TITLE: The World's Best Actress
AUTHOR: Melissa Flores
EMAIL: mistyjox@hotmail.com
TEASER: After getting a particularly scathing review, Angel tries to cheer his gal Friday up, and encounters an intimate healing within himself.
DISCLAIMER: Angel and characters belong to Joss the man.
NOTES:  A fluff A/C friendshippy piece, with a hint of more, as promised, for those waiting for the Tainted Love sequel. Sorry it's taken me so long, I got distracted, with school and well... Xena. :-) Hope you enjoy.

~*~

Discipline was always a nice thing. Discipline was how he lived his life. Discipline against the rage of the demon that threatened daily to overtake his soul. Discipline against the torn heart that made him weaker every time he thought about the tragedy his first love affair had been. Discipline against the helplessness he felt every time he lost that one soul that should have survived.

And right now, what mattered most, was the discipline that was holding him in his chair, the discipline to fight the urge to get up and tie his friend to her chair and duck tape her mouth shut, if only for one second of peace.

He didn't move from his place. At a glance, it would have almost appeared he wasn't watching her at all. In his hands was a book, a good one. His eyes weren't on it. They instead were resting on the location just outside the office door, where the clack-clack sounds of Cordelia Chase's pumps could be heard clicking against the tile floor, as she paced back and forth, back and forth, and then back and forth again.

The vampire kept his eyes on the entrance, watching with curiosity as she chattered non-stop and continued to move.

She seemed… jumpy. Too jumpy. She hadn't sat down in an hour, and her perfectly manicured hands seemed to shake just a bit as she bickered with the only other employee of Angel Investigations.

Wesley Wyndham Price merely sat back in his chair, watching Cordelia Chase pace back and forth, holding the ax in his hands as if it were a prized cigar. His glasses glinted as he idly thumbed the handle, and it was clear he was focused completely on Ms. Chase's plight.

Angel's eyebrow furrowed. There was a plight. That had to be it. Cordelia was edgy, her stance was stiff, and she was chattering a mile a minute, something she never did unless she was really aggravated. He should know, he had been on the receiving end of that incessant chatter more than once.

Something was worrying her. Something was worrying her and Wesley knew and he didn't.  Why did Wesley know and he didn't?

Angel let the book fall into his lap, and he leaned forward, watching as Cordelia continued her relentless noise, and Wesley continued to nod, once in a while trying to interject a sentence and failing miserably when she would cut him off.

Finally Wesley appeared to give up, instead merely nodding and adding meaningless mumbles of agreement at the appropriate parts.

Angel stifled a smirk. Good man. He knew when to quit. Angel had figured out a long time ago, Cordelia would not let you speak until she was good and ready.

Apparently, good and ready she was not.  Hmmm. She was really bothered. Why hadn't he noticed this before? His eyebrows furrowed, and his lips pursed, as he tried to contemplate the reason for his seer's more than average hissy fit.

Couldn't be Dennis. He'd been good as gold lately.  No guys, that he knew of. And he and Wesley had made damn sure they met everyone of Cordelia's many admirers, and usually, after one of his or Wesley's grillings they would never see those admirers again. Good riddance. They didn't need another Wilson.

Besides, as she so often stated, a ghost, a dead guy and a British fop were more than enough men to complicate her career and her life.

What could it be?

Damn it. He should know this.

He was so busy trying to figure out exactly what was bothering her, he didn't realize she was calling him until she actually marched into the office and was practically standing on his feet.

"ANGEL!?"

He blinked, and was stunned to discover she was now two feet away and gazing quite angrily at him.

"What?"

She gazed at him, a hard, steely gaze, and rolled her eyes. "Would it KILL you to look at me when I'm talking to you? Well, okay, technically it wouldn't kill you if you're already dead, but come on! At least pretend you care!"

Angel passed Wesley a bewildered gaze, who merely pantomimed from behind to nod.

"Uh… I was listening Cordelia. Sure. Yes." He bobbed his head up and down mechanically.

She stared at him suspiciously, then at Wesley, and then finally smiled, her charming, I-Just-Got-My-Way smile before straightening up and walking out of the office.

"Great, thanks. Be back in a few."

Angel watched in confused silence as his secretary slash seer slash friend closed the office door behind her.

"Uh… what did I just agree to?" he asked his other employee, who merely looked relieved as he grabbed an empty chair and pulled it up the desk.

 "You agreed to let her go get Starbucks coffee."

