Author's Notes are at the end for once

Angel was not in a good mood. His employees were being verbally abused by a toddler-god of the hellish variety, he was bone-tired, and the vampires just kept coming. He wanted a bathrobe, a good warm glass of blood, and a nice book, perhaps The Karamazov Brothers or Winnie the Pooh Goes to Dreamland.

Actually, Winnie the Pooh Goes to Dreamland was sounding better and better, he mused, sticking a stake into a vamp.

"Hey! You stupid human!" one of the vamps shouted, clinging to his back. "Go home where you belong!"

"Newsflash," Angel said, throwing his opponent against a piece of wood jutting out from their old nest. "Not human." He vamped out, staking two at once.

There had to have been thirty or so vampires hanging around the nest, ten of which were left. Angel had been working hard for the last forty-five minutes, his mind on various other things. Namely, socks, laundry detergent, and if Cordy made her hair smell so good to torment him purposely.

She probably did.

It was time to go, he decided. Finishing his job of staking the last vampire, he walked away, brushing dust from his sleeves and slipping behind the T-bird's wheel.

Winnie the Pooh Goes to Dreamland awaited him.

"Cordy… this explains everything!" Wes shouted ecstatically, waving his hand about. "The universe, life… Everything!"

"Floor tile." Cordelia blinked. "Floor tile does not explain everything, Wesley. In fact, floor tile makes me ask a hell of a lot more questions than it answered. And those have to do with your sanity. British. God."

"No… that's -- that's the point of floor tile, Cordelia! It makes you ask questions!" His eyes were alight with devout passion, and he grinned as he thought of all the cosmic mysteries he could unlock with the power of the floor tile.

"You're joking, aren't you?" One look at his face gave her the answer. "Sweet baby Jesus. You're not joking."

"Cordy, won't you just think of the possibilities? We could rule the world! We could be emperors! Greater than Rome, greater than Greece, greater than Egypt! We could be Gods!"

"I got Karos to sleep five minutes ago. If you wake him up, I'm going to remove your spleen with a spoon." Cordy crossed her arms. "I'll leave you and your precious floor tile alone."

"Cordelia, don't--"

"Quiet, Wesley. Remember: spleen. Spoon." She closed the door quietly, grabbing the phone and hitting a speed dial number.

"Welcome to Peking-Moon! We do delivery and dine-in. What you want?"

"Hello, this is Cordelia Chase--"

"Ms Chase! Good hear from you. Been long-long time. You want usual?"

"Yes, the usual will be fine. Can I have some chopsticks, please?"

"You want chopsticks?"

"Sure, send some over."

"You sure you no want chopsticks?"

"Throw in two extra pairs, I might share."

"Okay, we send chopsticks over anyway. You might change mind. Bye!" Cordelia hung up, shaking her head.

"Problems, Cordy?" Angel asked behind her. She turned around, seeing him a few feet away, leaning against the wall.

"You have to stop sneaking up on me. And yes. Everyone is completely stupid." Cordy sighed grumpily, glaring at the phone. "I ordered Chinese."

"That's fine," Angel said. "A little soy sauce makes the blood tastier." Cordelia looked away, hiding her brief disgusted expression. "You do have money for it, right?"

Cordelia turned her head back around, twining a lock of hair around her finger. "You do owe me for saving you from that espresso machine…"

"I do not. If memory serves -- and over the course of two hundred years, I've forgotten nothing -- I was the one who killed that." Angel folded his arms across his chest, resolutely ignoring her cute face.

"You're both wrong," Wesley said, having managed to open the door (Cordelia had barred it with a chair) to his office. "I poured holy water on it. Cordy trying to hit you up for money, eh?"

"Yeah," Angel said. "C'est la vie."

"Well, you'll have that." Wes laughed at Cordelia's frustrated face.

"Hey Angel," she cut in, scathingly. "I didn't know you were French."

"Well, obviously; I'm Irish."

"Yeah, but the French are always taking things back." She folded her arms, moving her head from side to side in an 'Oh, snap!' sort of way.

"Oh, yes, Cordelia, that's a riot. Using ethnic stereotypes to make a weak joke. Terribly witty. We quail at the face of your superior intellect." Wes sighed.

"Well, we're quailing at the face of something," Angel added. "But it's sure not your intellect!"

"Ssh, you're going to wake Karos!" Cordelia said, looking about worriedly.

"You mean you finally got the 'blight of nine realms' down to sleep?" Angel asked. "Miracles really do still happen."

"Ha, ha, ha," Cordy said, sourly. "You just try to get him to go back to sleep when he comes barreling down here, asking for a cookie with his big brown eyes--"

"They're red," Wes pointed out.

"FILTHY HUMAN SCUM-SLAVES! I HAVE SOURED MY SHEETS! I REQUIRE YOUR ASSISTANCE!" Karos hollered.

