TITLE: Lean on Me

AUTHOR: Seersha

RATING: K+

PAIRING: Angel/Cordelia (friendship only)

SPOILERS: Season 5 of Buffy and season 3 of Angel.

DISTRIBUTION: Please do not archive anywhere. It will be up at FF if you would like to link to it.

DISCLAIMER: I do not own these characters (obviously) and no copyright infringement is intended. No profit is made from this fanfiction.

TIMELINE: Set after "The Gift" but before "Heartthrob".

SUMMARY: Angel needs his best friend more than ever after Buffy's death. Cordelia POV.

NOTE: Originally published June 2001.

.-.-.

I can't sleep.

The fan above spins me into some sort of trance as I watch it absently from where I lay in bed. I never lie on my back and stare straight up because I find it too uncomfortable, but for some reason, I can't seem to do anything else right at this moment... I can't even blink.

I'm sweating, despite the cool breeze that's being thrown around the room, and I'm itching all over. I will my legs to work and manage to kick off the comforter roughly and I register a soft thump as it lands on the carpeted ground.

After another minute, the soft noise of the fan becomes too frustrating and I roll myself over, fumbling to flick the side lamp on, a soft light bathing the room. Sighing, I stumble up and walk to the fan switch, clicking it off. The spinning slows, eventually stopping, and I move back to the bed, sitting on the edge. For a short time, I just sit there, letting the cotton sheets below me soak up some of the sweat from the backs of my thighs.

I know I won't be able to get back to sleep, so I reach to grab the book I've been reading for like, the last year, and open it up to where I've bookmarked it. My eyes stray to the first word of the page, but before I can begin reading, a loud knock startles me.

Quickly, only briefly wondering who could want to see me at this time of night, I abandon my book and walk out towards the door. I glance at the clock in my lounge area as I pass. I have to squint my eyes to read in the dark, but I make out that it's 1:10 a.m.

A foot or so before I reach the door, I realize the state of dress, or rather, undress, that I'm in. I'm only wearing my white panties and tank top. For an instant I contemplate running to throw on a robe, but another knock makes me decide otherwise.

"I'm coming," I call, reaching to open the door. I peer out through the crack available, immediately pulling the door the rest of the way free when I see who it is. "Angel."

He looks tired and worn, dressed in his usual black ensemble. I watch him for a second as he shuffles a little nervously from foot to foot. "Hey," he mumbles as he watches his feet.

Unbelieving, all thoughts of indignity fleeing my mind completely, I glance back to the clock then look to him once more. "It's one o'clock in the morning," I hiss softly. "What on earth are you doing here?"

"I came to... I was just wondering..." he trails off, before swallowing and continuing. "Can I come in?"

I start, because it honestly hadn't occurred to me until this instant. "Oh! Of course."

I move away enough for him to enter, and then click the door shut gently behind him, locking it before following him to sit on the couch. He doesn't look at me, just straight ahead as he fidgets uncomfortably. I wonder what it could possibly be that has compelled him to drive all the way over here and see me in the middle of the night. For a few minutes, I just watch him silently, hoping that maybe he'll be the first to speak. No such luck.

"Angel," I murmur, touching his shoulder lightly to get his attention. He finally turns his gaze upon me. "What are you doing here?" I repeat, this time more worriedly.

"I'm not sure," he tells me, a genuine look of confusion on his face.

Frowning, I study him for a moment. "You're not sure? Well something must have made you want to come all the way over here. Did something happen? You said you wanted to be alone, so Wes and I left early."

"I did want to be alone... but then, after a while, I realized I didn't after all."

Blinking slightly, I reach to clasp his hand loosely in my own. "What made you realize that?" I ask.

He sighs, and I notice just how truly drained he is. Not just his physical tiredness from lack of sleep lately, but also his emotional state. "Don't know. Suddenly, I jut couldn't stand being in the hotel all by myself, so I came here."

"Are you okay?"

It's obviously not a question Angel is ready to answer, because he immediately tries to swerve the conversation. "Cordy," he says with difficulty, as if saying my name pains him. I have no idea why. "I don't think I can answer that right now."

"Try," I insist.

He shakes his head slightly. "You know the answer."

Okay, so he's right. But still... "You need to talk about this, Angel. Don't do the same thing you did with Darla and try and deal with this all by yourself. You're not alone, so don't act like you are."

"Tell me what to say."

"Anything you want. Say what you feel."

"I don't feel anything," he tells me brokenly. "I feel numb. Empty inside."

