The Iron is Hot - Cordelia & Wesley

Lost and Found
Author: Kath



Chapter 4


*tap, tap, tap*

Cordy shut her eyes and counted to ten, before resuming the internet search for rare demonology books she was conducting on her laptop.

*tappity, tap, tap, tap*

"Wesley!"

A muffled "What?" came from the Englishman's office, followed by more tapping.

"Are you practicing your Morse code or something? Because, news flash, that's not a modern means of communication anymore." Blissfully, the tapping stopped, and the thin man soon appeared at his doorway, pencil in hand.

"Sorry, I didn't realize. I tend to do that when I'm...."

"Annoying?" She supplied, without even looking up. When he continued to fidget nervously beside her, the seer glanced his way, raising one questioning eyebrow. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing," he answered, almost too quickly. "I was just, uhm, wondering where the others were."

Cordy sat back and massaged the back of her aching neck. "Well, Gunn said he was going to 'connect with his homeys' or something like that, and as for Mr. Dull, Dark and Deceased... I have no idea. Probably not on the roof sunbathing would be my guess."

"Ah, well, good. I mean, I see. It has been rather quiet these past few days. Perhaps, if you'd like to leave early as well... I thought maybe -"

"Great! There's this 'one day only' sale on boots at Barney's that I wanted to get to." Her brain caught up with her ears and realized she'd interrupted. "Sorry, you were saying?" She saved the website she was on in her 'boring stuff for Wes' favorites folder, and logged off.

"It was nothing, really. I was only going to suggest that if you didn't already have plans, which obviously you do, that you might like to come over to my flat for dinner this evening."

Studying her features in her small compact mirror, Cordy paused in the act of reapplying her lipstick, and turned to scrutinize the former watcher. Poor guy. He was probably lonely, going home to that empty apartment every night, not knowing where all his favorite haunts were anymore.

"Hey, that's an idea. Tell you what." She glanced at her watch. "It's four o'clock now. How 'bout I meet you at your place, say around sevenish? Rent a video and we can make a night of it."

"A-All right, that sounds smashing." Wesley sounded relieved, so she must have guessed right.

A thought occurred to the girl, as she grabbed her bag and removed a diet soda from the mini fridge. "You're not going to cook dinner yourself, are you?"

"Shall I have something delivered instead?"

"Considering I've never seen you make anything other than a slice of toast since I've known you - and that you burned - I think that would be a wise choice. There's some menus in my desk drawer. I gotta book before they sell out of my size. Oh, and tell Angel I took the car. I'm not showing up at Barney's on the bus."


***

"O-okay, see you in a few hours," Wesley called after the departing figure. Now that he'd finally gotten up the nerve and asked her over, he wondered what he'd been fussing about all day. Moving to pull open Cordy's desk drawer, Wes caught sight of Angel, leaning casually against the wall by the front desk, his amusement clearly written on his face. "Angel! I didn't see you there."

Angel propped his elbows up on the lobby desk and continued to smile.

"Really, Angel, that can be quite unnerving." Wesley tried to ignore the smirking vampire, and began to sort through the menus he'd found. "Is there something I can do for you, or do you plan on standing there simpering at me all evening?"

"I was just thinking, Wes, that if you wanted to take off, I could hold down the fort. It's not as though we've got clients beating down our doors at the moment. And you are, after all, The Boss, so who's gonna say anything? I mean, that's if you had something you wanted to do... or get ready for...."

Wesley paused and looked up, his gaze locking with Angel's, an unspoken understanding passing between them. "Thank you for the suggestion, Angel. I think I might just do that." Folding the wad of papers in his hand in half, he stuffed them into his back pocket. "In fact, now that you mention it, I do have some, er, things to take care of at home." Quickly retrieving his satchel and jacket from his office, Wesley nodded goodbye and headed towards the back entrance, where his bike was waiting.


***

Standing in front of the full length mirror, dressed solely in a pair of white, cotton boxers and black socks, Wesley held yet another shirt and tie up to himself for inspection. He just couldn't decide if he wanted to go casual, or dress to impress. He'd already abandoned the idea of a suit - this wasn't a business luncheon after all - but still didn't feel very comfortable wearing the jeans either.
Finally deciding on a black t-shirt, charcoal grey trousers, and a light grey sleeveless sweater vest, Wes slipped the clothes on and scrutinized his reflection. Even he had to admit he looked pretty sharp. Now if only he could get his hair to behave.

Sitting on the edge of the bed to slip on his black loafers, the Englishman only then realized what a disaster area he'd made of his bedroom. Discarded shirts, trousers and ties lay folded over chairs and open dresser drawers, and he'd even pulled out every pair of shoes he could find in the closet. Not that there was any reason to assume Cordelia would ever see it, but he quickly set about folding and hanging his wardrobe back up anyway. Moving his laundry basket aside in the closet, to retrieve an errant tie, Wesley noticed something black and lacy on the floor behind it. Picking the item up between his thumb and index finger, he examined the article closely. There was no doubt about it; it was a silk bra.

Various thoughts and scenarios entered and left Wesley's thought processes at speeds NASA would have been envious of, but one fact remained: a woman had been in his apartment, and she had not been fully clothed at the time. [Steady on, Wesley.] He managed to close his gaping mouth, as well as resist the temptation to rub the smooth fabric against his cheek. Gunn must have been mistaken about his and Cordelia's level of intimacy. This changed everything. Now he was under even greater pressure to impress her than before.

A loud knocking from the other room sent Wesley into another panic. "Damn, she's early." Tossing what remained of his clean laundry onto the closet floor, he paused in front of the mirror once more, making one final attempt at smoothing down his hair before he slammed the door shut and hurried to let Cordelia in.


***

Cordelia greeted her host with a beaming smile, large shopping bags rustling against his legs as she brushed past him. Setting her parcels down just inside the doorway, she stopped to take in her surroundings, as Wesley fluttered about, rearranging pillows on the sofa and straightening the magazines on his coffee table. It had been a while since Cordy'd been over, and now that she thought of it, it was her first strictly social call. Prior to this, the gang had always hung out at her place, or they just hadn't hung out together at all.

"I see they fixed your ceiling."

Wesley's eyes followed her gaze upward. "Was there something wrong with it?" he asked curiously.

Cordy wandered over and began looking at the pictures displayed on the table, smiling at the new one of her and Gunn. "It's a long story." When there was no reply, she looked up to find a disappointed, almost hurt expression on Wes' face. "...one I can tell you all about over dinner," she added, noting how this seemed to cheer the man up. "There is going to be dinner, right?"

"Oh, yes." The demon hunter examined his watch. "In fact, it should be here any time now. I took the liberty of ordering Chinese, using the items you had circled in the menu as a guide. I hope that's alright."

Just the mention of food set Cordy's mouth watering, as she remembered she hadn't eaten since the raisin bagel with low fat strawberry cream cheese she'd had for breakfast that morning. "Mmmm, can't wait." Settling herself on the couch, she picked up the video rental box on the table in front of her.

"Can I get you something to drink?" Wesley's voice floated in from the kitchen.

"Sure. Diet soda if you've got one," she called back. He returned with one diet and one ginger ale. "'Sliding Doors'?"

"I beg your pardon?" Wesley slid a coaster across the table, setting Cordy's can on it, before seating himself next to her. "Oh, you mean the video. I hope that's alright. The woman behind the counter recommended it to me, and the idea of the two dimensions sounded fascinating."

Cordy choked back a laugh, wondering how Gwenyth Paltrow would have survived Pylea. "You do know this is a romance, right?" she teased, pleased to have now created a blush creeping up the back of her friend's neck. He was so easy. "This is fine," she amended, not wanting to disappoint him. "I've been meaning to rent it."

"Oh good." An uncomfortable silence settled in, as they sipped their drinks.

Cordy wondered why she was having so much trouble coming up with conversation. I mean, this was Wesley, after all. Usually they couldn't stop talking. Of course, that was mostly when they were slinging insults and barbs at each other. "You look nice tonight," she said finally, taking in the older man's outfit. Oddly enough, she meant it.

"Oh, ah, thank you. S-so do you." Wesley was tracing the top of his can with one finger. They were then saved from trying to think of anything else by another knock on the door. "I assume that's our meal. If you would be so kind..." He handed her a few bills. "I shall retrieve the place settings from the kitchen."

"Sure." She hopped up and opened the door for the delivery guy, deeply inhaling the luscious scent of Crab Rangoon, General Tso's Chicken and Moo Shi Pork. Shoving the money at the young man, Cordy hurried over to the table and began laying out the little white boxes, popping a warm crabmeat-filled wonton into her mouth as she worked. She sighed happily. Wesley had better hurry up or she was going to start without him.


***

In the kitchen, Wesley was loading up a tray with plates, napkins, silverware and wine glasses. He was also trying to get a grip. [Come on, Wesley. You're a grown man, not a timid school boy.] "And neither is she," he muttered aloud, head turned in the direction of the living room, something akin to lust in his voice. He opened the refrigerator door and removed a bottle of chilled white wine, tucking it under one arm as he picked up the tray. Taking a deep breath and exhaling it slowly, he plastered a smile on his face and went back to join Cordelia.

Stopping for a moment behind the sofa, Wesley couldn't help but enjoy the way Cordy's cropped top revealed her lower back as she leaned forward to lay out their meal. His eyes opened wide with surprise at the hint of a tattoo peeking up over the waistband of her designer jeans, and his heart thumped just that much harder at how sexy that was. As he moved around the end of the couch, Cordy jumped up to help him with his burden, plucking the bottle from under his arm.

"Oooh, this looks good." She removed the two long-stemmed wine glasses from the tray, opened the bottle, and poured liberal amounts for both of them, as Wesley set about laying out the plates and putting serving spoons into the food. When he'd finished and had settled back down next to her, Cordy handed him a glass, while holding up her own. "A toast...to Chinese restaurants. No, just kidding. To special friends, who stand by each other no matter what."

