Title: Perfectly Happy Part 3 - The Seduction Continues
Author: Anna - - niannah@hotmail.com
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Not mine, et cetera.
Feedback: Yes please.
A/N: Set sometime after the end of Season 3. Thank you to everyone who reviewed – I hope this chapter is to your taste. Though Jasmine, I think this chapter should make it clear that I am certainly not a B/A shipper!
_____________________________________________________________________
Cordelia looked at the papers strewn around her on the floor. There were many, some new, printed, some typewritten, aging, slightly yellow now, and some handwritten. Most were handwritten. In various styles, from a perfunctory, matter of fact script to flowing handwriting, liberally embellished with loops and curlicues.
All referred to numerous properties in Europe owned and leased by one Angelus.
Angelus had been into futures. Literally.
She sat back against the bed, and stared at the empty drawers in the closet. She had never even noticed them before, and never would had Angelus not led her suspicions to search there. She had found them full of the documents that now carpeted the floor.
And one more thing. Lying over the arm of his armchair. Prosaic, were it not for the inherent irony. Were it not for the fact that they were left for her to find.
Leather pants.
Cordelia almost laughed, looking at them. Could he have left a more obvious message? There they had lain, hidden in blue tissue paper. Angel had kept them. She could not fathom it. It made her stomach turn.
She stood and walked to the door, opening it into the dully lit corridor.
"Wesley!" she called. "Wes?"
She heard his footsteps on the stairs, watched as he walked towards her, his face concerned.
"Cordelia, are you alright?" he said.
"You are not going to believe this," she replied.
Wesley followed her into the room.
"Good Lord," he said. "What's all this?"
"Look." Cordelia held out some of the older papers.
Wesley examined the documents, shuffling them in his hands as he read.
"Good Lord," he breathed again, when he had finished. "And these others?" He looked around at the other papers.
"All the same. All reports of the leasing and maintenance of properties in Europe."
"Houses in Paris, London, Rome, Vienna, Dublin," read Wesley, as he knelt and shuffled through more letters.
"Estates in Provençe, Lombardy, Ireland, Bavaria," continued Cordelia. "It all belongs to Angelus."
"And Angel, one assumes?"
"Yeah. But get this." Cordelia held out a carbon copy document. "Dated 1999. Look at the signature."
Wesley took the page in his hand. His eyes opened in shock as he read.
"It's the same on all of them. Here's one from a month ago."
"I… I can't believe it." Wesley stood up and began to pace the room, his eyes darting over the sheaves of paper.
"Me either. But there it is." Cordelia gestured to the papers in his hands. "He signed them all 'Angelus'".
Wesley stared again at the signatures.
"There must be a reason!" he exclaimed.
"Sure there's a reason. Look at these bank statements. Nice discreet Swiss bank. He hasn't touched this money since 1898."
"And yet he maintained the accounts, and continued to oversee the properties."
"Right," said Cordelia. "He was prepared for this. For Angelus to return."
"I did always wonder how he came by that mansion," Wesley said with a puzzled frown.
Cordelia blew hair from her face, placing her hands on her hips.
"Well, he's wealthy. I mean Bill Gates, David Nabbitt wealthy. He's had two hundred and fifty years to make a fortune. And he's back."
Their eyes locked for one dramatic moment.
Cordelia sighed.
"How are Fred and Gunn holding up?"
Wesley put down the papers and put his hands in his pockets.
"Fred is still crying. She took it rather hard."
"It was a good service."
"Yes, Fr O'Neill spoke well."
"It's so sad."
Wesley looked at Cordelia. Her eyes remained dry, her face ashen.
"Yes," he said softly. "It is."
"Maybe we shouldn't tell Fred and Gunn about all this." She spread her hands over the mess of papers.
"Better not," agreed Wesley. "What will we do with it?"
Cordelia exhaled, a thoughtful frown on her face.
"I don't know," she said.
"No," said Wesley. "Well. Perhaps you should come down? I'll make tea."
Cordelia smiled.
