This part starts a little awkwardly but stick with it and me.

As Cordelia looked around at the others, she saw the eager gleam in Willow's innocent eyes, so delighted to see her friends alive...perhaps not well, but alive at the least.

No matter the dirt or tears on Cordelia's impassive face, or the blood seeping from abnormal places on Xander, it seemed to the Slayer that Willow was happy to have the chance to spend more time with them, even if a few weeks in the hospital were likely to come from their injuries.

Giles, on the other hand, looked the part of a father seeing his daughter return from college after a year, so happy yet so proud. It all mingled in his tinkling blue eyes in such a subtle way that it brought more tears to Cordelia's eyes as she kept walking closer and closer...not to them but to what was in the middle of the room, the center of attention coming in secondly only to her.

Angel's injured hand, the one that staked Darla through the heart to save Cordelia and Xander's lives, was still at the small of her back, guiding her carefully, not once forcing her to move too far too fast. She appreciated it and wished she could say it, could show it in her eyes, or her smile.

Only thing was that she had no smile. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't tear her eyes away from The Master's skeleton, a creepy, symbol of his former power.

His undead existence was over because of her. Because of Cordelia Chase.

Everyone was proud, yet Cordelia was still on the edge, her movements rigid and her senses strong.

"You did it," they all said at different times and in different ways.

Only Buffy Summers remained silent, her expression as stony as Cordelia's.

"I..." words slipped out of Cordelia's aching mouth, sneaking out of her closed, numb lips. She wasn't speaking for herself yet the words still came. Her mind was blank as a parchment page and yet she kept speaking. She was confused yet curious at the same time. Even if she wasn't in control of what message she relayed, she still had the power to listen to it and do what she wanted. "He's coming for me."

Before anyone could show confusion, surprise, shock, subtle worry over her mental health, Buffy Summers took a step forward, looking at the skeleton inquisitively before locking stares with Cordelia, her green eyes eerily alert. "No. He's coming for both of us."

Without a moment to catch her breath, a hand, rough, dark skin, grabbed at her shoulder powerfully and painfully.

Cordelia gasped for air as if coming to the surface after holding her breath for too long, shooting upright in the bed she slept in at night. It wasn't her bed, obviously. The comforters were a different color, with a different texture to them and far more expensive than the one she slept in at night. The one she was under at the moment was drenched in cold sweat. Pulling the covers off of her with a shaky hand, Cordelia ran her other one through the thick mass of her hair, trying to uncover what exactly the dream was about.

"Fifth time in three days," she said to herself, making a mental note, too lazy to write it down in her notebook. The one Angel bought her the day after the day after she died.

She'd had a few daydreams, nightmares and was convinced that they meant something. Even if she gagged at the thought of it, she needed to write them down, see the patterns, if there were any. It was Angel's idea and Giles eventually agreed, after getting over the fact that he didn't come up with the idea himself.

Her feet were sweaty and stuck to the wooden floors of the guest room of her mother's house just outside of Los Angeles. She'd moved out of the old one, where they lived as a family, and picked out the first one she saw that was an ugly white. She called it 'Bakers White' and Cordelia called it 'Ugly White'. They had agreed to disagree, thankfully, an hour into the argument.

Turning the doorknob quietly, she slipped into the hallway, trying to not make a sound to alert her mother, who quickly discovered tendency to come home late at night or sneaking out and had decided to keep an eye out at night. Hopefully she's asleep.

Her hands slipping along the railing, she tiptoed down the annoyingly long, 20-flight staircase into the foyer, where she nearly walked into a wall before deciding to turn on one of the softer lights down the hallway that led to the kitchen.

Unfortunately for her, the calendar was posted right beside the doorway and immediately caught her eye. She shook her head and tried to pass it off as nothing, not a big deal. But it was.

It's been two and a half months since...

"Two and a half, not a big deal. Call me when it hits three months and then I'll get my freak on." Cordelia shook her head again and again; trying to force the thoughts out of her mind, to force the pain of recollection from her head...didn't work. As always.

