Summary: What if the oracles granted Angel's request to
restore Doyle to
life - but only for one year?
Disclaimer: Fan fiction based on the WB television series Angel.
All
characters and situations from Angel are the property of
20th Century Fox,
Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy et al. No
ownership is claimed and no copyright
infringement is intended.
Warning: This story will eventually include references to both
M/M and
M/F sex. If either one offends you, read no further.
Yes, this is an
'alternate universe' fic, beginning with the
Angel episode "Parting Gifts."
Thanks to Cleo Calliope for the reformatting.
Prologue
"You can fold time. You've done it before. Bring him back.""To what end? To nullify his noble death? To leave his atonement unfulfilled?"
"If it means he lives."
"He doesn't so that you may."
"You do so that others will."
"He's my friend."
"If that is so, then so shall it ever be." Then suddenly the female oracle's face seemed to soften slightly.
"The one you call your friend was of two natures, as you are." The female oracle inclined her head toward Angel. "He gave his life for you - "
"I know that."
"Silence, lower being," snapped the male oracle.
The female oracle went on as though she had not been interrupted. "That which had been made one, was torn apart. He rejected his dual nature, but he could not live without both, demon and human."
"I don't understand."
She gave him a condescending smile. "No, you do not. Your friend died because the demon and the human within him were torn apart from one another. The device that he encountered separated the two. Such an experience is fatal, and permanent. We cannot restore what has been divided."
"You can turn back the clock. Surely restoring what has been divided is within your power."
"Foolish one, even such as we must follow the principles of order, lest chaos reign instead, in all the worlds. Tampering with reality is far more dangerous than you know. Already your memory of the day that we swallowed threatens to interfere with the proper course of time." The male oracle sounded like he would hit Angel if he could.
Angel wouldn't have minded hitting back.
"We cannot restore your friend as he was," the female oracle continued.
"You say, 'as he was.' Does that mean you could restore him in some other way?"
"Ah, you begin to understand." She looked pleased, in an indulgent way, as though a child or a pet had done something clever.
"In what way?"
"If your friend were to be returned, he would no longer be half-demon and half-human. He could return as a full demon, but the human would be dead. Or, he could return as a human, but then the demon within him will have died. Either way, a price must be paid."
"What price? If he were to return as a human, what price must be paid?"
"What do you think?" she challenged. "Think about it, lower being. He was of two natures, and will be reduced to only one."
"I'm not understanding yet why this is a bad thing."
She gestured impatiently, and the vase that he had brought with him as an offering floated in the air in front of them.
"Observe this pretty little thing. You see that it is whole. It has top and bottom and sides, and everything in its correct place." Then she gestured again, and the vase cracked in half. One half fell to the floor and shattered into tiny shards. Glancing at the floor, Angel saw that the fallen half had been ground almost to dust in an instant.
The other half of the vase remained, floating in midair.
"Although one half is destroyed and the other is not, what is left is not whole. It is missing part of itself."
"I get the concept," Angel said impatiently. "How does it apply to Doyle?"
"He too would be damaged, if we return him. He would not be whole. He might survive," and she shrugged indifferently, "perhaps one of your mortal years."
Angel stared at her. "You mean that if you bring him back, he'll only live a year?"
"That is what we told you, lower being," the male oracle interrupted, angrily. "We are not in the habit of repeating ourselves."
"Is that the only way he can come back?"
"It is the only way that we will send him back. There is a balance which must be maintained, a pattern to the universe. We can alter it only so much, and no more. Our responsibility is to the larger whole, not to a single part."
The words were out of his mouth before he let himself think too much about it, before he dared to think it through.
"Do it."
Chapter One
ANGEL
He's unconscious in my arms as I carry him out of the post office, but he's alive. I can feel his labored breathing, and I can hear his heart beat.He looks terrible, and beautiful at the same time - hurt, badly hurt, but still living.
For a year.
The clock has started to run already, from the moment I left the oracles. He smells different than before, and I know that they have spoken the truth. The Doyle who was returned to me is fully human now.
I can take him to the hospital; without his demon, it is safe for them to treat him. They won't be able to diagnose the deeper problem, but they can treat the burns and the other injuries.
They won't understand why his health will start to fail, over this year, but I will. I'll have to watch him die again, but slowly this time.
Without his demon, he is weak, incomplete. The part of him that he hated most was still a necessary part, and without it, ultimately he will not survive.
I'm not sure whether I've done the right thing, or the cruelest thing that I've ever done in a lifetime filled with unspeakable cruelties.
