiled, smug now. So she held everything about Angel jealously close to her heart; considering the too few memories they made together, Buffy felt she was entitled. And while there was that constant threat of the two of them losing control and Angelus getting lose, Buffy took a bizarre sort of pride in the fact that it was she and no one else who held that power.  

Yeah, logic really had no place there and Buffy was perfectly content with that.  

“And just as well, too, because if they did, they’d realize you were the only one to hold that power over me,” Angel admitted, drawing Buffy closer. Tucking her head under his chin, the vampire continued, “But that’s something else I think we should talk about.”  

“What?” Buffy asked with sudden apprehension. He wouldn’t tell her he no longer felt that way for her, would he? Not when he held her in his arms so tenderly, so protectively. “Is it about…about your soul?”  

“Later, Buffy, we’ll talk about that later. Now,” Angel waved his feeling that maybe there was something more to the soul-curse than he realized. Why hadn’t he lost his soul when Cordelia told him Buffy was alive, when he saw her again, when he held her, kissed her? But that was a question for another time.  

Leading her to the plush leather chair, Angel sat, bringing Buffy with him and wrapping his arms securely around her. Nothing was solved between them, as always they had way too much to discuss, but that didn’t matter. It’d been too long since Angel last held her and he wasn’t wasting this opportunity. Besides, he didn’t want her to bolt when he voiced his next question.  

“What’s this about you and Spike?”  

Stiffening, Buffy did try to pull out of Angel’s arms. Closing her eyes, she cursed however it was he found out about her indiscretion with the vampire. “How…?”  

“His scent’s all over you, Buffy,” Angel growled, surprised he’d managed to last this long before questioning her. “What happened?”
~~~~~~~~~~  
Dawn silently cried behind the closed door of Angel’s bedroom.  

She’d woken some time ago, refreshed from the best night’s sleep she’d gotten in over a year. So that was what Buffy meant about always feeling safe with Angel. If just knowing the souled vampire was in the same building, that he watched over her, Dawn, as he did her sister, made the younger Summers’ feel safe enough to sleep for twelve hours, what must Buffy feel?  

It was quite by accident that Dawn discovered Buffy felt the same way, but a thousand times more. She hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, honestly, but…and well, she wanted to know why her sister was so distant, so cold towards everyone. Dawn discovered more than she ever wanted to know.  

As she listened to Buffy confess everything from the past year to Angel, Dawn cried. For the sister she never really knew, for the slayer who sacrificed it all because she didn’t feel connected enough to this world to care if she lived or died. But most of all the overwhelming anger Buffy felt towards her friends for not letting her rest and for her sister for not recognizing Buffy’s need as well. Friends who hadn’t cared if she was in heaven or hell, they simply wanted her back. And they got their wish, dragging her from heaven, kicking and screaming, to a world she didn’t want to inhabit any longer.  

And what did they do? They forced her to take over the rigors of daily living almost immediately. They hadn’t cared that even if she had been in hell there were certain emotional problems she’d have, but to be torn from ultimate peace…no all they cared about was that Buffy was back with them. And since she was back, she was the slayer, the leader of their group, and frankly, they hadn’t managed that well without their leader. So they thrust her back into that position and hadn’t cared that that had contributed to her emotional downward spiral at all.  

Dawn cried harder when she heard Buffy confess her ‘relationship’ with Spike. So that’s where she was all those nights, patrolling then screwing Spike. Dawn would have been angry, and okay she was because she still felt neglected, but then she hadn’t heard the rest of that confession. How Buffy needed to feel something and Spike was the only one willing to help her through that. Even if it had been in an emotionally abusing and controlling way.  

When Dawn got back to Sunnydale, she was so kicking Spike’s ass.  

Eventually the sobs quieted from both Summers’ girls and Dawn risked opening the bedroom door a crack. Buffy lay in Angel’s strong, protective arms, obviously spent. She curled trustingly in those arms, allowing the comfort and security of them to lull her into a sleep the slayer hadn’t felt in months, if not years.

Angel’s eyes shot open even though Dawn swore she hadn’t made a sound. Damn vampire senses. Opening her mouth, Dawn wanted to say something, but had no idea what. Should she apologize to Angel for this, or should he be the one thanking her for running to him in the first place. After all, it brought he and Buffy back together. No, she should probably apologize to Buffy, but the slayer was asleep.  

“I’m sorry,” Dawn whispered and wasn’t sure if she were saying that to Angel, Buffy, or both.  

Angel simply nodded, not moving from his position in the chair as Dawn tiptoed across the floor. “There’s food downstairs, Dawn,” he whispered, “Go down the stairs and to your right to the kitchen area near the front desk.”  

Dawn nodded and quietly opened the door, shutting it firmly behind her. Angel watched her leave the room, listening to her footsteps as they echoed on the hallway. He’d known she listened to Buffy’s confession and cried with the slayer over things neither could change, he could see the visible signs of sorrow and anxiety on Dawn’s face when the younger woman crept out of the bedroom. But Angel couldn’t comfort Dawn, not while Buffy still needed him.  

Carefully standing, the slayer still curled in his arms, Angel carried her to his room, laying her gently on the bed. Removing her socks and shoes, he toed off his own before climbing into bed with her, tugging the comforter around them. The vampire debated removing Buffy’s clothes – just so she’d be more comfortable, of course – but decided that was a temptation they didn’t need.  

Closing his eyes, Angel allowed himself to drift off to sleep, holding the only woman he ever loved in his arms.
~~~~~~~~~~  
Cordelia stared at the man before her.  