Pulling a cup from the cupboard and filling it with nice cool water, Cordelia lifted her head to look outside the window, to see the stars and hopefully distract herself. Only she got more then she bargained for when her eyes caught sight of something out of sorts. A face, but not one of a human, looking at her with crimson eyes and grinning wickedly at her.

A blink or two and it was gone. Walking outside to double check, Cordelia nearly fell off the back porch before she let it go as a hallucination.

Even when she went back inside and drank the rest of her water before heading back up to bed, she still had an odd feeling that the face she saw was connected to the hand that left an impression on her shoulder in her dreams.

And it was only when she fell into bed, aimlessly stretching out, trying to get comfortable, that she discovered the impression wasn't just mentally. It left a physical blood red mark on her shoulder in the shape of a four-fingered, disfigured hand.

Buffy didn't know what she was doing anymore. Usually she didn't think to speak. She said the first thing that rolled off her tongue, whatever touched her thoughts for only a millisecond and it was done with. But now she had the strangest feeling that she had no control whatsoever on what to say or what not too.

Then she was walking, taking a small step here, a small step there. She was getting closer to Cordelia and for some reason she felt safer, even if what she was talking about frightened her to the limits.

"No, he's coming for both of us."

A bolt of lightening or a flash of bright light. Whatever it was, it scared Buffy Summers more. Suddenly, she was able to see clearer and stopped shielding her eyes as she looked down what seemed like a tunnel.

A dark tunnel with the exception of a small white circle at the very end that seemed to be growing closer. It was like it was moving towards her or...the impossible was that she was moving towards it. Her feet weren't moving but somehow she got the gist that this wasn't just a dream and she wasn't just Buffy anymore. Someone was taking over her body or her dream.

The thought of 'What if this isn't even a dream?' scared her enough to distract her from what was behind her. For only a second or two. Then she felt the burning grip of two deformed hands on either side of her, burning into her ribs.

She arched her neck and looked to see who or what was hurting her. Only what she saw scared her more than death itself.

With a thud, Buffy fell off her bed, grunting when her head hit her nightstand. For a moment her eyes rolled back into their sockets and her tongue lolled about in her mouth as she tried to recover from whatever the hell just happened to her.

"What the-" Buffy growled and fumed at herself, getting to her knees and looking over her bed apprehensively. She had never really fallen out of bed before, to her recollection, and she was getting her bearings at the moment. Making a few more indiscernible noises she forced herself to stand up, proclaiming that she needed water for a reason to do so.

Stumbling down the stairs, trying to find an even footing, she looked around, her vision slightly blurry and her surroundings hardly recognizable.

Buffy knew she was in her house, and knew where she was in the house, yet there was still that feeling as if she were in some strange place, some place she hadn't been in ever before. It remained in the pit of her stomach along with the sinking feeling that she had woken up from a dream she couldn't remember.

It was a scary feeling, one that she wished to never experience again. Unfortunately, even as she poured herself a nice, cold glass of water and downed it, she couldn't fight the lingering, eerie sensation in her gut.

Then it happened. Something caught her eye. Right when she looked up her eyes caught onto a glimmer of something the color of blood from the bushes in her front yard. Grabbing the first thing her hand could grab onto, a metal spatula, she moved quickly to the front door, looking through the peephole before unlocking the door to go outside and inspect the front yard.

Buffy knew she wasn't being brave by going out in the middle of the night with nothing but a spatula for protection. It was just a stupid move on her part, but it was her choice and she knew she could stand to sleep through the night when she had the feeling that there was something out there, watching her.

So the first solution that popped in her head was to go outside and check, regardless of the possibility that someone or something dangerous was waiting for her.

Tiptoeing through the clean-cut grass towards the row of bushes lined along the front lawn, Buffy took in a deep breath, gulped loudly and steadied the hand holding the spatula.

Right when she was just about ready to pounce upon the bushes, to scare whatever was hiding in them, a hand grabbed at her shoulder and she yelped loudly, breaking the silent night air.