But I know that I could not have turned aside this chance, this year.
Why? How can I explain something to Cordelia, and to Doyle himself, that I don't completely understand?
No, I'm lying to myself. I know why, even if I can never tell either one of them.
I do know why.
May all the gods and Powers forgive me, I know.
CORDELIA
"They did what?"I tore my eyes away from Doyle for just a moment to glare at Angel, but then I had to look back at Doyle again. I couldn't stop looking at him.
In a hospital bed, out cold, he looked even thinner and paler than I remembered. At least he still had a face, burned though it was. I'd been afraid, when Angel first told me, that they had brought him back with his whole face burned off.
That would have been beyond gross. Even the oracles weren't that cruel - or were they?
Angel repeated softly, keeping his voice down: "They took his demon half away. The way that...." he paused, then went on. "The way the Beacon killed him was by separating the human from the demon. That literally tore him apart. That was what we saw. His whole body breaking apart." He had to stop again.
Finally he continued. "He couldn't survive without both, and they claim they couldn't put him back together."
"Humpty Dumpty..." I whispered, still staring.
"So, when they brought him back, they claim that they could only bring back the human half or the demon half, not both."
Gazing at Doyle, he went on: "I don't think for a moment that they couldn't have done anything they wanted to do. But that was the only offer they would make."
"But if he couldn't survive..."
Angel nodded grimly.
"They say that he may live a year like this. No more."
"Oh my God." I shook my head. "No, they couldn't do that. They wouldn't do that."
"They did."
I couldn't stop what came out of my mouth then, even if I should have. I snapped at him, "Did it ever occur to you that he might not want to be brought back that way?"
One of Angel's famous super-guilty, haunted looks was my only answer.
"Go call Harry," I said.
"What?"
"You heard me. Go call Harry now, tell her he's alive. Tell her the rest, too."
Still, he didn't leave, like he couldn't believe that I was giving him orders. Too bad.
"Go!" I gave him a little push for emphasis. "Let me have a couple of minutes with him, okay? Before he wakes up."
Finally, Angel seemed to get it. He nodded, and left the room.
I walked slowly over to the bed. Doyle looked like a whole roomful of demons had stomped all over him, which wasn't too far from the truth, I guess. I sat down in a chair next to the bed, and tried to gather up enough nerve to touch him, if I could find some part that wasn't too burned or bandaged to touch.
His hands should have been a lot worse off than they were. I guess the oracles must have moved that damage over to the demon half. I reached out just one finger at first, to touch just one finger of his, one that didn't look too bad. It even felt okay, like a regular finger on a regular hand and...
Whoops, I was losing it. Knew I would, too.
Didn't help one bit to know.
Before I even knew it, I was actually on my knees next to the bed, me! I never do that. Well, not that way. But there I was, and it wasn't just my finger on his finger any more, it was my mouth on his hand and I was going to cry. Damn it. Not fair.
Not fair at all.
And then I gave up trying not to cry, and just let go.
Oh, God, Doyle. Getting you back and then losing you again. This is gonna hurt.
Why did he do it?
But of course, I know why.
The worst part is, I'd probably do the same stupid thing.
DOYLE
The first thing I noticed was, the pain had stopped.The second thing was to correct that. It hadn't stopped all the way, yet. It had just quieted down from the kind that makes you scream to the kind that only makes you moan a little, where you can still think around it, more or less.
I wasn't complaining about the change.
Even with my eyes closed, I knew I was in a hospital. There's a smell only hospitals have.
But a hospital meant being alive, and that didn't make sense.
I mean, I'm dead, right?
Next thing I noticed was how weird I felt. It was more than hurting, although the hurting was there, sure enough. It was more than weak, though there was plenty of that, too.
But hurting and weak and being in the hospital all kind of naturally went together, and since being alive was part of that package, that wasn't one to complain about either.
No, this was something different. It had to do with the way I smelled that hospital smell, and the faint smell of Cordelia's perfume - smelling them the way I would have when I was a teenager, before the demon kicked in and changed everything.
My senses felt dulled, somehow, like I was getting the world through a thick wrapping of gauze.
Someone was holding my hand, or... no, not holding it. Somebody was... crying on my hand?
And then the part about Cordelia's perfume finally clicked with me.
My eyes felt like they had been gummed shut forever. I half-opened one eye, and then had to wait a minute while the clouds swimming around in front of me started to clear up.
I didn't have to see her face to recognize Cordelia... or to know that something was still very wrong, even though, somehow, I was alive.
The warmth of her tears on my fingers told me that.
