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The Price
By Rachel

Rating: NC-17
Summary: A different follow up to Waiting in the Wings. Groo is a member of the team, but for how long?
Feedback: Yes please, I’m taking this one on a bit further and I’d love to hear some ideas…

----
"I’m not telling her" Angel’s voice was firm. His hands were clenched tightly around the wheel, and his intense gaze never left the road ahead. Wind tore through his hair as, responding to the pressure, he slowly upped the speed.

Gunn, from the back seat, blinked intently and then slowly spoke "Angel. Man, I know-

"I’m not telling her"

Wesley glanced briefly over his shoulder at the young man in the back seat and nodded reassuringly. "Angel this is hardly fair. Neither Gunn nor I want this responsibility for ourselves. I do think it might come better from you"

"You think there’s a way for this to come out better?" Angel snapped incredulously, and the car veered closer to the curb.

"No of course I don’t mean tha-Angel please slow down. Listen to me. This is not going to be easy. For any of us. But she’s going to need help; Angel, and you know her, she won’t ask.

Stony silence.

Cordelia busied herself in the hotel lobby. She gathered up some stray printouts from the floor and tucked them neatly, if wholly inappropriately as a bookmark in one of Wesley’s ancient texts. Scooting over to the desk she bent her head to drink noisily from her mug of tea, shimmying slightly to the music pounding from her headphones. Dropping the mug, and soaking up the small spillage around the base with another printout, she then dropped herself into a small swivel-chair behind the computer. Flicking off the screensaver, and closing one of Fred’s bizarre programmes she called up a game of Solitaire. The game failed to hold her attention as she reached her first problem and she sat back and allowed the throbbing beat to wash over her body.

She was tired. She’d never let anyone see it, but she was exhausted. Lorne was upstairs with Connor, Fred working in one of the rooms upstairs, and the guys were out on another job. The guys; Angel, Wesley, Gunn and Groo. She didn’t know how long she could keep all of this together. Groo’s arrival had been such a treat, like when a puppy comes home when you think him lost. No, she rebuked herself, you’re colouring that memory with what you feel now. At the time, yes, it was a shock, but she’d been so in love with him. She snorted and took another slurp of her tea. What had she been thinking. Groo was nice and so sweet and straight down the line. She knew instinctively that he would never ever cause her a day’s doubt or fear. She was free to love him and be worshipped just like she’d always wanted. Admittedly those were childhood dreams of living in a beautiful castle, with servants for her every whim and designer swishy gowns with long trains. And Pylea, it was so close to that idyll, once they’d got past the whole "cow" and "being held prisoner" issues that it seemed so fitting to take on a handsome Prince. And Groo was perfect for the two-dimensional (she just knew that Wesley would have a pun on dimensions to fit) picture.

He didn’t fit into her life here. She knew it. And she knew she had her very own Champion, her very real, very complex saviour whom she loved. Angel. And they’d come so close. She’d come so close to opening her heart to someone and embracing all the chaos and madness in their lives. Establishing a port in the storm.

Cordelia shook her head resolutely. Stretching her arms above her head she muttered "reach for the ceiling" in the style of her exercise videos of old. "Reach for the keys" she added wryly and brought her focus back to the screen before her. She called up the demon database and began researching the demon of her last vision. She was fairly surprised when the Powers had sent that vision she recalled, casting her mind back to earlier that day…

"…So I said, ‘Hey’ and poked him in the chest, and then ‘I think you just pushed in this queue’ but he turned away – can you believe it? Can you believe it?"

Beat

"No"

"Oh no"

"No way"

Satisfied that they were once more paying attention Cordelia had continued with the story. Then a whoosh, not a painful head-splitting whoosh, a gentle water-slide kind of whoosh and then:

A young women steps out from a building into a dark alley, the mist of early evening clouding the scene and injecting it with a certain moist tactility. She is clutching a brown paper bag in her arms. Suddenly, a demon attacks. Not that big, not that gross. Green, huge mouth with curiously blunt teeth, and a gun. Screaming she begins to run, outdistancing the creature immediately.

Cordelia had shared the vision with the team and her relief that this hadn’t been traumatic.

"I kinda got the impression she could handle it by herself" she added. "The shop.." She shook her head slightly, "It was, uh, Tom’s Cabin. Oh god. That’s just down the street"

They’d run off, not even leaving Angel time to express his dissatisfaction with the way that Groo had become an unwelcome member of the team.

