Home / Fan Fiction / Angel / Epiphany / Cordelia Chase and Charlie Gunn Aren't Dead

Disclaimer: The following is a non-profit, amateur effort not intended to infringe of the rights of Joss Whedon, the WB, Mutant Enemy or any other copyright holders of Angel.

Cordelia Chase and Charlie Gunn Aren't Dead
by The Brat Queen

Spoilers: Up to Epiphany, after which Joss and I go separate ways.

Rated: PG

Summary: Cordy and Gunn are left to deal with LA after Angel and Wesley decide they're not coming home. (Part of the Epiphany series, takes place after "Still")

Thanks to: Wolfling for the beta read.

Author's note: Wow, 50 stories based on what was supposed to be a one-off. I can't believe there were so many plot bunnies. I can't believe y'all have stuck with me through all this. Mega thanks to everyone for their support thus far. Hopefully I don't lose any of you in the arcs to come. Yep - arcs. We're still going strong, and this story starts Arc 5. I hope you enjoy it!

NEW ORLEANS

"They're not coming back," Cordy said. She stared at the phone in her hand as though Wesley would magically start speaking through it again instead of having hung up on her.

"Come again?" Gunn asked.

Cordy couldn't blame him. She'd been repeating the words inside of her head ever since Wes had said them, as though repetition would somehow force them to make sense. The litany had become like one of her acting exercises. Say it with confusion: They're not coming back? Disbelief: They're not coming back? Betrayal: They're not coming back?

Finally she settled on saying it with anger.

"Assholes," she proclaimed, tossing the cordless phone onto the counter.

"Hold up," Gunn said. "How do they even do that?"

"Real easy," Cordy replied. "They just take the car and point it somewhere that's not LA. Physically the not coming back part is actually pretty simple."

"Okay, then how about meta-physically?" Gunn asked. "Wes said he was bringing Angel home."

"Yeah, well, I guess he lied," Cordy replied. She walked over to her desk and palmed some aspirin out of the middle drawer. She didn't have a headache, but she felt as though the conversation was going to give her one.

"He found Angel," Gunn said, apparently feeling a need to obsess over the small details.

"Yes," Cordy said. She swallowed the pills, then chased them with a swig from her now lukewarm Diet Coke. "Wesley found Angel. They talked, they're together, Angel's a moron and they're not coming back. The end."

"Why?" Gunn asked.

Cordy sat down at her desk, wishing she could squish the guilt inside of her as easily as her weight squished the cushioning of her old chair. She became keenly aware of the building around her. The hotel - Angel and Wesley's home - felt big and creepy without them.

"Cordy?" Gunn prompted.

"Me," she replied. She folded her arms across her chest, propping her elbows up on her desk. "They're not coming back because of me."

Gunn looked sympathetic. "English say that?"

"English implied that," she answered. She waved a hand dismissively. "You know Wes - never say anything when you can cough a lot and change the subject. A whole lotta 'How are your visions, Cordelia? Oh, nothing since Angel left? Fascinating.' and a girl can take a hint."

"He didn't mean anything," Gunn assured her, but even he didn't look certain. "Besides - don't we like you with your head in one piece?"

Cordy shrugged. "Yeah, I suppose."

"'course you tend to shut up once in a while when you've got a vision on," Gunn added. He mimed wistfulness. "I liked the quiet."

Cordy responded by flipping him off. "Bite me, Morgan Wee-Man. And I don't mean your height."

Gunn rolled his eyes. "Yeah, I got that. So now what? What are they gonna do?"

"Screw them, what are we gonna do?" Cordy replied. She gestured to her desk. "Do you notice any open cases? Incoming checks? Anything that looks like it could be wearing a nice 'Hey look at me, I equal money' Post-It? Because I sure as Hell don't."

"Got money in the accounts," Gunn pointed out.

"Yeah, which was supposed to last us until Wes got back," Cordy said. She found the printout of the agency's bank statement and shoved it Gunn's way. "You tell me how that's going to cover us now that Angel and Wesley have decided to take these nice, real-close up views of the insides of their asses. And that was so not a gay joke when I was saying it in my head."

"Riiight," Gunn said, nodding with mock-sageness. He flipped through the statement, then handed it back. "I've lived on worse."