"Coffee?" he repeated. "But we have coffee!"

"No, actually we don't. Cordelia dropped the coffee pot in the last vision and it broke."

"It broke?!"

"Yes, it broke, and she told you. Weren't you listening?"

Angel glared at Wesley, who shrugged, and continued speaking. "That isn't the point, the point is I must warn you before she comes back of something of rather important urgency."

There was a panicked tone in the former Watcher's tone that made Angel lean forward immediately. "What is it?" he asked quickly. "Is she in trouble?"

"No, we are," Wesley stammered quickly, pulling out a newspaper than he had been hiding in his back pocket. "Cordelia got reviewed in the Glendale Reporter for her rather… colorful performance in her play last night."

Angel took the paper thoughtfully, his eyes quickly scanning the article that the Watcher pointed out. As he read it, his eyes began to widen. Oh, no. After the first paragraph, he decided it best not to read anymore.

It was one thing for he and Wesley not to like Cordelia's performance. They were her family, they had the right. No one else did, least of all idiot miscreants who called the play "boring", "unimaginative", and her character "stupid" and "witless".

Oh, if only Angelus were free right about now.

"Oh, man," Angel breathed, putting down the paper quickly. "Does she know about this?"

Wesley fervently nodded. "She knew it was coming out today. She was rather anxious about it."

"And you let her go get coffee?!" Angel stood, looking angered and panicked. "Wesley! She can't read this! It'll kill her!"

"Well what did you want me to do? Short of buying every paper on every stand in Los Angeles?"

"That would have worked!"

"I tried that, they'd only allow me one copy per stand," Wesley mumbled, pushing up glasses.

Angel leaned forward, his hands clasping at the leather chair as his face took on epic brooding proportions in his concentration. "We gotta do something, Wesley. This will crush her."

"What CAN we do, short of killing the reviewer," the British man sighed, sinking back in his chair. When Angel actually seemed to consider the idea, he sat up. "Angel it was humor."

"I know," Angel answered distractedly.

"You don't think Cordelia won't just shrug it off?" Wesley asked hopefully. "That does seem her... way."

"No." Angel sat in his seat heavily, running a hand dangerously close to his perfectly styled hair in his anxiety. "That's just the mask she puts on. Cordelia's terribly insecure."

Wesley nodded, noting the look of knowing on Angel's face with a sad, similar expression on his.

Both men nearly jumped out of their chairs when the door to the office flew open and Cordelia breezed back in.

"Forgot my purse!" she said quickly, walking inside, and moving past both frozen men without nary a glance.

Leaning down after she located the small black accessory, she stilled for a moment, and then gave them both a strange look.

"What's with you two?"

Angel and Wesley shot each other panicked glances before Angel chuckled a very unvampire like chuckle.

"We were just..."

"Discussing a case!" Wesley piped up behind her. Cordelia just gave him an amused smile.

"Can you two be ANY more spazzy? What are you two hiding?" she turned to study Angel, who was frozen to his desk, and spotted the paper that he was practically sitting on. "What's that? Oooh! Is that the paper!"

"NO!" both Angel and Wesley blurted out.

Cordelia gave Angel a scathing look, apparently for thinking she would be so stupid as to believe him, and reached for the object. Angel snatched it away, backing into his chair and falling into it. Cordelia, an annoyed expression in her eyes, wasn't deterred.

"Cordelia! It's boring! It's not even the right paper, right Wesley?"

"Of course not!" Wesley stumbled over Cordelia's fallen purse, almost topping over in his attempt to get to her. "Why don't I take you for your coffee, eh? My treat!"

"Wesley, you're poorer than MC Hammer. What's the matter with you? Are you two mental, let me see!" Angel gave Wesley a panicked look, and tossed the paper over her head, hitting his employee full on in the face with it.

Wesley stiffened and grimaced, grabbing the paper away from his throbbing nose and held it behind him.

Cordelia gave them both a raised eyebrow, crossing her arms, and glaring at them both. "Obviously you're hiding something from me. So either tell me what it is, or I will make both of you're lives a living hell for the next two weeks."

Oh shit... she was pulling out the big guns. As much as Angel hated to admit it, Cordelia's moods and her ability to make his life rather difficult had a large affect on his well being.

When Cordelia wasn't happy, no one was happy. And the girl knew it.

His eyes met Wesley's with a resigned expression, and Wesley's shoulders slumped, before sighing and handing her the paper.