Chapter Two
DOYLE
"There's somethin' you're not tellin' me."They both looked up at me then. Angel had guilt written all over his face, not that there's anything unusual in that.
Cordelia looking down, though, not meeting my eyes - that was bad. That was very bad.
She hadn't let go of my hand in an hour, and that was just not Cordelia. Sweet, yeah, but not right. By now she should be yelling at me, or insulting me, or something.
I'd been awake for an hour and she hadn't said anything nasty to me yet.
With that, and the fact that all my senses seemed dull, like I was still half-asleep... Yeah, this had to be something rough.
"So," I went on, "Are you gonna tell me, or what?"
Cordelia sent an angry look at Angel. "Yeah, or what?" she echoed. "You don't actually want me to be the one to tell him, do you?"
"Doyle - " Angel began, and then seemed unable to continue.
Carefully, I moved up a little straighter on the bed, noticing how hard it was. "So y'want to play guessin' games then? I know that thing shoulda killed me, so what exactly happened? I know you're holdin' out on me, man, so spill."
"Your demon's gone," he blurted out.
"What the hell?"
Cordelia nodded. "Okay, good news first, that makes sense." Angel glared at her, and she protested, "Well, doesn't it?"
With a side glance at Cordelia, I tried to prove Angel wrong. Changing to demon was always the easy part; stress always brought it right out. All I had to do was let go, stop fighting it, and there it was. It was staying human that was tough.
No change. I couldn't change.
I had to close my eyes then, and just concentrate on breathing. Cordelia gave my hand what she must have meant as a reassuring squeeze.
It hurt, but I didn't mind it. Having her fingers wrapped in mine was worth a little pain. Okay, it was worth a lot of pain.
Was it really gone? For a long time that was the only thing in the universe I ever wanted, the one thing I knew I could never have.
I'd never admit it to Cordelia, but I wanted to be human even more than I wanted her.
Could it be possible?
Cordelia's voice was anxious. "Doyle, you still with us?"
"Yeah." I kept my eyes shut, trying to figure this out. Maybe the demon really was gone. Maybe that was why I felt like a pile of turds on a rainy day.
Shouldn't it feel good, being all the way human? My impossible dream, that was. Being able to do whatever I wanted, all the things I always believed as a kid that I could do when I grew up. I could be the man I would've been if I didn't have to worry about sprouting spikes every time I happened to sneeze.
This should be good news. The best.
So why wasn't it?
Slowly, I opened my eyes. "All right, what's the rest of it then?"
Angel was silent. Cordelia did one of her ever-so-chipper numbers. "Well, the rest of the good news is... uh... well, that was the good news. That, and you're alive, which is definitely good news."
She smiled at me, and the sense of something being really wrong got even worse.
"Princess, when you start treatin' me like I'm made of glass...."
Angel winced suddenly, and I turned to him. "That made you jump. Why?"
"Your demon being gone is not completely good news," he said quietly.
"And that is because?"
He opened his mouth, closed it again. Then, abruptly, he got to his feet, and backed away from the bed as if I were about to bite him. "Doyle, I can't do this."
Cordelia snapped at him, "What do you mean you can't do this? You've already done it. Get a grip! It's going to be tough enough for Doyle without you turning into a gibbering idiot because you haven't got the nerve to tell him."
"Haven't got the nerve to tell me what?" I almost yelled it this time.
And then she was the one who had to start to tell me, after all, and Angel just stood there, looking like someone had cut his tongue out.
"What he can't tell you is, you're not back for good, Doyle. It won't last."
"What do you mean?"
Finally Angel approached the bed again. "She's right, Doyle. When the oracles sent you back, there was a catch. With the demon gone..."
"With the demon gone, what?" I felt myself starting to shake, and forced myself to calm down. Make a joke, man, that always works, right? "What? They're calling me back in for repairs?"
"You have..." He stopped, then forced himself to go on. I could see how much effort it took to meet my eyes as he spoke.
"You have about a year, Doyle. That's all."
It took a moment for me to understand what he meant. Then I closed my eyes.
Before the silence went on too long, Cordelia started babbling nervously, as if she had to fill it. "But then again, that's not totally bad news because last night you were dead, so that's a year more than you had yesterday, right? I mean, we have to look at the bright side, don't we? There's a lot of things you can do in a year."
"Did ya know?"
No answer, although Cordelia did fall silent at the interruption. I opened my eyes to look at Angel.
"When you had the oracles bring me back, did ya know?" I repeated.
The guilt on his face was answer enough, and I closed my eyes again, unable to look at it.
