Disclaimer: Angel belongs to Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy, not me.

Author's Note: This is not the chapter 3 I wanted to write. Unfortunately, the original chapter 3 was going to contain a character I haven't heard in a while and so she's not speaking to me at the moment. So, until I drive 1200 miles to get to where my DVDs are stashed, there probably won't be any updates. Sorry folks. Oh, and thanks to LivvyWriter, Hope71, charmedbabywyatt, Windfred's Man, and ShinodaBear for the reviews! They mean a lot to me, and I can't wait to see if you like this chapter as well.

"Ah, the vampire with a soul, once he fulfills his destiny, will Shanshu. Become human. It's his reward. "- Wes, "To Shanshu in L.A."

Cordy looked around at her surroundings and tried to remember the last time she'd set foot in a mall. Good Lord, had it really been almost two years? She blinked in shock at the very thought. She used to live and breathe shoes. Now, she was all with the higher purpose and whatnot. While that was all well and good, a woman couldn't live on left-in-the-dryer castoffs alone…which is why she'd filched Wes's wallet out of the pocket of his coat and hightailed it to the nearest ATM. His password was the same one he'd used when they had worked together at Angel Investigations, back at the beginning when it was just the two of them and Angel in the little tiny office. Post-Doyle, pre-Hyperion Hotel. Back when Gunn wasn't even a paid employee, just a street kid who sometimes helped out. Now, Gunn was a living but soulless corpse laying on the hotel lobby floor. Maybe this wasn't the time for shopping…

Fred's borrowed underwear riding up her butt erased that thought clean from her mind. First stop, Victoria's Secret for bras and panties. They had come out with some cute things while she'd been dead—though she couldn't see what could be so scientifically amazing about an IPEX that you'd want to pay almost fifty dollars for one. Trying on a regular black bra in the dressing room, she looked in the mirror at her new body. So many changes since the last time she had come back: her breasts were larger thanks to the Jasmine pregnancy and there were a few more scars here and there. But it was still recognizably her, thank God. She ran a hand through her hair, which was now long, brown, and ever so slightly curling again like she had worn it in high school when she had been Queen C, scourge of the nerdy and the badly dressed. That was before Xander and the Scoobies, before Angel, before Wes and Gunn and Fred, before Connor and Jasmine, and now Illyria. An errant tear trickled down her cheek, and she brushed it away quickly. She was not going to get caught crying in a public dressing room. Hurriedly changing back into the clothes she'd come in, she went out to make her purchases.

By the time she left the mall two hours later, she had a greasy meal of food court pizza in her stomach and arms weighed down with shopping bags. Another taxi delivered her to the Hyperion's front gate. She hurried in quickly, wanting to change into one of her new purchases, hoping it would make her feel a little more put-together.

Fours breathing bodies greeted her when she walked in. Now, Wes's chest rose and fell with the steady rhythm of a living person. Illyria had still been working on him when Cordelia left. The blue-haired demon had seemed to be struggling with it, for some reason. Cordy crouched down beside the former Watcher, her packages falling to the floor in all directions, and tenderly traced a finger along his stubbly jaw. When had her friend turned into this rough stranger? When he lost both you and Fred, something whispered inside of her. She fought back another tear as she stood. There was nothing she could do for him now, except wait and hope that whatever Illyria had done would work.

The god-king was no where to be seen as Cordy made her way up the stairs with her bags and let herself into Angel's old room. A suite, it was one of the larger ones on the second floor. It also didn't have any bad memories attached to it for her…not like the room she had shared with Connor did. Stripping, she then pulled out her purchases and laid them out on the queen-sized bed. It didn't take long for her to decide on a pink bra and panty set, a black tank top, and a pair of stretchy black pants.

Clothes taken care of, she took the Polaroid of baby Connor out of the pocket of Angel's trousers and leaned it against the lamp on the bedside lamp. Wes's driver's license went next to it along with a small picture of Fred that Wes carried in his wallet. The driver's license photo was two or three years old and showed a clean shaven Wesley trying to look tough for the camera and failing miserably. Fred's picture was clipped from a larger one. She was wearing the dress and wrap she'd worn the night they had all gone to the ballet together. Cordy pushed aside the clothes and laid down the edge of the bed, looking at her friends…her family. She missed them all horribly. "I want things to be back the way they were," she murmured as she reached out to touch the Fred picture, "Right before the ballet—when Gunn and Wes were still buddies and Connor was still a little baby and Angel and I…" The tears came then; there was no way to stop them. She sobbed into her pillow, and, after a while, she cried herself to sleep.

When she awoke, the sky outside had turned black, and the streetlights were filling the room with a sickly yellow glow. She slid off the bed and padded her way to the door, opening it slowly. Then, as if she were in a trance, she made her way down the second floor hall and then down the stairs to the lobby. The Hyperion was eerily silent. The only sounds were the soft whooshing of the air conditioning and the distant rumble of LA traffic out beyond the walls and windows. Illyria was no where in sight, some small part of Cordelia's brain noted, but the majority of her focus was on Angel. He still lay there, on the marble floor, covered only by the t-shirt. In the dim lighting, his pale skin seemed to glow. He was the only one she saw as she crossed the floor. At some point, she must have stepped over Gunn, but she didn't notice as she sank down beside Angel. Her eyes felt dry and swollen from crying, and she didn't have any more tears to shed as she lifted his head and shoulders up from the cold floor and cradled them in her arms. She held him to her breast—the breasts that had grown larger carrying a child that she have been his child and not his son's—and pressed her face against the top of his head.

"Angel," she whispered, her voice cracking with sorrow at all the opportunities they had missed and would never have again, "I love you."

He gave a tremendous sigh and looked down to see his dark eyelashes fluttering. A second later, those eyelashes parted, and he looked up at her with brown eyes full of confusion. "Cordy?"

"Angel!" She squeezed him harder as a thrill rushed through her—he was alive!

"Uh…Cordy…need to…" he gasped. She realized she was choking him and loosened her grip. "…breathe?" He looked down in amazement at his own chest and watched it rise and fall rhythmically for a second. "I'm breathing…" He put his hand over his heart, and Cordelia watched the amazement cross his face as he realized he now had a heart beat. "My heart's beating! What's going on? Is…is this the Shanshu?"