With a triumphant grin, she took it, scanning the section with an enthused expression.

Angel was completely still, watching her face with an intense dread. His heart seemed to lurch as he saw the way her face froze, the smile falling off of her lips as she read those horrible things that were written about her.

Dammit, if only that reviewer wasn't human.

She was quiet for a moment, and Wesley and Angel both looked at each other, unsure of what to do.

"Well," she said in a normal, typically Cordelia, voice, "That was a waste of time." She tossed the paper on the desk and smiled at them. "Sure didn't mince words, did he? Jerk."

"He's an idiot, Cordelia," Wesley said softly. "You have to realize that."

"Wesley's right," Angel agreed softly.

She froze, and then looked at them both, and suddenly laughed, a little too loudly. "Oh, come on! You think I'm going to let fart breath over here actually get to me? Please." She straightened, and shot them a picture perfect grin. "He just can't appreciate talent, is all."

"Most definitely," Wesley agreed vehemently.

Cordelia gave him a smile, and then caught Angels' eyes. At his intense stare, her smile faltered a bit, and she turned, taking what she thought was a rag and what was actually Angel's shirt, and began wiping furiously at a coffee stain on the desk.

Both men were quiet, and Angel leaned against his desk, staring at the paper, and then back at Cordelia, musing on her professed statement that she would be fine.

He might have believed she was all right if he didn't know her. But he did know her. He knew her more than anyone else did. And he recognized the pain in her eyes, the hollowed expression of yet another setback.

Pursing his lips, he stood suddenly.

"Wesley, can you do this filing?" he said quickly, handing Wesley a box of empty folders.

Wesley looked at him in surprise, but at the glare he was given, quickly nodded, and left, closing the office door behind him.

Angel gave a needless sigh, and then turned to study his friend, who hadn't moved, although her body seemed a bit tenser than it was before.

Cordelia's back was turned from him, as she wiped at the coffee stain with one of his shirts.

He pursed his lips, his hands in his pockets as he watched her.

He sometimes forgot how young she truly was. It hurt him, to see her like this, because it was then he was reminded just how much she truly needed him, needed this.

And it pissed him off.

He was so angry... at himself. Most of the time he was so busy saving souls he forgot about the terribly young, insecure, beautiful woman who risked her life daily for him. She was a lost soul too, like they all were.

He licked his lips, turning his head for a second before looking back at her. "Cordelia, you know that that reviewer didn't-"

"Yes, he did." her voice was soft, without malice. "He was right. He thought exactly what you guys thought. I stink. I'm no good."

His eyes were intense, so full of emotion they were almost black. "That's not true."

"Oh, come off it, Angel!" Cordelia turned, her eyes suspiciously moist as she faced him. "Please, I'm not five."

"Cordelia, just because one reviewer-"

"It's not just ONE, Angel!" she said, slamming the shirt down and glaring at him. "For every guy that writes crap like this, there's at least a hundred more than think the same thing! I mean, God!" She crossed her arms, and closed her eyes, taking a deep breath in an attempt to control herself. "Am I deluding myself, Angel? I'm... really.. no good, am I? I really suck."

"That's not TRUE, Cordelia," Angel breathed, coming forward and grabbing her by her shoulders. "Come on, you believe in yourself."

Her eyes opened, and the soft gaze silenced him. "Exactly what good is believing in myself if not even your or Wesley believe I'm any good?"

The question was soft, and Angel could only stare at her, at a loss of what to say. Her eyes continued to bore into his, and Angel felt himself mesmerized by them.

"Cor..." he whispered, suddenly at a loss for words.

"It hurts, Angel," she breathed back. "It... it..." she jerked violently, and Angel instinctively tightened his hands around her as she cried out.

"Wesley! Pen!" he cried, holding her to him as she shuddered against him, whimpering softly as the images wracked her brain.

Wesley burst into the room, a pen and paper in his hand as Cordelia rode out the spasms of her vision, sagging into Angel's hard body as he rubbed at her back in comfort.

Her knees gave out, and he caught her, carrying her quickly to a chair and kneeling down in front her, rubbing at her arms as he stared at her in concern.

"Cordelia?" he asked.

She waved her arm, motioning for him to give her a minute, as she rested her head on her palm, recovering.  Lifting her tear stained eyes, she took a ragged breath, and then took the pen and pad from Wesley, who looked on with sad features.

"Here," she said, scribbling quickly. "In the dumpster. Kill it." Angel nodded, noting the address, and tucking it in his pocket.