"Get outta here, man. I need some time." I knew my voice sounded harsh, and I didn't particularly care.
Time. Yeah. That was what I needed.
"Doyle..."
"Not now, Angel. Maybe tomorrow, okay? We'll... deal. We will. Just... not now."
"All right."
I felt Cordelia's hand moving gently on mine. "Cordelia, could you please leave me alone for awhile?"
"Only because you're asking me nicely," she responded, and if there was a little quaver in her voice, we both ignored it. "But I'll be back. You can count on that."
"Actually I am. But... some alone time would be good right now. Okay, princess?"
"Okay." I still had my eyes closed, but I could feel her coming closer. Then her lips brushed lightly against my face, more the promise of a kiss than a kiss itself. "I... Doyle, I..."
"I know."
As though from a distance, I could hear Angel's voice. "Do you?"
I nodded. Then I heard them leave.
Yeah, I knew. It wasn't hard to figure out how they felt. They didn't hide it nearly as well as they thought.
But me?
I wasn't at all sure how I felt. Not at all.
Chapter Three
ANGEL
When I walked into the hospital room the next evening, Doyle was sitting up in bed. He glanced up toward the door."I've been expectin' you. Come on in. Is Cordelia with ya?"
"Not right now. She'll be coming over in about an hour. You look better," I said awkwardly.
"Yeah, well, I should. They've been pumping me full of everything they can think of t'give me."
"Hey, seems to be working." His color was better, and the unbandaged parts of his face looked fairly normal. His gaze as he looked at me seemed clearer, too, as though he could see straight through me.
Of course, he always could, from the first time we met.
"Well," he said abruptly, "I suppose I should start by sayin' I'm sorry. I was rude, considerin' all the effort you've put in to bring me back and all. I know you cut the best deal you could get. The oracles ain't exactly known for bein' generous."
"If I could-"
"You'd have done better, I know. Gotta play the hand you're dealt and all that good noise. I understand."
"I'd have given them anything they asked," I said softly.
"I know." He smiled a little then, but it was a sad one. "When I was a boy I had a teacher who used to go on and on about Max Kolbe, the whole give-your-life-for-a-stranger trip. Always wondered if I could do that, but the truth is, I'm still wonderin', because the Listers really didn't have all that much to do with what happened."
"I know."
"So I think I understand where you were comin' from, kind of the same place where I was. Scary, huh?"
"You know it."
I looked at him and we both knew there wasn't anything more we could say. He understood well enough, but that only helped so much.
"What can I do?" I asked.
"Well, don't go treatin' me like some delicate flower, for a start. I plan to have m'self some fun this year. It's a longer goodbye than I expected t'get. I plan to take full advantage of it."
"Doyle -"
"Hey, it's grace time, man. Like every other gift, got a price tag on it, but that goes with th' territory. So, maybe we'll get time enough that I can show ya the old place in Dublin. You been back over there this century?"
"No, can't say as I have. Of course there wasn't much left of my old village by the time I left it, some two hundred-odd years ago, so I can't offer to return the favor."
"Well, I know flyin' can be a challenge for those of the vampire persuasion."
"If you want me there with you, I'll find a way."
"I believe you will, at that."
I wasn't sure whether I was relieved or disappointed when Cordelia showed up.
"Hey." Her voice sounded almost shy, at least for Cordelia, as she came in the door.
"Hey yourself." I watched the way his face lit up when he saw her.
It was good to see him smile like that. No, I wasn't going to let it bother me that it was for Cordelia.
Why would I expect it to be for anyone else?
Cordelia had obviously gone to some extra trouble to prepare for this visit. She looked even more beautiful than usual. Doyle gave her an appreciative look.
"You look absolutely stunning this evenin', princess. What, is that all for me?"
"Well, it would be utterly wasted on Angel, wouldn't it?" she answered. "And the doctors around here, none of them are young or good-looking or anything." She pretended to ponder the question. "No... come to think of it, I don't see anybody else around here who is worth my attention."
"Now, who are you and what did you do with Cordelia?" he teased as she approached the bed.
"What, I can't be nice for a change? Maybe I got bored. So sue me."
"Don't think so. Not too fond of lawyers."
"Especially if they're from Wolfram and Hart," I agreed. Cordelia turned around and gave me a too-bright smile.
"Angel, any chance you could pick me up a capuccino from the cafeteria? Take your time."
Doyle laughed. "If that was supposed to be subtle, it wasn't."
"I don't do subtle."
"We've noticed," I said wryly, and with a quick smile at Doyle, I stepped out of the room.