In an unprecedented move, this was the third time today she was speechless.  

Doyle just finished telling her everything he’d kept secret for the past months. Months by his time, years by hers, but Cordelia was trying to assimilate it all and wasn’t in the mood to quibble over technicalities like that. As far as the man before her was concerned, he’d jumped across that opening, dismembering that machine only yesterday, two days ago at most. Not close to the two years that Cordelia knew to have passed. In that time, she’d often remembered him, but since it was impossible (she really should know better) to change the past, Cordelia tried her best to leave the best unfulfilled thing to ever happen to her in that past.   

He loved her.

Okay, so she got that, really she did. She realized it in the moments before Doyle did jump, when he kissed her, when he said it was a shame they’d never have the chance to see if his face – the demon one – was a face she could love. When she’d finally broken down in Angel’s arms, weeks after Doyle’s death when Wesley already joined their ranks. The vampire confessed Doyle’s big secret, not that he was half demon, Cordelia realized that moments before his death. No, it was that Allan Francis Doyle was in love with her.  

Well. That was all well and good and Cordelia treasured that. It was different from sitting face to face with a man one watched die, having him confess that love.  

“Have you changed so much, princess, that you suddenly can’t find anything to say?” Doyle teased, afraid that he’d somehow broken her.  

That snapped Cordelia out of her stupor. “Look, I’m trying to understand it all, okay? I mean it’s not everyday someone returns from the dead.” She paused and realized what she said. “Actually, that’s more common than one would think. Anyway,” she waved that away, “I mean. You were there, and that kiss, and well, then you jumped, and I don’t know what I really feel for you because you were dead and I never got the chance to really feel those feelings! How do I know what I felt for you two years ago is real?”  

Her voice was beginning to rise in her panic. “I mean I thought that there could be something, but you weren’t there to…and well, what if I just built you up in my head, thinking that whatever it was I felt for you was the real thing, was love and the real kind, the forever kind, but then it might not be because you died and we couldn’t explore that with dates and more kisses and fights and the make-up sex!”  

Cordelia stood, breathing heavily and Doyle thought she’d hyperventilate if she didn’t calm down. “Now, princess, just relax…”  

“Don’t tell me to relax!” She snapped at Doyle, “I mean I thought so much to you, I wondered all those what might have been,” and now she was screaming, “And I was really sad that we couldn’t have that, even the chance and then, then, then-”  

Doyle leapt to his feet when Cordelia paled, her breath coming in shorter bursts than was healthy. “Easy, Delia,” Doyle soothed, sitting her back in the chair and crouching before her. “Breathe, Princess, you’re going to pass out if you don’t.”  

Listening to him, Cordelia did as he instructed and tried really hard to not to think that a man who’d been dead less than a day ago was giving her advice on how to breathe. But it worked, and eventually she calmed. Calmed enough to look back in his handsome face, to see the concern in his twinkling blue eyes, to see the love shining there. Yeah, she was a goner.  

