It wasn't that he was kissing Buffy, right here, in front of everybody, looking like he was about to rip her clothes off and ravish her. It wasn't even the fact that everybody was looking at her sympathetically, as if they knew this was going to happen but it was still so, so sad for poor lil' Cordelia Chase.
but that did make her mad
it made her furious
don't look at me im not fragile im cordelia fucking chase i can take care of myself
It was that an hour earlier, as she had woken up and clasped his hand from her hospital bed at Wolfram and Hart deal with the devil she knew something was wrong with this picture he sold his soul for two pence he had professed his love for her. And they had kissed, almost like this, except less desperate and lust filled, because she was sore and bedridden with chapped lips and Medusa hair, and Buffy was gloriously blonde and you could see her tight little ass in the short skirt she was wearing and his hands were on that ass and Cordelia was about to puke up the little food she had been able to eat. Angel had insisted she eat, said she was too skinny, too skinny the best diet was a coma diet but Buffy was skinny, a twig, and he loved her like she was.
Cordelia was dark buffy was light
Cordelia was thin and drawn buffy was all smiles and lively
Cordelia had been in a coma buffy had been in rome
Cordelia still had the fucking visions that started this buffy wasn't the only only only slayer anymore
Cordelia was still going to die buffy was going to live
Cordelia would never have Angel's love buffy would always own angel's heart
But Cordelia Chase was a fighter, goddamnit, and when Angel came up for breath and saw Cordelia standing there, not in her hospital gown anymore but stylish slacks and a shirt a size too small for her now but still hugging and flattering Angel saw her with a smile, forced but still there. He wouldn't see a single fucking tear. She was a fighter, she always had been, and she always would be.
Let him have his Buffy.
She had herself.