The sun had just slid past the horizon, bathing Sunnydale in glorious shades of red and gold and bringing a slight chill to the air. Cordelia draped a black cashmere cardigan over her shoulders and smiled blandly at the two young bellhops who watched her with something akin to worship. She walked to the door and peered out right as Angel's black Mercedes convertible swerved up to the curb.

The young designer walked out onto the sidewalk, giving the vampire a peevish glare, just for the hell of it. "You're late," she said as she waited for him to exit the car and open her door for her.

Angel just grinned and held the passenger door for her as she got in the car. Cordelia smiled to herself as she settled back into the plush leather upholstery. Actually, Angel was no fun to torment with her patented bitching; he would just smile and let her rant, affection glimmering in his dark eyes.

As he got back in the car, Cordelia's smile took a wistful slant. Try as she might, she had never been able to capture Angel's heart. In the length of time they had been friends, after both had left Sunnydale, his devotion to Buffy Summers had never wavered. Never so much as faltered.

Cordelia believed with all of her heart that he would rather walk right into the sun before he would give up his love for the blonde Slayer.

A small part of Cordelia, the high school, May Queen part of her psyche, despised Buffy for it. She had broken Angel's heart when she had sent him away from Sunnydale; even though he had gone, albeit willingly, he had left behind all of his hopes, all of his dreams of a life with her. All because she couldn't handle his past transgressions when the demon had ruled him.

Buffy's morality, almost sickeningly superior, had gotten in the way of her true happiness and, if rumors were anything to be believed, that happiness still eluded her.

And, Cordelia couldn't help but smile a little smile of satisfaction at the thought of her sometime friend, sometime nemesis' misery.

"I made reservations at Jeremiah's. How does that sound?" Angel asked as he turned west onto Main Street. As the Mercedes reached the intersection at Fifteenth Street, it crested a small hill and Cordelia could see a glimpse of the ocean in the distance, shimmering silver in the glow of the rising moon. A pang of homesickness filled her and she swallowed past the sudden lump in her throat.

"Cordy?"

Pasting a bright smile on her face, she faced Angel's concerned glance. "That's fine. I hear that Jeremiah's is a very good restaurant."

"Is something wrong? You're quiet."

"Just reminiscing about the old days. Thinking about how much I don't miss this place."

Angel grinned, fleetingly. "Oh, come on! You mean you don't miss all of the demons and prophecies and end-of-the-world threats?"

"I don't. Well, sometimes, I miss the people. You know."

She hadn't meant for the sentence to come out sounding so nostalgic. Seeking to cover up her faux pas, she tossed her long, sable-dark hair and grinned. "Don't get me wrong! It's not like I'm missing Xander or Willow or Giles, it's just that. . . well, I miss my school friends."

Even to her own ears, the protest sounded hollow. She grimaced, thinking that not two minutes ago, she was taking delight in Buffy's supposed sorrow and now, she was missing her and all of the Hellmouth baggage that came with her.

"You can't let it go, either." Angel laughed bitterly. "You miss them. Even Buffy."

"You read minds on your day off?"

He glanced at her as he pulled the Mercedes into a crowded parking lot outside of an elegant brick establishment. "It's a drug, a curse. Sunnydale, for all of its quaint beauty and it's hidden terrors, is home. For both of us."

Cordelia looked at him. "You really know how to ruin a girl's appetite."

The chagrin on Angel's face was genuine. "I'm sorry, Cordy. It's just that. . . well, what if I'm too late?"

"You mean what if Buffy no longer loves you?"

Angel nodded slowly, his hands tightening on the black leather steering wheel. "Maybe she loves this guy, this Ben. Maybe she wants to marry him. I shouldn't have come back. . . "

There were a lot of things that Cordelia would put up with out of the melancholy vampire, but self-pity wasn't one of them. With a roll of her brown eyes and an unladylike snort, she opened the door and got out. "Angel, I'm not listening to this. You've invested a lot of your money and a lot of my time coming back to this burg and you aren't giving up now. You want Buffy back?"

He merely looked at her, his eyes glittering in the dusky light. "You know I do."