"What the-" her voice got caught in her throat when she spun around to see that it wasn't some psychotic, masked man who was looking to slit her throat or steal her prized possessions.

It was Bobby. Her ex-boyfriend. Buffy found herself neither relieved nor disappointed at the sight of him.

"Hey, babe."

"Don't call me babe," Buffy growled at him in a hushed voice, disgust slipping into her tone as she half-rolled her eyes. "It was stupid when you called me that when we were going out. What makes you think it's alright to call me that after we've broken up?"

Bobby recovered nicely and grinned sheepishly in that way he knew drove most girls crazy.

But Buffy Summers wasn't most girls and she kept to the topic at hand, "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here for you. Jake's having a monster party down by the old warehouses. Music, beer and a lotta fun. Has your name all over it."

"You've obviously lost all of your brain cells," Buffy rolled her eyes again and pushed him out of her yard. "I've never had a drink in my life and I'm not starting with a guy that I broke up with."

Bobby rolled his eyes, "Shit, Buff. You think I'm gonna fall for your innocent act? Didn't work when we were going at it. Not gonna work now."

"Going at it? What's your child trauma and why does it make you think that we were ever going at it? And besides, it's not an act. Dumbass."

She turned to go inside, but his hand shot up, grabbing her wrist and gripping it painfully tight, keeping her from moving any further.

"Like hell it isn't," he said with an edge to his voice like no other time she had ever spoken to him. He was intent on getting back in his car with her and it was plain to see that he wasn't going to disappoint himself. "I know what you've done with all the other guys at school and why you broke up with me. Had too much on your plate and decided to scrape some of the less tasty scraps off so you could enjoy the rest."

Buffy slipped her and from his grip quickly and skillfully without even thinking about it. In fact, she surprised herself that she was able to do it and that when she did she automatically took a few steps back, preventing him from grabbing at her again without having to walk forward. "Go home, Bobby."

Whatever she saw outside wasn't Bobby and she was wondering what it was and why she missed it. She had the strange gut feeling that it was no longer around and she tried to figure out how it got away so quickly without her noticing.

Bobby was the least of her problems but at the same time, he just wouldn't go away.

"Come with me," he said to her, his voice deeper and more demanding as he made another mistake by stepping forward and reaching out to grab her.

What happened next was a blur for Buffy when her limbs started moving. A moment later and Bobby was on the ground, clutching at his groin area and at his nose, which was bleeding.

Looking at her hands astonishingly, Buffy stuttered a few moments before stumbling towards her front porch. Before going inside, she managed to speak to Bobby for the last time, she hoped. "Go away, don't come back. And don't tell anyone about this."

Yawning profoundly, Cordelia stumbled into the kitchen, still tired and exhausted from the dreams she had. The curtains were pushed open, allowing sunlight to spill into the kitchen, causing Cordelia to drown in the brightness and attempt to focus her eyes. When she did so she saw her mother, reading the morning paper absently and drinking her usual mocha.

"Morning, Mom."

"Morning, Cordelia...didn't think you'd be up anytime soon. But if you want anything, I'm willing to cook."

"No, it's alright. Cereal's good for me."

Cordelia was lying of course. She would kill for some scrambled eggs with some linguica but didn't want her mother to go through the trouble. It was a weird sensation, to feel like a guest in her own mother's home...one that troubled her because of how distanced she was with her now.

Yet, weirdly enough, she was relieved at the same time, accepting the distance between her and her mother.

Because sooner or later her mother would move on, start a new family perhaps, and she'd have to go away. Cordelia knew it'd be easier to keep a certain level of distance so she wouldn't feel so hurt when her mother would do those things. It was a dumb thing and smart thing to do at the same time.

"I'm going to go get a new vacuum cleaner. The one I've had is getting a little old." Her mother laughed, running a hand absently through her thick brown hair just the same length as her daughters. "I think I've had that thing since-"

"You and dad were still married?" Cordelia finished for her, not even bothering to look up as she focused on the empty bowl on the counter in front of her.