Wesley's heart leapt so high he thought sure it had left his body. "To special friends," he agreed, clinking his glass against Cordy's.


***

The dim light from the television flickered images across Cordelia's face, as the movie ended and the credits rolled. Wesley watched it reflect off the tears in her eyes, his arm stretched across the back of the sofa, bringing his hand within inches of her tantalizingly bare shoulder. He wanted to put his arm around her, pulling her in for a comforting hug, but instead he found himself handing her a Kleenex.

"Thanks," she sniffed, dabbing at her eyes before blowing her nose quietly. "That was a really beautiful ending, don't you think?"

"Yes... beautiful," he agreed, with a distracted sigh.

It must have been the tone in his voice that gave him away, for now Cordelia was squinted at him suspiciously in the dark. "Wesley, are you even paying attention?"

"What? Of course. Beautiful ending." He drew back guiltily.

Leaning over, Cordy switched on the lamp sitting on the end table beside her, shielding her eyes from the sudden light. "It really makes you believe in fate, y'know, the idea that one small change, one split second, and your whole life could be completely different. I wonder what it would be like if you could have a 'do over' and change your future."

Wesley paled. "I-It's not as exciting as you might think," he admitted softly.

"Oh, Wes, I'm sorry!" Her hand flew to cover her mouth. "I didn't think..."

"No, you're right," he stopped her quickly, not wanting her to feel sorry for him. "Doesn't everyone want the chance to go back and correct past mistakes?" He flashed a grin at her. "My only problem is that I can't remember mine, hence, I live in fear of repeating myself."

Grinning back, Cordelia reached forward for the bottle of wine, only to discover it was empty. "Bummer. No wonder I'm feeling so relaxed."

"Would you like some more? I have another bottle." He started to rise.

"Not trying to get me drunk, are you sailor?" She leered wickedly back at him. He wondered if she was trying to send him some sort of message that he wasn't picking up on.

"What?! No, of course not!" he babbled, feeling like a complete idiot.

"Relax... kidding."

"Oh, ah, right. Of course. Ha ha." .He searched his brain for a way to change the subject, before spying the packages she'd left by the door. "Say, did you find any good bargains today?"

"Huh? Oh, at Barney's. Boy, did I ever. There was this leather jacket that was just to die for - 70% off! - and only one more in my size, if you can believe it. This other woman had her eye on it, but no way was it going to fit her. Pfft! One well placed elbow and she was out of the running. Guess all these years fighting demons have been good for something."

Wesley had been sitting back in amused silence, enjoying the girl's excitement. "I thought you went there for boots."

"Yeah, I got those too." She got up to retrieve her purchases. "Wanna see? Or better yet, I could try on the whole outfit, so you can get the full effect."

"I'd love that."

"Great!" Cordy started to head towards the hallway.

"Where are you going?"

"Wesley Wyndham-Pryce," she scolded, arms akimbo. "You certainly don't expect me to change out here, do you?"

The earth could feel free to swallow him whole now. "Oh, ah, of course not."

Following Cordy to his bedroom he stood in the doorway, dumbfounded, as she shut the door gently in his face. What was he supposed to do now? Was she expecting him to wait out here, or something else? The woman of his dreams was in his bedroom, taking her clothes off. What the hell was he doing out here in the hallway?


***

Cordelia shook out her new skirt, laying it neatly on Wesley's bed before pulling her top off over her head. Reaching for the red blouse that matched the skirt, she stopped to admire the delicate fabric and the intricate stitching along the edges of the sleeves and collar. She had just begun to slip into it, when she felt strong arms circling around her waist, and a warm breath on her neck. Instinct sent her elbow driving back in a sharp jab.

*Oof*

"Cordelia!"

"Wesley?" She whirled around, eyes flashing, her hand connecting with his cheek with a solid *smack*. "What the hell do you think you're doing?!"

"I - I'm sorry, Cordelia." The tall man looked stricken. "I thought that... I mean, I know I don't remember everything about our relationship, but... I was trying to be romantic. I thought you'd like it." He sank down onto the edge of the bed, ruefully rubbing at his sore face.

Seeing the dejected look in his eyes, Cordy's expression softened. "Oh, Wes." She finished buttoning her blouse and came to sit beside him. "You think we..." The truth hit her then. She couldn't believe she hadn't seen it sooner. Remembering how they'd been with each other in Sunnydale, she realized it was only natural that Wes would still feel the same way towards her and would assume the two of them had gotten together.

Cordelia knew she should tell Wesley the truth, explain what had happened between them and how they were better off just being friends. Her head understood this, but in her heart she also knew how much it would hurt him, just as clearly as if he'd told her so himself. The seer rationalized her decision by telling herself that, even if they never found a way for Wesley to regain his memory, eventually he would come to his own conclusion that they weren't right for each other and things would go back to normal on their own.

So she lied. Again.

"I'm sorry I slapped you. I just..." She thought quickly. "You see, we had an argument, right before the whole amnesia thingy happened, and I, well, I wasn't expecting you to be all romantic and stuff. It sounds lame, doesn't it?"

"No, no, I understand." He thought a moment. "You're not still mad at me, are you?"

"Well, noooo," she answered, hesitantly, not sure she liked where this was heading.

"And I'm not mad at you..." Wes moved to put his arm around her again, and leaned close.

Cordy panicked and put a hand on his chest, effectively fending him off. "Wait! I uh, I don't think we should be doing this."

"Why not?" She could hear the slight whine in his voice.

"I just don't think it's right, not with you unable to remember what we've been to each other." Or not been, as the case may be.

Shoulders sagging unhappily, Wesley reluctantly released his hold on Cordy's waist. "I suppose you're right."

"I think I'd better go now." Cordy stood up and gathered the rest of her clothes. "I had a really nice evening."

"How about... couldn't I have just one kiss before you go?" Big blue eyes looked up at her with hope.

"Sure, " she agreed, and she quickly planted a chaste kiss on the waiting man's cheek, before rushing from the room and out of the apartment. She was gone before Wesley even knew what hit him.

"Damn."


***

Two days. It had been two days since 'the date'. Two days time during which, Wesley had gone through the pretenses of living a normal life, while searching for the solution that would enable him to get his back. Two days of wanting Cordelia so much that at times it was hard to keep from jumping her in the lobby and dragging her into his office.

There'd been a promising lead that morning, sending him and Gunn out to a rare occult bookstore in the Valley. Cordelia had refused to come along on principle. 'To the Valley? I'd rather be infected again with demon spawn.' A lively metaphor which the former watcher would have to remember to ask about later. Unfortunately, they'd been disappointed once they arrived. The book in stock was from the same era as the one they sought, but was written in Arabic. Wesley had eagerly scanned the index - while Gunn muttered something about Wes probably being able to read the Bible in its original language, leading to a rather lengthy sidebar concerning the number of decades it had actually taken to write the Bible, and the plethora of dialects it had been written in - but he had ultimately determined the book in hand did not contain the answers they were looking for.

Rather than return to the office for the little time that remained of 'official' business hours, Wesley had asked Gunn to drop him off behind the hotel, where he'd hopped onto his motorcycle and taken off for home... which was where he found himself now, pacing back and forth behind his sofa, chewing on the end of his retractable ball point pen, with a yellow legal pad in one hand. He was also talking to himself.

"Okay, let's examine what the Host said, shall we?" He found that speaking as if someone else was in the room made him feel slightly less ridiculous. "One: 'The answers are closer than you think.' Well, that's a bit vague." He wrote it down anyway. "Two: 'The key is to find the key...' That's bloody useful, isn't it? It could be the key to anything: a locked room at the hotel, a safety deposit box at the bank..." Wesley kicked out in frustration, the big toe on his bare foot connecting painfully with the large, metal filing cabinet against the wall. He froze, staring at it, an incredulous frown stealing across his face. "Oh, it couldn't be that simple." Could it?

Wesley had been searching for the keys to the locked drawers of the cabinet since he'd first 'arrived' two weeks before, but to no avail. There was now a desperate, overpowering need inside him to get them open. Eyes frantically scanning the room, they at last spied a small axe hanging on the far wall. Ignoring the pain in his foot, he hobbled across to retrieve it, quickly returning to jam the sharp blade into the crack above the top drawer. One swift yank on the axe handle and the drawer popped open. Quick examination revealed such personal items as his passport and green card, as well as check stubs and bank statements and the like. The second drawer was filled with files, leaving the third - and deepest - drawer for last.

Kneeling down, the first thing Wesley found in the drawer was a small Tupperware container, tightly sealed, which he set aside for later examination. The rest of the space was taken up with spiral notebooks, with sturdy, black, cardboard covers, each bearing a small white label in the center. There was no book, no answer. Sighing deeply, the Englishman flopped down unceremoniously onto the floor, and leaned forward, banging his forehead lightly against the cool metal. Since he now had nothing better to do with his evening, he pulled out the top notebook and began to leaf idly through its pages. Then, something interesting caught Wesley's eye, and before long he was deeply engrossed.


***

*thwap*
"Well, this is turnin' into a fun evening," Gunn groused, tipping his chair back to lean it against the wall.

*thwap*

"Uh, Gunn, I think we're supposed to be glad no one's in need of our services," Angel commented back.

*thwap*

"You sayin' you ain't bored?"

*thwap*

"No, but after you've lived over 200 years, you kinda get used to it."

*thwa--*

Angel looked at the hand on his arm, following it up to the really annoyed face of his seer.

"If you two," she began through gritted teeth. "...don't stop throwing this thing back and forth, you're going to need our services. Got me?!"

Sheepishly, Angel handed over the snow globe. "Sorry, " he mumbled, before pointing towards Gunn. "He started it."

"Thanks for rattin' out a brother," the street fighter shot back.

Cordelia slapped an open palm to her forehead and grimaced. The other two were at her side immediately.

"Vision?" they chorused, in unison.

"No, just trying to create one, to distract me from wanting to stake the both of you."

Somewhat disappointed, the two bored men returned to their seats.

