SKIN DEEP

Category: Angel/Cordelia

Rating: R

Content: Major angst, drama, strong language, all that fun stuff

Spoilers: None

Summary: Cordelia goes to drastic measures to make it in Hollywood. Second in the White Hat, White Horse series.

Disclaimer: Joss Whedon & David Greenwalt, Mutant Enemy (grr...argh), the WB, not me.

Feedback: Makes me one happy puppy.

Distribution: Those of you who have my fic archived, anyone else please ask!

Author's Note: This story deals with eating disorders. Do not read it if this subject makes you uncomfortable. This series takes place roughly 3 years after "City Of".

~Skin Deep~

By Christie

"So I hear you're a…what are you again?"

Angel's eyes raked critically over the reasonably good looking, conservatively dressed man in his office. The man that was there to take out Cordelia. The vampire watched, trying not to take amusement from the fact that he was obviously squirming under Angel's scrutiny.

"A casting agent," he replied, looking at his watch for what seemed like the tenth time that minute.

"Does Cordelia usually take this long?"

Angel raised his eyebrows and leaned back, steepling his fingers under his chin. "Yes," he replied flatly. "So where are you two going again, Jason?" He said the other man's name deliberately, drawing out the two syllables as if they were separate words.

The man managed a slightly proud smile. "Marianni's."

Angel opened his mouth, about to respond, when Cordelia breezed up the stairs and into the room. Angel felt his throat go dry. In a word, she was stunning. The dress was a little revealing, but she wore it tastefully, and Angel found himself wondering why she didn't wear it more often. It's deep wine color offset the dark curls framing her face and caused hazel eyes to sparkle like the rarest of jewels. Her date stood, exhaling a sigh of relief and Cordelia twirled around, smiling brilliantly.

"How do I—"

"Cordelia. You can't wear that."

Angel was startled at how stern Jason sounded. He took a small, unnoticeable step toward the girl, who was now frowning.

"We're going to Marianni's," Jason said by way of explanation.

When Cordelia shook her head, indicating she didn't understand, Jason sighed impatiently. "There will be a lot of important people there," he explained slowly. "You'll want to be presentable."

The vampire turned his eyes to Jason Styne, Hollywood Casting Agent, and glowered. He expected Cordelia to go into a rage at any moment, complete with unlady-like insults and tossing the guy out, but only silence emanated from the girl. Finally, Angel stepped forward.

"I think she looks fine. I mean, a jacket would be nice but—"

Now, Cordelia spoke. She plastered a look of annoyance across her pretty features and tilted her chin up proudly.

"Which is why you're not renowned for your keen fashion sense." She turned to Jason and smiled sweetly. "Of course you're right, Jason. I don't know what I was thinking. We'll have to stop at my place on the way there. I don't have anything else here."

He nodded, taking Cordelia's arm and leading her from the room. She threw a dazzling smile over her shoulder as they stepped out the door. "Night, Angel."

He only frowned in response. It was totally unlike Cordelia to placate anyone, much less a man she'd known less than a week. Angel pushed back the small thread of worry that was creeping into his mind and watched them go.

Cordelia stopped, turned and caught the door before it slammed closed behind them. "Be careful," she intoned, sinking her gaze deep into her vampire boss. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Angel nodded, managing a slight smile this time and went to the door to shut it behind them. He saw Jason put an arm about Cordelia's shoulder, and promised himself not to brood.

That promise all but flew out the window as he heard Jason's voice float down the hallway. "Just something a little more flattering, hon. You don't want people thinking you're soft around the edges."

"Cordelia, breakfast!" Wesley called, rubbing his hands together in anticipation as Angel spooned a generous portion of scrambled eggs onto his plate. He reached for several pieces of toast, taking a large bite out of one and smiling happily at the vampire.

Angel gave him a chagrined smile and placed a glass of juice in front of him. "Cordelia!" he called, glancing toward the bathroom, a trace of worry crossing his handsome features. She'd been in there cleaning a wound for an awfully long time.