"I missed you, Wes," she said.
It was late. So late it would soon be early. Wesley, Fred and Gunn were all asleep in the Hyperion. Cordelia had made sure of it before making a sound. The documents were all in two boxes, placed carefully on the back seat of Angel's car. On the passenger seat, carefully folded, were the leather pants. Cordelia started the engine and pulled out.
The lights were on in her apartment. She stopped at the kerb. Inhaled deeply.
"Okay," she said, under her breath. "Let's do this."
She got out of the car and hefted one of the boxes on to her hip. She left it by her door before returning to pick up the other. She placed it on top of the first, laid the leather pants on top of that, took another strengthening breath, then knocked on the door.
She heard his footsteps come towards her.
The door opened.
He stood there, dressed in luxurious black, lit by the light of low lamps, a small fire, and candle flames all around the room.
He smiled. She did not.
"I brought these for you," she said, her hand flicking towards the boxes.
"Thanks," he replied. He stood back from the door. "Come in."
She walked past him, feeling him like a chill on her spine.
He lifted the boxes and brought them inside the door.
"Oh," he said, smiling and holding the pants. "You found them. Good."
Cordelia simply stared as he put them down and came towards her. He stood, a mere pace from her, his face uncannily soft. The eyes were the only clue. Hard and black.
"Wine?" he asked.
Cordelia frowned fleetingly.
"Sure," she said. She could hear the stress in her voice.
Angelus tilted his head towards the sideboard. A bottle was left open to chambré, a single glass, large and round, standing beside it.
Cordelia's eyes fell.
"You knew I'd come," she said.
"Yeah," he replied.
"So I guess you know why."
"I do." He brushed a strand of hair from her face. She flinched and pulled back. "Please," he said. "Sit."
Cordelia sighed, exasperated.
"Stop," she said, harshly.
"Stop what?"
"Stop pretending to be… nice."
"I am perfectly nice," he replied, his voice molten chocolate. "I have had many years to hone my manners. Speaking of which." He turned to the sideboard and poured her a glass of deep red wine. "I believe it is a good vintage. I cannot taste such things."
Cordelia took the glass. Her eyes were dark with suspicion.
Angelus ignored it.
"Please," he said again. "Sit down. It is, after all, your apartment."
Cordelia sat on the couch.
"I'll never think of this place as mine again."
"No?"
"No."
"Because of me?"
"Of course because of you."
Angelus nodded, sitting on the edge of the armchair, which he had placed near the fire.
"I guess I understand."
"That's big of you." Cordelia looked around. "Is Dennis still here?"
"Probably," replied Angelus. "He's been pretty quiet, though."
"Must be the company." Cordelia sipped her wine.
Angelus laughed.
"Of course he would prefer such a beautiful young woman." His eyes were full of lust.
Cordelia flushed. She tried to ignore it.
"So," she said. "Tell me why I'm here."
Angelus sat back, shimmering black against the creamy tones of her décor.
"Today you discovered that there was far more of me in that souled creature than you had ever imagined. You have a faint, twinkling hope that you will curse me again. You know he will never tell you about me. So you want to" – he laughed – "get to know me, before I become Angel again."
"You don't think we can curse you again?"
"I think if you can find a single Orb of Thesulah anywhere between here and Romania, you will deserve to curse me."
"Pfft!" said Cordelia. "You can get Orbs of Thesulah anywhere! They're sold as paperweights!"
"But you don't have one."
"No," she conceded.
"Ask your Watcher why."
Cordelia eyed him, but let it pass.
"How were you freed?" she asked.
"The usual. Moment of perfect happiness," he said with scorn.
"What happened?"
"The kid. Told me he had finally come to think of me as his father. Told me he loved me."
"And then you killed him."
Angelus looked her in the eye.
"He killed Darla."
"Darla killed herself."
"Because of him, and his soul," he spat. "I would rather have Darla for one night than a son for a lifetime."
"You once killed Darla." Cordelia's voice was level, all tremors of fear and nervousness gone.
