Part 3

Angel stepped out of the cab, breathing in deeply, trying desperately to clear his lungs of the soiled smell of the stained upholstery. He hastily handed two crisp fifty's to the driver and gave him a concise nod before grabbing his bags and steering himself towards the front door.

Once inside, he dumped his stuff down, shed his coat and headed to the kitchen for a beer. The liquid seemed to tranquilize his irritated mood, and he settled tiredly in front of the TV. God, he hated traveling. It was times like these, when he came back to a spotless house (cleaned thoroughly by maid services while he was away), tons of mail, a full message machine and no dog, that he wished he'd never taken over the company. His father had started it when he immigrated, and it almost overnight turned into a multi-million dollar corporation. The man had died nearly fifteen years ago and it was left to his only son, Angelus O'Connor. Angel had agreed to do it if he didn't have to spend every waking hour at the office, like his father had.

And so he lived in Sunnydale, doing what he loved to do: teach. He never knew why; his father had been a businessman just like his father before him. Countless numbers of his ancestors had done the same stiff old job and Angel was a history teacher. He couldn't be happier. There was just something about standing there in front of a group of young adults and educating them about what had gone on before them. And he was definitely good at it. All the millions the company wracked meant nothing to him. He was much more content with the Coolest Teacher of the Year Award than anything that the greedy people who worked for him could manage to chalk up.

But sometimes there were these so called "imperative meetings that our partners expect you to attend, Mr. O'Connor" and he was forced into getting on an overly sanitized plane and flying all the way to New York. And that was why he'd been gone for almost two months, making him very, very angry. Why did he care about conferences? Come on, if they go on and off for two months out of his life, then he had every right to lash out. (He had discovered that all the employees were very much afraid of him now. Probably had something to do with the fact that he given an intern a broken nose…? Hmm.)

He groaned loudly as his cell phone rang happily in his pocket. He let it go off for at least five minutes but whoever was calling so persistent that when they got the message machine, they just hung up and redialed. "What?" he finally barked into it.

"And hello to you too, Angel," a female voice replied in annoyance.

Angel sighed. "Cordelia."

"How was the trip?"

"Wonderful," he said, his sarcasm coming out wearily.

"Could we be more uninformative?"

Angel merely grunted in reply. He was not in the mood for the third degree from anyone, especially his baby cousin. Er- younger cousin. Cordy was seventeen but all he could think was that she was still five years old and refusing to go to her first day of kindergarten because she wanted to stay with him. They fought a lot because he usually ended up driving all of her boyfriends away. Growling, or so he'd been told many times, wasn't very becoming (who would've thought…).

"Aren't you going to ask about me?" her voice said, hinted with a fake pout.

Angel barely held back yet another (but louder) sigh and said, "How are you, Cordelia?"

"Pretty good," she said, sounding like he'd asked with actual interest. "Yesterday, I slapped Harmony in the cafeteria because she insulted Xander's shirt, which was actually pretty cool. Harmony started crying. Well, actually she oinks…" Angel closed his eyes counted to ten over and over again as Cordy went on and on in his ear, accentuating his already brain-splitting headache. On any other day he would be more than happy to hear that the blond had finally fulfilled the significance of karma but right now: no. "…And then Aphordesia says, 'But I wanted to!' So Aura says, 'No I did!' And they kept it up for like, five hours and we were all like, 'Oh my God, just shut up!' But they didn't and we finally were like-"

"Cordelia."

"What?" she demanded, aggravated at the interruption. It was just getting to the good part! Didn't he have any respect?

"For the last two months, my days have been filled with having old men kiss my ass. I have just spent the last seven hours trying to get back home. On the airplane a kid threw up in the seat next to me. I'm tired. I'm hungry. I need a shower, so as much as I would like to hear about school gossip from the very second I've been gone, could we please save it for another time? Maybe the abridged version?"

Cordelia huffed indignantly. "Fine."

"Thank you. You're so kind."

"You better believe it," she said heatedly. "Fine, though. I'll tell you tomorrow. Are you coming back to school?"

"Yeah," he said, feeling twinge of contentment at the prospect. "Yeah, I'll be there."

"Good," Cordelia said, satisfied. "And just so you know, it's a good thing we're ending out conversation. I have somewhere to be, anyway."

"Is it a date?" Angel asked, his eyes narrowing as he leaned forward on the couch, listening intently.

Cordelia sighed. "No, Angel. It's not a date. I have a boyfriend who doesn't tend to do much in the buying department."

Angel froze immediately, his protective instincts taking over. "Who?"

"Xander Harris," Cordelia said, surprising even herself at the pride and happiness that filled her voice.

"What?!" Angel screeched in her ear. "What?!"

"Xander H-"

"I heard you the first time!" Angel snapped. "But I must have been mistaken because I could have sworn you just said…Xander Harris."

Cordelia huffed yet again and Angel could just see her crossing her arms across her chest, his words aggravating her to no end. "Yes, I'm dating Xander."

"Cor-"

"Yes, I probably have gone insane but…" She stopped for a minute, pondering whether or not to reveal her true opinion. "Well, he's…sweet. And he's funny… He's…well, he's Xander but…cute."

"Cordy…" Angel said hesitantly. "You know that I want you to be happy and that I support you in everything you do but…Xander? Did it have to be…him?"

"Yes, Angel, it had to be Xander."