But, Angel felt, the night had been a success. Not a particularly ugly bout of demon fighting, as far as demon fighting went, and Cordelia and Wesley had both done well. Despite the shallow wound across Cordelia's bicep, none of the three had any injuries to speak of.

And after his encounter with the Shanshi demon, Angel preferred to keep it that way. "Corde—"

"I'm here, I'm here, sheesh!" the girl exclaimed, breezing out of the bathroom and taking her place at the table. She wrinkled her nose in disgust at Wesley, still shoveling eggs into his mouth. Angel sat as well, leaning over to inspect her bandage. Cordelia pulled her arm back.

"It's fine," she snapped, taking a small sip of her orange juice. She looked at her own plate of food in disgust. "I'm not eating," she announced, pushing the plate away.

Angel frowned. "What? Why?"

"Why?" Wesley asked, mouth full.

Cordelia snorted. "For a really stuffy English guy, you sure eat like a pig," she observed. She ignored the question in point and leaned back in her chair. "So Angel, needless to say I'll be in late tomorrow...today. Whatever." She looked pointedly at the clock on the stove. It showed well after three in the morning.

Angel nodded absently. "Yeah. Fine. Cordelia, you have to eat something. You fought hard tonight." "It's three a.m.," she complained, pushing her plate even father away. It was nearly in the center of the table and she watched as Wesley reached over, spearing a piece of egg with his fork. "No normal person should eat at this hour. Plus, all that cholesterol...not to mention the fat and calories with all the cheese you stick in there. It wouldn't kill you to make an egg white omelet with salsa and fresh fruit, would it?"

Crossing his arms over his chest, Angel regarded his friend skeptically. Her gaze did not waver from his, and he was forced to rescind. "Okay, fine. If that's what you want. I didn't know you worried so much about that stuff anymore. I mean, you get more than your share of exercise. You're healthy and in good shape."

"Healthy." Cordelia snorted. "Hollywood's PC term for 'fat'. Kate Winslet is 'healthy'. Christina Ricci, 'healthy'. You know what people say behind their backs? That they're fat. If you want to get anywhere in this business, you better hope you look like Gwenyth Paltrow."

Angel shook his head. "Who are these people?"

Cordelia rolled her eyes. "Never mind," she muttered. She stood, wandering away from the table. "You almost done, Wes? I want to go home."

Her refrigerator might as well be a barren wasteland. Cordelia looked at it in triumph. Everything but a few cartons of yogurt and a bottle of Evian had ended up in the waste basket. She was proud of herself, and she felt like crying at the same time. So what if she liked to sit down with a pint of Cookie Dough Fudge Mint Chip and watch cheesy brat pack movies? She could do without the ice cream. She would do without the ice cream. There was absolutely no choice.

A wave of anger flitted through her, but she pushed it wantonly aside. No, Jason was right. She could stand to lose a few. Not many, but five, ten pounds wouldn't hurt. Right? It could only help her get ahead in the business. And that's all she needed, was that little tiny toe-sized push. A toe-sized push would get her toe in the door, and once it was there, she could wedge her whole foot in if she put her mind to it. Yes, five or ten pounds was definitely doable.

Two and a half weeks later

Cordelia wrinkled her nose at the pizza steaming in it's box on the coffee table. She tried to hold her stomach in, willing it not to growl so that the vampire could hear. Angel picked up a piece, put it on a plate, and handed it to her.

The girl tried not to resent her vampire friend for just 'popping by' with an entire pizza for her. She had worked really hard for the past two weeks and the 15 pounds she'd lost just didn't seem enough. So what if her hair was dullened and her face was a bit sallow. Cordelia ignored those things almost as easily as she ignored the hunger pangs that invaded her sense, so strong they awoke her from slumber. She enjoyed the stares and whistles she got as she went about her business, to and from work, to and from the gym. Jason said he couldn't even notice the loss, and if that was the case, Cordelia knew she couldn't stop now.