"Now?" he asked.

"Now," she confirmed.

He didn't want to leave her. Instead of one of her trade mark witty closing remarks about the gig she didn't want, instead, she only sank into the chair and rubbed at her forehead tiredly.  A tear was trickling down from her cheek, possibly from the pain, although Angel was sure that wasn't all that caused it.

She was strong. He kept forgetting just how strong she was.  After rubbing his hand along her soft skin one more time, Angel squeezed, and then got up, walking to the coat rack and slid on the black trench.

Wesley walked to him. "Would you like me to accompany you?" he asked in a low voice. Angel slowly shook his head no.

"Stay with her. Don't leave her side."

Wesley met his eyes, and without another word, nodded.

Angel swallowed, moving away, and pausing at the doorway, looking back at the hunched form of the beautiful young woman who was perhaps his best friend.

Walking away from his seer, Angel, the soul saver, felt completely helpless.

~*~

He found himself walking the streets of Hollywood in a more broody than usual mood. His hands stuck deeply into his pockets, and the vampire, usually so observant, found nothing else caught his attention but the pavement under his feet.

What had to be killed had been killed, and it had done nothing to relieve Angel's frustration.

His mind continued to dwell on his friend, and her broken state.  He wanted to do something, and there was nothing he could do.

The stars that lined the famous street blurred under his feet, and he looked up, finding himself staring at the tourists that lined the boulevard, snapping photos, wearing odd clothes, and generally having a good time in the overpriced establishments.

He swallowed, turning away, continuing his walk, letting his eyes drift over the millions of tacky souvenir shops lining the street.

His eyes rested on one, and suddenly and idea hit him so hard he almost stumbled on the street.

He froze, finding himself staring at the open doorway with a wide expression.

No way. That was stupid, Angel. Real stupid. She'll think you're an idiot.

Of course, that was nothing new.

His hands dug in his pockets, and he tried to make himself walk away, and found he couldn't.

This is insane, Angel.

He shook his head in disgust and walked from the doorway.

Five seconds later he was right back in front of it.

Well... maybe it wasn't a bad idea.  He always went on instinct, didn't he?

But his instinct was never this dumb.

He sighed. Come on, Angel man. Before you lose your nerve.

Looking furtively around, he ducked inside the store.

The five customers looked up at his entrance, and stared. Angel, for the first time in a while, felt a bit self conscious, quickly raising his hand to his ear, and heading straight for the safety of the aisle.

There, he stared blankly at the rows upon rows of merchandise. Leaning forward, he picked up a small snow globe, with the Hollywood sign emblazoned on it. shaking it, he gave it an odd look, until it fumbled in his hands and he almost dropped it.

He put it back hastily.

He felt like a complete fool.

"Well don't you look out of place." His head jerked up and he spotted an older woman in a "My friend went to Hollywood and all she got me was this dumb shirt" T-shirt. He shuffled uncomfortably, but she only smiled.  "Can I help you?"

Checking the aisles around them to make sure they were alone, he leaned in close, and whispered quickly, "I want a statue."

"A statue," she repeated, stepping away from the hulking, albeit handsome man.

"Yeah," Angel said, his eyebrows narrowing together as he trying to shape the object in his hands. "You know? The gold ones? With the little engravings that say cheesy stuff like World's Best Dad and stuff?"

The woman's eyes brightened in realization. "Oh! An Oscar statue!"

Angel flushed with relief and nodded quickly. "I need one of those. Now."

"No problem, come with me." Flicking a finger, she motioned him to follow her.

She walked fast. Angel had to walk quickly to keep up, following the clack, clack of her heels on the linoleum floor.

He was led to the back of the store, and found himself staring at a shelf of cheap gold plated looking ratty statuettes that had some of the shiny worn off.

"Here you are! Now you said you wanted a world's Best Dad?"

"No," he said, shaking his head, and pointed to another one. She looked at it, and smiled, picking it up.

"Girlfriend back home?" she asked.

"No, my... assistant..." he gingerly picked up the statue, holding it as he would a roach. He gazed at it in awe, and the tortured vampire held it to his chest. "How much?"

"Well are you sure this is all you want? We have some lovely, 'adult' items-"

"This is it," he said shortly, feeling himself grow unnaturally red at the amusement on her face.

She smiled, nodding. "All right then, Mr. Handsome Actor, follow me."

He nodded back, and when he spotted a young child giggling at the object in his hands, he growled at him softly.