It hurts to see him in pain. It always does, of course, but I'm still not used to it. Angel has always been the strong one out of all of us. He took care of me and of everyone else. I wanted to take care of him too, but it was difficult to do that when we kept pushing each other away. I should have fought for him, I know that now. Now that I've got him back, there's no way I'm going to let him slip away from me again. Ever.

A single, tear makes its way down his chiselled face, and it occurs to me that I have never seen Angel cry. Not when Darla was turned, not when Doyle died. But he is crying now. I reach up and gently brush it away, and for the first time that I can remember, I'm taking care of him... he needs me to take care of him.

"Feeling nothing is still feeling," I remind him. "You thought you felt nothing with Darla, but it still had a name. Despair, isn't that what you told me? That's a feeling."

He takes an unneeded breath, along with a moment to contemplate what I've said to him. "I miss her so much." A pause fills the air between us. "It hurts," he says simply.

Only three days and three nights have passed since Angel returned from Sunnydale. The day Willow had told us that Buffy was dead was the same day Angel fled to Sunnydale to comfort Dawn and set his eyes upon Buffy's gravestone, just to make sure this wasn't all a hideous nightmare he was stuck in.

I nod sympathetically. "Yes. But not for always."

"It feels like it will be for always."

Gently, I reach up to cup his face between my hands, making him look me in the eye. "Only if you let it. It hurts, and you'll never forget. But that doesn't mean you stop living. You deal and eventually, when you think about it, you'll remember more of the good times and not so many of the sad ones."

Our gazes stay locked intently for a while. It seems like forever, but finally, he musters a slight smile. "When did you get so wise?" he asks softly, barely audible.

"You might be finally beginning to rub off on me," I joke half heartedly.

Another pause and then his smile disappears. "I love you," he tells me seriously.

"I know," I say. "I love you too."

We've never said that before, not so directly like that and not to each other. The last time I told him I loved him I made it sound flippant. I hope this time he understands... truly understands how much I mean it. I don't think I've ever told anyone that I've loved them before. At least, no one except my family, and now when I look back at it, I'm not even sure if I meant it the way I should have. But telling Angel that I love him is probably the scariest thing that I've done in a long, long time. I wish I'd had the courage to tell him before now, then maybe he wouldn't have drifted away from me so easily.

"Do you think she knew... how much I loved her?" Angel questions, fearfully.

"She knew," I say with certainty. I can see his demeanour immediately relax a little, and he's relieved to hear my answer. It puzzles me though; because I always thought he believed it enough for the both of them not to need anyone else to assure him that Buffy loved him.

Considering this, I decide that every day I'm going to tell Angel I love him and that I know he loves me. I don't care if I have to put the words on tape and play them to him over and over while he sleeps. I'll do whatever it takes to make the words sink in enough so that he'll never have to be afraid that I don't know how much he loves me and that I love him. He can just know.

"What do I do now?" he asks shakily.

I shrug. "You do what you've been doing. You get up every morning, you get through the day and you go to sleep at night. Then you do it all over again."

"What if I can't do it alone?"

A pang of hurt stabs my heart at his words. Hadn't I just made a point of the fact that he wasn't alone? I know by 'alone', he really means 'without Buffy', and I think for a minute I resent her. Even now that she's dead, somehow she still manages to have a firm hold on Angel. "You can. I know you can. You're strong."

"Can I lean on you?" he asks suddenly, looking deeply into my eyes. Just as suddenly, I feel like I'm drowning in his piercing stare, and I feel naked, because I know he's looking right through me, and he can see things I don't even know about myself yet.

I shake my head, attempting to clear it of unrelated thoughts. It takes a moment for me to realize what he means, but when it hits me, I smile softly. "Anytime. That's what I'm here for."

He nods simply.

No more words pass between us, and I tuck my legs up underneath me, getting comfortable. He relaxes and leans back while I snuggle up next to him. We don't look at each other again, either. Instead, we settle for just being.

I'm sleepy.

My eyes are finally dropping shut of their own accord, and I struggle to keep them open.

I'm cold, which doesn't seem right. I should be sweating still, but my body is trembling slightly and I can feel goose bumps coming up on my skin. I turn my head and reach for the red and blue blanket folded on the side of the couch arm. I drag it over and it spreads as it moves, so I pull it securely over our forms. I know technically Angel doesn't feel the cold, but it's nice for me to pretend otherwise sometimes. It's nice to sometimes forget that he isn't completely human and I think every now and then, the delusion is good for Angel to indulge in.

His arm comes around me and holds me closer to him and I feel him rest his head near mine. I'm glad and content at the gesture.

He's leaning on me, and I'm leaning on him.

.-.-.

END