Disclaimer: You know the drill by now. Characters aren't mine, they belong to Whedon, Greenwalt, Mutant Enemy and WB. No infringement intended. For entertainment purposes only.

Spoilers: If you've seen Season Three, you'll know what's going on. References to events in "Dad" (s3ep10), "Provider" (s3ep12) etc.

Author's Note: Remember what I promised in the last chapter? Well... enjoy!

Also, reviews are made of awesome, as you will be if you leave me a brief message to let me know how you're enjoying the story. Thanks.

Chapter Eight

Cordelia stood outside the door, afraid to go inside. It was distinctly unCordelia-like behaviour, but this was a situation like none other she had ever faced. She couldn't begin to imagine what Angel was going through.

No – the problem was, she could imagine it all too well, because she was going through it too, thanks to her all too vivid visions. She understood what he had lost – lost without even knowing that he had had it. Her own heart was aching with that loss. Her visions had shown her the deep connection she shared with the child, to the point that she had come to the conclusion that he had been her own son. And, while biologically she may not have been his mother, she knew that she had been in every other way that counted.

Cordelia had never really thought seriously about becoming a mother. It was something that she assumed would happen one day, in the far distant future. But now, faced with the knowledge that she might have helped raise Angel's son, she found herself longing for that little boy. She felt bereft, possibly even as bereft as Angel himself was feeling.

Finally, she took a deep breath and softly tapped on the door. Without waiting for him to answer, she went inside, peering around the gloom until she saw his figure, slumped in an armchair at the far side of the room.

"Hey," she said.

"I was starting to think you'd never come in."

She suppressed a wry smile. Of course, he had known she was there all along. "How are you doing?"

He shrugged. Taking that as a bad sign, she crossed the room and sat on the edge of the bed, opposite his chair.

"Is this going to be one of those times when I do all the talking and you shut down and say nothing?"

"Cordy…" His voice carried a hint of a warning, which she of course chose to ignore.

"Angel, I know all this has come as a shock and I know what you must be going through, but –"

"No you don't, Cordelia." His anger whipped up without warning into a barely controlled squall. "How could you know? He would have been my son! My only chance to have a family! And now all that will never happen! How could you possibly know what it's like to have lost – ?"

"Because he was mine too!" Her voice rose above his, fury dancing in her eyes. "I may not have given birth to him, but I was his mother! I would have helped raise him! I felt it in my visions. I didn't understand before, but I do now. Every time I close my eyes, I see myself holding him, feeding him. I've lost him too! I've lost him…"

Her last words were lost in the sobs that now escaped her throat. The last of her composure gone, Cordelia broke down as the grief took over.

Forgetting his own pain, his own anger, Angel leaned forward and gathered her into his arms. She curled into him, her head resting on his chest, tucked underneath his chin.

"Shh," he said, rocking her gently. "Everything's going to be alright."

Downstairs Gunn was absentmindedly polishing his axe while Wesley studied the Nyazian scroll Kathy had procured from Wolfram and Hart. Neither man knew quite what to do, given the developments of the evening. Neither knew what to say and so said nothing, going about their tasks in heavy silence.

The silence was broken by Kathy storming through the lobby, a woman on a mission.

"Kathy? Where are you off to?" Wesley asked.

She grabbed the piece of paper Wesley had obtained from his snitch earlier on her way out the door.

"To get some answers."

They had been sitting like this for a long time, clinging to each other, each drawing comfort from the other. The longer Angel held her, the more aware he became of her heartbeat. Earlier it had been beating quickly out of anger. Then it had settled into an almost steady pace. Now, however, it was quickening again, into a rhythm Angel thought he recognised, but told himself was impossible.

Cordelia was trying desperately to get her emotions back under control. Her anger had dissipated and her grief was ebbing slightly but, the longer Angel held her, the harder it was becoming for her to ignore other emotions that were coming to the fore. This couldn't be happening. She was supposed to be comforting him and all of a sudden, other feelings were taking over. Feelings she should definitely not be having about her best friend.

Finally, Angel drew back to look at her, brushing stray tendrils of hair away from her face. "I'm sorry I yelled at you. I didn't realise –"

"It's okay," she said. "That's the problem with the visions. Aside from the splitting migraines, they sometimes make me feel… too much. And throw in the dreams? It feels like it all really happened –that I'm having memories of something real, instead of… whatever this is."

They looked at each other for another moment, both becoming increasingly aware of their close proximity, but unable to move back to a safer distance.

"So you and I would have raised him?" Angel finally asked, unable to stop himself. "Together?"

"Yeah. Marvel at the weirdness."

"It… it doesn't actually seem that weird."

She smiled. "No. The weird thing is that it really doesn't."

She didn't know what had come over her, but the next thing she knew, she was leaning towards him again, brushing her lips against his in a ghost of a kiss.

Instantly, her mind went into panic mode. Friends kiss each other all the time, she told herself. This was nothing. She was just comforting him, nothing more.

Angel's eyes opened wide in shock. He seemed ready to say something but stopped himself, afraid that speaking would break the spell. For as much as he wanted to tell himself that Cordelia's kiss had been one of friendship, he had felt something much, much more.

Electricity.

Cordelia felt the butterflies in her stomach, the toe curling current of attraction that the trashy books and magazines she sometimes indulged in all talked about. And something told her that Angel felt it too, because suddenly he was kissing her back. Soft, tender, tentative but most definitely kissing and Cordelia felt all control leave her.

She leaned further into him, deepening the kiss and allowing her lips to part slightly, her tongue flicking out to brush against his. The soft groan that simple action elicited from Angel sent a thrill of both excitement and terror coursing through her.

Oh god! This is insane, she thought. This is actually happening!