Cordy started to return the globe to its stand on her desk when its twinkling silver snow caught her attention. Purchased on a whim the day she first arrived in L.A. from Sunnydale, she'd always found it pretty, the way the swirling flakes reflected off the blue sky background and settled on the tiny golden Hollywood sign at the bottom. The seer was reminded of how blue Wesley's eyes got when he was happy or excited about something.

Poor Wes, Cordelia mused, remembering their evening together the other night. All those attempts at romance wasted on her. Still... if she were the type of girl to be interested in a guy like him, which of course she wasn't...

"Yo, Cordy!"

A hand waving in front of her face broke Cordelia's reverie. "What?"

Gunn grinned at the girl. "Thought we'd lost ya there for a minute. Busy thinkin' about your 'loverboy'? The renegade nodded and winked knowingly at Angel, who smiled politely but said nothing.

"Excuse me?!" She was not blushing. Cordelia Chase did not blush. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Riiiiight. And you always go all 'dreamy' while payin' the bills."

Any further protests were silenced by the ringing of the office telephone. Upon a dagger-shooting stare from Cordelia, Angel reluctantly picked it up.

"Uh, Angel Inve- Lorne?"

"Yeah, Angelcakes, it's me. I've got a situation here that could get ugly, requiring your expertise."

"Demon?"

"No, worse."

Angel listened for a few more minutes, then quickly hung up, jumping to his feet and grabbing his car keys. "The Host needs all of us at Caritas, now."

"Demon?" the other two echoed.

"No, Wesley."



Chapter 5



The first thing Gunn noticed was how empty the normally lively club was at that hour. Drink glasses were still on tables, melting ice creating pools of condensation beneath them; chairs were askew, as if left in a hurry; and there was an odd electric hum in the air, that he finally traced to the speakers of the silent, but still powered on, karaoke machine.

The second thing Gunn noticed was the club's sole remaining patron, silently sitting at a table in the corner, empty glasses and bottles spread out before him like a sea of debauchery. The Host was busy explaining how Wesley had shown up several hours earlier, in a foul mood, demanding a table and a bottle of scotch whiskey, not necessarily in that order.

"...and when he tried to start a fight with a Trill demon, I decided I'd better clear the place out and call for reinforcements. He won't sing; he won't talk, and all I'm getting off him is anger. Pure, nasty, Angel in his pissiest, leather wearin' mood sort of rage. It ain't a pretty picture, my friends." He put a sympathetic hand on Cordy's shoulder. "I'm really sorry." Then to the others, "I'll be in my office if you need me."

The three friends stood looking at each other in confusion, then over at Wesley. "Hell, I'll go first then," Gunn finally said, trying to look casual as he strode across the room to the demon hunter's table.

"Hey, English, mind if I join you?" His query was met with stony silence. Taking that as a yes, Gunn pulled out the chair across from Wes and sat down. "I'm hurt. You decided to throw a party and didn't invite me." Cold eyes rose to meet his, before the Englishman lifted a shot glass to his lips and tossed back another drink. Charles shuddered slightly, alarmed by the face that greeted him. Furrowed lines and wrinkles around Wesley's eyes, combined with tightly pursed lips to make him appear far older than he really was. His cheeks were smudged with dirt, and streaked with tears that had to have come from those bloodshot, red-rimmed eyes. The man's normally independent hair was even wilder than usual, suggesting repeated runnings of filthy hands through it.

Starting to reach out a hand towards his friend, Gunn stopped when Wesley flinched away from him, and he chewed thoughtfully at his bottom lip as he watched the older man pour another shot. "Uh, Wes, don't you think maybe you've had enough to drink tonight?"

"No."

Hmmm, well this wasn't getting him anywhere. Gunn motioned for Cordy and Angel to come over. Maybe his friend would open up to one of them. "Wes, Angel and Cordy are here too, and we're all worried about you."

"Hey, Wes," Cordy attempted a smile, as she sat down to Wesley's right, leaving Angel the seat to his left. "I'm thinking this plan of yours to replace all the blood in your system with alcohol? Not such a smart idea." When this received no reaction at all, she tried a more direct approach. "Wesley, tell us what's wrong. We're your friends and we want to help you." This time, when the head slowly rose up, Gunn could clearly read the storming blue eyes now turned towards Cordelia. The hurt and anger in them was echoed in the girl's now startled expression as much as Wesley's calm voice betrayed none of it.

"Are you really?" Before any of them could respond, Wes continued, in the same neutral, controlled voice that was making Gunn's teeth ache. "Because, I've been forming other opinions on the matter." Wood scraped against wood with a slight squeal, as Wesley pushed his chair away from the table and stood up. All eyes followed his progress, his fluid, cat-like movements contradicting the amount of alcohol he had clearly consumed before they'd gotten there. "Would you like to hear what I think?"

Angel's eyes flicked towards Gunn and back, before he replied, in an even tone that matched the ex-watcher's, "Yeah, Wes, we would."

A small, humorless smile made a brief appearance on Wesley's lips, before the corners turned downward into more of a sneer. "I think..."

*CRASH*

The unexpected sound of the shot glass smashing into the floorboards caused all three to jump in their seats, and was followed immediately by Wesley's bellowing at the top of his lungs. "...YOU. ARE. ALL. LIARS!"

Stunned silence followed, the only sound in the room being Wesley's ragged breathing.

"Wes?" Cordy whispered softly. The clearly distraught man raised another glass, this time in her direction. Instantly, Angel was on his feet, knocking his chair over backwards, as his hand gripped Wesley's wrist tightly. Another blink of an eye and Wes had dropped the glass and had a stake in his other hand.

"Release me, or I swear I'll stake you right now." Having no wish to harm his friend, Angel let go, and took a step back, his eyes never leaving the ex-watcher. "I should have known better than to have believed you, Angel. I knew what you were, what you'd done in the past. But I wanted so much to believe...." His voice cracked, and fresh tears appeared in his eyes.

Charles opened his mouth, but could think of nothing to say. All he knew was that something bad was happening... something very, very bad. It was like watching a slow-motion train wreck. He wanted to look away, but couldn't. Wesley's gaze paused on Gunn for a second, before dismissing him and continuing on to Cordelia, whose expression was the most horrified and lost of them all.

Wesley's voice was more of a rasping whisper now. "Why did you do it? Was it some sort of twisted joke? Let's see how many lies we can get old Watcher Wesley to believe." Cordy shook her head slowly, and mouthed a silent 'no'. Salty tears streamed down the Englishman's face now. Every muscle in his body was tense and trembling, as he was clearly fighting to keep from completely losing it altogether. "You might have gotten away with it, except for one fatal flaw."

Wesley reached down and pulled his satchel from beneath the table, then swept his long arm along the tabletop, sending glasses and bottle crashing to the floor, where they either shattered into dangerous shards or rolled harmlessly away. Once again, Wesley's voice rose to a near-hysterical level. "You forgot that watchers write down everything!" Upending the knapsack, a half-dozen or so identical black notebooks came spilling out onto the recently cleared surface. "Even sacked watchers like me find it hard to break themselves of the habit, apparently."

Out of the corner of his eye, Gunn saw Cordy flinch at the word 'sacked'. Curious, he picked up the book nearest to him and read the label on the cover. 'March, 1999 - June, 1999'. Opening it to the first page, he instantly recognized the familiar handwriting.


'March 3rd, 1999: Arrived in Sunnydale late last night. There was no one to meet me at the airport so I took a cab to my new flat. Met the Slayer this morning at the Sunnydale High School Library, where I have been assigned the job of Asst. Librarian, as part of my cover. Buffy Summers was both insolent and rude, and it may be some time before she can accept me fully as her new watcher. I fear interference from her former watcher, Mr. Giles, may be my greatest obstacle....'

The book was then snatched from Gunn's hands, before he could read anymore. "The Watcher's Diaries are for Council eyes only," Wesley spat out bitterly, as he began to stuff the books back into his bag. "Ah, but then I forgot, I don't work for the Council anymore. Perhaps you would find some of these passages amusing." He opened the volume Gunn had been reading and flipped towards the back. "Ah, here we go:"


"June 12th, 1999: ...Ms. Chase and I have been assigned the task of removing as many of the school library's books as possible, before we implement our plan to stop the Mayor's ascension. I dread having to inform her of my impending departure back to England. If only there was some way..." He skipped ahead, down further on the next page. "...It's over between Cordelia and myself. We attempted a heartfelt goodbye kiss, and for whatever reason, it could only be described as an unmitigated disaster. I think she hates me now."

Pulling another book from the pile, Wesley once again searched until he'd found the passages he wanted.


"April 26th, 2000: ...Much has happened in a very short time. In a word: Faith. Apparently, she awoke from her coma and, after wreaking what havoc she could in Sunnydale, decided it might be fun to kidnap and torture me to within an inch of my life - revenge for all the evils of her world that she blames me for.... Angel arrived just in time. I'm not sure how much more I could have taken... when he and Faith fell through that window, my only thought was of freeing myself so that I might come to his aid. Imagine my shock when I reached the alley and found her crying in his arms...."

Wesley paused, his eyes catching Angel's before reading the final entry of the day.

"As I lie here on my bed, battered, bruised, and bleeding, I think of the demon-in-human-form that did this to me. The 'girl' who is currently being comforted by the very man she was hired to kill. I wonder what I would have to do to receive such comfort. Would I have to die, to get any attention at all?"

Gunn watched as Angel looked down at his hands, apparently ashamed that he'd made Wes feel that way. It was no wonder the three of them never talked about their pasts. There was alot of water flowing under that bridge. Turning towards Cordelia, he saw that the tears that had been threatening to spill from her eyes, were indeed now cascading in a river down her face. It angered him to see her hurt this way.

"Wes, please... just stop." Cordy's voice pleaded.

"Stop?" Wesley laughed a hollow laugh. "Stop what? Revealing the truth? It's time someone around here told the truth, wouldn't you say?" He bent over to stick an accusing finger in her face. "I haven't even gotten to the good part yet, where Angel ignores our warnings, turns his back on the fight against evil, and arranges the deaths of a roomful of lawyers. Don't you want to hear about how he fired us?!"