Back to the present Cordelia glanced at her watch and raised her eyebrows slightly. This web-site listed the demon as "small-fry" well, as small as the supernatural get. She couldn’t help wondering why the PTB had sent her that vision at all…

She started as the front door opened. Pushing herself up from the desk she moved to the nearby kettle and depressed the switch. Shamelessly pleased with herself for remembering Wesley’s love of after-battle tea and her success on the net, she waltzed into the room grinning. "You guys are getting slack" she teased "Four of you and only one little-" Double take "Okay, so there are now three of you"

Silence.

Wesley stepped forward.

"Cordelia, perhaps you should sit down"

The grin remained smeared across her face. "I don’t need to sit down, I need to keep moving it’s freezing in here." She directed her gaze at a skulking Angel at the back of the small huddle "You got something against heat ‘cause of it’s being like the sun? Newsflash: Heat makes us live"

"Cordelia I’m so sorry" whispered Wesley brokenly. Furrows of grief etched his face into an absurd caricature. Cordelia could barely recognize him. "Groo was killed by the monster in your vision. I-, There was no time, we didn’t see it coming, I-" Wesley stopped and took a breath. Exhaling slowly, trying to remember Watcher-induced control. He dared to look up at her.

She hadn’t moved. Neither did they. The silence grew palpable, heavy, the pressure pushing them, holding them in place. She took a step back, the grin fading, not to be replaced by grief but by a kind of blankness. Her eyes glazed over and she twitched slightly. "I’m sorry what?"

"Cordelia" he tried again.

Then she was falling and Angel was behind her. Nobody had seen him make the move across the room but he was there and she fell neatly into his embrace. Scooping her up in his arms he strode purposefully to the sofa.

"Wes" he intoned quietly.

Wesley was standing horror-stricken at the door.

"Wesley" Angel repeated louder. "A blanket now. Gunn, I keep some brandy upstairs, get it now"

Cordelia was struggling against Angel as he tried to lay her on the couch. "I’m fine. Look, I’m ok I’m" frustrated she broke into a scream "Just get off me".

Startled Angel backed away. Struggling to gain purchase against the cushions she sprawled ungainly across the seat, tears wetting her eyes.

"How did this happen? How is he…not here, and you’re, you’re all, why…?" Then pleadingly "Angel, why?"

"Not now Cordelia" He said standing at a distance his face shadowed. "This isn’t the time"

"Oh there’s a time?? He was…I…I don’t understand. I saw this goddamn demon and he was nothing. I’ve seen the end of the world and this was a tiny blip on the supernatural scale. Tiny. How? Why didn’t you protect him? He was so good. He could’ve gone home and been happy. Found himself a nice cow" she allowed a rueful smile at the terminology "and settled down. But no, he follows old "Princess" here and gets himself killed."

Cordelia’s monologue had descended into a mumbling mess, and painfully Angel watched her recognize the brink of hysteria and steely determination gripped her. She fought her way back from the precipice of despair and deathly white she forced herself back upright.

Angel took a moment to realize that Wesley and Gunn were taking too long with their simple tasks before the quiet sound of Cordelia’s sobbing wrenched him from his contemplation.

A quick despairing glance down his own body, as though to indicate to an invisible audience the sheer inadequacy of his position and then he was sitting next to her. Sitting close to her. Not knowing what to do. If he’d found this woman on the streets he could comfort her like a father but not with Cordelia. He didn’t feel remotely fatherly towards this woman. And, if he searched the black depths of his human heart he couldn’t summon enough sorrow at Groo’s death to be here. Not when he hadn’t yet decided whether he was responsible for ripping this love out of her life. Out of jealousy. Gunn and Wesley had sworn to him that there was nothing he could have done. Groo, on a mission to please his Princess had shot off again, but this time had been shot at. It was so quick, so ignoble somehow. The shot, magnified by his supernatural senses, had been a blast that knocked them all for six. Because they didn’t fight with guns, they used swords and axes. You can’t dodge a bullet. Groo couldn’t.

Cordelia was fighting hard against her sobs and she held her body rigid as they tore through her. It was torture for Angel to watch her, and he knew about torture. And gently he moved in towards her. One broad powerful arm snaked around her fragile back and in an almost violent sweep, he pulled her against him. He soaked up the contractions of her grief into his solid body and she wet his shirt with her tears. It was Angel’s turn to hold himself rigid as he fought the waves of love and tenderness, reminding himself of the interrogation which would come. A trial he wasn’t sure he could walk away from.