“I’m really tired, Doyle,” Cordelia admitted eventually. Between the horror that was remembering her so totally false love for Angel, and this, the breaking point was quickly approaching. “I have a room here, we all do, and I’m going to go lie down.” She stood, taking a deep breath as she did. Holding out her hand, Cordelia smiled, “Come on, I’ll fill you in on what’s been happening here.”  

Doyle smiled, clasping her smaller hand in his and allowing her to lead the way. He couldn’t wait to find out how his friends fared during his, ah, absence.  
~~~~~~~~~~  
Spike stood inside the Summers’ kitchen. Buffy wasn’t there, that much he knew, nor was the niblet. Red was upstairs with the other one and their conversation floated down to his vampire enhanced hearing. Buffy was in LA, returning one of Angel’s errant friends, it seemed. And Dawn ran away to LA as well. Why was it always about Angel?  

Then again, the moment his grandsire discovered his, ah, impropriety with Buffy, Spike was dead. There were two ways to play that. The first was that he, Spike, was trying to help the slayer learn to live again. Since her friends yanked her from heaven then left her to fend for herself, and since Angel was in LA doing the do-gooder job, or whatever he did, that stupid help the hopeless bit, or was it helpless? What did it matter, the point was that the older vampire wasn’t there and he, Spike, was.  

The second was to play on vampire dynamics. As Angel’s grandchilde, Spike was in a unique position. Buffy was the marked mate of Angel and, in the vampire community, that was as close too sacred as they got. But, since Angel was in LA, that left Buffy defenseless, despite her slayer status. Being the concerned grandchilde, Spike saw it as his duty to protect her.  

The fact that he blatantly transgressed upon territory that wasn’t his to touch could be played off as something else. Like…like Spike sleeping with Buffy because he was Angel’s grandchild.  

Spike didn’t think Angel would go for that, poof or not, there was one thing that really got the vampire angered and that was any harm to Buffy.  

So, stay in Sunnydale and hope Angel didn’t bother to make the two-hour trip to beat the shit out of Spike, or head as far away as possible and hope Angel didn’t bother expending the energy finding his wayward childe. A third option was that Spike could go to LA and present himself to Angel, with possibly a mixture of the aforementioned reasons, and hope for the best.  

Fuck that, Spike thought, he was outta the God-forsaken town that swallowed his life, his pride, his everything long ago in that pit called the Hellmouth. What’d this town ever offer him? Nothing but pain and heartache. He’d lost his Dru here, his Dark Princess. He lost his ability to hunt and kill, but not the need to do so. Damn town with the damn slayer and okay, so he still wanted her, but that didn’t matter when his life was on the line, did it? No. He was so gone; the second the sun completely set he’d pack up the car and head east.  

He missed Europe; maybe it was time to see the sights once more.  
~~~~~~~~~~  
Lilah Morgan was fuming.  

What happened, where did it go wrong? Her team had carefully assessed the possibility of this plan working and it was a high one. They’d gone over it again and again and even, much to Lilah’s chagrin, consulted with several outside groups and asked the freaky little girl in the White Room a very specific question about the plan.  

“If Angel falls in love and consummates that love will this precipitate the release of Angelus?” Her answer, after several long minutes and a really scary cryptic smile of “Yes,” spurned their plan ahead.  

So how the hell had it not worked?  

Angel was still walking around, all good and souled, and Lilah was once more in serious hot water. She didn’t want to think how literal that might be. And now it looked like that slayer was back in town. Which was fine, Lilah thought, and might be useful for her plans. But how much did Angel still love the girl? All her research indicated they’d both moved on, but maybe research was no match for visual observation.  

Grabbing her purse and jacket, Lilah went to do a little legwork, not trusting anyone else to it. She was going to see just how ‘over’ each other Angel and Buffy really were.  
**********  
It was mid-afternoon by the time everyone woke.  

Dawn spent the day with Lorne, talking Karaoke, eating large sandwiches, and generally getting along. It’d been a while since someone actually listened to her, and Dawn reveled in the attention from the green-skinned demon. It was nice to talk, Dawn thought, about nothing and everything, and a wonderful change with not having him say things like he needed to do homework, or go patrolling, or get to work, or whatever.  

Still, Dawn didn’t forget, couldn’t, the confession she’d heard from Buffy. Which was why she bent Lorne’s ear and resolved, with his encouragement, to speak with her sister sometime in the very near future. Assuming Buffy didn’t kill her for running away in the first place.  