"That's enough!" Gunn's hands slammed down onto the table in front of him, as he stood. "Wes, you're drunk and you don't know what you're sayin', but that ain't no excuse to hurt people on purpose. Now, if you're smart, you'll let us take you home so you can sleep it off. We can talk about this rationally tomorrow."

"You're all alike," Wesley spat out, emotion threatening to choke off his words, his eyes still focused on Cordy. "...you... Quentin Travers... my father. Always thinking you know what's best for me. Always with your own personal agendas." He picked up his satchel, slinging it over his shoulder as he began to maneuver his way through the tables and chairs towards the Host's office, the others trailing behind him. "I'm not going to stand by and let you manipulate me anymore!" Reaching the door he'd seen the Host disappear through, Wesley began to bang on it loudly. "Open up! I need to speak to you immediately!"

There was the sound of a lock turning and then the door opened. "Whoa, settle down there, fella." Lorne didn't seem worried at all about the clenched fists or the wild eyes. "I see they got you talking." Then, after an appraising look, "Although, I think what you really need is a shower and a cappuccino."

"Why? Why did you tell me to ask Cordelia out?"

Cordelia's eyebrows shot up, as she looked from Wes to the Host.

"The soul doesn't lie, my friend. I only told you what was in your heart," the Host explained, in a sympathetic tone.

"But you had to know that was the 'old me'. Those were feelings left over from two years ago."

"Honey, I'm only gonna say this once, then I'm heading upstairs to a nice hot bath and a ice cold drink. You can believe what you want to, but I tell it like I see it, and that ain't what I saw."

For a moment it looked like Wesley was going to lunge through the doorway after the cryptic demon and Gunn reached out to stop him, causing further chaos. Turning on Gunn, Wesley raised his fist to hit him, leaving the Host just enough time to say "I wouldn't do that if I were..." before Wesley had simply...

Vanished.

Perplexed, Gunn, Cordy, and Angel looked around the room. There was no sign of the Englishman anywhere.

"What happened? Where'd he go?" the seer demanded, worriedly.

Nonchalant, the Host shrugged. "You think that 'no violence' rule is just a sign stuck to the wall?" They gaped at him, aghast. "Relax, it's a simple relocation spell. By now, our very drunk friend is safe and sound in his very own home, probably on the verge of passing out. No need to thank me. I'm sure you can see yourselves out." Still stunned, Gunn and Angel began to head for the door. When he saw that Cordy was hesitating, Lorne took pity on her.

"Look, I'm sorry it had to all come out this way, but he was bound to discover the truth sooner or later."

"Yeah, and now he hates me, and I've ruined everything," she sobbed, twisting the remains of what appeared to be a cocktail napkin in her hands.

"Now, now." The Host handed her his handkerchief. "There's no need for tears. It's all fixable. I've shown you the way. All you have to do is discover it."

"Wes is right. You are too cryptic," she sniffled.

"It's the struggle that makes success so sweet. If I gave you all the answers, they wouldn't mean as much." Smiling at her scowl, he sighed. "Go to him; really listen. Follow your heart and you can't go wrong. He'll forgive you. He needs to."

With that he was gone, stepping back into his office and shutting the door firmly behind him.


***

Cordy didn't see any point in knocking. I mean, it wasn't as if Wesley could get any angrier at her than he already was. Sliding her key into the lock, she quietly opened the door and peered inside, eyes widening in shock. This was not the same tidy apartment she'd visited two days before. Books had been knocked off their shelves, a trash can upended. There was an empty wine bottle jammed upside down into the umbrella stand just inside the doorway. Oh, and of course, the last time she was here there hadn't been a crumpled pile of beer cans, wrinkled clothing and unconscious Wesley in the middle of the floor either.

Rushing to his side, the girl immediately felt for a pulse. Having established that he was still among the living, she cursed whoever it was that could create a spell capable of transporting a 6'2" Englishman across L.A., directly into his apartment, but couldn't manage to make it the 30 additional feet to his bed. After shaking him, and barely receiving a 'Mmmm' in response, she gave up, resigned to the fact that Wes was stuck on the floor until motor function, not to mention consciousness, returned. After placing a few throw pillows under his head, sliding his satchel from his grasp, and removing his socks and shoes, the girl covered the sleeping man with a plaid blanket she'd found draped over the back of the couch. At least he looked more comfortable. Rubbing at her tired eyes, Cordy sighed and settled in for a long wait.


***

Socks.

Wesley's brain attempted to string several words together, to see what it could come up with. Who had stuck dirty socks in his mouth? Probably the same person who had glued his eyelids shut, he reasoned. A low moan escaped his throat, and he immediately felt a wet wash cloth being applied to his forehead. How nice. He tried an even louder moan, and this time a cool hand pressed itself to his hot cheek. Now, if only someone would remove the ten-ton anvil from his head, he might be able to sit up.

After a bit of a struggle, as well as assistance from the out-of-focus figure hovering over him, he finally managed it. His stomach then proceeded to launch a protest of its own by flipping over violently.

"Oh, god, I'm going to be sick."

Wesley's voice sounded thick and phlegmy in his ears as he lurched unsteadily to the bathroom. Once again the cool hand returned, this time holding his head for him, and returning with the damp cloth once he was finished. Another wet cloth was shoved into his hands, and the hung-over man proceeded to use it to mop at his sweaty face and sticky eyes.

Leaning back against his savior, exhausted, Wes looked up into her concerned, hazel eyes.

"Cordelia?" And for a moment all was right with the world. Then he remembered. Pulling himself away from her warm, comforting body, Wesley swayed alarmingly, only just avoiding smacking his face on the toilet bowl. Apparently, it had been the anger-induced adrenaline keeping him upright for so long. Without it, he had the muscle coordination of one of those horrid, green Jell-O molds they'd had the gall to pass off as dessert in the Sunnydale High cafeteria.

Cordy began to reach out, then seemed to think better of it. "I was worried. You had a lot to drink... and you were really upset."

"Really upset?" he mocked loudly, immediately regretting the harsh echo inside his throbbing skull. "I believe I have every reason to be upset."

"I never said you didn't," Cordy shot back, not sounding all that sorry about it.

Wesley pulled himself up onto the toilet, a slightly more dignified location than the tile floor, and cradled his head in his hands. "Well, as you can see, I have returned unscathed. You can go home now."

"Pfft! Yeah, I can see how 'unscathed' you are. You can't even stand up by yourself."

Slowly lifting his head, Wesley looked Cordelia directly in the eye. "Cordelia. Go. Now."

"Fine!" He watched her march as far as the bathroom doorway, before she stopped, shoulders sagging, and turned to face him again. "No, Wes, it's not fine. I want you to know how sorry I am. Please, give me the chance to explain."

Right then, Wesley didn't want explanations; he didn't want apologies. All he really wanted was his nice soft bed, with his big fluffy pillow, and a silence that wouldn't keep trying to rip his ears off. Gripping the porcelain sink firmly, he stood up, and once the room stopped spinning, he weaved his way past Cordelia without another word, disappeared into his bedroom, and shut the door firmly behind him.

***

Cordelia viewed the closed door as a crossroads in her life. On the one hand, she could just leave, hoping that after he'd slept it off, Wes would be willing to sit and listen. On the other hand, Cordelia Chase was not known for her patience. She couldn't stand the idea of Wesley being angry with her one more minute than necessary. In fact, she was surprised at how much that thought bothered her. Her hand resolutely turned the knob.

The room was still dark, although thankfully the pale gray light of pre-dawn creeping through the window was enough for her to make out the prone figure on the bed.

"Wes?"

Wesley was lying on his back, legs spread-eagle, arms thrown over his face.

"Nnnnnn. Haven't you gone yet?" was the muffled reply.

"We still need to talk."

"Cordelia, if I said I forgave you, would you leave me to die in peace?"

The girl's heart leapt, only to have suspicion set in. "Maybe... but only if you really meant it."

"Damn."

Cordy came over and gently sat down at the foot of the bed, with her back to her friend. "Look, I know you're tired, and all headachy, and probably really pissed off at me right now, but if you just listen, I'll do all the talking, okay?"

Silence.

"Okay, good." Suddenly nervous, the girl began to play with the wrinkles in the bedspread, her fingers tracing up and down the miniature hills and valleys. "Okay," she said again. "I know you're mad at me, and you have every reason to be, but I want you to understand why I did what I did. You have to remember, back when this all started, we didn't even know what was wrong with you. Think about it. You go to bed and you're the new boss of Angel Investigations - you've survived demon attacks, a blown up building, a gunshot wound and torture at the hands of your former slayer. You wake up the next morning and suddenly you're back to being 'Mr. I'm Too Uptight for My Three Piece Suits, Watcher' again. Would you have believed the truth, if we'd told you?"

She turned around to find Wesley had covered his head with his pillow. Incensed, Cordy yanked it away. "Wesley Wyndham-Pryce! I am being heartfelt here. The least you could do is listen!"

Wesley groaned and struggled to sit up. "Fine, Cordelia, since you're so dead set on keeping me from my sleep, let's 'talk'." Cordy didn't much care for the sharp tone in his voice. "What you say may very well be true, but it hardly explains why you continued to carry on with the charade long after I had accepted the realities of my situation."

Fumbling for words had never been a problem for Cordy before. This was a new and uncomfortable experience. "I... You were already so upset, and I didn't see the point in telling you that you'd been..." she petered out, quietly.

"Fired? Let go? Shown the door? That's it, isn't it?" He slid over to the edge of the mattress, his bare feet slapping the floor forcefully. "You felt sorry for me. I mean, let's run through my list of accomplishments, shall we?" He began to tick them off on his fingers. "I caused one slayer to quit the Council, and allowed another to go on a homicidal rampage. I was summarily sacked from my position as watcher, not even being paid the courtesy of a ticket back to England, and only received my job here after Angel took pity on me. Apparently, I did such a bang up job with that, that the boss turned evil and fired the lot of us. Have I left out anything pertinent?" He turned to stare at Cordelia, as if willing her to deny it.

