It's Always Bad News...
by Ducks

I wasn't expecting Cordelia's call. It'd been a year at least since we'd spent any significant time together -- since she'd gotten her first big acting part on a Baywatch-y TV show, where she spent an hour every week running around on a beach in her bikini. She was popular, and rich, and from what I could see, happy. Not like our early days here in L.A., when she knew no one and had trouble dealing with the loneliness. Who better than me to teach her how? I'd consented to be her escort a number of times, to boring, vapid Hollywood parties overrun with inflated egos, bad music, and too much drink and drugs. Cordelia simply basked in all the attention, always emphasizing how glad she was that I was there.

"You're the only person I know who can really pull off an Armani tux." she said, "If only we could get you a tan... have you thought about self tanners? Do you think a booth would crisp you?"

She called every now and again, to see how I was, and dropped me postcards from exotic places around the world -- usually telling me how great the shopping was, there.

But this was the first time she'd asked to get together in a long time. She said it was important, that she needed to talk face to face. The serious tone of her voice worried me... I had no choice but to agree.

I met her at a cafe near my place that night, and I found myself glad to see her again. She looked great -- tanned, toned and nicely coifed in a tasteful cream suit and appropriate movie star glasses, even in the dark.

"Hi!" she rose and we shared European air-kisses. I took the seat directly across the little metal table from her.

"You look great, Cordy." I told her, "Stardom agrees with you."

"I know!" she gushed, "I feel great, and having the money for a real hairdresser again... well, I don't think I can fully express the joy!"

We ordered: she a low-fat late, and I just a standard decaf, black. We sipped quietly for a few minutes, just enjoying easy company again. But she had called for a reason, and it wasn't long before she got to it.

"Angel, I have something I have to tell you... I'm not sure if I should... or what to say, but..."

"Just spit it out, Cordelia." I encouraged her, "I think we're good enough friends for that..."

She nodded. "Okay," she said, taking a deep breath, "It's about Buffy."

I felt my heart wrench. I worked so hard for so long to get her out of my head, that hearing her name again sent a shock through my system... a shock that quickly turned to dread, then fear.

"She's all right..." I partly wished, partly insisted, partly asked...

Cordy scrunched her carefully plucked brows into a worried frown, "Yeah. Well, yes...I'm sure she's fine, I mean."

She struggled for words, finally meeting my gaze. "You should know, Angel. Buffy's getting married."

The shock I'd felt a moment before was a soft ripple compared to this jarring pain.

"Oh." I managed to say. I felt all the loneliness of the past four years without Buffy wash over me... all the sorrow of missing her... of missing the good things that we'd shared.

Married. The thought, and what it represented, choked me. Buffy, vowing to spend her life with a man who wasn't me...

Cordelia looked pained, and I knew it took a lot for her to come to me with this.

" I wasn't sure what telling you would accomplish, but I thought you'd want to know..."

Would I? I wasn't so sure. When I left Buffy, I left her. Left her to try to build a normal a life as possible, without my burden added to hers. I'd hoped that not having to look at me every time she turned around would spare her having to remember all the terrible things I'd done to her... save her from having to wish for things between us that could never be...

"No. I mean, yes... thank you. I'm glad you told me." I owed Cordelia at least that assurance for her troubles.

She stared intently at the cup before her, then looked at me again.

"Are you okay?" she asked.

The question confused me. Was I? I thought about it. But I was still so in shock, I hadn't felt anything, yet. Not really.

"Sure. Of course." I lied, because it was the right thing to say. But I felt the rush of pain growing in me, and I knew I had to get away... I had to... I don't know...

"When?" I asked.

"Next month. I spoke to Xander the other day."

"Is it Xander?" I had to ask, and again, I feared the answer.

But Cordelia laughed. "God, no! Xander can't even sit still long enough these days to even think about roots, let alone put them down! Not even for his beloved Buffy..." she added with barely veiled bitterness.

His beloved Buffy... I nodded. I was glad for that much, at least. I hated Xander. And he hated me. Not that the fact Buffy wasn't marrying him, but somebody else, made me feel any better at all. But I had to know...

"Who?" I asked, trying not to sound as desperate as I felt.

"You won't believe it." Cordelia said conspiratorially, and it was clear that she barely did, "Remember that guy she went out with once sophomore year? Owen something?"

"Barely. Blonde kid? Broody?"

Cordelia cocked an eyebrow at me, "Kettle? Black?"

I chuckled, my head still spinning. That creepy, smart-assed dork I met her with at the Bronze? It was hardly conceivable. How he had become so important, when he'd barely been a blip on the radar screen back then, before Buffy and I got together... it was beyond me.

"I guess they met back up at school..." She went on, but by then I'd tuned her out. All I could hear was the rushing noise in my head... Buffy, married... I remembered the dream I'd had right before we broke up, of she and I getting married. She'd been so radiant and shining, smiling up at me with those eyes... the fact that the dream had turned into a nightmare hardly mattered... pictures of it haunted me from time to time. The happiness forever beyond our grasp...

And now? Now I was supposed to put someone else in the tuxedo and see the same look in her eyes? The thought made me want to wretch.

I jumped up from the table, starling Cordelia out of the rhythm of her babbling.

"What..." she stammered.

"I have to... I've got to... go..." I said, kissing her quickly on the cheek. I was falling apart quickly, and I needed to be alone, to process.

"Angel! Is there anything I can..."

I smiled -- a tiny, forced smile -- and shook my head.

"I just need to be alone." I told her.

Alone. Again. Forever.

Part One

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