She was doing an Angel. Full brood mode, and steadily getting worse as she watched Lara and Xander “Gettin’ Jiggy Wit’ It” on the dance floor. It hurt to watch them, but Cordelia, in a masochistic sort of mood, kept watching every touch, every smile, and every gesture that they made. Her face was expressionless and her demeanor calm. The only things that betrayed her state of mind were the five empty glasses in front of her and the sixth one in her hand.

She was not yet completely out of it, but she was getting there.

Aura appeared suddenly by her side and touched her arm softly. “You okay, Cordy? You’ve been gone forever! Harmony was wondering . . .”

Cordelia turned to look at her stonily, but she saw only concern on her friend’s face. “I’m fine,” she said with only the barest hint of a slur. “I was just, you know, being depressed.

”Aura quickly took a seat beside her. “About Xander?” she asked hesitantly. There was an unreadable expression on her face.

Cordelia narrowed her eyes, trying to choose whether or not to trust Aura. She decided against it. She was, after all, one of Harmony’s sheep. The walls have ears, and all that sort of crap. So she conjured up an acceptable response. “No,” she lied. “I was thinking about the heinous behavior of Coach Fernandez today.” Cordelia frowned prettily, projecting all the ditzy anger she could into her voice. “I swear, just cause she was, like, a State champion cheerleader back in the Stone Age doesn’t mean she knows any better than me! Hello! I’m the captain now? I get to make all the decisions! Those outfits she chose for the finals were so lame!”

The shadow passed over Aura’s face, and she smiled. So it was another test, then? Looks like she had passed again. Cordelia was learning not to trust anyone anymore. It was a useful thing to learn. “Oh, I know! I was, like, totally appalled by her know-it-all attitude! She’s already way over the hill, does she think she has better fashion sense than you?” Aura rolled her eyes in disgust. “And anyway, you’re like our best ever cheerleader, you know? Not to mention the most stylish. Even Harmony says . . .”

Cordelia made a face behind her back and gestured for another Coke, listening to Aura’s blathering with only half an ear. With any luck she’d be totally drunk after this glass and so wouldn’t have to listen to Aura anymore. Or to Harmony either. Or to any of the other sheep. She just wanted to go home and forget about tonight. Damn Xander for ruining her evening. The booze was finally getting to her head, and she welcomed the cloudiness that was fogging her brain. The downside to all this liquor was the hellish hangover she was sure to have in the morning. But she’d deal with tomorrow when it came. Maybe the splitting headache she knew she’d get would distract her from the inevitable Xander-thoughts. God, she was pathetic.

“Excuse me,” she mumbled to Aura, and pushed past her to the crowd, still nursing her drink. She’d better leave while she could still drive. Daddy would have a fit if she scratched the Queen C. He’d been funny about unnecessary spending lately.

The Bronze was packed, as usual, and it was hard to maneuver through the crowd. Cordelia held the glass protectively against her chest to prevent it from spilling. Her head was beginning to throb from the combined effects of all that rum and the loud, heart-thumping music, and so she did not pay very much attention to where she was going. Suddenly, somebody ran into her…hard. She lost her grip on the glass of Coke, and it spilt all over her. The substance had drenched the entire front of her shirt and was dripping slowly down her outfit. She stared at it, horrified, feeling the cold liquid soak through to her skin. Her face was thunderous when she finally looked up to see the culprit.

It was Xander. She stared at him, dumbfounded, forgetting suddenly about her drenched appearance. Xander was in a similar state of shock, but he recovered first.

“Hi, Cordy,” he said awkwardly. “I’m sorry about your shirt.” He clearly expected her to come back with a scathing reply, and so was taken aback when she merely shrugged.

“It’s only a shirt. I have plenty of others.”

His eyes darted around nervously, but he laughed weakly at her response. “C’mon,” he said, baiting her. “No comment on what a klutz I am? No screeching about the outfit being dry clean only? What’s wrong with you? Niceness doesn’t become you, Cordy, stick to what you’re good at.”

His words stung, but she kept silent. Her pained gaze only served to make him even more uncomfortable. They stood around for a while, not saying anything, before Xander began backing away slowly. “Well . . . nice running into you like that . . . gotta go. I have to get Cokes for, um, my date and me.” He ran off without so much as an offer to buy her a drink to replace the one she had dropped.

She sighed staring at his retreating figure. Typical Xander. If she wasn’t so drunk, she’d have chewed him out for sure. In fact, drunk or not, she would have chewed him out anyway! Why hadn’t she?

“You still love him?”

She turned around, startled. Oz. “No,” she said, a shade too quickly. “Of course not! Why are you even asking that? He’s a dork.” She cringed inwardly at the pathetic insult but continued to hold her ground. “He’s a dork,” she repeated.

Oz nodded. There was understanding in his eyes, and he let the comment slide. His eyes flicked over her wet shirt, and he took her arm gently. “Come, let’s get you cleaned up.”

