Two cups of tea, a cup of coffee and three glasses of orange juice arranged neatly on a tray floated their way towards Cordelia and her guests. Dawn looked around the room excitedly.

"Ooh, is this Dennis?" She asked the empty space around her as a glass of juice was gently deposited into her fingers.

Cordelia answered for her phantom room mate. "Yeah that's Dennis. He's really nice and helps around the house a lot, which is great since I'm not all that, you know, tidy." Cordelia looked around the room and smiled. "He's great to have around." She added quietly, almost as an afterthought.

"That must be nice." Willow could sense something hidden beneath Cordelia's happy exterior, but decided not to pursue it.

"Where's Angel with the food man? I'm starving!" Xander announced loudly.

"Xander, it's not like he's cooking for a whole bunch of us. Oh wait -- he is! Take it easy." Cordy berated him, and it almost felt like old times again. Old 'having a rebar through my torso' kinda times again. "I'll check on him."

"I'll come with." Buffy got up and followed Cordelia to the modest kitchen. Learning that Angel cooked, well, food was peaking her already peaked curiosity.

"Angel, are you done yet? I'm starving!" She complained good naturedly as she heated up some blood in the microwave.

"Cordy, it's not like there isn't any other food in the fridge. You can have that left-over chicken mornay from last night." Angel replied, without bothering to turn around.

"Angel you know I don't like chicken, not since you told me how bad blood kinda tastes like it. In addition to the 'ew' factor ... I like sushi. And other really expensive stuff that only you can buy because we're such good friends and you owe me for being vision gal!"

He smiled and turned around, surprised to find that Buffy had been standing there during their bantering. Flirting. Bickering.

Whatever.

"Buffy." He said, the surprise colouring his tone.

"Angel." She replied, still with a bemused glint in her round, blue orbs. "Smells good. Omelettes are good." She peered closely at the pan in front of him. "How can you tell when it's ready? 'Cause when I try to cook them they end up, you know, bad." Her nose scrunched up in annoyance. "And kinda raw ... and runny. And generally bad."

"Well, it's about the fluff. When the omelette's just about ready it kinda fluffs up, and that's when it's got the nicest texture. Then if you want, you can put some light cheese on it, grill it for a couple of minutes to get that nice golden brown..." Angel trailed off as he realised how odd it was, explaining the nature of omelettes to Buffy. When they had been together, their conversations seemed to have surrounded the Hellmouth, the fact that they couldn't really be together, and ... well, that pretty much covered it.

"Learn something new every day." Her tone was ambiguous with double-edged meaning. It was true though, that was one thing about Angel she never knew. She was glad that she found out he knew so much about dairy-related foodstuffs. And she didn't even mean it in a sarcastic way.

Cordelia took out a mug that ostentatiously declared 'The World's Greatest 248 year old' on it and shook the contents of the now heated blood into it. Buffy reined in her disgust as its metallic smell assaulted her Slayer senses; it would take a whole lot of somethings for her to not bat an eyelid at the drinking blood thing, if ever she could get used to it.

Cordy held the mug under Angel's nose nonchalantly asking, "Hungry?"

Angel didn't seem to notice Buffy's disgust as he twisted around. "Yes. It's warm, right?"

"Uh-huh." Cordy smiled mischievously. "Two and a half minutes, medium high." She floated the steaming mug right under his nose, tantalising his vampire senses and holding the mug hostage. "Is the food nearly ready?"

Angel sighed somewhat melodramatically, playing along. Cordy was always a drama queen. Not that he really minded.

"Yes Cordy, this is the last one. Now please --" he looked towards her, naked pleading in his dark, intense eyes. "Give me a sip?"

Cordy rolled her eyes in mock suffering while Buffy quietly but incredulously absorbed their interaction. It was strange, and a bit surreal. She almost felt like an intruder there, getting a glimpse into something close and private that not many people got to share, let alone, have.

It made sense though. Cordy had learned to fight beside Angel every day. It was their work. More than that, Cordy was his seer. Or Angel was her warrior, depending on which way you decided to look at it. They were each other's lives, and they had become closely and inextricably bonded because of that. Facing death, facing life. Much like how her and Xander and Willow and Giles and everybody else in their group all depended and needed each other, their closeness hard to absorb and hard to break into. For the first time, she got a sense of what confronted Anya and Tara when they had first entered their closely knit group.

The feeling was not altogether uncomfortable. It was just ... different.

Cordy was delicately tipping the contents of the mug into Angel's mouth, and Buffy saw him gulp it with satisfaction before Cordy took it away again.

"I suppose I should ask Spike too ..." Cordy smiled slightly as she passed Buffy, muttering incoherently. From her place in the kitchen, Buffy could hear the somewhat bizarre conversation taking place outside clearly.

"Spike? I just heated some blood for Angel. You hungry? And before you ask --" evidently there had been some interruption, "no, we don't have human blood. Ew. And way ew. Only pigs blood."

Spike seemed uncustomarily speechless, taken aback at the slender brunette's offer. "Why, lass ..." he faltered, "that'd be right good. Beginning to appreciate what Nancy boy sees in you."

Cordy chose to ignore the last comment, believing that it was what passed for a compliment in Spike's twisted vampire demonic head. Whatever.

"Not too hot, mind you. It stings a bit too much when it's too hot. Delicate stomach and all."

Cordy came sailing into the kitchen again, digging inside the cold confines of the refrigerator for the last packet of blood and depositing it in the microwave. "We're out of blood," she commented idly to Angel. "You'll have to buy some more if you don't want to go all hungry."

Angel absent-mindedly nodded, his attention focused on his last culinary masterpiece. There was something soothing about cooking; maybe it was creating something that would be appreciated by people, or maybe it was the ability to make people happy. Either way, he felt a familiar satisfaction as he placed the last of the omelettes onto the plates.

"You guys go ahead and eat, I'll be out in a while." Cordelia said to Buffy, smiling. "I know everyone's hungry. I'm just gonna get dressed and I'll be out, okay?"

Cordelia's change was one of the first things that had struck Buffy that day. She and Cordelia had never really talked much, but the few times that they had, she had found the former May Queen surprisingly deep and, well, human. The hardness she wore on the outside was only for protection, a defence against things that might hurt her. It was just that for Cordelia, the shell had been more abrasive than most.

But now ... the change was electrifying. There were still hints and traces of her Sunnydale self there, the remnants of the ex-cheerleader that were actually quite pleasant. Her sunny smile, her knack of saying things directly, her acceptance of everything without question. It was quite surprising for Buffy to realise that she and this newer, more gentle and open Cordelia had the potential to actually be friends. She smiled at the thought.

Cordelia actually being a nice person. Spike actually having some genuine feelings for her.

Giles was right. Wonders will never cease.

---

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