"Then, let's get her back. Show her that you can finally be the man she needs you to be."

Angel sighed and looked out over the dark expanse of the Pacific. He knew that Cordelia was right. He had come home to Sunnydale to claim Buffy as his, to show her that he couldn't live without her.

When Cordelia had informed him that she had heard from her mother that Buffy was marrying Ben Davidson, a classmate from Sunnydale High and the son of wealthy socialites, Michael and Gloria Davidson, Angel had felt as if his dead heart was splintering into a million shards of pain. His Buffy, the young girl he had fallen in love with when she was a mere fifteen years old, walking down the steps of her high school in Los Angeles.

The only woman he had ever loved in all of his two and a half centuries of unlife.

If she walked down the aisle with that boy, Angel knew without a doubt that he would walk into the sunlight and end his own worthless existence.

He had to prove to her that they belonged together.

Meeting Cordelia's forthright gaze, Angel smiled. "You're right. As usual. Come on, you must be famished."

She took his outstretched arm and together they walked into the restaurant.

"I've been wanting to try this place. The Sunnydale Press gave it a five-star rating," Joyce Summers-Giles said as her husband deftly pulled the maroon Ford Expedition into a parking spot. She looked around the seat to smile at her preoccupied daughter. "Jeremiah's is supposed to be the best seafood place on the entire West Coast."

Buffy looked out the window at the restaurant. "It looks pretty exclusive."

"Well, Natalie, one of the girls from the gallery, said that the wine list alone was six pages long. And, she loved the garlic marinated tuna steaks," Joyce commented as they exited the Jeep.

Smoothing her silk slip dress over her hips, Buffy wrinkled her nose. "I don't know about that."

Giles pointed the alarm remote at the vehicle and it chirped in response. "I thought you liked seafood, Buffy. We could have went somewhere else."

"I do. I'm just not real keen on garlic. You know, it's a weapon, not a food," she said with a faint smile.

Joyce took Giles' hand and they laced fingers, sharing an affectionate smile. Buffy looked away, vaguely uncomfortable with the display. Although her mother and her Watcher had been married for some time, it still freaked her out sometimes. She was happy that they were happy, but when she was so very unhappy. . .

Well, it just wasn't fair.

The maitre'd happened to be an acquaintance of Joyce's and he was able to seat them immediately, despite being early for their reservation. As he showed them to a table on the patio, overlooking the ocean, Buffy hung back, her gaze taking in the elegant décor.

Deep, cherry-stained hardwood floors were complemented by warm ivory walls and muted brass fixtures. The tables, covered with snowy-white tablecloths, were arranged in small groupings, separated by small, Japanese maple trees. Ceiling fans with matching brass trim hung from the ceiling.

The total effect was one of slightly over the top sophistication.

Pretty, but not really Buffy's cup of tea.

"Are you coming, honey?"

Buffy looked up to see her Joyce smiling at her. "Yeah, I'm coming."

A chill had blown in from the Pacific and Buffy tried to suppress a shiver. Giles immediately noticed and stood, slipping off his blazer. "Here, Buffy, put this around your shoulders. You must be freezing without a sweater."

Smiling gratefully, Buffy tugged the dark charcoal wool over her arms, the lingering heat from his body warming her. "I should've worn something warmer, but I didn't think it would get this chilly."

Joyce sipped her white wine and gave Buffy a reproachful look. "I told you it was supposed to cool off tonight. Do you listen?"

Buffy smiled and reached for her own wineglass. "Do I ever?"

She sipped the slightly bitter liquid, feeling her stomach rebel. She drank seldom and tonight, she had already indulged in three glasses and was starting to feel it. Dinner had been superb, but she was beginning to wonder if the crab soufflé had been too rich for her taste.

Giles and Joyce chatted quietly as Buffy stared out at the water, the lights from the pier sparkling like so many fireflies. Closing her eyes, Buffy felt a twinge of nausea threaten.

Slipping the jacket off, she rose to her feet. Her sudden haste startled her mother and stepfather and they looked up at her.

"Honey, are you okay?" Joyce said as she half-rose to her feet. Buffy waved her back down.

