It had been hours and Cordelia hadn't come back. Angel wondered if she even would. Maybe she'd gone back to wherever she'd been in the first place. He no longer doubted that she was real. Buffy and Spike had seen her, too, after all.

Unless he was hallucinating the whole damn thing, though the bruises left on him still from the fight with Spike seemed real enough.

But what if it wasn't Cordelia? She hadn't exactly been herself the year before. The atrocities Jasmine had committed while controlling Cordelia's body still made him feel sick whenever he thought about them.

And the things she'd said to him earlier… Telling him that he wasn't a Champion, that the Powers that Be didn't want him around anymore—would his Cordy ever tell him those things?

He remembered when Jasmine had said it had taken arranging a miracle to allow her to come into this world. In that case, she'd been referring to Connor's birth, but wouldn't a vampire becoming human be a sort of "miracle," too? Cordelia had started appearing to him shortly after what had happened with Spike. Could they be connected?

One thing in particular was tugging at his mind. He had buried Cordelia… It had been here, at the hotel, where he felt she'd be more removed from Wolfram and Hart. Angel needed to know if she was still there, or if she'd somehow found a way out… He didn't know which one to hope for, which one would disturb him less, so he tried not to think about what he was doing as he went down to the basement for a shovel.

He'd decide what to do with whatever he found once he found it.

Angel had buried her in the garden. He'd recognized the irony of placing her amongst the Jasmine when he'd done it, but she'd always liked it out there. He'd marked the grave with a small stone, not wanting to draw too much attention to the spot in case someone came snooping around. But he knew what it meant, remembered the pain he'd felt the last time he'd stood in that spot.

Pushing it away for the time being, he got to work. He dug quickly, soon unearthing Cordelia's coffin. He dropped the shovel as he stared down at that wooden box, uncertainty creeping up again. If Cordelia was in there, then should he do this to her, disturb her in this way?

He told himself Cordelia would understand. If something was impersonating her now, she'd want him to find it and stop it.

He opened the coffin, his stomach turning at the sight he uncovered. He got to his feet on the edge of the grave, looking down. Cordelia was there, her beautiful face already in deep decay. It reminded him too much of Jasmine's true face, and he shuttered.

"You dug up my grave? That's just…well, gross and creepy both come to mind."

Angel spun around, glaring. "You aren't Cordelia."

"I am more than she is now," Cordelia said, pointing to the open grave. "She's just what's left of a lifeless body. I have the memories. I have everything that makes a person a person."

Angel's brow furrowed, as if he was trying to remember something. "Cordelia had a tattoo," he said after a moment. "You don't."

"Yeah, I was thinking about getting that redone."

Angel moved quickly, grabbing her by the shoulders and pinning her against the wall. "You aren't her. Stop pretending to be her."

"I'm not pretending. I'm Cordelia, Angel—just like I told you. I'm just not in the same body anymore."

Angel loosened his grip on her, but he didn't step back. "What does that mean?"

"When the body died, I left it. For where they wanted me to go, what they wanted me to do, I needed to incorporeal. I cut a deal that allowed me to be corporeal again for one day to set you on your path again, and when that apparently wasn't enough, I was able to convince them to make it permanent. So I'm Cordelia—just in a new body."

"Is that why you don't look like you did before you…" Angel swallowed, unable to bring himself to say "die" where Cordelia was concerned.  "Before you left."

"Yes. They let me choose my appearance. I was really tempted to go with looking like Angelina Jolie, but I figured I should just stick with me," Cordelia explained.

"You're younger."

"This is how you liked me best, isn't it? I mean, not that you didn't always think I was hot, 'cause hey, I am, but this is what you liked most." She ran her hand against his cheek.

Angel leaned into the touch. Her hands were soft and warm, and the scent of them was unmistakably Cordelia.

But he was still having a hard time accepting what she said as truth. It seemed too easy, the PTB just handing Cordy back to him. They'd taken away so much—why would they give anything back?

"You're too powerful," he accused. "What you hit me with earlier when you ran out of here…"

"Hello! Do you remember my floating, glowing half-demon phase? I'm a Higher Being now, Angel. Not as powerful as I was before I came back, but I still am one."

"No." Angel shook his head. "It's too easy."

"Too easy?" Cordelia replied, almost shouting. "Do you have any idea what I had to go through to get back down here? This was far from easy, buster."