Clearing her throat, her mother grabbed her purse and walked over to her, pressing a soft kiss atop Cordelia's head before pulling away.

"I'll be back in a few. If there's anything you need for me to pick up, give me a call. You know the number?"

Cordelia merely nodded.

Before her mother left, however, she snapped her fingers and turned to Cordelia while walking backwards towards the door. "Oh, before I forget. Someone called for you. Angel, I think."

Before her parents even considered getting up to go golfing or whatever they did without Buffy, their only daughter slipped out of the house without them knowing.

She'd sat in her bed for an hour or two after she practically broke Bobby's nose and damaged one of his testicles just thinking about what happened. Because she had no clue as to what occurred. It was as if what she did was a matter of impulse.

Speaking immediately, impulsively...that was what she did.

But kicking a guy twice her size's ass impulsively? That wasn't.

Walking into the local coffee shop, Buffy removed her sunglasses and bit the end of them as she looked up at the list of the various types of drinks she could order. They were all some sort of coffee, but somehow, people liked variation, which she didn't get.

She ordered her usual, tall mocha with whip, and sat down, waiting for it to be given to her. Tapping her foot and her fingers on the table in no certain pattern, she realized how impatient she was.

Being around people, seeing them talk and socialize and do things normal people did...she felt out of sorts, not with them. What they were talking about was some kind of alien language to her and when they smiled or laughed she felt cursed that she couldn't do that at the moment.

She was also afraid. Afraid that a slip of her control over her hands, over her nerves in her fingers that formed into fists in the middle of the night and hit Bobby Jones straight in the nose, fracturing it more than likely.

Buffy sure as hell wasn't PMSing but she guessed that a small gesture could insult her and that she might react violently. So when the order of her drink finished and they called out her name, she took it, gave them a 50-cent tip and left as quickly as she could, almost tripping over herself.

Something was going on with her and she was more afraid to even think about it than to admit that she needed help.

The saddest thing about it was that she had nowhere to go and no one for support.

"Angel?" came that raspy whisper, the one that always drove his body crazy whenever he was around her back in the days of their murderous rampage through Europe.

She looked at him like he was a different person. Which he was, and he was thankful for it on some level. But the look in her eyes, the expression of shock at his ultimate betrayal of her...it was something he'd never seen before. Even when he killed his family, all he saw in their eyes was pure confusion.

Blood was all over his hands and it wasn't his. It wasn't Darla's either, and that's what pissed him off the most. Cordelia was the one bleeding, the one in pain, and the one trying to be strong even as her impending death grew closer. She didn't deserve to feel pain, to see her own blood all over herself.

That's one of the reasons why he finally did what he should have done decades ago. He staked Darla with one of her own quarrels.

As she fell to the ground and her body turned to dust, it was as if time slowed down, as if the entire world stopped just for Angel to witness what he had done. The woman, the vampire, who'd made him who he was deep down, a sadistic demon, and the one who shunned him when he was given a soul...she was gone. He no longer had anyone to blame for his past mistakes but himself.

But then he saw Cordelia, breaking his gaze upon Darla's crumbling body before it was even over. Looking at her, a wave of confidence spread throughout him replacing any shred of doubt. Staking his sire wasn't a bad thing at all. One less vampire in the world to take lives.

"Angel..." she said his name just like Darla, her voice throaty. But Angel knew it was only because just moments ago, the vampire now turned to dust had been stepping on her throat.

She opened her mouth to say something more, but before she could even have a chance to, all went black.

The sound of a blaring ring from his only phone woke up Angel from his dream. An actual snarl escaped Angel's lips as he forced himself out of bed. It was daytime, his time for sleep.

Tripping over his rug as he walked over to the fireplace, where the table that the phone was upon was located near. Picking it up and wiping his eyes, trying to get some sort of bearing on his surroundings, Angel gruffly greeted whoever was calling him, hoping it wasn't Giles looking for someone to help organize the books in his apartment.

"Hello?"

"Angel?"

Nearly tripping over himself, he moved to sit down, "Cordelia...hey."