The child shrieked and ran the other way.

Angel smiled at himself, and held the statue firmly against his chest.

Suddenly he felt much better.

~*~

Cordelia Chase sighed as she placed the key in the lock and slowly turned.

Her life was just wonderful. Absolutely great.

What was wrong with her? In Sunnydale, anything she wanted, anything she thought she could do, she went out and she did it. And she was GOOD. She used to be so good at everything.

And then she met Xander and everything just went to hell.

She was a failure. A damned failure and she was so pathetic she didn't even want to admit it.  Cordelia Chase. God damned May Queen.

God Chase, how low can you go?

She closed the door behind her, thankful that if appeared her broody boss from down below hadn't risen.  She was alone in her misery. At least for the moment.

Leaning against the door, she closed her eyes for one long second, and then reopened them, reminding herself, that pathetic or not, she still had a FUN job with demons and head splitting migraines to deal with.

Life was SO good right now.

She dropped her purse on the chair next to the office, and then turned to her desk, her eyes flitting over it once and then suddenly doing a double take.

She gasped, dropping the files she had picked up.

Sitting upright on her desk, was an Oscar. Cordelia looked around, and then inched forward, studying it, quickly.

Her heart was hammering, and she swallowed, reaching with hesitant hands, picking up the plastic statue.

Inscribed on the bottom was a cheesy plaque that said, "World's Best Actress."

She brought a finger to her lip in a gasp of surprise, and suddenly she laughed, her eyes suddenly teary.

Looking down, she tore her eyes from the statue long enough to find the note that was resting along side of it.

Her eyes were moist, but she managed to read the whole thing.

"For a long time you had me fooled into thinking you were something else entirely. Now I know you, and I know you're one of the strongest, bravest most beautiful woman alive. And I thank every day for you. As far as I'm concerned, you deserve the real thing."

She felt her knees go weak at the sweetness of the whole present, and clutching the statue to her, she felt a smile float on her face as the door opened.

"Wesley?"

Wesley grinned at her. "Hullo, hullo. And how's my favorite little actress this morning?"

Cordelia was at a loss for words. Her hands were shaking, her voice was uneven, but she still managed to try and speak.

"Wesley... um... thank you."

He blushed, and shuffled his feet, his ears turning a cute shade of pink. "Did you like them? I know it's rather-"

"It's perfect. Thank you." She beamed at him, holding up the statue as if it were made of actual gold.

Wesley frowned at it, his mouth twitching as he came forward, suddenly realizing what she was mentioning.

"Cordelia, the flowers were from me. I didn't… I didn't get this … what is this?" Wesley came forward, taking it from her, and held up the gold plastic as if it were an offending roach. "Rather… tacky, isn't it?"

Cordelia gave her friend a bewildered look. "You didn't buy that?"

"No, no, of course not." He quickly put it down and smiled softly at her. "The flowers… well, the roses… and the chocolates…"

Cordelia stared at him dumbly for a second, and turned back to the desk to discover that yes, a huge bouquet of flowers and chocolates were waiting for her.

She still looked completely blank, looked down again, gazing at the small statue with eyes of wonder.

"Then who..." her eyes fell on the note, and all of sudden she recognized the handwriting.

Oh, my God. Angel. Angel had done this for her. Brooding, soul guy vamp.. Angel? Her heart suddenly skipped a beat, and welled up, forcing a soft smile to float on her face.

It quickly stilled when she realized Wesley's face was confused and unsure.

"Wesley, the flowers and the chocolates were great," she said quickly. "Thanks. Original." At this last comment, his face fell, and Cordelia felt the smirk stiffen. Her heart lurched, and she found herself leaning forward, covering her friend's hand with hers. He looked up at the touch and she smiled. "Thank you," she said meaningfully.

He smiled, and nodding, brushing his hand alongside the curve of her face. She grinned, and quickly leaned up to brush his cheek with her lips.

"I have to talk to Angel," she whispered.  He nodded, bright red from her kiss, and smiled at her as she turned, gripping the statue as if it were priceless as she headed toward the elevator.

~*~

He was perusing the bookcase when he heard the elevator, and looking up, felt himself grow uncommonly unsure as Cordelia Chase entered his living room, leaning against the doorway.

In her hands was his statue.

"Oh... you got it."

Well if that wasn't the stupidest, most obvious statement of the year.

But Cordelia didn't comment. She merely raised a placid eyebrow, and then lifted the statue questioningly.