"Yeah, actually you have, Wesley. You've done so much since then. You're the one that held us together - you, me, and Gunn - when Angel turned his back on us and we didn't know what was going to happen next. You took a bullet for Gunn, and stormed the castle in Pylea to rescue me." Off Wesley's perplexed look, "Well, okay, that's a long story, but you see what I mean. You're not that person anymore... not that the old you was so bad either," she hastily added.

"And what about us? You sat here in this very room, not two days ago, and intimated that we were a couple."

Cordy looked at the floor, guiltily. "You wanted to believe it so much... I... Wes, you're my best friend. You're family. I wanted you to be happy." Her eyes pleaded with him to understand.

"Why should I believe you? Everything you've told me up to this point has turned out to be a lie."

"That's not true. The part about you being our leader now - and being our friend - that part's real. Damn!" She jumped up and began pacing at the foot of his bed. "If you had your latest journal, you'd have to believe me. When I was reading through them, I noticed it wasn't there."

"You what?!" Wesley was on his feet now too. "You read my diaries? Those are private. How dare you!"

Cordy was getting tired of having to justify her actions. "Listen, buddy, I'm doing the best I can to help you. I'm not exactly trained in the care and feeding of amnesia victims. Can't you see that I'm doing my best and cut me some slack?"

"I'm sorry, has my affliction been an inconvenience for you?" he snapped back, moving over to the bedroom window. Leaning heavily on his hands, the sullen Englishman stared out at the empty street, his voice growing soft. "You have no idea what it's been like for me. Waking up and not knowing where I was, finding out I'd lost two years of my life."

He twisted to face her now. "Did you know I'm afraid to go to sleep at night? I keep thinking what if it happens again, and next time I can't remember any of you at all?" Wesley sucked in a breath and blew it out slowly, while running a shaky hand through his hair. Cordelia waited, motionless. "The one thing that helped me hang on was knowing you were there and that I could count on you. I learned early on in life not to give my trust easily. I had to, to survive. But I put my faith in you. It simply never occurred to me not to."

"I didn't know..."

"No, but how could you? You never asked. You just spoon fed me enough information to keep me 'happy' and went about acting as if everything was normal."

"I never meant to hurt you, Wes," she whispered.

There was a long silence, then a quiet "I know, but you did."

Cordelia was silent for a long moment. "That alone, should tell you how far you've come, Wesley." She hesitated, weighing her words. "Would the you of two years ago, ever have admitted to that?"

Reaching out to lay her hand gently on Wes' forearm, Cordy looked up into his eyes, her lips twisting into a sad smile. She waited a moment, for her words to sink in, then slowly turned and walked out.

Wesley stood silently in the middle of his bedroom, until he heard the click of the front door shutting. Heavy eyelids, begging for sleep, argued with tumultuous thoughts assaulting his brain, as it grappled with conflicting emotions. In the end, exhaustion, and the effects of too much alcohol, won out. Crawling back into bed, the rumpled man had just enough time to pull a sheet over himself, before the blackness of sleep claimed him at last.


***

In the end, it was his sense of duty that brought him back. At least, that's what Wesley told the others, and himself. 'The innocent should not be made to suffer because of our personal differences.' God, he was starting to sound like a pompous prig even to himself. Two days in the solitude of his own misery and he was ready for a little demon fighting. In both senses of the word.
The demons, however, seemed to have other ideas, and it had so far been an uneventful day. Of course, the fact that Wesley hadn't gotten up the nerve to actually leave the sanctuary of his office and face his coworkers yet might have had something to do with it. Memories of his meltdown a few nights before continued to reveal themselves like foggy acid flashbacks, and he was both guilty that he'd lost control so easily and angry at having been put into that situation in the first place.

Wes knew the others were out there, sitting at their little desks outside his office. Gunn was probably describing his latest demon kill, complete with gory sound effects, and maybe Cordy was showing off the new top she'd found on sale at some fancy, upscale boutique. The ex-watcher smiled at the imagine he got, of Angel sitting back in his chair, arms folded across his chest, patiently listening, while fervently wishing he was elsewhere. He wondered if there were any donuts left. Wesley was learning the hard way that being right was not necessarily synonymous with being happy. Camaraderie and friendship were not so easily dismissed, just because a person wished it so. He picked up the normally fascinating 'Encyclopedia of Well-Known European Poltergeists' that he'd found on one of his book store searches, but, unable to concentrate, he immediately let it fall into his lap. Looking down at his tie, he idly wondered if it matched his shirt.

The scraping sound of the sliding doors opening was such a welcome diversion that the demon hunter practically leapt over the desk to greet his guest. Gunn stuck his head through the opening, grunting slightly when he saw Wesley approaching.

"Just wanted to let ya know we're leavin' soon, so the coast'll be clear for you to come on out."

Gunn's head disappeared again, and Wesley hurried after him.

"Gunn, wait -"

The young street fighter stopped and turned. "I ain't sayin' you don't got the right to be mad, English - I mean, what Cordy did was... wrong, way wrong - but she only did it 'cause she didn't wanna make you feel bad. I think you know that too. You're just too busy bein' all pissy to admit it."

"Gunn, I -" Wesley began, but he didn't know what to say, so Gunn continued. It sounded as though he'd been rehearsing this little speech in his head all day.

"You think you're the only one hurtin' around here? The only one who's ever come out short against a demon? Cordelia ain't said more than two words all day today - and this is Ms. 'I Always Have to Voice My Opinion' Chase we're talkin' about. She ain't tellin' us, but whatever you two talked about's got her real upset. She cares about you, man... hell, we all do... and you don't gotta have your memory back to see that, if you'd just pull your head outta your pansy British ass for a minute. When you're ready to come talk, we'll be there for you."

Charles started to leave, but paused again. "One more thing... just for the record. I've never lied to you, not before, not ever. And I never will."

Wesley watched the frustrated man stomp across the lobby, unsure of what to say to get him to stay. With a heavy sigh he gathered his belongings, switched off the lights and left the building.

***

Angel stood in the shadows of the stairway landing, observing the exchange, waiting until both men had left. Leave it to Gunn to say what needed to be said.

[And Cordy's the one known for speaking her mind.] He had to chuckle at the thought. He could only hope that it was enough to get through to the ex-watcher and that it wouldn't only serve to drive him further away.


***

Wesley mulled over Gunn's words as he sped along the four-lane highway. One advantage to the crazy hours he worked was being able to avoid rush hour traffic. This freed his mind up, as he was able to drive the now familiar route almost by instinct. By the time Wesley had pulled his bike into his assigned spot behind his apartment building, and had pulled off his helmet, he'd come to a few realizations.
Outwardly, Wesley had been annoyed by what Gunn had said - what right did the other man have to say those things? - but deep down he knew the street fighter was right. This was the truth that had been making him so miserable these past few days. He'd felt betrayed and abandoned by what he found out and had panicked, pushing away the very people who had supported and befriended him. If the Englishman was to be completely honest with himself - and it was about time he was - he knew Cordelia and the others hadn't deliberately set out to cause him pain. It had just been easier to blame them for his sense of failure and the grief he felt at what he'd lost, rather than accepting it as part of his past and moving on.

Turning the lock and entering his flat, Wesley was vitalized with a renewed determination to regain control of his life. Gazing around at the empty pizza boxes, beer cans and dirty dishes that littered his living room, he decided he'd better begin with regaining control of his home first. After changing into a t-shirt and sweats, he soon had the dishes stacked in the sink and the garbage bagged up to take out to the dumpster. Next step was to tackle the bedroom. Swiftly avoiding the disaster area that was his closet, he opted instead to make the bed. A fresh outlook on life definitely deserved fresh linen.

Shaking out a dark green fitted sheet, Wesley spread it out over the bed, careful to smooth out all the wrinkles, as the family housekeeper had taught him as a child. There was nothing worse than bumps under your feet while you were trying to sleep. He tucked one side under the mattress and moved to the other side to do the same. Sliding his hand between the mattress and the box springs, Wes' fingers connected with something solid, something that didn't belong there. He pulled the long, thin object out and stared at it dumbly.


'March, 2001 - '

How typical. He couldn't have found the missing diary a few days ago and saved himself and everyone else a great deal of grief. Oh no, he didn't have that kind of luck. Shaking a mental fist at whatever fates were laughing at him right now, Wesley climbed onto the partially made bed, leaned his back against the wall and drew his knees up to his chest.

Propping the diary on his legs, he cracked it open nervously, not knowing what he was going to find inside. Whatever it was, he decided, was in the past and he wasn't going to let that influence his future anymore.

At first, Wesley leafed through the pages, skimming them lightly with a passing interest. He would go back and read it more thoroughly later, he reasoned. However, the further he got the more interested he became, until finally he stopped, one entry in particular catching his attention. Reading it over several times, Wesley then quickly paged ahead, stopping again at another entry. He brought the book closer to his face, as if to examine the words more closely, then let it drop back onto the bed, as he muttered a surprised "Shit!" before leaping into action.

Jamming his feet into the nearest pair of shoes, Wesley grabbed the diary off the bed, found the key to his bike and ran out the door. He was a man with a mission.



Chapter 6



Cordy stepped out of the shower, briskly toweling herself dry, then cocooning herself in her thick, pink robe. Wrapping a fresh towel around her head, turban style, she shuffled into the kitchen. The hot water had done its job releasing much of the day's tension from her neck and back, but there was still an unsettling emptiness that could only be filled by one thing: ice cream, and lots of it.

Opening the freezer door, Cordy retrieved her pint of Ben & Jerry's S.N.A.F.U., and pried the lid off. Damn, it was already half empty and she'd just gotten it yesterday. Not that the extra calories mattered much, she reminded herself ruefully, since her acting career was pretty much on permanent hold these days. A spoon floated up out of the wooden drain board by the sink and sailed neatly into her hand.