"You've lived in worse," Cordy shot back. She indicated the hotel. "As freaky as this place is, at least it's big and pretty and indoors. I'm sure if we knocked down those pesky walls and ceilings and relocated next to a crack den we could have a rent like you used to make."

"You wanna figure this out or you wanna bitch about it?" Gunn asked. "And it was a shooting gallery, thank you very much."

"Oh much higher on the sleaze scale," Cordy replied. "Nothing like those heroin addicts to help up the property values."

"So you wanna bitch," Gunn observed.

"Damn right I wanna bitch," Cordy slumped back in her chair. "Angel and Wes get to abandon everything and go cruising in Cancun or whatever and we have to stay here and clean up after them. Who's gonna protect LA? Who's gonna deal with the visions? Who's gonna help the helpless?"

Gunn shrugged, then smiled. "Us."

VIRGINIA

"Why sewers?" Cordy asked as they slogged though calf-high - well, probably better to not put a name on what was lapping at her calves and her DKNY slacks. "I mean, okay, I get it for vampires. There's a whole sunlight allergy problem, it makes sense. But demons aren't sun sensitive, why do they have to hang out here?"

"Keep the dead guys company?" Gunn guessed. He kept his flashlight trained ahead of them. "'sides, you know a better way to come up through somebody's toilet?"

"Yeah," Cordy replied. "Use the front door. Ugh. I swear some demons do stuff like this just to make me vomit."

Gunn gave her a wry look. "You personally, huh? Every demon in LA?"

"I said some demons," she defended herself. "And hello? This demon is doing it, and I want to puke. What more do you need?"

"Few thousand boxes of Spic-n-Span wouldn't be unwelcome," Gunn replied. He leaned over to check the map Cordy was carrying. "Also stop talking about throwing up 'cause I got a sympathy thing."

"Excuse me?" Cordy asked.

"It makes me wanna," Gunn replied. He checked the map again then shone the flashlight down a side corridor. "Okay, Mrs. Suo's place should be thataway. I say we get in, kill the big nasty, then collect our five hundred bucks."

Cordy looked at him. "Six."

Gunn shook his head. "I told her five."

"I told you to never talk to the customers personally," Cordy reminded him. She held her mace up threateningly. "Don't make me teach you the hard way."

Gunn scoffed. "Like you could do any damage."

"To your thick head? Probably not," Cordy admitted. "But who says I have to aim there?"

"You know, one of these days I'm gonna scrape together some cash and buy you some counseling," Gunn told her. "'cause the anger management issues scare me."

"Well I'd try talking about my problems with you but I'm afraid I don't speak dipshit," Cordy retorted. "Now can we please get this over with? There's a basket of Lush bodywash and bath salts back home with my name on it."

"Fine, fine," Gunn said. He double checked their location, then reached up to tap at one of the pipes. "Mrs. Suo? Can you hear me? Are we at the right spot?"

There was no answer. Gunn looked at Cordy, shrugged, then tried again, tapping harder with the blunt side of his ax.

"Mrs. Suo?"

There was a crack, then a deluge as Gunn's ax broke through a rusted pipe and dumped raw sewage all over them.

They stood in silence for a moment.

"I should've told her six," Gunn agreed.

"You should've told her a billion," Cordy countered. She sighed, shaking bits of she didn't even want to know what off of her. "Okay, come on. Might as well finish. Not like the day's getting any crappier."

WASHINGTON, DC

"Hi, this is a message for Mr. Pope," Cordy recited into the answering machine that had picked up. "Yeah, it's Cordelia over at Angel Investigations? I was just checking our records and I saw that your account is past due. In fact, you've owed us $462.38 for over a year now. It'd be really super if you could pay that, because I would hate for your house to be infected with poltergeists again. Plus our house vampire gets really touchy when we don't have enough money to buy him blood and, well, if you don't have the cash I'm sure he'd love to take it out of you in a barter program. So when you can give me a call back with your credit card information so we can take care of that. Or I'll just send Angel over to your place with an appetite and a big hook so he doesn't have to worry about that pesky 'needing an invitation' thing. Thanks, bye!"

"Isn't that illegal?" Gunn asked.