A while later, the whole team was convened in the hotel. A Team Meeting. It had been Wesley’s idea. No secrets, just everyone being there for each other. Cordelia had calmed down considerably and was now just sitting wan and exhausted, wrapped in the blanket Wes had finally returned with.

"I’m ready now" Cordelia’s voice was calm, self-assured if wan. Angel allowed himself a moment of pleasure in her resilience and then looked to Wesley.

Wesley looked to Gunn.

They both looked at Angel.

He growled but they didn’t back down.

"Alright" he said. "We were driving down the back alley you described from you vision. We weren’t, I don’t know… we weren’t really thinking I guess. We were confident. There was no time at all. I don’t know where it went. We rounded the corner, Groo at the front and then-" Angel paused and blinked slowly as it all rushed in a torrent back into his mind. The smells of rotting vegetables and urine, the damp mist of the evening and the sound of footfalls across the pavement blurred by the distant hum of traffic. The breathing of his companions, the slightly panicked gasping of the victim around the corner. "He turned around faster than I could have thought possible and he shot wildly in our direction. A chance bullet hit Groo in the temple. Wesley ran to him and then Gunn and I finished the Kawaki demon. He died in my arms, he…, Cordy, he asked me to take care of you, and then he was gone."

Silence. Cordelia was sitting upright, noble in crushing grief. Her mouth twisted as she fought for composure. The pause and the silence was interminable.

"Groo died with you all there?"

Everyone whirled around to face Fred. She was looking pre-occupied and her wandering gaze met that of Lorne. They shared a moment of understanding and, something else, apprehension?

"Nothing" dismissed Fred, shaking her head nervously causing long curly tresses to block her face.

"Woah" broke in Gunn "There’s some serious ‘Pyleans only’ society goin’ on here"

"Gunn" rebuked Wesley

"Spill" insisted Gunn, aggravated by the exclusion and looking to vent.

"Calm it honeycakes" soothed Lorne, watching the young man warily as he began to pace, arms swinging through some serious shoulder tension. "There’s tomorrow" The softly to Cordelia, he repeated "There’s tomorrow." She smiled pathetically at his gesture.

"I thought this meeting was about trust, I thought this team was about trust, and the truth. I ain’t having no lies here."

"Gunn. Shut up." Angel said this calmly but firmly. "But he’s right" he said to Fred and Lorne. "Spill"

"It’s just lore" Fred began to protest, but off a look from Angel she continued "When the Groosalugg is at the point of death he’s supposed to have the power to grant the wishes of those around him"

"It’s one of those "hero never dies" clauses. He was the Champion of Pylea, he should be surrounded by loyal and devoted followers for whom the only wish could be to keep him a-" Lorne mentally kicked himself but know he had no choice but to follow through "-live"

The pause had been enough and Cordelia’s eyes glazed over in thought. He knew it wouldn’t be long.

Gunn however wasn’t paying so close attention. "Y’all think this is true. Man, Handsel and Gretel is myth!"

"Charles, so much of Pylea corresponds to earth fairytale, the princess and the castle and knight and the-" Fred stopped herself mid-sentence, suddenly aware of Cordelia again. "All I’m saying is, Pylea should be a myth"

Angel was processing. He turned to Lorne. "And you?"

"Sweetcheeks I can’t tell you if it’s true. I can tell you that the Pyleans believe it"

"So, you’re saying he granted our last wishes…???" Asked Gunn incredulously.

Wesley, having already followed this discussion through to it’s natural end was keen to divert this tack and broke in with "Perhaps Cordelia should get some rest. It’s been a long day for us all and I-"

"Not one of you wished he would live" Cordelia said quietly cutting across Wesley’s hope of a diversion.

A stunned pause again permeated the room.

Cordelia stood and started to leave the room.

"No" said Wesley firmly. "Cordelia I know that you might be angry-"

"Angry?" She questioned bitterly. "You could have saved him. I could have sent him home like I planned. Everything could have gone as planned." Colour was returning to her cheeks as she buried herself in What-If

"You were going to send him home?" Angel asked surprised and hopeful. "I mean…yeah" he amended lamely.