If she made him smile like that, how could I begrudge them any moments they could have together?
CORDELIA
Being nervous around Doyle was new. I didn't like it.A girl has to keep control of the situation, you know. That's key. Up until now, I'd always been way in-charge where Doyle was concerned, and I was just fine with that.
This being scared, it is so not me.
"You don't look nearly as awful as I thought you would," I told him bluntly as I heard Angel's steps retreating down the hall.
"I'll take that as a compliment." He gestured at the bandages on his face. "These should come off tomorrow. They say I'm comin' along just fine."
"That's good. Bet your face still hurts though, huh?"
"Well, not too much."
"Good, 'cause I don't want to blow any more auditions."
"Huh?"
"Oh, Angel didn't tell you? Typical. The only time you ever get straight talk out of him is when he turns evil."
"You lost me here."
"Okay, that's nothing new. I'll spell it out for you. You didn't actually forget that kiss you gave me?" His _expression when I said that was enough that I couldn't help grinning, despite the fact that I was trying to act angry. "Well, while I was in the middle of a big audition for Stain-Be-Gone, which," and I lowered my voice, "I was totally screwing up anyway, you know, with the purely incidental crying part? Anyhow, whizz-bang, guess what I've got? One of your famous vision headaches. Not that I could make head or tail out of it anyway, but when I got back to the office to tell Angel, he wasn't even there, but he'd left me a note about you, and, actually, I may have completely forgotten to tell him in all the excitement."
He looked stunned. "I gave you the visions?"
"Well, duh, yeah, you did. So, the way I see it there is only one solution."
"Uh... what?"
"I kiss you again, of course. Not that, you know, I'd actually want to or anything... except that I actually, kind of... do."
"This isn't about feelin' sorry for me, now, is it?"
"Sorry to disappoint you, but I don't do pity kisses. So, how much does your face hurt?"
"Not enough to say no. But," he reached up a battered-looking hand to stop me as I came nearer, "I can't guarantee anything about the visions. I tend t' think the Powers have written me off already as a loss, y'know?"
"Then the Powers are even more stupid than I thought. So, tell me when it hurts."
Our eyes met first, and I knew it hurt already, even before I touched him.
It didn't stop me.
Chapter Four
DOYLE
She couldn't give me back the visions, no matter how hard she tried. Anyway, I still know an excuse when I see one.
Even without enhanced senses, I could tell that what was happening between us in that kiss didn't have much to do with the visions at all.
Cordelia was trying not to hurt me, I know. She was being gentle, for Cordelia. But it was the tenderness in her kiss that hurt me most of all.
ANGEL
"You actually had a vision?" I stared at Cordelia, not really believing this.
She was sitting next to Doyle's bed. She looked up at me with a sullen, rebellious _expression, and her fingers kept sliding over to touch his hand, as if she didn't notice what they were doing.
"Yeah, and I don't have the slightest idea what it was so don't bother me about it, okay? Just some gray blobby thing. You weren't in the office when I came in, and I know now that you were taking Doyle to the hospital but I didn't know that then, for all I knew you could have gone off somewhere and staked yourself or something, and I had absolutely nobody to talk to, and I couldn't even find anything of Doyle's in the whole office, and I was going to give you what-for about it when I came back from the audition, but then I found your note and, well, you know the rest."
Trying to get through all that took me a moment. Finally, I said, "I'm sorry I wasn't there for you when you needed to talk, but now you do know why. And I need to know about the vision. Somebody could be getting killed right now because you didn't tell me."
"Well, pardon me for living, but it just so happens that we had something more important to do than talk about some lame vision that didn't make any sense anyway."
Doyle said gently, "We both understand that, ‘Delia, but you still need to tell him what you saw."
She cast him a quick glance, then squared her shoulders with a sigh, and I could see her making an obvious effort for his sake. That worried me. Doyle wasn't going to take too kindly to being patronized by anyone.
"All right," she said, still looking at him, not at me. "Maybe I could try to draw the thing, but I don't think it's going to do us any good. I have absolutely no idea what it is. So, does this luxury hotel of yours come with a pen and paper?"
I ended up having to go to the nurses' station to get it, but I came back with a pencil and paper for Cordelia. She started sketching, biting her lip a little in annoyance as she worked.
"Okay, it looked like this. It didn't move, just kind of stood there like…"
"Like a statue?" Doyle asked, looking over her shoulder at the drawing.
"Yeah."
"I'm pretty sure I've seen this before," I said slowly. "I think it's a sculpture. Van Gieson, Maiden With Urn. Of course, it's hard to be sure from this."