"It gets results," Cordy replied, hanging up the phone. "You know, Wes may have had a handle on bringing in clients but he was way too much of a puss when it came to bill collecting. All polite British smiles and envelopes in different colors. You need to be more aggressive with deadbeat losers like this."

"Uh-huh," Gunn said. "And if deadbeat losers like that find out we couldn't find our 'house vampire' right now if the Powers were calling for him and our lives depended on it?"

Cordy shrugged. "Who's gonna tell them? Besides, if Wesley can pretend to be Angel for a day, I can sure as Hell fake it."

"Really can't picture you in the vamp face," Gunn said, studying her critically.

"I don't look good with wrinkles," Cordy agreed. She came over to the counter and spread out her notes. "Okay, that took care of all the people who for some reason think we work for free. Next up - new business."

Gunn shut off his Gameboy and scanned everything Cordy had written down. "We got some?"

"No," Cordy said. "That would be the problem. We were so good with old clients that they don't need us anymore, and I can't find anybody new to trust us. Apparently an attractive twenty-something and a thinks he's all that street fighter just do not instill confidence in people as far as the demon detecting business goes."

"What about Wes's old contacts?" Gunn asked.

"Will only talk to Wes, will only talk to Wes," Cordy said, flipping through Wesley's Rolodex to indicate each name. "Will only talk to Wes, dead, moved to Hong Kong, will only talk to Wes. Boy, you'd think he'd had a paranoia about getting fired or something."

Gunn grimaced in sympathy. "Okay, that sucks but - couldn't we talk to Wes? Ask him to put in a good word?"

"No," Cordy said, putting her hand down on the counter for emphasis. "We are not crawling to jerk boy and the amazing oblivious man and asking for help. They left. We're going to do this without them or not at all."

Gunn looked at her for a long moment.

"What?" she asked.

"Maybe it's none of my business," Gunn said, "but - you could do not at all. I mean it's been a while since you got a vision-slam, right?"

"So?" she challenged.

"So - " Gunn shrugged, gesturing towards the front door. "Whole lotta jobs in LA for a pretty girl who doesn't have to worry that people think she's going through the DTs 'cause she keeps screaming and falling to the floor. You've got an out, Cordy. Why don't you take it?"

"Why don't you go screw yourself, Charles?" Cordy threw back at him. She turned on her heel and went over to the weapons cabinet, suddenly feeling a strong urge to sharpen things.

"Look, I'm just saying - "

"Well so am I!" she snapped. "I have every right to be here! I built this place! I was fighting evil long before you came on to the scene!"

Gunn cleared his throat. "Actually - "

"Shut up!" Cordy told him. "God! I mean with Angel. It was him and me back in Sunnydale and it was him and me here in LA. Long before Wes, long before you, long before anybody! I may not have some prophecy or Slayer powers or some screwed-up family history that means I either became a demon fighter or some lame arch-villain in a superhero movie but I've got me! And I am just as kick ass at this whole good fight thing as you or anybody! So take your whole 'you've got an out now' bullcrap and shove it! I'm staying and that's it. Got it?"

"Got it," Gunn said.

"Good," she replied. She rubbed her temples tiredly. "So help me make this work."

Gunn thought about it. "We're running on vision empty, right?"

"Right," Cordy said. She blew out a whoosh of air. "Poof! Gone! And no sign of me getting them back no matter how many times I sing the best of Shania."

Gunn looked like he wanted to say something about that, but kept it to himself. "Okay. And our next big problem is that it's just you and me, right?"

"Right," Cordy agreed.

"Sounds to me like we need more people," Gunn said.

"Thank you, Captain Obvious," Cordy replied. "Why didn't I think of that? Oh, wait - because that costs money. Which we don't have. "

Gunn waved her off. "Nah, hear me out. Now my boys have their own fight, so we can't get them all the time, right? But what about the new kids? They need training, right? Somebody to show them how it's done?"

"I guess so," Cordy said, trying to picture where he was going with this.

Gunn stepped out into the middle of the lobby, turning around slowly with his arms outstretched. "Looks like plenty of room to me. Move the furniture, use the weapons we don't like too much, maybe a few tackling dummies - we got ourselves a training ground."

"For the new kids," Cordy said.

"Yeah," Gunn nodded.

"Kids," Cordy pointed out.