She heard the commotion from the lobby, where Lorne manned the not ringing phones and Dawn leaned a little about both the demon’s home dimension and the running of Angel Investigations.

“Cordelia what are you talking about?” Angel asked, exasperated from the landing above the marbled lobby. He was still tired, wanted to return to bed with Buffy, who stood next to him, and didn’t really feel like listening to his friend screech about…hair products?  

“I went to shower,” Cordelia said between clenched teeth, her hair still wrapped tightly in a towel indicating that fact. “And I always keep things here in case of demon-goo related emergencies. I know,” she emphasized, “That I had a full tube of hair gel in my bathroom cabinet. It’s now gone and you, Mr. I’m a vampire but need more hair care products than I do, are my prime suspect.”  

She folded her arms and tapped her foot impatiently on the carpeted hallway. She shot Buffy a glare when the slayer stifled a giggle and then turned that glare to Doyle who stood behind her, looking entirely too innocent to really be so. In a strange way, it felt good to be back, as if she hadn’t been herself in a long time. Cordelia Chase desperately hoped it was that awful spell and now that she was no longer under its detrimental influence, all would be well in her world once more.  

“Well,” she asked, “Where is it?”  

“Cordelia,” Angel said patiently, trying to remember that she had changed in the past few years from the bitchy high schooler he couldn’t stand to be in the same room with, into a fine young woman who cared for others. That image was shot to hell when the woman before him advanced another step poked him in the chest, again demanding the return of her hair gel.  

“I don’t have it,” Angel said through clenched teeth. “I wouldn’t steal your hair gel,” he added, annoyed.  

“Of course not!” Cordelia said, “You probably used it all already! You go through that stuff so damn fast I’m not surprised. You owe me mister,” she warned, “You own me a new tube. And I want the expensive stuff, the good stuff.”  

Doyle swallowed another laugh at seeing his fierce vampire friend defending himself over missing hair gel. “Princess, maybe you used it already?”  

“I’m sure,” Cordelia huffed, “That I’d remember using it. I keep a tube here for emergencies, and since there haven’t been that many, I haven’t needed it!” Then she stopped. “Oh, wait,” she said, with not an ounce of remorse in her voice, “Never mind. I gave it to Fred when we got back from Pylea.”  

Shrugging, she turned and walked back down the hallway to where her room was. Angel scowled and couldn’t help himself. “Now I remember why I don’t like you,” he mumbled to no one in particular, though both Buffy and Cordelia heard him.  

“Hey, I heard that, Angel!” She shouted but didn’t turn around. “Just for that, I want a new tube anyway!”  

Angel growled at Cordelia’s retreating back. Friend, she was a friend, he repeated to himself, and it didn’t do at all to strangle one’s friend. Now, the vampire was hard-pressed to remember that, however, because he really didn’t like being woken up from a pleasant dream where Buffy did wonder things to his body. Okay, waking to see the blonde slayer there helped, but this thing with Cordelia was most certainly not on the list. Buffy laughed then, releasing the mirth that was trapped under Cordelia’s glare and Angel’s glower.  

“She’s changed,” the slayer parroted, “She’s a different person, Buffy, she really does care.” Another bubble of laughter issued from her mouth and Angel watched, fascinated. She looked so much younger than she did hours ago when she first entered his hotel. “I love her like a sister, Buffy,” the blonde continued over her laughter.  

“Shut up” Angel grumbled, wondering how his friend could change so drastically from, literally, one day to the next. “I was blinded by a spell,” he justified, still watching Buffy’s lips, “And can’t be expected to think clearly. Obviously I was mistaken; she reminds me a little too much of what she was like in high school, the brief times I saw her there, and our first year here.”  

Buffy’s lips curved into a wider grin. “Oh, Angel, you’re such a sucker, sometimes.” She walked closer, tracing the side of his face with a finger. “You try to help everyone; try to see the good in everyone so that you can save them. I’m sorry, baby, but some people are beyond redemption.”  

Angel heard what she said, really, he did, but was too captivated by her lips to really care. Honestly, how was a vampire supposed to think clearly, when her lips looked so inviting, so sexy, so…. Without another thought, Angel pulled Buffy into his arms and kissed her, allowing the feeling of her lips to wash over him, the taste of her to remind him, the scent of her to soothe him.  