"You've gotta be kidding," Cordelia protested. "The Powers sent me a Doyle special migraine in the middle of an audition to show me some statue? What's it gonna do, come alive and start killing people?"
"I don't know, but we've all seen stranger things than that." I looked at the drawing again. "I'll try to locate the sculpture. It could be that we're being warned of a museum robbery or something like that."
"Wouldn't a phone call to the cops be good enough? Why do they need to do the vision thing?"
"If they sent a vision, it must have something to do with demonic activity of some kind, something that the police couldn't handle. Maybe there's something being taken from a museum for more than just money, I don't know."
"Wait a minute," Doyle said thoughtfully. "I might know where that sculpture is. There's a hotel in town where some of the less than upright citizens of this fine city have been known to hold auctions. One of the Ramsey hotels, I believe. Most of the merchandise is stolen, and some of it is actually still alive when it's sold. Not usually human though," he added as both Cordelia and I stared at him.
"What, then?"
"There's actually a fairly brisk local slave trade in demons, as well as demon artifacts of various kinds. Some of the demons get sold to a local fight club, and I'm not sure what happens to the others. They generally steer clear of trading in humans, so they don't attract police attention. But I've heard they've been known to make some exceptions, when the price is right."
"So, you think maybe they're expanding their operations into selling humans?"
"Could be. Or somebody in particular we're supposed to be gettin' out of there, maybe. Borrow the pencil and paper from you, ‘Delia?"
Doyle took the paper with the drawing, and jotted down the information about the hotel. He handed it back to me.
"I suppose you'd better check it out," he said. "Wish I could come along, but…"
"You have a previous engagement. No problem." I took the paper. "I'll see what's happening there. Catch you both later, then."
"Sure."
When I left them, she was still sitting beside his bed. I knew there was trouble brewing there, but there was nothing I could do about it.
I would have to leave the two of them to sort it out for themselves.
The hotel didn't look like any hotbed of demonic activity. It looked much like any other overpriced, ostentatious hotel in L.A. I looked at Doyle's note.
"Excuse me, where are the convention halls?"
I followed the directions, still not seeing anything out of the ordinary. I asked the next employee, "Where's the auction?"
"No auction here."
On a hunch, I shifted to game-face, and asked again. "Where's the auction?"
This time, he was only too happy to point me in the right direction. "T-Tulip Room, down that way."
All right, definitely something to this. I kept going.
Then I heard what sounded like a struggle, and moved faster.
I burst into the room where the sounds came from. A couple of demons were holding a struggling human, while another demon stood in front of the prisoner. I couldn't see the human's face, but the short demon who was speaking wasn't hard to figure out.
"You've been following me since Phoenix. Aren't you glad you've finally caught up with me? I am. It's going to be a great pleasure to let Hank here take you apart, little by little, and I'm going to be right here enjoying every minute of it. Shall we start with the right hand, or the left?"
"Why don't we start with a foot?" I suggested as I got to work with mine.
It wasn't much of a challenge. I disposed of the muscle holding the human without any trouble. The short demon who had been making the threats escaped, but I wasn't too worried about that, either. I'd seen his face and heard his voice, and I had no doubt that I could find him again if necessary.
It was only after the demons had hit the floor and stopped moving that I saw the human prisoner's face for the first time.
He stared at me, and I stared back.
"Wesley?"
*********
"You mean I got that vision so you could save Wesley?" Cordelia squeaked in disbelief."So it seems."
Wesley Wyndham-Pryce, not looking much the worse for wear for his recent close encounter, greeted Cordelia with a nod and a smile. "It's a pleasure to see you again, Miss Chase."
"I thought you'd gone back to England."
"I did, actually. But my duties called upon me to return to the States."
"Watcher duties?"
"In point of fact I no longer work for the Council. I came to the conclusion that I would be of greater value working autonomously."
"Sounds like ya got fired," said Doyle. "By the way, since nobody has bothered to introduce us, I gather you're, ah, Wesley?"
"Wesley Wyndham-Pryce."
"Doyle. I work with Angel, when I'm not vacationing at this fine establishment."
Cordelia asked, "So, why are you in L.A.?"
"I was tracking a demon. I'd been following him for quite some time. The trail led to the Ramsey Hotel, where there is apparently an illegal auction trade of some sort."
"And you got yourself nabbed, eh?"
"I was outnumbered."
"Well, if I had to suffer through a splitting headache with a vision that I totally couldn't understand, I'm glad it was at least for somebody I know."