"Thanks, Dennis. Wanna watch some tv with me?" Taking his silence as a 'yes', she headed for the living room, where she plopped unceremoniously onto the couch, careful to not let her robe fall open. Dennis may be a ghost, but he was still a 'man' in her book. "Crap! Dennis, did you move the remote again?" The television clicked on and began channel surfing on its own. It stopped on what appeared to be some kind of science fiction program.

"What the heck is this show?" She watched for a few minutes. "Y'know, that guy in the wheelchair looks kinda like Wesley, dontcha think?" Reaching down, Cordelia pulled her TV Guide from beneath the couch and began to look through it, until she'd found the channel she was watching. "'Dark Angel'? Not funny, Dennis! Like I haven't already lived that story! Find something that's meant to be funny, will you?" Cordy dipped into her carton of ice cream as, once again, images flipped by at lightning speed, finally landing on a frequently aired episode of 'Friends'.

"Oh, I've seen this one. Joey and Chandler have a misunderstanding and Joey moves out. Of course, they sort it out in fifteen minutes, Joey moves back in, and everyone goes out for coffee. Like real life is ever that easy."

[I remember how Wes used to always give me a hard time about my coffee making. That never seemed to stop the jerk from drinking it all and leaving the empty pot on the hot burner though.] Wait, this wasn't helping! The television was supposed to be taking her mind off her problems, not reminding her of them.

"Try something else, Dennis." The seer waved her hand in the general vicinity of the ghost in question. Nothing happened. "Okay, geez, you don't have to be so sensitive. Please!" The channel switched to yet another program, which turned out to be the movie 'Four Weddings And A Funeral'. No, no, no, no, no. This was no good at all!. An entire cast of characters that sounded like Wesley... not to mention the whole 'Hugh Grant thing.'

Cordy crawled off the couch, her S.N.A.F.U. in hand, and turned off the set. Sitting in the middle of the floor, she began to eat the melting ice cream, reading the side of the carton as she licked a swirl of soothing fudge from her spoon.

'Strawberries Naturally All Fudged Up, one of the two twisted line. Vanilla Fudge meets Cool Britannia. Strawberry & vanilla ice creams with strawberries, fudge covered shortbread cookies & fudge & strawberry swirls.'

"Cool Britannia?" She set the carton down. This was not happening. She'd lived 20 years without caring what Wesley thought of her. Now, all of a sudden, everything was reminding her of the man. Maybe it was a curse... or a virus of some kind. All she knew was that if she didn't find some way to get Wesley Wyndham-Pryce out of her head, she was going to either scream, or go insane... possibly both.

There was a knock at the front door, and Cordelia was just picking herself up off the floor, when her helpful poltergeist roommate decided to answer it for her. "Dennis! Would ya wait a sec... Wesley?"

"H-Hello, Cordelia. May I come in?"

***

Wesley eyed the self-opening door cautiously, still uneasy even after his first encounter with Dennis the week before. All that was forgotten, however, upon the arrival of Cordelia in front of him, dressed only in a bathrobe. His eyes had a will of their own, as they did a quick sweep from head to toe.

"Gimme a second," Cordy said, before moving on towards the kitchen. "Oh, and come in," she added over her shoulder.

Wesley stepped over the threshold and stood bouncing nervously on the balls of his feet, his thumb absently tapping against the cover of the notebook in his hand. Looking around, he wondered if he was supposed to greet Cordy's ghostly roommate as well.

"Ah, hello, Dennis."

The door started to close and the tall man had to jump a little to get out of its way. He supposed that was Dennis' way of saying he was welcome to come in.

Cordelia came back out, tossing a hairbrush onto a nearby table, and pulling the sash of her robe a little tighter as she came over.

"I can see I've come at a bad time..." Wes felt himself beginning to lose his nerve.

"No! No, it's okay. I-I just wasn't expecting anyone." The seer was playing with the tie on her robe and looked as nervous as he was, which was strangely reassuring.

The two of them stood facing each other in uncomfortable silence, unable to meet each other's gaze, neither sure of what to say next.

"I'm sorry!" They both ended up blurting out at exactly the same time. Wesley attempted to stammer on. "A-About the other night -"

"That wasn't your fault. You should have been mad at me. What I did was -"

"Even so, that doesn't condone - "

"I would understand if you never wanted to speak to me again."

"Cordelia!" He reached out and placed a hand on her sleeve. "If you'd stop interrupting for just a moment, I could tell you I'm not angry with you anymore."

Cordy's eyes brightened, even as she looked surprised. "You're not?"

"Well, I'm still not pleased that you lied to me, but I think I understand now why you did it. I don't want to let it stand in the way of our... Cordelia? Are you alright?"

***

Cordelia clutched at her head. Oh, no, this was not happening... not now! Couldn't the PTBs see she was in the middle of an important conversation? Reaching out blindly, as the images of her vision began to assault her, she felt Wesley's strong arms coming around her tightly. She waited until the movie show in her head had ended and the pain began to ease to a dull throb, before gingerly opening her eyes.

The incapacitated girl found herself sitting on the floor, Wesley at her side with his arm at her back. Pressing her fingers to her temples, she looked down and noticed that her bathrobe had fallen open slightly, and that the ex-watcher's other hand was resting dangerously close to her bare thigh. Even through the pain, Cordy took note of the fact that it took the embarrassed man a few more seconds to remove it, once she'd noticed.

"What did you see, Cordelia?" Wesley reached over her to a notebook lying on the floor and tore a blank page out of it. Cordy took the paper and the pen he also offered and scribbled some notes onto it.

"Phone." She held out her hand.

"D-Do you want me to call the others? I-I should probably go -"

"NO!" Wesley's eyes widened in surprise. "I mean, the address is near where Gunn lives. He and Angel should be able to handle it. I'd feel better if you could stay here with me... that is, if you don't mind." She felt Wesley's fingers dig into her back slightly, even through the thick material of her robe.

"Well, I... if you really want me to, I'll stay. His eyes met hers and Cordy felt butterflies swarming in her stomach. She'd never noticed those flecks of gold in Wesley's eyes before. They were mesmerizing, and it took her a few moments to realize neither of them had moved yet.

"Uh, Wes?"

"Yes?"

"Any chance you could help me up off the floor one of these days?"

"Oh, right. Sorry." Wesley released her and offered his hand, then assisted her to the sofa. A glass of water and two white tablets set themselves down on the coffee table beside Cordelia.

"Thanks, Dennis." Cordy popped the pills into her mouth, downed the water, then picked up the cordless phone to call Gunn and Angel.

Wesley continued to stand, hands in his pockets, shifting his weight from one foot to the other.

When the girl had finished her calls she patted the cushion beside her. "It's okay for you to sit down you know, unless you changed your mind about being mad at me."

"Oh, no," Wesley answered quickly. Sitting down close to Cordelia, he caught her gaze with his eyes again. "In fact, quite the contrary, actually. I found -" The ringing phone interrupted him, and he was forced to wait, as Cordy answered it.

"What? No, Gunn. Angel's on his way right now. He wants you to wait... I don't care... Well, if you get vamped, don't come whining to me about it. I'll just stake you... Good idea." She ended the call and turned back to Wes, smiling expectantly. "Now, you were saying?"

*sigh*

"What I wanted to say was that I'd come to a decision. I'm not going to -"

The phone rang again. "Oh, bloody hell!" Wes grabbed up the phone, punching at the answer button forcefully. "Hello?!... Yes. Who did you think it was?... She's fine. I... No, I'm not angry at you, it's just that... I believe he said he didn't want to wait for you... Well, that's hardly my fault... Yes, all right. Goodbye!"

Shutting the phone off, Wesley shoved it behind a couch cushion, frustrated at the continuous interruptions. Cordy couldn't help but giggle. "What's so funny?" He scowled, only making Cordy laugh more.

"You. You're so cute when you're all huffy and annoyed." The horrified seer clamped a hand over her mouth. This is what she got for taking more than one prescription migraine pill at a time. They always did tend to make her a little loose-lipped.

A blanket of red spread across Wesley's cheeks to his ears, as he stared back at her, his mouth hanging open. "I-I do? I mean, you think so?"

Recovering, Cordelia tried to act casual. "Yeah, well some people might think so."

"Question is, are you one of those people?" Something about the tone of his voice made Cordy do a double take. It was lower and almost... sexy? Wesley was leaning in a little closer to her and his hand was back on her knee.

"Wes," she teased. "Are you coming on to me?"

"Possibly."

Not expecting such a brazen answer from the normally uptight man, Cordy didn't know what to say.

"As I've been trying to get up the nerve to tell you," he continued. "I made a decision today. I'm not going to let my past interfere with my future anymore. I'm tired of always being afraid to do or say what I feel. I don't want to be the 'old me' or the 'new me'. I just want to be me."

Cordy felt her heart pounding in her chest. Was it getting warm in the room? Must be the heat coming from Wesley as he pressed even closer.

"And what does the 'all-in-one you' want?" she heard herself asking, not believing how breathless she sounded.

When the kiss came it was soft and sweet, setting off multicolored fireworks in Cordy's brain. She found herself falling into a surprisingly familiar pool of swirling blue and gold so warm, comforting and inviting that she didn't care if she ever came out again.

***

When Wesley finally managed to pull himself away from Cordelia, he was startled to realize he had practically crawled into her lap. This wasn't what the ex-watcher had set out to do when he'd rushed from his flat earlier that evening. His intentions had been merely to tell Cordelia about finding the missing diary and how reading it had made him realize a few things about himself... and about his feelings towards her. That wasn't to say Wes was at all displeased with this surprising turn of events; they were merely unexpected.

Cordy, for her part had a firm grip on the front of Wesley's t-shirt, and she wore an almost ethereal expression on her face. Her eyes were closed and she had her head tilted back, as if she hadn't yet realized the kiss was over.

"Cordy?"