"Not babies," Gunn said. "I'm talking fifteen, sixteen - around there."

"You want us to turn our business into some kind of violent afterschool program?" Cordy asked. "With tons of hormonal, teenage boys - "

"And girls," Gunn added.

"Because that makes the hormones so much less of a problem," Cordy continued, not missing a beat. "All of them running around with weapons just so we can tell people we've got more fighters when they hire us?"

"Yeah," Gunn said. "I mean it'd work, right?"

"You're insane," Cordy told him. "These are kids."

"How old were you when you met a vamp?" Gunn countered. "Besides, I've been doing this all my life. Trust me, Cordy, these kids have seen a lot worse than you did at their age. They need something like this. Something that keeps 'em focused, keeps 'em doing good."

"Keeps them eating all our food and profits?" Cordy asked.

"They'd work for free," Gunn reminded her.

"Okay good point," Cordy said. She ran a hand through her hair, trying to imagine this. She didn't have any visions, but somehow she knew this would involve a lot of noise and cleaning up. "We'd have to lock up everything we don't want them touching with their grubby little hands. And I guess a trip to CostCo for some extra bread, peanut butter and jelly wouldn't be a bad idea."

"We'll teach 'em responsibility," Gunn said. "How to clean up after themselves and everything."

"No," Cordy said, "You'll be teaching them this." She sighed. "But I guess I can help out if I can."

CHICAGO

"I can't do push-ups!"

"I don't care! You're gonna!"

"Why? 'cause some big bad vampire is gonna ask me to drop and give him twenty?"

Cordy shook her head at Miguel as she passed by him and Gunn. "Hey, cram it. You never know. They say Angelus was pretty crafty with the torture in his day. Wouldn't surprise me if he got his rocks off making people do a physical fitness test. Especially people who snork down the last of the double-glazed."

"That was so not me," Miguel protested. "I ate the breakfast burritos. TJ ate the last one of the donuts."

"I did not!" TJ protested from his position by the ottoman. A pile of wood shavings covered the floor at his feet from all the stakes he was whittling. "I was working all morning you little cocksucker. You were the one - "

"Hey!" Gunn snapped, stepping in between them. He glared at both, silencing them in turn. "TJ, watch your damn mouth or you're cleaning out the basement with your tongue. Miguel, stop trying to play like you didn't eat the donuts when you've got sugar all over shirt. And now both of you have pissed me off so I wanna see pushups and I wanna see 'em now or you ain't going on patrol tonight, got it?"

"Yes," both boys said, in the classic sigh/whine of teenagers the world over.

"Good," Gunn said. "Now give me thirty, 'cause that'll put a smile on my face. And Miguel, you're doing the next donut run and you're getting a double-glazed for Cordy."

"Two," Cordy put in.

"Two," Gunn told him.

Miguel flashed her a leer from the floor. "Anything for Cordelia."

"Fat chance, junior," Cordy rolled her eyes and resumed her walk to the office. God, the morning rush of sheer teenagerness that hit the office every day was almost enough to make her want to call in sick to work. But a deal was a deal. Gunn watched the kids, Cordy managed the office - it evened out in the end.

Of course, her end had doors that slid shut to give her blissful silence, but she didn't see a need to remind Gunn of that little fact.

She leaned against the door, enjoying the utter, tomblike quiet of the room. At first the graveyard resemblance had bugged her - and who could blame her, considering Wesley's decorating skills - but now she'd come to enjoy it. Besides, with her eyes closed she couldn't see what Wes had thought would make the room good-looking.

"Peace at last," she sighed.

"Um - "

Cordy gave a bark of surprise, then clutched her hand to her chest. She glared at the young girl sitting in her chair. "Dionne! What the Hell are you doing?"

"Hiding," the girl declared. Her hands made quick work of the flyers that Cordy wanted to mail out - folding, sealing with a laser-printed Angel Investigations address label, and then finishing with a stamp. "I don't wanna deal with the boys right now."

"You and me both," Cordy agreed. She went over to the coffee maker and grumbled when she found it was empty. She threw out the used filter and set up a fresh pot. "How many do we have today?"

"Full house," Dionne said. "'cept for Carolina. She's coming later. Had to take her sister to the baby doc."