"You think I don't think of that every day?"
"Do you?"
"I killed my sire. Do you understand that?" He looked intently at her. "My mother, my lover. I owed her everything, and I killed her." He looked away, staring blackly into the fire.
"Don't even pretend you actually care about Darla," replied Cordelia, her voice harsh. "You can't."
Angelus inhaled sharply.
"So the Soul would have you believe."
"I believe Angel sooner than I believe you."
"Really. Did he mention the clothes? The accounts he quietly took care of, the properties he oversaw?"
Cordelia jutted her jaw, but remained silent.
"No," continued Angelus. "And there's so much more he didn't tell you, Cordelia. Things that I want you to know. We are not so different, Angel and I. Do you want to know these things?"
"Well, I'm thinking Mr. Loves-the-sound-of-his-own-voice won't shut up till he tells me anyway, so –"
He cut her off.
"Cordelia," he said. "Do you want to know?"
She sighed, and sat back. She took a sip of wine, her eyes fixed on him over the rim of the glass.
"Yes," she said finally. "I do."
"Why? Did your pet Watcher tell you to find out as much as you can?"
Again she regarded him, thinking things he could not see.
She shook her head.
"No," she said, her voice quiet. "I want to know."
Angelus smiled slowly, perhaps something other than his usual hard smile.
Cordelia took another sip of wine.
"The first thing you should know is how alluring you are to me."
Angelus could see her muscles tense, but her breathing remained calm.
"When I say me, I mean both the Soul and I. He found you intoxicating. He tried to convince himself it was love. Maybe it is. In my long life, sometimes I still cannot be sure."
"You can't love without a soul."
"Yes you can. Don't believe the lies the Watcher's Council spawns, and that my alter ego perpetuates. I did not stay with Darla for one hundred and fifty years without feeling a love more intense than any human can ever know. Simply because love grows with time, and I have more of it."
"And yet you killed her."
"In that moment, I saw Buffy as my… salvation." He spat the word. "So I killed her. Darla. Soul or no soul, I have never forgiven myself for that, and never will. That is what I mean when I say I cannot be sure what love is. Is it Darla? Always. Buffy? I thought so once, but now, I am not so sure. And now you. Such a confusion of love…" His voice trailed away, growing wistful.
Cordelia looked at him sharply through narrowed eyes.
"And you thought that Connor's dead body was the gift every girl wants? Here's a tip. Next time? Think Tiffany's."
"I told you. I killed him because he killed Darla. As I would kill anyone who caused harm to you."
"I thought you were going to kill me?"
"When did I say that?"
"You didn't. I guess." Cordelia looked confused. "You wanted to kill Buffy."
"Buffy is a Slayer. Do you know I've never killed a Slayer? Played with them, sure, but never killed." Angelus looked contemplative. "And young William has two to his name."
Cordelia's mouth twisted with distaste.
"It's just a game to you."
Angelus was comfortably seated in his armchair, almost slouched, if such a leonine figure can be said to do such an ungraceful thing. He leaned an elbow on the arm and propped his head in his paw-like hand. He smiled a lazy smile.
"Of course." He tilted his head. The expression in his eyes might almost have been mistaken for fondness. "And I do want to kill you."
"Well, there goes my relief."
"That morning, it was all I could do to stop myself. You looked so delectable, lying there in bed beside me, under me…"
"Don't." It was not an entreaty.
Angelus ran his eyes over Cordelia's body. Her shoes lay neatly on the floor where she sat, and her bare feet were curled under her as she reclined against the arm of the couch, wineglass in hand.
So much for never being at home here again.
"I want to. But I won't. You are far too interesting to kill."
"Until you lose interest."
"Of course."
"Well," said Cordelia. "It's lucky I'm such an interesting person." She gave him her brightest smile.
"Indeed," he said. "Enough of this talk of death. No one knows when they will be taken, and you are no different."
"Wesley, Fred and Gunn?"
"Pawns."
"Or not."
"Can I get you more wine?"