"Mmmm?" The girl opened her eyes and smiled at him, dreamily. "You have the most beautiful soul. Has anybody ever told you that?"

Wes smiled back at her and reached up to affectionately push a lock of hair away from her face. He had no idea what she was talking about, but she looked so beautiful just then, that he didn't care. "No, I don't think so."

Cordy shook her head a little and her eyes came back into focus. "Wes? Did we just kiss?"

"I do believe so, yes." He hesitated. "I rather hope it was considerably better than the last time."

"Oh, you have no idea."

"I know it was rather forward of me, but mmmph -"

Caressing lips pressed themselves to Wesley's, successfully cutting off his explanation. Well, perhaps those were overrated anyway - explanations, that is. He felt a tug at his shirt and cold fingers began to explore the bare skin at his midsection, causing him to jump. His hands came up and captured the sides of Cordelia's face, holding her to him. This time, when they finally separated, it was Wes who was finding it difficult to think straight. All he could do was ruminate on how Cordy's hair smelled like peaches, and that she tasted like strawberries, and it was only when wandering hands began to move below his waist that he regained his ability to speak coherently.

"Cordelia!" He pulled her hands into his, entwining their fingers together. "I'm not entirely sure we should be... er, moving ahead so quickly. After all, we are dealing with extenuating circumstances."

"You don't want me?" the girl pouted. Wesley's brow furrowed thoughtfully. This was an entirely new side to Cordelia, and he wasn't at all sure he was in any position to deal with it. "Because, it looks to me like at least parts of you do."

"Cordelia!" he repeated, trying to sound stern, and succeeding at squeaky.

"What," Cordy snapped, sounding more like her usual self again. "It's okay for you to bring home one night stands with bleached blonde bimbettes, but I'm not good enough for you?"

He wanted to ask about the 'bleached blonde bimbettes' but thought better of it. Wesley brought Cordy's hand to his mouth and kissed it soothingly, his voice softening. "But I don't want a one night stand with you. I want it to mean something." He then leaned in and kissed her lightly on the forehead.

"Oh." Cordelia grew silent, closing her eyes and allowing her head to rest against Wesley's. After a full minute, she rescued her hands and sat back, her face serious. "Wes, I know this all seems sudden, and that all we do is fight most of the time, but you've been my best friend this past year, and I don't know what I would have ever done without you. It wasn't until I thought I'd lost you for good that I realized how much I care for you. I don't care if you ever get your memory back. This, right here, right now, is the Wesley I'm falling in love with, and I just want to share that with you."

Wesley was deeply touched, and actually felt tears spring to his eyes. "Cordelia, when I left my home this evening, I knew one thing for certain, and that was that I loved you. I just never believed you could ever feel the same way about me."

An impish grin crossed the seer's face. "Does that mean there's still a chance we might have some 'fun' tonight?"

Wesley returned her grin with a suggestive wink. "Are you really naked under that robe?"

"Wesley Wyndham-Pryce!" Cordelia pretended to be shocked, as she stood up, pulling the lanky man up with her. "You're just going to have to investigate that for yourself."

Wes chuckled, and let her lead him towards the bedroom. "Did I mention I run a detective agency?"


***

Cordy awoke to a beam of sunlight from her window warming her face. Smiling drowsily, she lazily opened one eye and found Wesley sitting cross-legged on the bed next to her, writing neatly in a notebook propped on his lap. It had only been one night, but already she missed having his long, lean body entwined with hers beneath the sheets. When they'd finished making love and he spooned up behind her, she had never felt so protected and safe in her entire life, as firm muscles beneath deceptively thin arms enveloped her, and held her close.
"Good morning, luv."

She opened her other eye. "Hey, how'd you know I was awake?"

"I can tell by your breathing," he replied, without looking up.

"Pretty impressive, Mr. Detective Man. What'cha writing?"

Wesley hid the book behind his back. "Nothing."

"Can I read it?"

Setting the book on the far bedside table, Wes leaned down to give Cordy a quick kiss. "No."

"You call that a kiss? I know you can do better than that."

"Yes, but then we would never get out of bed, and I'm starving!"

Now that he mentioned it, Cordy's own stomach began to rumble.

"You stay in bed and I'll see what you've got in your cupboards," Wes offered. One more kiss and he'd slipped on his sweats and was heading for the kitchen.

The second Cordelia heard the sound of pots and pans being banged around, she was sitting up, Wesley's notebook in her hands. Reading the date on the cover, she instantly knew what it was and it only served to peak her interest further. Cordy deliberated with herself, curious about what he'd been writing, while knowing she had no business looking inside, and had almost convinced herself to refrain, before noticing several pages had a corner turned down, marking them. It was all too much for her curiosity to take, and the seer opened the book to the first saved page. About halfway down, there was an entry mentioning her name.


'March 3rd, 2001: Another day of fighting a war with myself, and one more missed opportunity to tell Cordelia of my burgeoning feelings for her. Ever since I nearly lost my life, I've come to rely heavily on my friends for their support, but this is something different. I see now that life is too short to be wasted on 'what ifs' and fear of rejection, yet I cannot seem to make myself tell her the truth. While I'm not quite sure yet where my emotions are leading me, I do know I'm craving something more than mere friendship from this beautiful, vibrant woman.


When I called the office tonight, it was ostensibly to let Cordy know I wasn't feeling up to coming in tomorrow, due to my unanticipated return to the emergency room yesterday evening. In truth, I was actually seeking the comfort of her voice. What I didn't expect to hear was how lonely and sad she was. I tried to offer up what little friendship I could, but when she said I 'didn't count', it was like being shot all over again. Even though, in my head I knew she was joking, the words still cut deeply. Once again, I failed both Cordelia and myself. All it would have taken was for me to admit I wanted some company, asked her to come over and order pizza or something, and neither of us would be as we are now: alone, and wishing we weren't.

Cordy wiped away a single tear, as it ran down her cheek. She remembered that time so clearly. Angel busting into their tiny office to get a book he wanted...Wesley popping his stitches while standing up to him. When Wes had called the next evening, she'd sensed a tiredness in his voice, but hadn't stopped to really listen to him. If she had, she might have realized just how hurt he'd been by her flippant remark. The girl couldn't bear to think that he'd felt so awful, because of her.

Cordelia turned ahead to the next marked page. Now that she knew what to look for, it was easy to spot the section she wanted.


'April 10th, 2001: ...We lost Cordelia last night. I mean literally 'lost' her, to another dimension. One minute she was standing beside me, at Caritas, and the next she'd been sucked into a swirling vortex, into the home world of the Host. I cannot begin to describe how empty I feel not having her nearby, the agony of not knowing if she's safe, or hurt. I should have been able to protect her, should have been aware of the risks involved. Instead, I merely stood by inefficaciously, and allowed this to happen.


Angel and I are determined to find a way to open another portal, so that we may go through and rescue Cordy. Chances are, we will not be able to find our way back, but I could never be happy living here, knowing Cordelia was out there, somewhere, alone....

The rest of the page read like a Last Will and Testament, making Cordelia realize just how much Wesley and Angel had been willing to sacrifice for her, in order to bring her back home. There was a gap in the dates, indicating the time the gang had been in Pylea, and then the journal picked up again.


'April 15th, 2001: ...The burden of leadership is often a heavy one. What does it say about me, as a person, that I could so easily send other men - many with families - to their deaths? What does it say about them, that they sacrificed themselves willingly, so that others might live freely? Were my motives as altruistic, or was I selfishly only thinking of my loved one, trapped behind those castle walls?...

*AHEM*

Cordelia's head snapped up to find Wesley standing in the bedroom doorway, arms folded across his bare chest. "I'm busted, huh?"

"Quite."

Gathering a sheet around her, Cordy flew off the bed, into Wesley's arms, pressing her face against his shoulder. "Oh, Wes. I wish you'd told me how you felt."

"I think I just did," he chuckled, the sound gently reverberating through him, into Cordy.

"You knew I was going to read it, didn't you?" she accused.

Wes pushed his lover back, just enough to see her face. "I had a strong suspicion you would. It was when I read the diary that I knew I had to act on my feelings, before I let any more opportunities for happiness pass me by. Would you like to hear what I wrote this morning?"

Cordy nodded and handed him the journal. Wesley read his latest entry out loud:


"'July 3rd, 2001: ...Never have I felt so loved, so connected to another living being. Yesterday we were friends; today we are lovers. I can only pray that from now on we will be soulmates."

Cordy began planting butterfly kisses along Wesley's neck, trailing up to his lips, where they lingered in a smoldering embrace, broken only by a loud grumbling of her stomach, and his subsequent laughter.

"I think you'd better jump in the shower, luv, while I finish fixing breakfast." Wesley playfully swatted at her bottom.

"Care to join me?" She offered, using her best 'come hither' voice.

"Care too? Yes. Dare to? No. Not if we're ever going to get over to my flat so I can shower and change too." With that, Wes quickly disappeared towards the kitchen again.

"Good, I can try again at his place, then." Cordy grinned wickedly, before heading off to shower and get dressed.


***

"No fair, you locking the door, y'know." Cordy leaned against the closed bathroom door.
"Did you think I don't know you at all?" came the muffled reply, trying to be heard above the whrrrrrrrr of the electric razor.

Foiled in her plan to join Wesley in the shower, Cordelia moved restlessly around his apartment, glad to see it looking a lot cleaner than the last time she was there. Her eyes came to rest on an unusual object, sitting on top of the slightly dented filing cabinet. Coming closer, she recognized it as a small leftovers container. Squinting to see through the opaque plastic, she called back into the other room.

"I think you forgot to put something in the fridge. Want me to throw it out?"

"Whaaaat?" Wes shouted back, as he came out of the bathroom, dressed in his brown robe.

"This Tupperware container," she explained, shaking it at her ear. "Whatever's inside, I think it's gone bad."

Wesley came into the room, drying behind his left ear with a maroon hand towel. "If it's the one on the metal cabinet, I wouldn't..."