"I'm fine. I just ate too much, I think."

Giles glanced down at Buffy's plate and the picked over soufflé. Never a big eater, Buffy had eaten less than usual tonight, but he had chalked it up to nerves over the wedding. Or soon-to-be lack thereof. "Are you sure, my dear? You look pale."

Buffy nodded, a little too quickly. "I'm going to the bathroom. I'll be right back."

Concerned, they watched her weave her around the table, heading for the ladies room.

Buffy lightly splashed her face with cold water, then cupped a handful to rinse out her mouth. With a tremulous sigh, she leaned against the sink, trying to will her rebellious stomach to behave. If she hadn't known better, she'd have worried about pregnancy.

If she had let Ben touch her in the past six months.

Even now, the thought of her fiancé sent a shiver of pain through her. She cared about Ben, loved him even, but the thought of spending the rest of her life with him sent a bolt of terror through her. Even facing the worst demon the Hellmouth had seen fit to toss her way didn't frighten her like a lifetime as Ben Davidson's wife and Gloria Davidson's daughter-in-law did.

A sudden chill left goosebumps on her bare flesh and she took a deep breath as the nausea receded. Looking at herself in the mirror, she grimaced. "God, Summers, you look like something the cat dragged in."

Her normally healthy complexion was pale and tendrils of hair clung damply to her cheeks. Her eyes, glittering feverishly in the fluorescent lighting, were surrounded by purplish circles, making them look bruised.

She tried to pinch a little color in her cheeks, but only succeeded in making them look, well, pinched. With a sigh of resignation, she left the bathroom.

Joyce and Giles were heading her direction and she smiled wanly. "Buffy, you've been sick, haven't you?" her mother said, worry creasing her lovely face.

"I'll be fine. I think I have some kind of bug or something."

"Do you think it was something you ate?" Giles asked, once more draping his jacket over her shoulders.

"No. Look, I just wanna go home and go to bed," Buffy whispered as she leaned into Joyce's ready embrace, feeling like a little girl craving her mother's healing touch.

Giles nodded briskly. "Of course, you should rest."

A large party was being seated so they had to circle around a short dividing wall. Buffy paused as a familiar voice caught her attention. "Wait. . . "

Backing up a step, she saw her.

Cordelia Chase.

"Oh my god, there's Cordy."

Joyce and Giles followed her gaze. "So it is. I thought she lived in New York?" Joyce asked.

"I thought so too. Hold on, I want to say hi."

Giles touched Joyce's arm. "I'm going to go pull the car around."

"I'll go with you."

Cordelia didn't see the tiny blonde walk up to the table, her view obscured by one of the Japanese maples. So when she heard her name spoken by an unexpected voice she jumped, sloshing champagne from the glass in her hand.

"Cordelia?"

Her eyes widening in shock, Cordelia tried to smile and failed miserably. "Buffy! What a. . . surprise!"

"I'm here with Giles and Mom and I heard your voice. . . how have you been?"

"Uh. . . j-just fine. Fine! You look. . . well."

Buffy laughed uncomfortably. "I must look horrible. I've not been feeling well." She reached up and tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear as she took in Cordelia's perfect appearance.

Cordelia tried to relax, but she could feel her heart pounding in her chest. She risked a glance at Angel, whom Buffy had yet to notice.

The vampire was pressed as far back into the corner as he could get, but his dark eyes were fastened on his former lover, fear and hope reflected in their chocolate depths.

". . . back to Sunnydale?"

Cordelia dragged her gaze back to Buffy, realizing that the other woman was still speaking. "Um, well, you see. . ."

Buffy's cordial smile started to slip as Cordelia's obvious discomfort grew. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt your meal. Here you are with your. . . " She paused, remembering that she hadn't even acknowledged Cordelia's companion. She turned in Angel's direction, an apologetic smile on her face.

"You must think I'm so rude! I'm Buf. . . "

Cordelia groaned inwardly as Buffy's voice trailed to a whisper. With a trembling hand, she lifted her wineglass and drained the contents in one gulp.

Angel smiled, his eyes warming as he gazed at his love for the first time in seven years.

"Hello, Buffy."