"No thanks, I'm good."
"Sure?"
"Yeah."
Angelus nodded.
Cordelia looked around. Nothing had changed much in the time since it had been her apartment.
"It feels like a lot more than two days."
"A lot has happened."
"Do you still want to kill Buffy?" she asked suddenly.
"No, not really," he replied gently. "Only insofar as she is the Slayer. Nothing more. Perhaps I should leave her to William."
"From what I hear, he's quite enjoying her."
"Really?" Angelus laughed. "You never told me that before."
"I cared how you felt before."
"You worried that I'd care before," he corrected. "He always had a thing for Slayers, my William."
"More original than having a thing for blondes."
"Touché." Angelus smiled. "Why did you decide to go back to your beautiful natural mahogany?"
Cordelia faltered.
"I wanted to be sure," she said, "that it was more than the hair. With Angel."
Angelus laughed again.
"Oh, Cordelia! Even now you doubt your power over me!"
"Excuse me?"
"Power. Over me."
Angelus gazed at her. She stared back, stunned.
"And now," he continued. "I hate to appear rude, my Cordelia, but there is little time left till dawn, and I am hungry. You can stay here or return to the Hyperion. Whichever you wish."
"Hyperion," said Cordelia quietly, still taken aback.
"Thank you again for my documents. And my favourite pants." Angelus stood, holding out a hand to help her up. Without thinking, she took it. He stood close to her for a heartbeat, before turning away and leading her to the door.
"I will see you again soon?" he asked, holding her hand in his.
"Is there a choice?"
"There is always a choice." Angelus kissed her hand, his lips lingering on her skin just long enough to heat her cheeks. "Just as there are always consequences."
"Then I guess it's up to you," she replied.
"See you soon, then. I have much more to tell you."
He let her hand fall, and closed the door gently. She remained for a moment staring at the wood before turning and walking to the car.
Just as she pulled away from the kerb she saw him leaving, clad in black, coat billowing gently as he adjusted the collar.
Some things never changed.
TBC.
Author: Anna - - niannah@hotmail.com
Rating: R
Disclaimer: Not mine, et cetera.
Feedback: Yes please.
A/N: Set sometime after the end of Season 3. Thank you to everyone who reviewed – I hope this chapter is to your taste. Though Jasmine, I think this chapter should make it clear that I am certainly not a B/A shipper!
_____________________________________________________________________
Cordelia looked at the papers strewn around her on the floor. There were many, some new, printed, some typewritten, aging, slightly yellow now, and some handwritten. Most were handwritten. In various styles, from a perfunctory, matter of fact script to flowing handwriting, liberally embellished with loops and curlicues.
All referred to numerous properties in Europe owned and leased by one Angelus.
Angelus had been into futures. Literally.
She sat back against the bed, and stared at the empty drawers in the closet. She had never even noticed them before, and never would had Angelus not led her suspicions to search there. She had found them full of the documents that now carpeted the floor.
And one more thing. Lying over the arm of his armchair. Prosaic, were it not for the inherent irony. Were it not for the fact that they were left for her to find.
Leather pants.
Cordelia almost laughed, looking at them. Could he have left a more obvious message? There they had lain, hidden in blue tissue paper. Angel had kept them. She could not fathom it. It made her stomach turn.
She stood and walked to the door, opening it into the dully lit corridor.
"Wesley!" she called. "Wes?"
She heard his footsteps on the stairs, watched as he walked towards her, his face concerned.
"Cordelia, are you alright?" he said.
"You are not going to believe this," she replied.
Wesley followed her into the room.
"Good Lord," he said. "What's all this?"
"Look." Cordelia held out some of the older papers.
Wesley examined the documents, shuffling them in his hands as he read.
"Good Lord," he breathed again, when he had finished. "And these others?" He looked around at the other papers.
"All the same. All reports of the leasing and maintenance of properties in Europe."
"Houses in Paris, London, Rome, Vienna, Dublin," read Wesley, as he knelt and shuffled through more letters.