"But…why?" Angel croaked, although he knew he was powerless against her. Cordelia was… Well, she was very…controlling. She was very…persistent. OK, she was damn intimidating, even to him.

"Because that's what I want. It's my decision who I date, sorry to tell you. And he's not you boyfriend, anyway, so you don't have to deal with it."

"And thank God for that," he muttered, noting that his convincing skills could use some serious work. He missed the days when she would just do what he said…

Cordelia sighed dramatically and said, "Well, as much as I like you insulting my other-half, I'd rather hold off on our little chat for now. I'm not going to be late because you feel like going overtime with the teasing."

It was Angel's turn to sigh, suddenly feeling wrong about what he was saying. "Look, Cordy, I'm sorry. It's just…sleep deprived and your boyfriends and…Xander all in one night is a little hard to handle. Sorry."

He could have sworn he heard her smile in self-satisfaction at his apparent "loss." "Good. You are forgiven."

"Thank you, Cordy," Angel said, slightly amused now. "So have fun…wherever you're going. Where are you going?"

"We're all going to Buffy's. Try and chocolate her out of depression."

Angel stopped. "B-Buffy? Buffy Summers?"

"Uh, do you know of any other Buffy?" Cordelia said pointedly.

Of course he didn't.

He knew of no one else with her name or her…magnetism. It was like…like when she walked into a room… Well, he had been distracted numerous times by her. He couldn't recall a time when she had not had on a luminous smile that made her whole being seem to radiate with energy, which flowed to everyone around her. He'd seen legions of students and she was one of the only ones who was genuinely nice to everybody. She always came prepared with her brilliance and sharp wit, making people young and old feel right at home. But not with him. No, whenever Angel saw or spoke to Buffy Summers his palms began to seep with sweat and his knees felt incapable of supporting even one inch of his body and he knew that one day he would just wobble and do a not-so-graceful face-plant straight into the oh-so-hard-floor.

"You're going to…" He though for a moment, before his eyes narrowed in sudden suspicion. "What do you mean…depressed?"

"I mean what I say: Buffy's depressed."

"Wha-?"

"Not suicidal depressed or anything," Cordelia continued, ignoring Angel while she set the record straight. If asked a year ago if she'd though she'd be defending Buffy Summers, dating her dork-friend, Xander, and sharing fashion tips with Willow Rosenburg, Sunnydale's very special nerd, then her initial reaction would probably have been to slap the person and run off to tell Harmony. But now she spent her days hanging out with the trio in the school library or on the terrace, talking about stupid things little things that had slowly begun to grow on her. And to her surprised, she was finally happy.

"What h-happened? Is she OK? Is she sick?" Angel threw out the questions left and right, much to his cousin's dislike.

"I know you haven't been around for a while but can you honestly tell me you haven't heard?" Cordelia said, genuinely shocked. Angel was supposed to be the cool teacher! How could he be cool if he didn't know all the gossip?

"No, Cordelia, I haven't. Are you going to tell me?" Angel tried to keep the growing hysteria out of his voice but it was no easy task.

"What's with you? I mean, I know you're all caring for the student or whatever but there's no need to ask like that. God…" And obviously he had failed with the hysteria thing.

"Cordy," Angel said, fighting for control of the constant shaking of his voice, "please tell me what's wrong with Buffy?"

Cordelia frowned a little. Was he…begging? It sure sounded like he was begging. "Angel," she said slowly, "are you OK? You don't sound…well."

"Cordy, please." He'd given up on holding his emotions in and was now gripping the phone with such pressure, he was sure it would snap soon.

"Uh, s-she…well, she got pregnant. And her mom isn't really speaking to her and everyone's talking about her and she had quit school. We go over there all the time to keep her company." She paused and found that Angel's tired breathing had turned to dead silence. "Listen, Angel, I have to go. Are you sure you're OK?" Silence. "Angel?"

He couldn't hear her. His body wasn't responding to anything except shock.

"Angel?"

He'd been teaching at Sunnydale High for nearly two and a half-years, and he remembered his first class like it was yesterday. He was walking down the hall, trying to put on foot in front of the other and keep going in a straight line (Nervous? Yeah), thinking so hard about not looking like a complete idiot in front of everyone when- Bam! He crashed smack dab into a petty little blond, who was focusing intently on her schedule. Both of them had dropped to their knees, hurriedly coursing out apologies and picking up her books. When he thought about it later, Angel guessed that people had looked at them like they were crazy: there they'd been, crawling around in the middle of the packed hall, dodging shoes, their heads bumping repeatedly.

"Angel? Are you there? Angel?"

"Bye, Cordy." His voice sounded hollowed in his own ears as he disregarded Cordelia's protests and cut the connection.

It was amazing how many things you noticed when you were just staring at a wall. Angel could see a tiny crack in the otherwise impeccable cream-colored paint and made an absent mental reminder to cover it. For the first time he heard the perpetual sound of the clock on the shelf, warning him that he was just sitting around when he had things to do. But for that he didn't care.

There were innumerable reactions that he could – should – be having to the rather unexpected news. He knew that the preferred one he should be having would be that of her history teacher, the one that went something like this: "Oh, dear, she did have so much potential. It's just a shame she threw her entire life away. Teen-motherhood is just a sad, sad thing to have happen to a bright girl like herself. It's a darn shame…"

But that didn't even begin to creep across his mind. So there were two options left for him. As the weight of this finally hit him, he caved over and laid his head down in his hands and shut his eyes, blocking out the world and giving in to exhaustion.