Not even registering his interest she swung around "What were you wishing then? Money, women, fame?" She asked spitefully. "Cause I think there’s going to be a problem when both Gunn and Wesley wish for Fred or do they cater for that kinda problem" she asked bitterly ignoring Wesley’s blush, Fred’s gasp of horror, and Gunn’s stare at Wesley. "Come on guys, for what exactly did you exchange Groo’s life?" Hands on hips she waited, defiant, starting to realize how hurtful she’d been but on a roll. "Come on! Tell me!"

"My soul" thought Angel.

This time when Cordelia stalked out, nobody stopped her.

The room though ostensibly unchanged and ordered, was torn apart as by a hurricane and the sweep of emotions began to send Lorne dizzy. Anger from Gunn, Guilt from Wesley and interestingly Angel, Confusion and Hurt from Fred. He held his green fingers to his temples, massaging slowly, and then shouted, battling the uproar of feelings he could hear ravaging through his skull,

"Stop"

Lorne’s outburst into the silence shocked everyone. At least he had their attention, he thought.

"Sweetcheeks, what are you waiting for?" he gently pressed Angel. "She needs you."

Without a word Angel nodded swiftly, as though slightly ashamed of his own stasis and swept out of the door in grandiose fashion, the coat he hadn’t bothered to take off flapping regally behind him.

Lorne turned sadly to the other three. "You guys, eee-ouch, well for one she didn’t mean it. Things said in anger never capture truth, remember it. My advice, as your very old, very dear, and very psychic, not to mention ‘fine’ friend, is to forget this. That was Past. This" he spread his arms in a typical theatrical gesture "this is Present"

Angel ran to his car and vaulted over the door, cursing himself under his breath "Let her go, great plan, up there with the fall-in-love masterpiece". Revving up the engine impatiently he set off to her apartment, thoughts racing. Why hadn’t he wished for Groo to live? What a selfish idiot he was. "All this time I feared Angelus, the real evil is me" he cursed himself. "Damn". Why hadn’t he thought about Groo? Simple. Because the only, the only, thing that he could think about was Cordelia, night and day, work and play, always. Wishing to every god of his life, to the PTB, to Nature herself to restore his soul so that he could tell her how he felt and fight off that naïve Groosalugg as an equal suitor. So he wouldn’t have to think about what was best for Cordy, so he wouldn’t have to consider the life he was offering. Begging for permission to love again.

He swung a left, that little bit too late, tires screeching a protest against the tarmac of the road. He was thrown against the door and cursed as the pressure inflamed a bruise from the fight.

He’d felt something strange at the scene. Angel remembered standing over Groo, Wesley desperately trying to stem the flow of blood from his wound, and watching Cordelia’s lover die. It would be lying to say that he’d felt close to Groo; he respected him as a warrior, hated and been grateful for his love and devotion to Cordelia, but they hadn’t bonded. Neither it seemed, had Wesley or Gunn. By the same token, he hasn’t wished for Groo’s death, no that would be unbearable for Angel to imagine. Groo hadn’t lived long enough for any conscious desire to register in the subconscious. He guessed that the spell read innate instant emotion, and for that he was grateful – what would he have thought if Groo had lived longer?

Angel’s subconscious had been involved in its incessant prayer for his soul, for Cordelia. And now Angel knew that the strange burning he’d felt at the scene as Groo’s eyes had closed for the last time, had not been guilt as he’d assumed, but the setting of his soul and the final quashing of Angelus.

At the door he hesitated. He looked from the "emergency" key in his hand to the lock in an almost comic portrayal of confusion. "This is an emergency" he said grimly and entered the apartment. Immediately a vase hit him in the face,

"Cor- Hi Dennis" Angel said resignedly. "I need to talk to Cordy."

He moved through the flat in powerful strides and called "Cordelia". There was no reply and Angel began to get concerned. Furrows wrinkled his brow and he pushed open the doors of her flat in turn.

She was in the shower. Relief. She was in the shower. Oh god.

"Cordelia" he called again, louder, trying to make himself heard over the pulsing jets.

The shower was shut off and she emerged, wet strands of hair plastered in a helmet across one half of her head, mascara running under her eyes. She looked so beautiful Angel felt his dead heart tug and his stomach lurch. She was wearing a towel wrapped around her, one that had seen better days, raggedy strands slinging damply to the beautiful turn of her calves. Angel wanted to pull her to him and never let go. To make sure no-one hurt her again, to never let her out of his sight or his embrace.