"Estates in Provençe, Lombardy, Ireland, Bavaria," continued Cordelia. "It all belongs to Angelus."
"And Angel, one assumes?"
"Yeah. But get this." Cordelia held out a carbon copy document. "Dated 1999. Look at the signature."
Wesley took the page in his hand. His eyes opened in shock as he read.
"It's the same on all of them. Here's one from a month ago."
"I… I can't believe it." Wesley stood up and began to pace the room, his eyes darting over the sheaves of paper.
"Me either. But there it is." Cordelia gestured to the papers in his hands. "He signed them all 'Angelus'".
Wesley stared again at the signatures.
"There must be a reason!" he exclaimed.
"Sure there's a reason. Look at these bank statements. Nice discreet Swiss bank. He hasn't touched this money since 1898."
"And yet he maintained the accounts, and continued to oversee the properties."
"Right," said Cordelia. "He was prepared for this. For Angelus to return."
"I did always wonder how he came by that mansion," Wesley said with a puzzled frown.
Cordelia blew hair from her face, placing her hands on her hips.
"Well, he's wealthy. I mean Bill Gates, David Nabbitt wealthy. He's had two hundred and fifty years to make a fortune. And he's back."
Their eyes locked for one dramatic moment.
Cordelia sighed.
"How are Fred and Gunn holding up?"
Wesley put down the papers and put his hands in his pockets.
"Fred is still crying. She took it rather hard."
"It was a good service."
"Yes, Fr O'Neill spoke well."
"It's so sad."
Wesley looked at Cordelia. Her eyes remained dry, her face ashen.
"Yes," he said softly. "It is."
"Maybe we shouldn't tell Fred and Gunn about all this." She spread her hands over the mess of papers.
"Better not," agreed Wesley. "What will we do with it?"
Cordelia exhaled, a thoughtful frown on her face.
"I don't know," she said.
"No," said Wesley. "Well. Perhaps you should come down? I'll make tea."
Cordelia smiled.
"I missed you, Wes," she said.
It was late. So late it would soon be early. Wesley, Fred and Gunn were all asleep in the Hyperion. Cordelia had made sure of it before making a sound. The documents were all in two boxes, placed carefully on the back seat of Angel's car. On the passenger seat, carefully folded, were the leather pants. Cordelia started the engine and pulled out.
The lights were on in her apartment. She stopped at the kerb. Inhaled deeply.
"Okay," she said, under her breath. "Let's do this."
She got out of the car and hefted one of the boxes on to her hip. She left it by her door before returning to pick up the other. She placed it on top of the first, laid the leather pants on top of that, took another strengthening breath, then knocked on the door.
She heard his footsteps come towards her.
The door opened.
He stood there, dressed in luxurious black, lit by the light of low lamps, a small fire, and candle flames all around the room.
He smiled. She did not.
"I brought these for you," she said, her hand flicking towards the boxes.
"Thanks," he replied. He stood back from the door. "Come in."
She walked past him, feeling him like a chill on her spine.
He lifted the boxes and brought them inside the door.
"Oh," he said, smiling and holding the pants. "You found them. Good."
Cordelia simply stared as he put them down and came towards her. He stood, a mere pace from her, his face uncannily soft. The eyes were the only clue. Hard and black.
"Wine?" he asked.
Cordelia frowned fleetingly.
"Sure," she said. She could hear the stress in her voice.
Angelus tilted his head towards the sideboard. A bottle was left open to chambré, a single glass, large and round, standing beside it.
Cordelia's eyes fell.
"You knew I'd come," she said.
"Yeah," he replied.
"So I guess you know why."
"I do." He brushed a strand of hair from her face. She flinched and pulled back. "Please," he said. "Sit."
Cordelia sighed, exasperated.
"Stop," she said, harshly.
"Stop what?"
"Stop pretending to be… nice."
"I am perfectly nice," he replied, his voice molten chocolate. "I have had many years to hone my manners. Speaking of which." He turned to the sideboard and poured her a glass of deep red wine. "I believe it is a good vintage. I cannot taste such things."