They explored each other’s mouths as if it were their first kiss all over again, tasting, savoring, remembering. Buffy leaned closer, pressing against Angel’s cool hard chest, whimpering when his hands tightened in her hair, tilting her head to the side and allowing his mouth unrestricted access to her neck. She tasted just as he remembered, Angel thought as he slowly backed her against the wall, sweet, tangy…Buffy.  

Neither noticed Dawn as the younger Summers walked up the stairs now that it was safe to do so. They never noticed the former Key’s smirk of satisfaction or her triumphant smirk at Lorne who looked on equally fascinated. They’d had that discussion, about how Lorne could possibly think Angel belonged with Cordelia in any way, shape, or form. Even when the Pylean admitted Wes and Gunn hadn’t seen the same thing, Lorne also admitted that he didn’t listen to them, blindly pushing forward with the wrongness that was Angel and Cordelia.  

Satisfied that all was well and that she certainly wasn’t needed in the hallway, Dawn returned to the lobby and her soda. With the amount of caffeine she’d consumed today, she knew she’d bounce off the walls until sometime tomorrow. Hmm, maybe someone here had a toothbrush she could borrow. She looked over at the man who joined her as she walked back down the stairs and smiled. He smiled back, his blue eyes twinkling as they drifted from the hallway back to Dawn’s face.  

So this was Doyle. Huh, he was cute, in a strangely Xander-ish way. “Now what’s this I head about you returning from the dead, too?”  

“Long story, lass, but trust me when I say this is where I’m meant to be.” Doyle nodded to Lorne and went in search of some whisky. He doubted Angel still stored some, and while he didn’t need the alcohol to dull the pain from a vision, his body was addicted. Hmm, maybe that was the first sign to ease off the sweet nectar of life, especially if he wanted a long life with Cordelia. Pouring himself a glass of water, and grimacing as he drank it, Doyle looked over at the tall, thin woman before him.  

“You sure you’re Buffy’s sister? You look nothing like her. But I hear there’s a reason for that. The key, huh, never thought I’d meet you, heard a lot about you, though.”  

Surprised, absurdly pleased, Dawn hopped back on the stool. “Really? But you were dead, how’d you hear about me?” 

Doyle looked puzzled as he absentmindedly swallowed the rest of his water. “Don’t know, lass, but I did, someplace. Mystical ball of energy used to open the door to some hell world. Stars aligned and whatnot, but…hmm,” he frowned as he tried to remember what he knew and how he did. “There’s more to your history, but I can’t remember it now. You weren’t created for that alone, it was merely a convenient side effect.” He frowned again, lost in thought. “Wish I could remember where I read that, or heard that.”  

Just then, Cordelia yelped. “God, get a room already!” She appeared at the top of the steps with Gunn beside her; Fred was nowhere to be seen. Gunn laughed and Cordelia scowled more.  

“What, if they can, why not?” He asked.  

“Because they can’t,” Cordelia snapped, then repeated tiredly as she had numerous times to various people over the years. “Curse, Happiness, Angelus. Not pretty.”  

Gunn shrugged, not too concerned about Angelus; of course he’d never actually met the vampire, so what did he really know? “So what do we know about this curse, anyway? One would think that Angel researched it to death by now, but I haven’t heard anything about it except what you tell me.”  

Angel and Buffy walked into the lobby just then, hand in hand and looking flushed. No one noticed Doyle’s look of interest at Gunn’s words. Studiously ignoring everyone, Buffy focused her gaze on her sister. “I think you and I need to have a little talk, Dawn,” she stated, “Don’t you?”  

Gulping, Dawn knew that look; it was the one demons were known to run from, she nodded. “Yeah, I suppose.”  

“Good,” Buffy nodded and jerked her head back in the direction of Angel’s rooms.  

Angel watched her go with a look on his face no one had ever really seem before. Utterly besotted. Even with the spell forced upon them, he never looked at Cordelia that way. The moment she was out of sight, if not reach, Angel turned to his friend. “Doyle,” he said and wondered what else to say. Hours had passed and he’d spent them with Buffy, not with his newly resurrected friend. Still, it didn’t look as if Doyle minded, what with the looks he and Cordelia were sharing.  

Gunn started for the doors, “I’ll get some food for everyone, Angel, any requests?” There were calls of pizza, Chinese, cheese steaks, and Mexican as he walked out the door, nodding.