She crossed her arms defiantly and leaned against the door-post, brittle and furious still. The movement pushed up the swell of her breasts above the towelling and Angel took a deep breath.

"Cordelia, I-" He just couldn’t find the words.

He looked so vulnerable over there, Cordelia nearly broke. She loved him so much, so aware he couldn’t love her back. It was so tempting to just run to him and hide her face in his shirt. But Groo? He’d died and she was still thinking of Angel. She really was a bitch.

"Groo wanted me to look after you" Angel said slowly. "I’m here for you now, and I will always be here for you. You’re not alone"

She stared at him unwavering.

"I’m sorry I couldn’t save him for you. I didn’t know how. I let him die and he gave me back my soul. I would never have let him be the price for that, never."

Cordy stepped back in shock, one hand gripping the doorframe,

"Groo is dead and your last wish was ultimate pleasure?" she cried accusingly "Jeeze Angel, inappropriate much?"

Cordy" he said trying to stay calm, holding out his hands as one might to a dangerous animal "This is not about sex"

"No this is about Buffy" she snapped

"What?" asked Angel, totally confused

"Chalk another great irony up for the PTB, they take away Groo and give you Buffy instead. Is this how they’re gonna control us? My reception has been a little off and your demon count just notched up the special bonus???" She was crying again.

In two steps Angel was next to her, he pulled her resisting at first into his arms.

"Cordelia this is not about Buffy. That spell reads what deep down we desire the most, what our most important priority is – and mine is you. Groo gave me back my soul because all I want in this world is to be with you"

Another huge amount of information for Cordelia to take in. "What?" her brain was screaming, "Time out, back off, cool down – think". Cordelia ignored these protests and silenced them with a simple phrase. "Angel loves me"

As if reading her mind he affirmed this. "I love you Cordelia"

"God Angel I love you too" she gasped and raising her hands to his face she pulled him toward her. "Kiss me" she whispered feverishly "Make this go away"

Angel kissed her gently, feeling his soul leap in joy as he touched her full lips with his own. He held himself back, knowing that to give full reign to his passion now would be something to regret. Gently he smoothed back her hair and looked deep into her eyes.

Knowing he was about to be sensible, about to reassert control she’d rejected, Cordelia stepped into his body and ground herself against his erection, snaking her hips insolently against him; lost in passion. Running her hands up the taunt muscles of his chest she laced her arms around his neck, tilting his face down toward her. From beneath lowered lids she teased sensually "Come on Angel, I know you can do better than that"

Angel broke and cupping his hands around her face he kissed her deeply, hard. He wanted there to be no space between them. His tongue pushed into her mouth, licking caressing and he held her firm against the power of his erection. She was writhing in desperate need. The kiss made her legs go weak as though every sensation, every fibre in her body shut down to leave three boiling points, mouth, nipples and groin fiery against him. She kissed Angel back, just as hard, feeling his erection throb beneath the heavy leathers he wore. Grabbing his collar she ripped firmly, pulling back from the kiss to watch the buttons skim from the fabric and the material gape open.

"Oops" she said unrepentantly, gazing at his hard chest, smooth and sculpted. Lost in her desire she absently ran the tip of her tongue across her lips. The gesture was so wanton and natural that Angel felt the blood rush to his cock in a painful sweep. Divesting himself of the shirt, and stepping out of his trousers, he reached for her clad only in boxers, erection outlined impressively in flannel.

Cordelia was mute with longing and fear. He was huge and she was practically a virgin again. Then her fantasy broke into the paralysis as his powerful arms scooped her up against his chest. One hand maintained her position, the other loosened his shorts.

Laying her on her bed he straddled her, sinking and revelling in the desire in her eyes. Never breaking the gaze he slowly undid the towel, and felt tears come to his eyes as he followed the smooth curve of her breast into a sharp nipple, the sweeping curve below, and the gentle planes of her stomach. Placing a hand at either side of her head he arched into her, kissing her and allowing their naked torsos to connect. It was like fire. She was so hot, a thin sheen of moisture making her glisten against the cotton sheets. Gently he placed the palms of his hands against her hips bones and in a sensual slide he traced in reverse the path up her body.