"That looks disgusting," Cordelia complained, taking the plate from Angel. "I wish I was like you and didn't have to eat. Are you like guaranteed to stay that way no matter what?"

"Pretty much. My muscles develop the more I fight and train, but other than that, yeah, I don't really gain or lose weight—" he faltered. "I don't think. I don't really weigh myself."

"Then maybe I don't want to be like you," Cordelia amended. She stared down at the plate she held in her hands, willing herself not to inhale it's warm, comforting pizza-y smell.

"Why in the world are you trying to lose weight?" Angel asked, watching her stare sullenly at her food.

"Is it that Jason guy? He tells you what to wear."

Cordelia snapped her head up. "Why don't you like him?" It was a stupid question. She didn't even like the guy that much. It was a wonder Angel even allowed him in the office anymore.

"He tells you what to wear," Angel repeated. "Probably tells you what to eat, or what not to eat. " Angel closed his eyes against the unreasonable anger that suddenly bubbled up inside him. When he opened them again, he gestured toward Cordelia's still untouched pizza slice. "Eat that."

Cordelia snorted. "Hmm. Maybe you and Jason have more in common than you think."

"Very funny. Eat that," Angel prodded.

Cordelia took a deep breath and brought the slice of pizza up to her mouth. Her stomach rumbled. Okay, so one slice of pizza. Maybe it couldn't hurt. And Angel knew she was hungry. Not like she could get out of it without a huge fight. No, it'd be okay.

One slice.

12 grams of fat.

333 calories.

Tomorrow, she'd jog an extra three miles.

"There, I'm eating. See? I'll just have you know it's disgusting."

"You like pizza," Angel murmured, leaning back. He felt a wave of satisfaction wash through him.

"You like blood but I don't make you drink it cold and congealed," Cordelia complained, dropping the slice back on her plate.

"Just stop complaining and eat, will you? Humor me? Please?"

Cordelia picked up the pizza again. "Fine."

They sat in silence, Cordelia munching sullenly on her slice of pizza, Angel absently flipping through the channels of the television. He felt slightly relieved, at least to see her eating, and realized he hadn't actually witnessed her ingesting food in a long time. It frustrated him to look at a girl he regarded with something akin to reverence, and see her destroying her body.

He was flung from his thoughts when she threw the half-eaten crust on her plate and pushed it onto the coffee table.

"God, I can't believe you made me eat that."

Angel gestured toward the plate. "You ate one piece."

Cordelia frowned.

12 grams of fat. 333 calories. 12 grams of fat. 333 calories. She felt her stomach turn and the familiar ache settle into her chest.

"I feel gross. I'm gonna go take a shower."

Angel nodded and watched her rise. "I'm staying."

"So stay."

Angel exhaled an unnecessary breath as he knocked on the bathroom door for the second time. This was getting ridiculous. "Cordelia? Come on, you've been in there for over an hour! Just let me know you're alright."

Still, silence from the other side of the door. Angel felt his stomach tighten as he listened to the steady patter of the shower stream hitting wet tile and ceramic. The pattern never interrupted, in fact, it sounded like the water was turned on in an empty shower.

Something was definitely wrong. Privacy be damned, Angel couldn't wait any longer. He tried the knob on the door, finding it, as he expected, locked. With a soft apology to the girl inside, he stepped back and struck the door with his booted heel.

It crashed open, one side of it loosening from its hinges. The bathroom was filled with steam, and Angel knew that if he was human, he wouldn't have been able to see anything two inches in front of him. But he wasn't human, and his keen senses led him straight past the sink to the shower stall, where he threw back the curtain, ripping it too, off its hangings.

Cordelia was a huddled wet mass on the shower floor, completely unconscious.

"Cordelia."

