By the end of the week, Angel had purchased the old warehouse that had housed the Bronze. He paid cash, to the avaricious amazement of the real estate agent and Sunnydale Bank and Trust. With his mind whirling with plans for the club, he moved back into the mansion on Crawford Street.

Although he had acquired the neoclassic stone edifice years ago, while under the control of the demon Angelus, he still liked the imposing and mysterious house.

A little redecoration was in order, though.

He found himself missing Cordelia. She would know just how to whip the place into shape. And the Bronze, as well. He wondered if he should call her, see if he could lure her back to Sunnydale.

Standing in front of the huge, empty fireplace, his mind's eye replaying scenes from his final moments with Buffy, Angel let himself be swept into the past. Closing his eyes, he could still recall the smell of her tears as they slid over her pale cheeks. Her eyes, full of grief, had glittered in the firelight, speckles of gold dancing in the emerald depths. She had smiled faintly when he had spoken those fateful words...

"It's for the best, you know..."

Angel looked at her, disbelieving. "I don't see how."

"You always said you wished I could find someone to make me happy. This way, I can."

Angel stared at her, his heart and mind rebelling at the thought of another man's hands on her.

Maybe, you can, my love, but what about me? he had whispered to himself.

"What about me?"

He jerked, startled that he had spoken out loud. Shaking his head, more than a little disturbed by his dark thoughts, Angel walked away to survey the rest of the house.

Surprisingly, it was in good shape. In desperate need of a thorough cleaning and some stylish furniture, but otherwise livable.

Cordelia would have a ball with this place.

That is, is he could just get her back to Sunnydale.

"Don't you think we should warn her?" Xander asked, as he lay next to Willow in their queen-sized bed. He had always joked that they didn't need a bed as big as this since they always ended up entwined in each other's arms by morning anyway.

Willow sighed and pushed her damp hair out of her eyes. "Damn, it's hot. I think it's time we turned on the air conditioner."

"Will, don't evade the question."

"I don't know, Xander. She's. . . well, she's happy. For the first time in years and I hate to see that glow go out of her eyes again," Willow said, turning on her side to face her husband. She smiled fondly and reached up to brush at his dark hair.

"She's gonna find out."

"Maybe he's just in town for a couple of days. Knowing Angel, he'll lurk around for a day or two, then go away," Willow said, although she didn't believe a word she was saying.

"Yeah, right. More like, he's gonna lurk around for a day or two, get one look at Buffy and fall madly into obsession again," Xander countered, his hand grasping Willow's. Her fingers tightened around his. "I can tell you one thing, I'm not happy about this. Not at all."

Willow shifted, kicking the sheet off of her bare legs. "Ohhh, you're right, I know you're right, but...this is just gonna be a big ole potential mess. I can feel it in my bones."

"We have to tell her, Will."

Willow nodded and snuggled closer to Xander, pulling his arms around her slender body, all thoughts of the sticky temperature fading away as a different kind of heat filled her. "We will. She'll be back from LA on Sunday. We'll tell her then."

Xander smiled and kissed her, lightly at first, then with growing passion.

"We? Did I say we? I think this is a one-woman job."

"Mmmm... chicken. Oooh, kiss me there again... "

"I'm not moving back to the Hellmouth, Angel. There isn't enough money in the universe."

Angel shifted the cordless phone to his other ear as he sorted through the contractors' bids. "Come on, Cordelia. You said yourself you missed it."

An unladylike snort reached his ears. "Right. I said, I missed Sunnydale, pre-Hellmouth Sunnydale, when I was, like, ten. No."

"I bought the Bronze. I thought you'd like to have a shot at decorating it," Angel said, hoping to entice her.

"I heard you the first three times. So, are you going to start up with Buffy again?"

Cordelia's typically tactless remark took him by surprise. "I... uh... I haven't even seen her... I don't think it would be wise... "

"Does she know you're there? Did you go to the shop?"

"Yes, and she wasn't there. There was a girl there, young, dark-haired... "

"The Slayer? Whitney?"

"I think so, yeah. She freaked out when she saw me."

He heard Cordelia sigh and he wondered if she was wavering. "Look, it wouldn't be permanent, Cordy. Six months. I'll pay you very well."

"Six months? It's not going to take six months to decorate the Bronze."

"I'm hoping you'll do the mansion too."

"The mansion? You're moving back into that creepy place? It doesn't even have a pool."

"We'll put one in. Come on, Cordy. Six months. I promise."

A long-suffering sigh preceded Cordelia's answer. "Okay. I have a distinct feeling that I'm gonna regret this."

Angel grinned in triumph. "I'll wire an advance to your account."

"Thanks. And send me a plane ticket. First Class. It's the least you could do."

"You're on, Miss Chase, interior designer extraordinaire."

"Bite me. Well, not literally."

As Angel put the phone down, he smiled to himself. Cordelia Chase was a softy at heart, under her carefully cultivated bitchy exterior.

If someone had told him years ago that she would become one of his closest friends, he would never have believed it.