"Er, a vision?" Wesley queried.
"Long story. And it's past visiting hours, so I'm sure the hospital will be throwing us all out of here soon."
"Just let them try to throw me out," Cordelia said. "I'm staying here until I'm good and ready to leave."
Doyle responded, "Well, I am a bit tired. Why don't you come back tomorrow? They say I'll have the bandages off by then."
"I gather that working for Angel can be somewhat hazardous to one's health," Wesley ventured. "Having spent some time in hospital myself after recent events in Sunnydale, I'm all too familiar with such experiences."
"You could try saying thank-you, Wesley. Not only did Angel save you from a demony death, but I had to put up with…" and Cordelia looked at Doyle with a smile.
"A brain-splittin' mind-numbin' headache," the two of them said, almost in unison, and she grinned delightedly at him.
"See you tomorrow," she told Doyle, and as she stood up to leave, she bent down swiftly to give him a quick kiss goodbye. Wesley stared, and I put a firm hand on his arm, guiding him out the door.
"Cordelia and this Doyle are… ah… involved?"
"Well, it's complicated, but more or less, yes."
"I see," said Wesley, sounding disappointed. "Ah, well. She is right, however, I do owe you a debt of gratitude. Perhaps while your other assistant is temporarily indisposed, I could fill in for awhile, just to show my appreciation. Without compensation, of course, since you were kind enough to intervene on my behalf."
"Maybe," I said noncommittally. "I'll let you know."
The last thing I wanted to do was to give Doyle the idea that I was in any kind of hurry to replace him.
And with Wesley, of all people? Maybe I should have ignored that vision of Cordelia's, after all.
Chapter Five
CORDELIA
They won't talk about it. Isn't that just like men? They figure that if they just don't talk about it, it will go away.Doyle is still in the hospital. I visit him every day, and he lets me kiss him, but it's just like he's humoring me. He isn't really kissing back.
I want him to kiss me back.
I want him to live.
One good thing about it is, Angel is spending so much time at the hospital that he's got the world's best alibi. When Wesley found that article in the newspaper about some vampire killing people the way Angelus used to do in the powdered-wig days, he was all set to blame Angel for it, until I pointed out that Angel has been at the hospital with Doyle every night this past week. Then he backed down and had to admit that it couldn't have been Angel.
I really need to talk to somebody, and it looks like it's going to be Wesley. What a joke! Confide in Wesley? As if. But then again, what other choice do I have?
WESLEY
Although I volunteered my services, Angel hasn't accepted my offer yet. I suspect that his refusal may have some connection to his associate, Doyle, who is still in hospital. Perhaps Angel fears offending the man's feelings. It seems odd that a vampire would be so considerate, but Angel seems to be quite devoted to this fellow.So is Cordelia, and I must admit that rather distresses me.
Perhaps I should stop by the office again.
CORDELIA
When Wesley next showed up at the office, I went ahead and invited him in."Want some coffee?"
"No, thank you. Some tea, perhaps?"
"We don't have any upstairs, and Angel doesn't like me going down to his apartment when he's not around. Might have something to do with cutting up his linoleum."
"Ah, hmmm, whatever." Wesley had a newspaper in his hand.
"So, did anybody else get killed?"
"I'm afraid so. An adolescent boy, killed in the same way as the others. And yes, Cordelia, the time of death was quite clearly established at a time when Angel was at the hospital with Doyle. I assure you that I no longer suspect Angel of any involvement in the matter." He sighed. "I only wish that I could find the culprit myself, but that seems impossible."
"So, how come you're still in L.A.?"
Wesley blinked in surprise. "Pardon me?"
"You came to town to hunt down this demon, right? I get a vision, Angel hauls you out of there before you get killed, end of story. But, you're still here. You say you're not expecting to find the vampire who is doing the copycat killing, so that's not the reason why you're hanging around. What's the deal?"
"Ah, well, Cordelia, may I be frank with you?"
"Best way to be, if I say so myself, which I do."
"Ahem, yes. Well, the truth is, I'm concerned about you and Angel."
"About us? What kind of us do you mean? There isn't any us."
"Not you and Angel as a couple, of course. No, I realize that is not an issue. But I do owe you both a considerable debt for saving my life, and it appears that things are not well with you."
I looked at him, and sighed. "It shows that much?"
"Well, yes, it does. Does the problem have something to do with your Mr. Doyle?"
I nodded, and then it all spilled out. Sometimes you just need to talk to someone, you know? Even if it's only Wesley.
"Doyle's dying," I blurted out.