Angel leaned into the shower, unmindful of the stream of hot water drenching his head and torso. He turned the knobs so fiercely, he nearly broke one off, then reached behind him for a towel and draped it across the limp body of his best friend. Lifting her gently into his arms, drops of water fell from his hair and face and mingled with the crystalline drops that covered every exposed part of her flesh.

Goosebumps rose on her skin as Angel carried her from the steam-enveloped bathroom, through the chilled living room, and into her bedroom. There, he lay her gently on the bed and rearranged the towel over her.

"Cordelia," he called softly, pressing one palm against her forehead and pushing strands of damp hair from her eyes. "Cordelia, wake up."

The girl emitted one strangled shiver then stirred, parting her lips as a shuddering breath released from her body. "Angel?" Hazel eyes fluttered open and she blinked at the vampire looming before her. "Ang—" She stopped, one slim arm wrapping around herself. "Oh god."

"Where's your robe?" Angel asked softly, not dropping his eyes from her face. He didn't want to make her any more uncomfortable than she already was.

She smiled gratefully. "Behind the door."

Angel moved across the bedroom, only then realizing his own state of dampness. He ran a hand through his wet hair, shaking his head slightly and spraying droplets of water to either side of him. It was all he cared to do, he wasn't cold and the shirt would dry, eventually. He lifted her soft blue robe from the hook on the back of the door and carried it over to her.

"I can do it," she protested, pulling herself into a sitting position as Angel moved around to her back and draped it over her shoulders.

The vampire didn't listen, holding one arm of the robe out for Cordelia. "Left arm." Cordelia didn't move.

"Come on," Angel insisted.

She sighed and clamped her right hand over the towel shielding her, and extended her left arm. Angel frowned as it slithered into the thick material of the robe. The towel fell slightly away from her left side, revealing a tiny waist and protruding rib cage. He wondered just how long it had been since Cordelia had actually eaten anything substantial.

They repeated the maneuver on the right side, and Angel dutifully turned away as Cordelia dropped the towel from her front and secured the tie on her robe. When she rounded the bulk of the vampire to get her comb off the top of her dresser, Angel nearly choked. The robe practically swallowed her up. It looked as though she was wearing a robe that belonged to someone else, someone three sizes bigger.

He stepped up to her back, ignoring his non-reflection in the mirror she was peering into, and placed his hands on her shoulders. He felt what he'd expected: shoulder blades protruding further than they should, easing a knotted feeling into the pit of his stomach.

"When's the last time you ate?"

His voice was soft, unobtrusive, but still Cordelia whirled around, eyes flashing accusingly. "You just saw me eat a piece of pizza," she snapped. "It was disgusting by the way. If you weren't such a god damn nag I wouldn't have even humored you."

If Angel was taken aback by her attack, he didn't show it. He did step back, putting several more feet of space between them. "You threw it up in the shower, didn't you?" he asked.

"Excuse me?" Cordelia crossed her arms over her chest. "Where the hell do you get off?"

Angel held out a placating hand, knowing it was useless. "Cordelia, I had to pick you up off the floor of the shower. Either you tell me why you passed out cold or I'll guess. Right now I'm guessing you haven't been eating."

Turning away from him, Cordelia stalked back to her bed and sat down, clutching a pillow to her chest and staring at the opposite wall. "Why would you guess that?" she asked. Her voice was dull, almost resigned.

Angel sighed, moving her vanity chair and placing it directly in front of her. Then, he sat, and her eyes shifted to a spot somewhere over his left shoulder. Angel moved slightly left, attempting to get her attention, and her eyes shifted again, this time to her lap.

"You look about fifteen pounds lighter than—" he paused. "From when I last noticed. Maybe two weeks ago?"

Cordelia snorted. "From when you last noticed. Great. You're on real good authority then. Someone who doesn't even pay attention to me."

Angel shook his head. He swallowed hard, not quite ready to tell her why he avoided spending much time studying her body. What was he supposed to say? Doyle was right, she's a stiffener? He doubted that would be appropriate.