*POP*

"...open it," he finished weakly.

"Oops, sorry." Cordelia's face scrunched up in a curious frown. "It's just a piece of paper... with something inside." She tried to unwrap it. "Ew! It's a chewed piece of gum. Gross!"

"What on earth?" Wesley peered over Cordy's shoulder, trying to get a look at what she was holding. Cordy examined it closer and began to laugh.

"I know what this is. This is that page from the book that Harmony tore out when you told her to throw out her gum. I can't believe you saved this." Turning to Wes: "You are so weird sometimes."

"Harmony? Who's Harmony and why is she ripping pages out of..." he trailed off. Snatching the paper out of Cordy's hands, he moved quickly over to the lamp, so he could see better.

"Rude much? All you had to do was ask."

"Cordelia, don't you realize what this is?" Wesley's excitement caught her attention, and she went to his side. He'd carefully peeled back part of the paper, revealing the writing at the top.

"Uh, I just told you. It's a page from one of your big ole books."

Wesley gripped her shoulder tightly, and spoke slowly and concisely. "No. It's the page, from the book... the one we've been searching for.


***

"So that's it?" Gunn leaned over Wesley's shoulder, his hand resting on the back of the chair.
"Yes, this is it." Wesley smoothed out the now de-gummed piece of paper on the wooden table in front of him. They had all congregated in Angel's small kitchenette, in order to use the working stove, on which the antidote now simmered quietly.

"And where did you say it was?"

Wesley sighed, having had to tell the story once already, to Angel, when he and Cordy had shown up at the Hyperion several hours earlier. "Apparently, one of Cordelia's friends used it as a depository for her chewing gum, and I saved it in an airtight container until such time as I was able to salvage it."

"Oh... Harmony." Gunn shook his head in disbelief, and turned to Angel, sitting across the table from them. "Told ya we should have staked her."

"What?!" Wesley's head whipped around towards Cordy. "You didn't tell me she was a vampire!"

"Oh, heh heh, didn't I?" Cordy made a 'I'll get you for this' face at Gunn. "Guess it slipped my mind. Anyway, aren't we missing the big picture here? Antidote found now. No harm done." Gunn snickered. "I didn't mean... oh, you know what I mean."

Gunn sniffed at the dark brown liquid bubbling in the pot on the burner. "You gonna drink this stuff?" There was a silent exchange of looks between Wes and Cordy, after which the girl stomped off into the other room. "What'd I say?" When Wesley went after her, Angel moved over to resume the stirring.

"Wes isn't sure he wants to take it."

"What, the cure? Why not?" Gunn couldn't believe what he was hearing.

Angel looked up, with an odd, half- smile. "I guess something happened last night, between him and Cordy, and now he's afraid that remembering everything might change things."

"Whoa, that's messed up." Then, "Wes and Cordy?? Damn!"

Angel nodded in agreement. "I know."

***

"Cordelia, I fail to see why things can't simply go on the way they are." Wesley sat down beside her, on Angel's leather couch.

"Because, Wes, I can't ask you to give up two years of your life, just to be with me," Cordy said sadly. "Besides, we don't know that anything would change."

"No, but the book does warn that one of the possible side effects could be my forgetting everything that's happened since my exposure to the Ngrl's secretions took place." Wesley took Cordy's hands in his, squeezing them tightly. "I won't risk what we have, just for the sake of a few memories."

Cordy pulled away from him angrily. "You say that now, but how do I know you wouldn't regret it later, and blame me? Besides," she continued. "Wes, we've shared so many experiences, built so many memories together, in this past year, bad stuff and good. And somehow... I feel a little incomplete at the thought I can't share those with you. They're not just my memories, Wesley, or yours, they're ours."

Reaching over to draw the girl into his arms, Wesley murmured softly into her ear. "Cordelia, don't you see, my memory of our time together now is more precious to me than anything else I might have forgotten." He planted a loving kiss on the seer's slender neck.

Cordy reached up, cupping Wesley's face in her hands. "If you forgot last night, I'd be here to remind you." She smiled tenderly. "It just means we'd have another opportunity to make love for the first time all over again."

Wesley covered Cordelia's hand with his own. "I just don't want to lose you," he whispered.

Just then, the couple was interrupted by the arrival of Gunn and Angel, each carried two cups of coffee. Gunn handed one off to Cordy, while Angel gave his other one to Wes. "Sorry to interrupt. Thought you guys could use a cup," Gunn commented.

"Thanks, Gunn," Cordy gratefully accepted the warm cup and took a drink. "I do need a little pick-me-up."

"Yes, thank you, Angel," Wesley added, also taking a large swallow. "Mmmmm, is this a new blend?" He took another drink. "I don't recognize the..." Suddenly, he paled and hastily set the cup down.

"You!" Wes stared accusingly, first at Angel, then at Gunn. "You put it in my coffee, didn't you? How could you?!" The former watcher was already feeling light-headed, and his vision was losing focus.

"I told them to," Cordy answered quietly. "When you first said you weren't going to take it, I made Angel promise. Don't blame him though. I insisted." Tears welled up in her eyes when she saw the look of betrayal on Wesley's face. "I'm sorry, but I couldn't let you do it. Besides, it's not like I'm going anywhere, no matter what happens."

Wesley tried to stand, but lost his balance. Angel caught him easily, and helped to hold him upright. Seeing the pain in Cordy's eyes, the anger slipped from Wes' face and he held out his hands to her. Cordy quickly came to him and wrapped her arms around his waist. "I love you, Cordelia." The last thing he heard before everything went black, was Cordy's soft voice.

"I love you too, Wesley."


***

Cordy propped herself up against the backboard of Angel's bed, soothingly stroking Wesley's hair, as he lay sleeping with his head in her lap. It had been six hours since he'd been given the antidote, and she refused to leave his side for a moment, worrying that if she did, the man might wake up and find her gone. She'd managed to doze a little, but every mumble or shifting of the ex-watcher's weight woke her instantly. It was as if someone had flipped on a light switch inside Cordelia's body, attuning her to her lover of one day, bonding them together so completely that she could no longer bear the thought of being without him.
The seer remembered what had happened at Caritas now, when Wesley had sung and the Host had shared his gift with her. She couldn't help thinking her strong feelings were partly a result of that, and she marveled at the way Lorne was capable of remaining emotionally detached from those who's auras he read every day. But then, Lorne wasn't already in love with his 'clients' at the time of the readings either.

Wesley murmured softly and shifted closer to Cordy, his hand coming to rest at her hip, and the girl smiled lovingly down at him, noticing how long his eyelashes were, and how boyish he appeared in sleep. The little cowlick at the back of his head was sticking up more than usual, reminding her of a very tall, dark-haired Dennis the Menace, and tears clouded her vision as she thought of all she had risked by her actions the night before.

Tricking Wes into taking the potion had been the right thing to do, Cordelia tried to reassure herself. The man was far too noble to have consented to drinking it on his own, once they'd found out there was a chance he would wake up with no memory of their single night together, or what had brought them to that point. Still, the girl couldn't help seeing the shocked expression on his face when he had figured out what she'd done, nor the panicked look he gave her right before he'd fallen unconscious. It was easy to say the outcome didn't matter, but not so easy for Cordy to accept it in her heart.

Contenting herself with the warmth of Wesley's body pressed up against hers right at that moment, Cordy leaned her head back and closed her eyes. As images of herself and Wes together floated through her consciousness, she drifted off into a light, comforting sleep.


***

Wesley rolled over in bed and stretched out his arms lazily, automatically reaching over to the nightstand for his glasses. When his hands connected with something soft and warm, he opened his eyes, and looked around in bewilderment.
"Cordy? What am I doing in Angel's bedroom? What's going on?" His tongue was thick, and his brain felt like it had been dipped in molasses.

Cordelia stirred from her sleep and automatically laid a calming hand on the confused man's cheek.

"Shhh, it's okay. You're fine. You took some... uh, medicine that knocked you out for a while, so we put you in here to sleep it off. Do you remember?" She waited breathlessly.

Wesley thought hard. "I'm not sure. It's all a bit fuzzy at the moment. I remember fighting a particularly messy demon and coming back here to take a shower..." He frowned in concentration. "And then, I woke up..."

"And?"

"It's all so jumbled up." A wide smile then graced Wesley's face. "I remember you coming in and telling me some wild story about how I'd forgotten the last two years of my life." He looked up at her expectantly.

"You remember? Everything?!" she exclaimed excitedly.

Wesley pushed himself up in the bed and bit at his lower lip nervously. "Unless it was all a lovely dream. D-Did we... Did you really tell me that you loved me?"

Cordy threw her arms around Wesley's neck, nearly choking him in her delight, as she began to rain kisses onto his amazed face.

"Cordelia? Luv... I can't brea - "

Cordy had loosened her grip, only to plant her mouth firmly over his. Oh, well, breathing was overrated anyway. Wes reached up and pulled the girl closer to him, her body conforming to his perfectly. One hand rested in the small of her back, as the other gently stroked the back of her neck, running up to thread through her silky soft tresses. If this was a dream, Wesley prayed he would never wake up again.


***

Two figures continued to peek through the curtains covering the French doors, leading to Angel's bedroom.

"C'mon, guys, not on my bed," Angel groaned softly.

"Guess it's safe to say everything's cool." Gunn straightened up and started to turn away. Angel still hadn't moved. "Uh, Angel?"

"First my coat, then my office, and now this?" The vampire winced in pain as Gunn grabbed hold of his ear and pulled him away from the door.

"Yo, man, can't you see they're having a 'moment'?"

"Is that what you kids are calling it these days?" Angel moped, reluctantly following the street fighter to the door.

"Hey, look at the bright side."

"There's a bright side to me now having to go out and buy a new bed?"

Gunn's face split into a devilish grin. "Yeah, you get to sit in Wes' office until he's done."

Angel sighed and dug his hands deep into his pockets as he trailed after the cackling young man. "Funny, Gunn, real funny."


The End

 

back to author's index

back to title index