He was stroking her stomach. Cordelia sighed in gentle pleasure, as the steady rhythm inflamed her flesh until she felt submerged in his presence. She could feel him gently stroking his ownership into her body and she loved it. He pulled back if she tried to arch into his hands as they slid lovingly and lingeringly over her nipples. She had to lie there passively in an ecstasy of anticipation. Oh god, the way he trailed the tips of his fingertips over her belly, set up tingling paths of pleasure from nipples to groin, drawing a web of excitement. He bent and took a nipple into his mouth, his fingers massaging the other. She felt swollen and sensitive and when hit teeth grazed the surface she gasped in shock at the cacophony of sensation. More teasing and withdrawal, and Cordelia began to lose what grip she had in coherence.

Angel forced himself to go slowly. Part of him, the most basic, wanted to plunge into her softness right now and relieve the ache in his groin. The other part of him wanted to give Cordelia pleasure she’d never had before, to make her want him as much as he wanted, no needed her. She fitted perfectly beneath him, she was everything he’d ever wanted. Gently nibbling up from her breast to her throat, he sighed in satisfaction as she arched her back, pushing her nipples against his body, opening her throat to his caress. He slid one hand back down her body, reawakening all the nerves he’d previously stimulated and slid down to the curls below, lightly caressing, teasing one around his finger, then pushing through to the moisture beneath. As he slowly began to circle her clitoris, he pressed his mouth to hers, swallowing her gasps of pleasure. The pressure began to build across her lower body, he could feel it, feel her respond to the lightest of touches. Sliding down her body, she moaned as he moved, her hands spreading helplessly across the sheets, curling into fists of pleasure. His tongue lapped gently at her flesh, then took over the rhythm around her clitoris as Angel thrust two, then three fingers inside her, stretching and twisting. He knew she was so very close now, he could feel the tremors begin in her body.

Cordelia writhed in a passionate heat against the sheets, the cotton sticking to her body. The pleasure built and built and then soared into a freedom of flight as he milked her orgasm from her. She’d never known anything like the peak of this release and she gasped gutturally feeling the spasms of release shake her body.

He kept licking, ignoring the protests of "No more" and forcing every last contraction out of her body. He pushed himself back up her body and stared into her exhausted eyes, smoothing hair from her cheek smeared in a writhing moment of pleasure.

"I love you Cordelia" he said again.

"Oh Angel, please I need to feel you, I-…" The inside of her body felt hot and ready for him

"You’re only alive when I’m inside you?" he teased gently pushing his cock against her swollen and recently sated flesh.

She arched again, her eyes rolling back in pleasure, she grabbed the back of his neck and looked deep into his eyes,

"That wasn’t me" she said seriously "But yeah, that’ll do" she concluded with a provocative smile.

Angel needed no further invitation.

He gently positioned himself at the join of her thighs, lining himself up and pushing exploratorily against the soft flesh. He couldn’t hold back an animal growl as he felt pleasure take him over, and his hips lost their restraint. He bucked violently, thrusting himself deep into her. Their sighs mingled, damp, passionate, throaty cries. He thrust harder, deeper wanting to merge their bodies. Sliding his arms under hers and gripping her shoulders, Angel raised his body by his elbows and together they watched the repeated thrusts, their bucking hips and sensation glazed over their eyes.

About to come, Angel held one large hand at her hip, holding her steady to maximize the depth of his penetration. He could feel Cordelia gripping him, squeezing him, and then as her slender arms laced across his powerful back, he cried out her name and felt the seed rushing from him.

Cordelia could feel him deep deep inside her. The rhythmic thrusts seem to keep time with her own heartbeat, thundering like galloping horses through her whole body. Then as Angel tensed and the rhythm faltered momentarily she felt the shift in sensation register within her. Gasping she felt her heart slow, moments lengthening and then shaking release. Pure and white hot.

They lay, tangled against the damp sheets, gasping and registering the slow come-down from sharp ecstasy to pleasurable numbness. Cordelia felt a glow of satisfaction spread across her entire frame and when Angel nuzzled her ear and muttered "You are the most perfect woman alive" she shivered in happiness. Then she blinked once slowly, turned to face him and raised herself on one elbow. "Is that a reference to Darla being better in bed than me?" she asked arching one brow.

"What?" murmured Angel, exhausted and sprawled across the bed.

"You said I was the most perfect woman alive"

This got Angel’s attention and he hauled himself back to consciousness,

"I...you know that I..I mean…you know I don’t-"

Cordelia watched him babble, pleased with the success of her own teasing then reached across and ended the discussion with a slow, sensual, moist kiss.

"I know" she whispered.