"Got it," Cordy said. She checked her messages. "Hey - some possible clients. Good news. Now all we need to do is land them and not scare them off."

"I'll lock the boys up in closets," Dionne offered.

"Might not be a bad idea," Cordy agreed. "And if one of these cases isn't too rough, maybe you can come with me."

Dionne's face lit up at that. "Yeah? 'cause I've been working real hard on my vamp-fu."

"No," Cordy corrected. "Vamp-fu is what vamps use. We use kicking-vamp's-asses-fu. It's much better."

"Longer to say though," Dionne observed.

"They can't all be winners," Cordy said as she readied a coffee cup. "You want any?"

Dionne held up a large cup with Dunkin Donuts written on the side. "I'm good."

"More for me then," Cordy said. She tore open a couple of packets of sugar. "In the meanwhile, let's - "

The next order of the day got lost as something slammed into her. A vision, or perhaps worse. Something that hurt like all Hell but didn't actually show her what was going on. Just pain that went on and on and -

"Cordy!"

"No," she moaned. Or maybe she thought it. Or maybe she just wanted to open her mouth and revisit breakfast. Her head throbbed, feeling five feet thick. Somehow she knew that she was on the floor, and Gunn and the kids were hovering over her.

"Cordy? You in there?" Gunn asked, worried.

"Ow?" Cordy offered as a reply. She blinked as her sight slowly returned to her, then sunk into herself as she saw everyone gathered around her.

Dionne was the first to get it. "Jesus - move. What are you guys retarded or something? Let her breathe."

Everything became lighter as the kids and their shadows moved away. Cordy took in a few shaky breaths, then smiled as someone - possibly Miguel - handed her a bottle of cold water.

"I thought you weren't getting the visions anymore," Gunn said.

"Me too," Cordy replied. She took several long sips, then wiped her lips and forehead with a napkin. "And I didn't. That wasn't a vision. That was just - ow."

"Ow," Gunn repeated.

"Ow," Cordy agreed. She shifted position, curling her feet up under her.

"Should we be worried?" Gunn asked.

"Can you name me a time when we're not?" Cordy countered. She finished the water then got shakily to her feet.

"Wes, come home."

"Cordelia, it's not that simple."

"Yes, yes it is!" Cordy said. She dug deep for her reserves of patience. Talking with Wes drained it out of her at the best of times. "You get on your big, oh-so-manly motorcycle or get into Angel's 'No, really, I never noticed this was a trendy car' convertible and you both come home. End of discussion."

"Cordy - " Wesley protested.

"End of discussion," she repeated. She wished he was there so she could smack him over the head personally. "Do you hear this? This is my determined voice. It's very effective against stupid guys. But if I have to I'll - " A loud crash from the lobby diverted her attention. She listened as TJ, Carolina and what sounded like at least three others played a noisy game of tag. Or what she hoped was just a noisy game of tag. "Gunn, tell them to keep it down or so help me I'm not telling any of you the combination to the weapons cabinet!"

"Er - what?" Wes's bewildered voice drew her back to the telephone.

"Nothing," Cordy replied. "Gunn's just doing a thing. Which you can see, when you come home."

"I can't," Wesley said. There was a very British, very Wesley-like pause. "I'm sorry. I - we can't just yet."

"Why not?" she asked. She frowned. "Wes, what's wrong?"

"How are your visions?" Wesley asked, hauling out his favorite subject-changer again.

Cordy hesitated, then decided to go with the truth. Or most of it, anyway. "Had one monster headache earlier today but it didn't have any specifics and then - poof! - all gone! Come home and see how happy I am about that."

"No, Cordy," Wes replied, but this time he at least sounded friendlier about it.

"Oh - is today Opposite Day?" Cordy asked, using her ultra-perky cheerleader voice. "Because if you said 'no' that must mean - "

"No, Cordy."

"Yes, Wesley."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry, be home," she retorted. "Come on, Wes. What is it? Is Angel being a dork again? Put him on. I'll set him straight."

"He's indisposed," Wesley replied.

"He's in-duh-something," Cordelia said. She stuck her tongue out in frustration as Gunn walked into the room. Gunn caught the look and gave her one of sympathy. "Wesley, I'll be fine. Come home, we'll fix the visiony thing together and then you guys can take me out to a fabulous dinner and buy me new jewelry for all the hard work I've been doing while you're away."