Angel blushed, looking away for a minute, and then shrugging. Putting down the book, he came forward awkwardly, a small, embarrassed smile on his face as he gazed at her.

"It's uh… gold plated," he said softly, coughing into his hand.

Cordelia merely leaned against the door frame, watching him as he came forward. His face fell slightly at her lack of response, and unsure how to continue, he licked his lips.

"I um… I know it was stupid, Cordelia, but… I … I didn't like seeing you sad… and… um… oh, damn it." Angel cursed, rubbing his hand in his hair, looking frustrated. "I knew it was a bad idea. You don't like it-"

He was cut off when the ex-cheerleader launched herself into his arms, wrapping her arms tightly around his middle and holding him tight.

Angel was stunned into silence, at first unable to do anything but look down in panic as his best friend nestled into his arms.

But after a few seconds, the shock began to rub off, and when he felt her form trembling, the tortured vampire felt himself smile, and let his own hands slide around her unconsciously, pulling her closer.

It had worked. Cordelia felt better. His corny, stupid idea worked.  He had helped his friend feel better.

And it was so worth it. He held her, feeling her heartbeat thump against his chest, felt her breath falling against his neck in hot, moist tufts.  Her hair was just under his nose, and he breathed in the sweet scent of her strawberry shampoo, closing his eyes as he rested his cheek against the silky strands.

It felt so nice to hold her. Angel never held anyone. Since Buffy, he had never felt anyone really, truly hold him, and know it was an embrace of pure affection, of mutual love. And Cordelia loved him. Not a wildly passionate love, not a friendly sisterly love, but her own special love, a love that was fiercely independent and loyal and every bit as cherished as his own love for her.

He loved her. He really, truly loved this vixen of a girl. Enough to endure a tourist store, enough to hurt inside himself when he had seen her hurting. His annoying little seer was practically his whole life. She lifted his heart, made his soul tremor inside of him, and to know he had been able to return the sentiment-

One of what could quite possibly had been one of the most beautiful emotions that had ever encompassed the dark, haunted vampire flooded over him then, and Angel felt himself shudder, pulling her tighter.

To his surprise, his vision suddenly became blurred.  Angel blinked in surprise, and found that a wet drop dripped from his eyelid.

Cordelia was still for a moment, and finally, sighing, pulled back to look into his face. Angel gazed down at her, his eyes unsure, but shining, as he smiled slightly.

"I did okay, Cordelia?" he asked huskily.

She gazed into his eyes, her own beautiful hazel orbs dancing with a hidden mist of emotion.

Without a word, she leaned up, and slowly, placed her lips on his in a deliberate kiss.

He felt the contact, and too stunned to do anything but swallow, he merely gazed at her in wonder, feeling himself try to gasp for breath even though he knew he didn't need any.

She pulled back, and smiled, a tender, loving smile. "Thank you, Angel," she whispered, her voice husky with emotion as she lifted one hand up and carefully wiped away the two tears that had managed to escape Angel's tortured eyes. "Thank you."

There was nothing else that needed to be said, and Angel, his heart so full that moment, felt that if he spoke any utterance, he would ruin what he deemed a perfect moment. Instead he merely smiled softly, a beautiful, sweet, pure grin, and pulled her to him again, holding her against him in a fierce embrace.

Emotion was flooding his soul, and it was so perfect, so beautiful he felt he would never feel it again, and so he merely held on tight, closing his eyes and praying he would remember what this felt like.

A crash upstairs and a British muffled curse made them both freeze. Cordelia looked at his chest, and then her eyes floated up, and when the corners of her eyes crinkled in amusement, he found himself chuckling too.

"Wesley the nimble," he found himself saying, in a soft voice.

"Nimble as a sloth," Cordelia agreed. They fell into silence, and Cordelia's smile tightened, as she pulled away slowly, and turned around to pick up the plastic statue and hug it to her chest, before turning back.

"Thanks," she said again. "Nice to know the dead guy isn't totally hopeless."  He merely smiled, his hand in his pockets as he watched her turn around and walk up the stairs quickly.

Watching her go, Angel felt a warm sensation in the pit of his stomach, a peace in his heart he had never felt before.

It had come with the knowledge of Cordelia Chase. With the knowledge of just how much she meant to him, and just how much he meant to her.

And it was a good feeling.

Angel smiled, raising a hand to his face in wonder, feeling the tears.

It was a great feeling.

FIN