She pulled her arm away roughly and glared at him, letting the anger that dared not show in front of Xander envelop her now that it was merely Oz in front of her. “Leave me alone, Oz,” she said rudely, stumbling back a step. “I’m going home.” Her eyes widened as she saw someone she knew walk by with a can of beer. “Gimme that!” she cried, snatching it from him. The guy gave her a strange look but moved on.

“No you’re not. Not in that condition. You’re drunk, Cordy.” Oz reached out to take the beer from her hand, but she hid it behind her back so that he couldn’t get it.

“It’s mine,” she said possessively. She guzzled down half the can and smiled grimly at him. “I know I’m drunk. So what if I am?” she challenged. “Don’t I have a right to get drunk if I want to? You’re not my mother. You can’t be my mother. Cause you’re a guy. Guys can’t be mothers, cause you’re guys!” She giggled unsteadily at her own joke.

“No, but I am your friend,” he said quietly. “And I’m concerned about you.”

This time she laughed. “Why? Cause you think I’m not over him? I am, you know. Over him. I’m soooo over him! So so soooo over him! He’s only a guy. I don’t get ung-hover guys! Cause I’m Cordeeeliaaa Chaase,” she crooned. “They get hung over me.”

She stared out into the dance floor, at all the couples paired up and jumping in tune to the music and at one couple in particular. “But he’s not hung over me, is he?” she asked softly, her depression making her, for the moment, more subdued. “He hasn’t even asked me to dance.”

She shook her head as if to clear it, and turned back to Oz with a congenial smile. “C’mon, Oz,” she said, putting her arm around his shoulders and leaning on him. “I changed my mind. You can take me home now . . . cause I really think I’m drunk this time!” She giggled again. “My head feels all funny. ‘Head like a rock spinning round and round . . .’” she sang off-key.

“Oasis.” Oz steadied her with an arm and gave her a half-smile worthy of Angel’s best. “You like Oasis?”

She flashed him a brilliant smile. “I love Oasis. Don’t you?”

“Sure. Good riffs on guitar.” Oz began helping her towards the exit, trying to hide her state as much as possible to save her pride. It looked to all the world (well, to all who were looking, anyway) as if they were merely another touchy-feely couple on their way out for the night.

Suddenly, he stopped walking. Cordelia glanced at him in confusion. “What’s wrong? I thought we were going home?”

He deposited her gently on a chair and looked at her with a funny expression on his face. “Hold on a sec,” he said cryptically, and disappeared.

Cordy frowned, but didn’t want to try making it home on her own, so she was left with no choice but to stay there and wait for him to come back. Her eyes once again flitted over to the dance floor . . . *You’ve really got to get over this, Cordelia* she thought, disregarding her own admonition as she stared hungrily at Xander’s figure. *It’s not good for you* She sighed unhappily and longed for a drink. Anything to numb the pain.

She was just about to get up to go search for Oz when the music changed.

*Oasis!* She thought in surprise.

As she listened to the words, a small smile began forming on her face. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with you, Oz, would it?” she said softly under her breath. Her smile grew at the thought, and she was able to ignore the pounding in her head as she let the rhythms of the song wash over her. She really should be mad at the implications of the song, but . . . it was just so damned sweet! Supposing of course, that it was for her.

Oz suddenly appeared by her side, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “Good song,” he said offhandedly. “Oasis, right? Good band.”

“Oh yeah,” she said, nodding thoughtfully at his words. “They’re pretty good.”

They sat back for a while in companionable silence, appreciating the melodic tones of the music.

“So . . .” said Oz at last. “Would you?”

She quirked an eyebrow at him. “Would I what?”

“Would you maybe, come dancing with me? Cause to me it doesn’t matter if your hopes and dreams are shattered.”

Cordelia laughed and got up from her seat. “You could have just asked me, you know. I would have said yes.”

Oz stood up and held out his hand for her to take. “I thought the song was a nice touch.” He pulled her closer to him and they swayed slowly to the music. Around them other couples danced to their own beat.

Cordelia was silent for a moment, and when she spoke, her voice was barely above a whisper. “Oz?”

“Hmm?”

“Were you making fun of me when you chose that whole ‘dirty shirt’ deal?”

Oz pulled back a little. “Dirty shirt?” He looked down at Cordelia’s top, now dry, though the Coke stain was still clearly visible. “Oh!” He began laughing, though not unkindly.

Cordelia stared at him, perplexed, before joining in. “I take it that’s a no?”

“I would never make fun of you, Cordy,” he said seriously. “The shirt thing was just a coincidence,”

“Oh.” They danced for a little longer before she spoke again. “Then why did you choose that particular song?”

Oz smiled. “You said you liked Oasis. I wanted to offer you what little comfort I could.”

“Oz?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Cordy.”