"I've been working hard too," Gunn protested, sitting down on the edge of the desk. "I think I've at least earned a nice gold watch."

Cordy rolled her eyes and turned on the speaker phone, not really wanting to play the telephone game in the true, literal sense of the words. "And Gunn wants a watch."

Wesley chortled. "He'll have nothing and like it."

Gunn puffed himself up as though he'd been challenged. "Yeah, come here and say that."

There was a long pause. Long enough for Cordy and Gunn to lock eyes with concern.

"I'll see what I can do," Wes finally said, his voice sounding even more distant than before.

Cordy's eyebrows furrowed, but she decided to keep going with the perky so as not to alarm Wes. "There we go. Was that hard? We'll see you tomorrow."

"Cordy - "

"Bye, Wes!" Cordy stabbed her finger down onto the Talk button and hung the phone up.

"What was that about?" Gunn asked.

"No clue," Cordy said.

"Something's up," Gunn told her.

"Oh, you think?" Cordy retorted. "He was only doing the best version of a stiff upper lip since Queen Victoria."

"He let you talk to Angel?" Gunn asked, moving over to sit down in a chair.

Cordy shook her head. "No. You know what that means."

Gunn sat forward. "Cordy - no it doesn't."

"It's been weeks," Cordy said. "Weeks and he hasn't once tried to talk to me."

"He's worried about you," Gunn said. "He doesn't want to give you - "

"- another vision," Cordy finished. "Yeah, save it, I've heard that one before."

"Don't make it any less true," Gunn said.

"Don't make it any less stupid either," Cordy replied. She swiped a stray hair out of her eyes. "Gunn, he's my friend. He's the one person who's been in my life longer than anybody else and right now he won't even speak to me. How exactly am I supposed to feel?"

Gunn shrugged. "If he's trying to protect you - "

"He's making me feel like a pariah!" Cordy said. She felt her emotions bubbling to the surface and tried to keep them in check. She could talk, but she would not cry. Cordelia Chase didn't turn into some blubbering idiot just because somebody hurt her feelings. She got angry, not upset. "I mean how exactly is this a prize for me? I'm so horrible that a guy with Angel's past can't even face me? He's had sex with Darla for God's sake!"

"He doesn't think you're horrible, Cordy," Gunn said. He leaned forward, moving a hand as though he was about to reach out for one of hers then thought better of it. "You know Angel. Stubborn as an ass and half as smart. I bet you anything right now English is yelling at him, trying to get him to talk to you."

"Fat lot of good it's been doing," Cordy said. She sighed, raking a hand through her hair again. "I know he thinks this is what's best for me but - he's what's best for me. Angel. My friend. And even if meant getting another round of the never-ending vision headache, I'd rather have him here where I can - "

"Talk to him about the weirdness of this whole vision thing?" Gunn finished. "Or this not getting a vision thing?"

Cordy refused to admit out loud that he was right. "I should go home," she said, getting up and turning to put on her coat. She wobbled a little as the blood rushed to her head.

"You okay?" Gunn asked, offering her a steady hand in case she needed it.

She leaned against the desk, shaking her head. "Fine, thanks. I just need a second to catch my breath."

"Cordy," Gunn said. "Look - I know you don't know me as long or as well but - I'm here if you need me."

Cordy gave him a quick smile. "I know."

NEW YORK

It wasn't really morning yet when Cordy finally gave up on bed. Which was to say that her clock read AM, but the sun hadn't risen yet.

She sat up, drawing her knees to her chest and wrapping her legs around them. Not for the first time nor, she knew, the last, she found her gaze drawn to her window.

The window Angel had left out of, over a month and a half ago.

A feeling thrummed in the back of her head. A sense of wrong that kept repeating itself like a heartbeat.

She sighed.

The apartment was quiet when she went out into the living room. In the kitchen she could hear the hum and clink of her ice maker. A pillow moved and a remote control offered itself up to her.

"Thanks, Dennis," she mumbled. She curled up on the loveseat, pillowing her head on the armrest. She turned the TV on and flicked through the channels absently, wondering if the heaviness behind her temples would feel any better if her eyes were closed.