"I do pay attention, Cordelia," he said slowly, dropping his own gaze to his hands that were fisted in his lap. "I didn't mean I don't notice you... I meant..." He cleared his throat and shifted. "I always think you look good. Honestly, in the last few weeks, I have wondered if you've lost weight. But it wasn't until I saw you in the shower that I realized..."

He stopped as her hand went up to her neck, pulling the flaps together and holding them tightly. She crossed her legs, then crossed them the other way.

"I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," Angel amended softly. "But I'm not sorry I broke into the bathroom." He leaned forward, bringing his face less than a foot from hers. "You're hurting yourself Cordelia. You need to eat. This isn't healthy."

"I'm fine," Cordelia snapped.

"I don't call passing out in the shower fine," Angel retorted. "What would have happened if I hadn't been here?"

Cordelia stood abruptly, moving toward her window and pulling the shades. She crossed her arms over her chest and looked out over the darkened night. "If you hadn't been here I wouldn't be getting a lecture on things you know nothing about."

Angel stood as well, moving to stand behind her. He watched the street below with her for a moment, knowing that though she couldn't see his reflection in the window pane, she could feel his presence behind her.

"Things I know nothing about," he finally repeated softly, picking up one hand and placing it lightly on her shoulder. "I know a lot about taking care of you, and that's what I'm trying to do." She shrugged him off without looking his way. Her eyes were fixated on something beyond the glass, further than the street and probably beyond the bounds of the City of Angels. "I don't need you to take care of me," she stated, anger tingeing her words. "You don't know a damn thing about trying to make it in this city. To be somebody. I go on audition after audition after audition, only to be told I'm too nice, too bitchy, too loud, too soft, too tall, too short, my ears are too big, they're too small, my eyes are too green, they're not green enough, my hair's too dark, it's too light, it's too long, it's too short, I'm too wholesome, I'm too slutty... and the latest in my long line of faults? I'm too fat."

Angel opened his mouth to speak, but Cordelia cut him off, whirling to face him, tears and anguish clearly written in her eyes. "Do you know how hard it is, Angel?" Her voice was rising to near panic, and all Angel could do was stand back, and listen. "To get told all your life how pretty you are, and how far you're going to go on your looks. No one ever said you're really smart Cordelia, and you could be real successful as a doctor, or a lawyer, or a scientist. No, it was always, you're so pretty, you could be an actress, a model, a star! So all my life, that's what I said I was going to do. I was going to be famous. That's all I was good for. So now I'm here, waiting for my fame and fortune, my big break, and all I get told is that I'm not pretty enough, I'm not good enough, I'm not gonna make it! What the hell am I supposed to do now, Angel? Call everyone in Sunnydale and be like, hey! Guess what! You were wrong? What the hell do I do now because I'm good for absolutely nothing!"

She was crying, tears coursing down her cheeks unheeded. Angel tried to reach out for her, but she shifted, backing into her night table. "No. No, see? This isn't going to be better once you wrap me in your arms and promise to make all the bad things go away. These people in Hollywood, they're wackos but they're not demons. They're not supernatural beings out to get me. You can't go in with your long black coat and your don't-fuck-with-my-friends attitude and kick some ass. There's nothing you can do for me. I have to do with for myself. I have to take control of my life, of my career, and this is how I'm doing it!" Small, panting breaths turned into large gulps of air as Cordelia sank down onto the bed and buried her head in her hands. Angel watched her for a moment, feeling anger, hurt and confusion settle into his unbeating heart. It squeezed at him as he watched her, until the fury won, and his hands clenched into fists.

"You're making yourself sick, Cordelia," he lectured, pacing next to the bed, hands clenching and unclenching of their own volition. "I will not let you do this to yourself. I don't care if some asinine casting agent or director or whoever thought you were too fat. What, you think you're going to go back in there, looking the way you do now, sick, gaunt, and they're gonna jump all over you?! Huh? No, it's gonna be something else next time, and something else the next time until you get your break. And your job is to decide whether or not its worth it to stick it out through all the bullshit. If you decide it is, great, but you hold your head up and you go to auditions presenting yourself the way you are, not the way they want you to be. You're better than that, Cordelia! You're stronger than that!"