"Am I bothering you?" she asked in a small voice, one so unlike her usual tone. Something was up and it bothered Angel to think that she didn't just outright tell him. He figured they were past the awkwardness of their friendship and could tell each other anything easily.

But again, he was wrong because he had no idea how a human mind worked anymore, it was slipping past him the fact that a teenage girl wasn't so easily going to admit her deepest fears to a two-hundred year old vampire.

"No. I was just...," dreaming about you. "You're not bothering me at all, Cordy."

She let out a small, perhaps even nervous, laugh. "Cordy. Wow, haven't heard that in months."

"Since we said goodbye." Angel added, absently losing track as the image of them hugging goodbye floated through his mind. Two more weeks would pass before he would see her again. "I uh...I didn't know if you would call me back or not."

Cordelia paused for a moment, "Sorry I haven't called like I said I would. I've been..."

"Busy?"

"Moving on."

Her blatant response was unexpected to Angel and he tried to hide his surprise. Didn't work. He stuttered for a response for several seconds before he actually said something. "That's...um...that's great. For you. That's great for you."

"Well, I haven't actually moved on yet. Been having a lot of trouble trying to move on," Cordelia added, her voice giving away her apprehension to speak about it. "The dreams just won't go away."

The hint of helplessness in her voice broke Angel's silent heart. Clearing his throat, he tried to come up with something to say that would make her feel better. But he could never do well at being overly positive and nothing came to mind. "I'm sorry."

"Angel," she actually laughed, even if it was only for a split second. "What'd we say about you saying I'm sorry again?"

Angel grinned sheepishly to himself, "That you'd kick my ass."

"Damn straight."

They both laughed lightly before silence took over the conversation again.

"And hey, you actually got a phone. Who woulda thought?"

"Well, you were right. Makes it a lot easier to keep in contact. I only wish Giles would stop thinking that I'm so gladly willing to help organize things," Angel shook his head, finally relaxing into the couch. "First it was his bookshelf. Then his armory. Then his other bookshelf..."

"Angel?"

"Yeah?"

"Thank you."

"For what?"

"For everything."

Angel took in an unneeded breath and let out a sigh. "Cordy-"

Cordelia stopped him before he could go too far, catching onto the tone of his. "Angel, stop. Don't get all modest. I can thank you. And you can say 'you're welcome'."

"Why are you thanking me? I...I couldn't even save you," Angel asked her, his voice wavering on the last few words. "If there's anyone you should thank. It should be Xander. He saved you even when his legs were giving out and he was bleeding from places that he shouldn't have been bleeding from."

"You brood too much. You should really learn to accept a thank you when it's given to you."

"Not if it's one that I don't deserve."

"God, Angel!" Cordelia growled, growing frustrated. "Can't you just make it a lot more simple and say 'you're welcome'?"

"No, because life isn't that simple."

Cordelia scoffed. "It can be if you let it."

"I couldn't protect you when I said I would," Angel reminded her, speaking in such a condescending tone as if he were speaking to a child. Which, when looking at their age difference, it was exactly what he was doing. "When you were lying there, not breathing and with no pulse...I couldn't give you what you needed. I couldn't bring you back to life. And if I was alone, if Xander wasn't there with me, then you would be dead."

"Don't you think it's weird that even though I'm the one who died you're the one who keeps bringing it up, who keeps making it such a big deal?" Cordelia said to him with a sharp tone, obviously losing her patience. "All I said was thank you. And I wasn't even thanking you for just that night. I was thanking you for everything. For being there for me. For being my friend."

"I accept that thank you, but that's not what-"

"Angel...please. Just drop it. It'll make this conversation a lot easier to handle."

Running a hand along his face, trying to soothe his overflowed head, Angel took in a deep breath before finally giving in. "You're welcome," he said through gritted teeth, forcing it out.

"I'm just going to go now," Cordelia said to him, frustrated and exhaling loudly into the phone. "This is just...this is why I haven't called."

Before Angel could say another word to her, she hung up.

TBC...