Angel stepped back from her. "Too much doesn't add up. You can't be here," he turned and faced the grave, "and there."

"I'm not," Cordelia said. "That's just a body." She wrinkled her nose. "And a pretty smelly one at that."

Angel turned back around, grabbing Cordelia again and shaking her. "Don't talk about her that way!"

"Angel! I'm Cordelia. I'm not in there anymore. I'm in here. In this body. Can't you see that? Can't you see me?"

"I thought she was Cordelia, too."

"I'm not Jasmine. I'm not anyone but me."

Angel wanted to believe it. He wanted to find comfort in her arms the way he had the night before. But he couldn't. Not when he could still smell the rotting flesh of the body he'd buried not four months prior. He pulled his hands away, stepping back. "You're not her. You can't be her. Everything is wrong. Spike…Buffy…Connor…You. None of it is right."

"You've made bad choice and these are the consequences. I'm sorry, Angel. I know this is hurting you, but you can't do the things you've done and expect to remain a Champion."

"Cordy wouldn't say that! She knows I'm a Champion. She's the one…she's the one who always believed in me."

"I wouldn't be here if I didn't believe in you."

"You're not her," Angel said, shaking his head. "You're not her. She's gone."

"Angel…"

He backed up, holding his hand out. "Go. I can't look at you."

Tears pricked Cordelia's eyes. "Angel, please…"

"Get out."

"If that's what you want." Cordelia walked out of the garden as Angel sunk to the ground, his face buried in his hands.

*** *** ***

It was almost dawn when Cordelia went back to the garden. Angel was sitting beside the open grave, staring inside. She rested her hand on his shoulder. "If you stay out here for much longer, you'll die."

"I don't care."

"Oh no you don't. I did not fight to get back here just to watch you go up in flames. We're going inside."

He made no move to get up. "I thought I told you to leave."

"You did. I didn't listen. Thought you might do something like this, and I love you too much to let that happen—despite your very thick head. Now get up before I have to float you in."

He didn't pull his gaze away from the grave. "She's there. You shouldn't be talking."

Cordelia sighed, kneeling beside him. "Sweetheart, I'm right here. Let's go to bed, okay? You're tired."

Angel turned his head, looking into Cordy's hazel eyes. "I want to…"

Cordelia caressed his face. "I know you do. Can you accept that it's me, at least for right now? You don't want to be dust. Not really. You're stronger than that. Just come upstairs and we can rest. Doesn't that sound better? You can sleep in my arms, breathe in my scent."

Angel glanced between the Cordelia beside him and the Cordelia in the grave. He wanted what was being offered, wanted to forget. When he looked at her, he saw Cordelia's face, and whether it was an illusion or reality didn't seem to matter anymore. "I want to be inside you," he said. "I don't want to think."

"Okay. If that's what you want, you can have it. Just in the bed, away from the sun that'll be up soon."

Angel nodded, rising to his feet. He turned his back on the open grave, but heard the thud as Cordelia closed the coffin lid. She stood beside him then, rubbing his arm.

"It's okay now, Angel. This is me. Cordelia Chase. And I love you."

Angel took her hand. It was warm and alive, and touching it let him push aside the thought of the corpse he'd been watching for most of the night. He walked with her in silence to the bedroom, stopping in the darkened room and waiting for her to make a move.

Cordelia stood in front of him, her hands resting against his chest. "Stop worrying right now, baby. The worst is already over."

Angel didn't say anything. He didn't want to think, didn't want to talk—only wanted to feel. Cordelia seemed to know this as her slim fingers went to the buttons of his shirt, unfastening them before pushing the silk off his shoulders and to the floor. She knelt down then to help him out of his shoes before ridding him of his pants as well. Her own clothes soon followed his, and she then lowered Angel to the bed before coming down to straddle his hips.

Before Cordelia could slide down on to his cock, Angel flipped them over, wanting to be the one in control now. She reached towards him, but he grabbed both her hands in his, pinning them above her head. Angel then moved back on to his knees, using his free hand to spread her legs wide and guide himself inside of her before falling forward again, supporting himself on one arm as he pumped in and out.