Angel realized his voice had climbed to nearly a shout, and he stopped pacing, allowing his bulk to rest on the mattress next to his friend. "You're beautiful, Cordelia. And smart, and you work harder than most people. If that's not enough for them, then you should not be wasting your time. You're always going to have a place with me, as long as you want it. You know that. But if acting's what you've set your heart on, and you're not going to quit until you make it, then you need to do it right. That's the only way you're going to succeed. You know that, too."

Silence slammed into the room like an angry beast. Angel was usually comfortable in the absence of conversation, but this time, it just felt wrong. He looked at Cordelia, who remained sitting on the bed, hands folded in her lap, eyes trained on her fingers. She didn't move, didn't speak, barely even blinked for what seemed like an eternity. Angel hoped it meant what he said was sinking in, in all selfish honesty, he wished she'd give up the acting thing for good. She wasn't all that good, though she'd gotten better in the last couple of years, and she belonged at Angel Investigations, with him.

It was selfish, yes, but he wasn't sure he would want to do it without her. He would; surely the Powers would send him another Seer if Cordelia left, but he would hate every second of it. Some of the best parts of keeping watch over his city was the early morning hours after a long night of kicking demon ass, him cooking eggs and toast while Cordelia and Wesley chattered away at his kitchen table. Those were the times he felt most at peace. Those were the times he could feel almost normal.

Almost.

What he had in Cordelia, and even Wesley, was a family. His feelings for Cordelia had shifted lately, and were a lot more confusing than they ever were, but no matter what, she was his best friend. She made him laugh, and didn't make him feel stupid when he cried. She let him brood, when he really needed to, but kept things in perspective, and didn't let the darkness claim his life.

Cordelia made things worthwhile. And it killed him that she didn't know that.

Finally, Angel stood, resolving himself to the promise he'd made to himself and to her three years ago. Nothing was going to happen to her, not if he could help it. And that included this.

"I'm going to make you some soup," he said calmly, kneeling in front of her and peering beyond the curtain of her hair and into her bloodshot eyes. "Please, Cordelia. Will you just eat something?" Long moments ticked by, but she finally nodded. A slight sniffle, and her tiny hand wiped resolutely at her face. She still didn't move, but Angel was satisfied with that small victory and stood.

Reentering Cordelia's bedroom ten minutes later, small bowl in his hands, Angel realized the girl still sat on the side of the bed, hunched over, hair hanging in her face. He sighed, rounding the mattress and placing the bowl on the night stand beside her. Then, he kneeled, reaching up with both hands to push her hair from her face.

"Cordelia..."

She shook him away and stood. "I want you to go, now, Angel."

Confusion registered on the vampire's normally stoic face. He picked up the bowl of soup and held it out to her. "I want you to eat this, please."

"I'm not going to eat it, and you can't force me to," Cordelia announced, her voice shaking only slightly as she faced off with the much bigger, much stronger vampire. "I want you to leave."

Angel felt a wave of sadness wash through him. This was obviously going to get much worse before it got better. He berated himself for thinking a pep talk and some soup could cure an eating disorder that could end up a disease. "I'm not leaving, Cordelia. You've forced me to eat before and I can force you."

A small, bitter laugh escaped the former Prom Queen's lips. "Not exactly the same thing," she countered.

"Poking open a bag of blood and squirting it down your throat is hardly the same as what you're gonna have to do to get me to eat that."

Angel cocked his head. "What am I going to have to do? Cause you better believe I'm going to do it, little girl."

The two stood, faced off in Cordelia's bedroom, and anger flashed through both pairs of eyes. Finally, Cordelia shook her head and turned away. "I'm not eating it. I don't give a shit what you do. You can fucking feed off me for all I care."