Cordelia took the glass. Her eyes were dark with suspicion.
Angelus ignored it.
"Please," he said again. "Sit down. It is, after all, your apartment."
Cordelia sat on the couch.
"I'll never think of this place as mine again."
"No?"
"No."
"Because of me?"
"Of course because of you."
Angelus nodded, sitting on the edge of the armchair, which he had placed near the fire.
"I guess I understand."
"That's big of you." Cordelia looked around. "Is Dennis still here?"
"Probably," replied Angelus. "He's been pretty quiet, though."
"Must be the company." Cordelia sipped her wine.
Angelus laughed.
"Of course he would prefer such a beautiful young woman." His eyes were full of lust.
Cordelia flushed. She tried to ignore it.
"So," she said. "Tell me why I'm here."
Angelus sat back, shimmering black against the creamy tones of her décor.
"Today you discovered that there was far more of me in that souled creature than you had ever imagined. You have a faint, twinkling hope that you will curse me again. You know he will never tell you about me. So you want to" – he laughed – "get to know me, before I become Angel again."
"You don't think we can curse you again?"
"I think if you can find a single Orb of Thesulah anywhere between here and Romania, you will deserve to curse me."
"Pfft!" said Cordelia. "You can get Orbs of Thesulah anywhere! They're sold as paperweights!"
"But you don't have one."
"No," she conceded.
"Ask your Watcher why."
Cordelia eyed him, but let it pass.
"How were you freed?" she asked.
"The usual. Moment of perfect happiness," he said with scorn.
"What happened?"
"The kid. Told me he had finally come to think of me as his father. Told me he loved me."
"And then you killed him."
Angelus looked her in the eye.
"He killed Darla."
"Darla killed herself."
"Because of him, and his soul," he spat. "I would rather have Darla for one night than a son for a lifetime."
"You once killed Darla." Cordelia's voice was level, all tremors of fear and nervousness gone.
"You think I don't think of that every day?"
"Do you?"
"I killed my sire. Do you understand that?" He looked intently at her. "My mother, my lover. I owed her everything, and I killed her." He looked away, staring blackly into the fire.
"Don't even pretend you actually care about Darla," replied Cordelia, her voice harsh. "You can't."
Angelus inhaled sharply.
"So the Soul would have you believe."
"I believe Angel sooner than I believe you."
"Really. Did he mention the clothes? The accounts he quietly took care of, the properties he oversaw?"
Cordelia jutted her jaw, but remained silent.
"No," continued Angelus. "And there's so much more he didn't tell you, Cordelia. Things that I want you to know. We are not so different, Angel and I. Do you want to know these things?"
"Well, I'm thinking Mr. Loves-the-sound-of-his-own-voice won't shut up till he tells me anyway, so –"
He cut her off.
"Cordelia," he said. "Do you want to know?"
She sighed, and sat back. She took a sip of wine, her eyes fixed on him over the rim of the glass.
"Yes," she said finally. "I do."
"Why? Did your pet Watcher tell you to find out as much as you can?"
Again she regarded him, thinking things he could not see.
She shook her head.
"No," she said, her voice quiet. "I want to know."
Angelus smiled slowly, perhaps something other than his usual hard smile.
Cordelia took another sip of wine.
"The first thing you should know is how alluring you are to me."
Angelus could see her muscles tense, but her breathing remained calm.
"When I say me, I mean both the Soul and I. He found you intoxicating. He tried to convince himself it was love. Maybe it is. In my long life, sometimes I still cannot be sure."
"You can't love without a soul."
"Yes you can. Don't believe the lies the Watcher's Council spawns, and that my alter ego perpetuates. I did not stay with Darla for one hundred and fifty years without feeling a love more intense than any human can ever know. Simply because love grows with time, and I have more of it."
"And yet you killed her."