His thrusts were rough, almost punishing, but Cordelia didn't attempt to make him slow down or even fight to break her hands free of his bruising grip. He needed this, needed a release from all the pain and anger welling up inside of him. She knew her body could take it, and he was hitting her at a very nice angle…

Angel began to push in harder, twisting his hips in a way that rubbed against her clit with every thrust. His pace was fast enough that that stimulus seemed almost continual, and Cordelia wrapped her legs tightly around his waist, moaning loudly. Her body trembled, and she could feel Angel growing tense above her, knew he was close to release. She clenched her internal muscles around him, and Angel growled deep his chest. The sound sent vibrations through her body and pushed Cordelia over the edge as she wailed in pleasure.

Angel leaned in as her orgasm strangled his cock, his demonic features shifting forward. He came with a grunt and sank his fangs into her neck. As the spasms stopped shaking his body, he pulled his teeth away, his visage going back to human as he rested his head against the valley of Cordelia's breasts.

Cordelia held Angel close, stroking his back and murmuring softly to him until he fell asleep.

*** *** ***

Angel woke up to Cordelia gently shaking his shoulder. "Buffy's downstairs. She wants to talk to you."

Angel looked at Cordelia, blinking his eyes. The night before came rushing back to him—his horror at finding Cordelia in her grave and his eventual resignation to accept comfort from someone who he still wasn't sure was the woman she claimed to be. He sat up, running his hand through his hair. "I'll get dressed and talk to her."

Cordelia gave him a small nod. "I'll…stay upstairs. Let you have some privacy."

"Thanks." Angel dressed quickly and went downstairs to meet the Slayer, wondering what she could want now. He thought she'd made her point clearly enough when she'd walked out of there with Spike the day before.

Buffy was standing at the bottom of the stairs, waiting for him. "Hey, Angel."

Angel was tired—emotionally drained—and seeing Buffy wasn't helping that. "Cordy said you wanted to talk to me?"

"Spike and I have decided to get married," she said bluntly.

Angel's eyes widened, his jaw dropping slightly. The idea of Spike and Buffy getting married turned his stomach, but he had no strength to argue it. "Oh. When?" he asked.

"We haven't decided yet. Just that it's something we want to do. Probably fairly soon, I'd suspect. We're going to go to London. I want to go work with the other Slayers, get back into my Calling."

Angel couldn't help but make a comment at that. The idea of Spike becoming the trainer of a generation of Slayers was just laughable. "William the Bloody in a building full of Slayers. I guess if you think that's a good idea…"

Buffy looked irritated. "Angel, don't. He's not the man he used to be. You know that."

"So why exactly are you telling me this?" Angel asked. "Just felt like rubbing it in?"

"No. I wanted to make sure that you understand that this is what I want. You told me once to find someone who could take me out into the light. I have that now. And I'm happy. Can you respect that?"

Angel thought about what she was asking him to do. He couldn't see how being with Spike could honestly be what she wanted. Even if they were really over and done with, the idea that Spike would be her true first choice of a husband was not something he could fathom. "Just answer me one thing," he said finally.

"What?"

"If I had been the one that the Shanshu…" he began.

Buffy didn't let him finish before she replied. "No."

It was one word, and it was all it took for it to finally sink in. The way she'd said it, without any hesitation, told him more than any long speech could have. He didn't understand it, didn't know what she saw in that moron, but she obviously did see something. "That quick of an answer, huh?"

"Yes. I love, Spike. I want to be with him. The fact that he has a heartbeat now is just an added bonus. If the Shanshu had been about you instead of him, then I'd be with a vampire right now."

Angel closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them again. He'd lost. He was still a vampire and Spike wasn't, but that wasn't what had made the difference. She didn't just want a human. She wanted Spike. She'd told Angel back in Sunnydale that Spike was in her heart, but it was more than that. He had her heart. "Then I can respect that."

"Good. I don't…I don't want you in my life right now, Angel. Maybe someday, I'll be able to see you as a friend, but with all the hurt and betrayal…I can't right now."

Her words tore at his heart, but he knew she was telling the truth. "I know."

"Then it's settled." Buffy turned, walking towards the door.

One more thing tugged at Angel's mind, and he needed to say it. "Buffy?"

She stopped, but didn't turn around. "Yes?"

"You told me once you'd always be my girl."

"I did. But I'm a woman now." Buffy walked out then, into the daylight, a place he could never follow her. He hung his head, knowing for certain now that he'd lost Buffy completely. She was right—she was a woman now.

 A woman Angel didn't know.

*** *** ***

Chapter Seven