Anger coursed through the borrowed blood in his veins, and Angel struggled to keep control. He clenched his hands around the bowl, feeling his face shift and the demon emerge. She was not going to do this. He would not allow it. A growl surfaced and sliced across the room as the vampire lifted the bowl and hurled it into the wall opposite him. Glass cracked and shattered, thick shards splintering against the plaster. Thick streams of soup flowed down the wall like blood.

Slowly, Cordelia turned. "Get out," she ordered, her voice low.

Angel shook his head. He didn't trust himself to speak, not yet, but breath was being pushed out of him in hard, angry bursts, despite the fact that they were completely useless. He liked to do it, somehow trying to gain control of a temper that could spiral dangerously out of hand. His face had not shifted back into human form, and, he realized, was probably not going to anytime soon.

"GET THE HELL OUT OF MY HOUSE!" Cordelia screamed, lunging her fragile body at the large vampire and pummeling his chest with small fists.

Angel caught her easily, one hand encasing both wrists, the other holding her against him at the small of her back. She still struggled, though it was useless, and muttered several expletives into his chest that told him exactly where he ranked on her list at the moment.

Ignoring her, he turned them both around and walked to the closet door, pushing their bodies in front of the mirror that hung there. She looked like a puppet in her reflection, being forced to stand there by some unseen force of nature. Angel didn't care, holding here there with a grip so tight, she finally cried out in pain.

He loosened his hold, slightly. "Look at yourself!" he ordered, wrenching Cordelia's body back around as she tried to turn her head away. "Look! God damn it, Cordelia! What do you see?" She didn't answer. Only the pounding of her heart and her rushing blood in her veins scoured Angel's ears.

He growled and released her, putting his hands on her shoulders instead. She could have run away, but didn't. She just stood there, looking alone in her reflection, though she wasn't.

"What do you see?" Angel asked, softer this time, silently apologizing for the violence that had erupted between them just moments before. He leaned down and kissed her cheek, for reason only he could have known. "You are beautiful, Cordelia. Unbelievably beautiful. Don't you know that?"

The girl shook her head. "Doesn't matter," she said, bitterness still creeping through her voice. "The point is that I'm not skinny enough. Okay? That's the point. You get it now?"

Angel growled in frustration. He had almost shifted back into human, but felt the demon take control once again. Now, he was glad she was alone in the reflection they both were staring at. Without thinking, he grabbed the tie of her robe and tugged it downward, loosening the knot and allowing the folds of the robe to fall open.

Cordelia gasped at the intrusion but remained still.

"I don't get it," Angel said, his voice low, dangerous. He allowed his eyes to rake shamelessly over her body this once, and moved closer to her, pressing himself into her back so she could feel the effect she had on him. "Look at yourself. You're sexy as hell and you've got to know that. Your body was perfect before. I heard guys talk about you, in bars, in clubs, random comments on the street. You're a hottie, Cordelia. You used to know that. You used to dress like you knew it, and act like you knew it. I loved that. It was such a fucking turn on. You knew you had this great chest, a tiny little waist, and these hips I could spend all day fantasizing about. And your legs? Do I even need to go there?"

"Shut your fucken mouth, Angel," Cordelia snapped, startling them both. She closed her robe and turned away from the mirror, facing him. "You never looked at me like that. Ever. Don't start lying and say you did. I jocked you so hard in high school, and you couldn't look past Buffy long enough to find a fucking quarter on the ground."

Angel shook his head and moved closer to Cordelia, nearly pressing their bodies flush with one another. "We're not in high school anymore, Cordelia," he murmured against her ear. "You can feel me, I know you can. I'm not making that up."

"Shit, Angel for all I know, all this rough stuff turns you on. It probably has nothing to do with me. I mean, look at yourself. You're almost Angelus."