"In that moment, I saw Buffy as my… salvation." He spat the word. "So I killed her. Darla. Soul or no soul, I have never forgiven myself for that, and never will. That is what I mean when I say I cannot be sure what love is. Is it Darla? Always. Buffy? I thought so once, but now, I am not so sure. And now you. Such a confusion of love…" His voice trailed away, growing wistful.
Cordelia looked at him sharply through narrowed eyes.
"And you thought that Connor's dead body was the gift every girl wants? Here's a tip. Next time? Think Tiffany's."
"I told you. I killed him because he killed Darla. As I would kill anyone who caused harm to you."
"I thought you were going to kill me?"
"When did I say that?"
"You didn't. I guess." Cordelia looked confused. "You wanted to kill Buffy."
"Buffy is a Slayer. Do you know I've never killed a Slayer? Played with them, sure, but never killed." Angelus looked contemplative. "And young William has two to his name."
Cordelia's mouth twisted with distaste.
"It's just a game to you."
Angelus was comfortably seated in his armchair, almost slouched, if such a leonine figure can be said to do such an ungraceful thing. He leaned an elbow on the arm and propped his head in his paw-like hand. He smiled a lazy smile.
"Of course." He tilted his head. The expression in his eyes might almost have been mistaken for fondness. "And I do want to kill you."
"Well, there goes my relief."
"That morning, it was all I could do to stop myself. You looked so delectable, lying there in bed beside me, under me…"
"Don't." It was not an entreaty.
Angelus ran his eyes over Cordelia's body. Her shoes lay neatly on the floor where she sat, and her bare feet were curled under her as she reclined against the arm of the couch, wineglass in hand.
So much for never being at home here again.
"I want to. But I won't. You are far too interesting to kill."
"Until you lose interest."
"Of course."
"Well," said Cordelia. "It's lucky I'm such an interesting person." She gave him her brightest smile.
"Indeed," he said. "Enough of this talk of death. No one knows when they will be taken, and you are no different."
"Wesley, Fred and Gunn?"
"Pawns."
"Or not."
"Can I get you more wine?"
"No thanks, I'm good."
"Sure?"
"Yeah."
Angelus nodded.
Cordelia looked around. Nothing had changed much in the time since it had been her apartment.
"It feels like a lot more than two days."
"A lot has happened."
"Do you still want to kill Buffy?" she asked suddenly.
"No, not really," he replied gently. "Only insofar as she is the Slayer. Nothing more. Perhaps I should leave her to William."
"From what I hear, he's quite enjoying her."
"Really?" Angelus laughed. "You never told me that before."
"I cared how you felt before."
"You worried that I'd care before," he corrected. "He always had a thing for Slayers, my William."
"More original than having a thing for blondes."
"Touché." Angelus smiled. "Why did you decide to go back to your beautiful natural mahogany?"
Cordelia faltered.
"I wanted to be sure," she said, "that it was more than the hair. With Angel."
Angelus laughed again.
"Oh, Cordelia! Even now you doubt your power over me!"
"Excuse me?"
"Power. Over me."
Angelus gazed at her. She stared back, stunned.
"And now," he continued. "I hate to appear rude, my Cordelia, but there is little time left till dawn, and I am hungry. You can stay here or return to the Hyperion. Whichever you wish."
"Hyperion," said Cordelia quietly, still taken aback.
"Thank you again for my documents. And my favourite pants." Angelus stood, holding out a hand to help her up. Without thinking, she took it. He stood close to her for a heartbeat, before turning away and leading her to the door.
"I will see you again soon?" he asked, holding her hand in his.
"Is there a choice?"
"There is always a choice." Angelus kissed her hand, his lips lingering on her skin just long enough to heat her cheeks. "Just as there are always consequences."
"Then I guess it's up to you," she replied.
"See you soon, then. I have much more to tell you."
He let her hand fall, and closed the door gently. She remained for a moment staring at the wood before turning and walking to the car.
Just as she pulled away from the kerb she saw him leaving, clad in black, coat billowing gently as he adjusted the collar.
Some things never changed.
TBC.