"I am so not doing that," Cordy said. "I didn't even change my sheets when I wet the bed."

"Ew," Wesley said. "Ew."

"Oh, I didn't mean that!" Cordy looked horrified. "No, no! I had my nanny do it!"

"Of course," Wesley said dryly. "I repeat -- ew. That is as sick or sicker than the idea of Marlon Brando making love with Rosie O'Donnell."

"I hate you," Angel put in, "for that god awful mental image."

"Likewise," Cordelia added. "Wes, go help Karos with his sheets. You look like you were a bed-wetter."

"Profiler!" Wesley snapped, going upstairs like he was walking the length of Death Row. "I was not. I had a bladder malfunction."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night." Cordy turned away. "My food should be here soon. I have to have money. I'll pay you back when I get a good gig."

"You know, I sat down once and figured up that once you get a good gig, roughly five thousand dollars of your paycheck will go to me."

"That's not fair!" Cordy looked horrified.

"Well, I didn't even begin to figure in interest," Angel said, "but I can if you think that will make it fairer."

"Er, sure," Cordy said. "Listen, I know you hate to hear this, but I will pay you back when I get a good gig, Angel. I promise. I swear!"

"On what?" He looked suspicious -- Cordelia couldn't blame him.

"A rosary!"

"You're not religious. That holds no value."

"Just, please, Angel? Please?"

"Only because you have weird visions." Angel took out his wallet. "How much?"

"Thirty-five dollars."

"With the tip?"

"No, I have enough money for that."

"How in the hell did you spend thirty-five dollars on egg rolls and dim sum?!"

Cordy cringed, turning red.

"Never mind," Angel said. "Never mind…" He took out two twenties, handing them to her. "I'm not made of money, though."

"Of course not!" Cordy jumped at him, giving him a hug (after making sure the bills were securely in her pocket). "If you were, you wouldn't be nearly as huggable!" Angel sighed.

"Chinese, lady! You order Chinese!" The delivery boy banged on the door. "You order Chinese!"

"What good timing!" Cordy jumped away, answering the door. The rising sun startled her, blinding her temporarily. "Wow, is it really morning?" Angel moved away from the sun hastily. "Here you go…" She took the overly large plastic bag he handed her, gladly. "Keep the change, Son-Yu." Nudging the door shut with her foot, she set the bags down on her desk, knocking various knick-knacks and curios onto the floor as she plundered her swag.

"They forgot the chopsticks!"

"What?"

"I asked her to put three pairs in here! And she didn't even put in one! Old hag!" Cordelia swore under her breath. "I can't believe this!"

"It's all right. It's just Chinese."

"It is not just Chinese! These are the best egg-rolls ever! They are like… like… heaven, in a way!"

"Just calm down," Angel said, holding his hands out in a placating gesture. "It's fine, Cordelia, it's fine. Just breathe."

"Haha, I'm so amused by the vampire-humor." Cordy pulled a bag of plastic silverware out of her desk drawer, grabbing a plastic fork and a random box. "Ooh, mushu pork!"

"Soy sauce?" Angel pleaded. Cordy threw a couple packets at him from the bottom of the bag. He grinned triumphantly and headed to the kitchen.

Wes came down, Karos holding one of his hands as he carefully held the smelly, sodden bedclothes away from them with the other. "Ooh, Chinese! Peking-Moon?"

"Peking-Moon." She closed her eyes, an expression of utter delight washing over her face. "Also known as the best thing ever."

"What is this Pee King Moo En? Are you making fun of me for my bladder problem?" Karos asked indignantly.

Cordy chuckled. "No, no, we promise. Peking Moon is a restaurant."

"I'm going to go throw these in the washing machine. Stay here with Cordelia." He walked away. Karos trotted over to her, hopping up on the desk beside her.

"Want a bite?" she asked, extending the fork to it. Its forked tongue snaked out, wrapping around the fork and pulling the food from it. She laughed, relinquishing the fork and getting another one. "I've got another box of mushu in here… Ah, here we are." Cordy opened it for it, handing it over.

Karos watched her movements closely, awkwardly holding the fork as it copied her motions. Cordy furrowed her eyebrow as she looked at it.

"Haven't you ever fed yourself before?" she asked.

"No!" Karos said, quite self-righteous. "I have thousands of slaves who would do it for me in a moment."

"Right. So, what you wanna do is…"

They were a few minutes into Eating 101 when Wesley came hurrying back up the stairs.

"I know it!" he shouted, exultant. "I know how to send you back home, Karos!"

"How?" Cordy asked.

"It's simple! It's so bloody simple!"

"Then what is it?" Karos snarled.

"Floor tile!"

Author's Notes: Yeah. Sorry about the hold-up. Thanks to all who reviewed! Just the epilogue left to go now. Thanks to Christy Corr, without whom about half of this wouldn't have been done. Please read and review!