Angel stepped back. "I'm not anywhere near Angelus," he said softly, then raised his fist and slammed it down into useless air. "Damn it, Cordelia! Do you know how long I've been walking around the office, strategically sitting behind my desk or standing behind the file cabinet so you won't see how god damn much you affect me? I can't do it anymore! I try not to look at you, I try not to pay attention and it's impossible. Because I look at you now, and my mind goes places it shouldn't be going. I've wanted you for almost a year now. And I'm sick and tired of not being able to do anything about it."

He turned away, concentrating on calming himself until he felt his face smooth back into his human visage. He turned back. "This doesn't even have anything to do with what's going on," he murmured disheartened.

"I can tell you over and over how beautiful you were, and how all you need now is like twenty pounds on your frame and you'll be even more beautiful than you ever were, and it doesn't change the fact that you've decided the way you're going to deal with Hollywood is to starve yourself to death."

He paused, pleading eyes focused on his friend. "Tell me what to do, Cordelia. Tell me what to do to make this better."

Cordelia shook her head, lowering her eyes to the ground. All traces of anger left her, and her shoulders slumped, complete resignation taking over her body. A slight sniffle, then another, shook her, until her body was wracked with sobs. Her knees gave out from under her and she sunk to the ground.

With quick reflexes, Angel caught her before she hit the ground and lowered himself with her until they were both huddled on Cordelia's bedroom floor. Angel pulled her into his arms and held her, his own throat tightening as he felt how small she felt, how weak and fragile her body had become in only a few weeks. He kept her there, wishing it were this easy, wishing he could shield her from the undemonic horrors of the city they lived in.

But he couldn't, he couldn't do anything past fighting the good fight. It made him feel helpless. Cordelia sobbed into his chest for long moments, clutching his damp t-shirt with her hands and twisting the fabric until it bunched under her fingers. She cried until her throat hurt and her entire body ached. It seemed like forever. It probably was.

Finally, she pulled away, not bothering to wipe the stray tears that still trailed down both cheeks. She looked at Angel, smiled when he lifted his hands and brushed her cheeks with his thumbs. "You want to know what you can do?" she asked hoarsely, blinking at the depth of his brown eyes, wondering why she never noticed how amazing they were before.

He nodded and leaned forward, brushing her forehead with his lips. When he went to pull away, Cordelia held him there, his face centimeters from hers. "Do that," she whispered, tilting her head up to meet his lips. "Kiss me, make me feel like I'm the most beautiful woman in the world."

Angel did kiss her, leaving the passion for another time and filling the union with love, admiration and comfort. When he pulled back, he kept her face cradled in his hands. "You are the most beautiful woman in the world," he said softly.

"I'm sorry I got nasty on you," Cordelia murmured.

Angel smiled and nearly laughed. "You got nasty?" he asked, befuddlement in his tone. "I coulda sworn you said I was nearly Angelus. Now that's nasty." Shaking his head, the vampire grew serious as he stood and stooped down, gathering the girl into his arms. He carried her to the kitchen and deposited her in one of the chairs, then knelt on the floor in front of her.

"I'm sorry I got mean like that, Cordelia," he said seriously. "I know I must have scared you."

She shook her head and shrugged. "Not really. I mean, I know you won't ever hurt me on purpose. We were fighting, things happen. No big."

"I don't want you to dismiss it like that," Angel insisted, dropping his hands on her knees and pulling the flaps of her robe further together. "I got mean."

"So did I," Cordelia reasoned. "I'm not one of those girls you can't fight with." She laughed softly. "You want to throw down, we'll throw down. I thought that's why we get along."

Managing a smile, the vampire nodded and stood. "It is," he conceded. "I'm going to make you peanut butter and jelly. If you don't eat it, we'll go another round."

Cordelia shook back the impending feeling of panic that surfaced whenever she was around food. Instead, she concentrated on watching Angel as he busied himself at the counter. She thought about what he'd said to her, about how he felt. It made her warm inside, tingles creeping up her spine and coursing through her body. He wanted her. Finally. She couldn't even calculate how long she'd wanted him.

Now, the possibilities were endless.

End.

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