Lorne shrugged, gathered his drink, and headed upstairs, too. He knew when he wasn’t wanted; more specifically, he knew the three friends needed their own reunion time. Besides, he didn’t want to be in the same room with the reminder of what he’d help perpetuate.  

It was bad for his ulcer.  
~~~~~~~~~~  
By the time Gunn returned nearly two hours later, loaded down with bags of various foods, Angel, Doyle, and Cordelia were laughing like old times.  

“I swear, you two have no appreciation for the finer things in my life,” Cordelia said but her laugh belied her worlds. “Being a princess was a very prestigious job! I had everything I ever wanted, jewels, clothes, servants…” she trailed off with a sigh. “It wasn’t so bad.”  

“Then why didn’t you stay?” Angel questioned with a laughing smirk.  

“What and miss the blinding pain from the visions?” Cordelia shrugged, not willing to admit, aloud, the reasons. Namely, that they were the one and only thing she had, thanks to her gift from Doyle. And no matter how often she cursed him and his ‘gift’ she really did feel as if she needed them; they helped Angel, they helped Cordelia feel like she wasn’t the useless spoiled rich girl from the ‘Dale who didn’t help.  

Spying Gunn, she stood, “Ooh, food.”  

Doyle and Angel exchanged looks and Doyle couldn’t help say to the vampire in a low voice, “Has she really changed that much?”  

“Sometimes,” Angel smiled. He couldn’t seem to stop, not since Buffy walked into his hotel with Doyle. He really should be waiting for the other shoe to drop, because frankly good things didn’t happen to him, not without serious repercussions.  

“She changed a lot a few years ago, first after you…” he couldn’t bring himself to say the word but continued. “Then after Wolfram & Hart put her in a coma with the visions playing constantly in her mind. She almost died then, and I think that helped change her.  Of course, now she’s pretty much back to normal, or the Cordelia you should remember.”  

Doyle smirked, “Ah, yes, the spell.” He snickered a little at Angel’s pained expression, “Ah to have seen the look on your faces when that Lorne fellow broke it!”  

“It wasn’t fun.”  

“No, I imagine it wasn’t, but I’d still have liked to seen it.” Tempering his laughter as Cordelia dished out some food for herself, Doyle asked, “How’s Buffy taking it? You two were upstairs a while, you talk things out?”  

Slowly nodding, his eyes straying to the upper levels, Angel allowed a small smile to grace his face. “Yeah, we talked, more than we had in years.” Shooting Doyle a look, he added, “I hear I have you to thank for telling her about that…day.”  

“Ah, right,” Doyle said, somewhat nervously, “I didn’t think, that after two years, Cordelia could keep that a secret. Besides, I always figured you two’d get back together. Imagine my surprise when she spilled her life and you weren’t that involved in it.”  

A chagrined look on his face, Angel once again moved his eyes to the stairs where Buffy was, even now, walking down them, Dawn in tow. “A lot’s happened in those two years, Doyle,” he said to his friend as he walked to greet Buffy. “But all that’s changed now.”  

The shorter Irishman nodded, a goofy smile on his lips; he so loved a happy ending, it was the romantic in his soul. Turning back towards his own, hopefully, happy ending, Doyle walked to Cordelia. She’d piled his plate with foods from several Chinese cartons and a glob that looked like a nacho mix.  

“What do you want to drink,” she asked, as if they’d done this hundreds of times, when in fact it’d been over two years and they’d never managed that date. “There’s your usual assortment of soda, water, and coffee, but no whisky, sorry.” Shooting him a censuring look, she added, “But I think you’ve probably had enough of that for today.”  

“Ah, soda, Delia,” Doyle said, only slightly pained to drink something other than his beloved whisky. “Or iced-tea if there is any.”  

The confused look lasted only a moment before Cordelia smiled at him, a brilliant smile that rocked Doyle to his toes. Oh, yeah, two years or not, he still loved this woman.  

“What’s for lunch,” Dawn asked, bouncing up to the food, “I’m starved.”  

Buffy chuckled softly, still next to Angel as she whispered to him how her talk with Dawn went. “And thanks, Angel,” she said, squeezing his hand, “For letting her stay. I think that helped, being here with you.” Then, with a saucy grin, “I know it helped me.”  

Brushing a strand of hair from her cheek, Angel grinned back. “Any time, love, any time.”

And to Think, I Once Dated You

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