"And now we're bending, and we're feeling that beautiful stretch," some exercise chippie cooed at her. Cordy muted the set, making a face.

"Bite me," she said, changing the channel to something else. She found MTV and left it on. At this hour of the night they actually played music videos. It was something to distract herself with.

There was a rustle, and a plate of English muffins appeared, already toasted and covered with jam.

"Thanks, Dennis," she said again. She picked one up and gamely chewed at it. She wasn't really hungry. In fact her hunger in the past few weeks had been mostly an on again/off again thing. She could go for days with the sight of food making her ill, only to emerge from the involuntary fast with a craving for the most random things. The last time it had been Thai chicken with glass noodles.

She really didn't feel up to the muffins, but she didn't want to hurt Dennis's feelings either.

"Am I keeping you up?" she asked, knowing she wouldn't really get an answer. "Guess you can always nap when I'm at work."

The air by her outstretched arm felt tingly. She managed a smile, knowing it was Dennis's way of showing concern.

"I'll be okay," she said. "Just hook a caffeine IV up to my arm and I'll be right as rain."

If Dennis bought that, he gave no indication. Which was just as well. Cordy was getting enough of the mute yet visible concerned looks from Gunn and the kids. She did her best to hide behind a lot of coffee and some well-applied concealer, but even with fake pep and no circles under her eyes they were able to tell that something was wrong.

Heck, who couldn't?

The problem was, she didn't know what.

It had started with the mondo-headache. That much she knew. Ever since the out of nowhere attack on the day of Wes's last phone call, things had just been... off. Weird. Not the norm, even for her freaky life.

She didn't like it.

She was tempted to research it - crack the books, sing a few bars at Caritas, heck even put in a call to Giles if that's what it took - but something stopped her. Something that said in spite of the strangeness and no sleep and headaches that weren't headaches and the constant, never-ending feeling that something, somewhere was so fucked up it was beyond the telling, that she did not want to know.

Her gut told her that in spite of it all, ignorance was bliss.

So Cordy sat curled up on her loveseat, watching videos for bands she couldn't even recognize, munched an English muffin she didn't want to eat, and told herself that it wasn't often her life got to be blissful. She'd take whatever opportunity she could get.

LOS ANGELES

"I'm telling you, man, something followed me!" TJ insisted, grabbing Gunn by the shirt and tugging on it to draw him outside.

Gunn looked at him skeptically. "You sure it ain't your social worker?"

TJ gave him a look. "My social worker ain't got tentacles, man!" The boy paused, as though considering the image. "Although now that I think about it..."

"Oh go look," Cordy said, waving them towards the door. "With our luck it's yet another demon we can kill for free. God knows we don't have enough of those. And take Arianna with you. She could use the practice"

"Okay," Gunn said, reluctantly. He pointed at TJ with an accusing finger. "But if we don't find anything so help me - "

"Yeah, yeah," TJ said, going over to the weapons cabinet. He hopped impatiently as Cordy hid the lock from his view and began to twist in the combination. "Pushups and basement cleaning, I know."

Gunn smirked, appearing on the other side of Cordy. "Am I becoming predictable?"

"That assumes I pay attention to you in the first place," Cordy answered. She pulled open the cabinet doors and stepped back. "Okay, demon-hunting gear ahoy. Help yourselves."

Gunn lifted out his ax. "We'll do a sweep of the block. Check the alleys and that lot next door. Hit the sewers after. If anything's hiding out there, we'll find it."

"I dunno," a voice said from behind them. "Looks to me like these days just about anyone could sneak past ya."

Cordy jumped, startled. The motion gave her a nasty sense of vertigo. Beside her Gunn hefted the ax, turning and ready to throw -

- only to face Angel and Wesley, standing by the hallway that led to the hotel's garage.

Angel freed a hand that was stuffed into his coat pocket and offered a tentative wave. "Hey. We're back."

Cordy blinked, feeling tears rush to her eyes. She wiped her hand at them irritably and wondered why they weren't the tears of joy she had imagined having when this time would come.

"Hey, guys," she said instead, pretending to be non-chalant. "What's new?"

Angel and Wesley glanced at each other.

"It's a long story," Wesley began.

TBC