Wesley caught his breath, shocked. "Pardon me?"
"You heard me, I don't want to say it again. He has maybe a year to live, and Angel and I... we..."
"You both care a great deal about him, don't you?"
Wesley's _expression looked like he was finally beginning to understand. He reached out tentatively to touch my hand, like he was afraid I might pull it back or slap him or something.
I nodded miserably, letting him put his hand over mine. "I think I might even be in love with him, but I'm not sure. I need some time to find out, you know? But that's just what we don't have."
"If I may ask..."
"What happened? Well, actually he already died once..." and I launched into the whole story from the beginning. Wesley listened, really paying attention.
It felt really good to tell somebody. And, well, if there was a tear or two, Wesley didn't say anything about it. That was nice.
When I was finally done, he nodded slowly, like he was getting the picture at last.
"So, that certainly explains why both of you feel so strongly about Doyle. I'm sorry, Cordelia. I know that this is very difficult for you."
"I can't even give him back the visions, you know? It doesn't take. It's like he's already dead."
"Maybe he's simply not strong enough to be able to handle the visions right now. From the way you describe them, they sound quite painful, and I gather that he is still very weak."
"Yeah, and if it would keep him alive, I'd even put up with them, but it won't. My having the visions isn't helping him one bit. It's just like I took his job away from him. That was his whole big role in life, I guess, being the messenger for Angel and everything, and now it's me."
Wesley straightened in his chair.
"So," I went on, "He's sitting there in the hospital, and I've got his visions, and you want Angel to let you work here, and it's like we're just picking out the gravestone, you know? I think Doyle's giving up already, or maybe he thinks we're giving up on him. I don't want to give up on him, Wesley."
"So, my suspicion was correct. Angel fears that if he accepts my services, it would suggest to Doyle that he is no longer needed."
"The worst part is, they won't talk about it. There's only one other thing that I can think of, one way to keep Doyle with us, but they don't even want to talk about what's going to happen. So, how can I get them to talk about making it not happen?"
"A way to keep Doyle with you? What do you mean?"
"Angel would never let himself think of it. He wants Doyle to live just as much as I do, but I think he enjoys all the suffering. After all, when you're going to live forever, you expect everybody else around you to die."
"I suppose you have a point."
"I don't see why he can't - but they wouldn't even consider it. Men just refuse to see the obvious. This whole thing about being human, you know, it's highly overrated."
Wesley looked confused. "I'm sorry, I don't quite follow you."
"Well, what's wrong with living forever? I mean, Angel still looks good. No spiney things sticking out all over his face or anything like that."
"Is that a non sequitur, or did I simply miss the last stop of your train of thought?"
"If it were me, I'd make Angel do it, but naturally Doyle would never go for it. I don't know what the hangup is. There's being stubborn, and then there's being stupid, you know. If I were going to die, I'd take it in a New York minute."
"Surely you don't mean..."
"Well, yeah, of course. I was there when Willow did the whole spell thing, and it was a little weird, but it shouldn't be that tough to do it again. I mean, how hard can it be to find an Orb of Thessula?"
Chapter Six
ANGEL
I like to watch him sleep.I know that I won't have this opportunity for much longer. So I'm here every night, and he indulges me, smiling a little with that knowing look he has that tells me so much and so little, at the same time.
Leaving the hospital as dawn approaches is the most difficult part. I haven't been doing much at the office lately, and I don't particularly care. The Powers can take this job and shove it for the next year.
They have me for eternity, after all, a never-ending lifetime to serve them, without end, without him.
I don't want to let him go.
His face looks better now, almost normal. However meager their offer, the oracles have kept their bargain so far, moving the fatal damage over to his unlamented demon side, leaving the human more or less intact for the moment.
The hospital should be releasing him soon. I'm still not sure where we go from there.
Last night, as I was watching him, listening to him breathe, I gave in for a moment to the temptation to touch him, where the skin is well-healed on his face, where the hair curled softly against his cheek. I let my fingertips brush lightly against the warmth, and I saw the beginning of a smile teasing his lips... in his sleep? Or was he awake? I couldn't be sure.
I had to get up and walk away for awhile, to keep myself from doing anything more.
DOYLE
He's gone and put everything on hold for me, I know. There are probably people dying out there every night because he's sitting next to my bed, watching me.I know he's there, even when I doze off. I can feel him being there, and I can feel it when he finally leaves.
When he smashed the Ring of Amarra, he told me that he'd been brought back from hell for a reason. If it wasn't for living in the sunlight, then it probably wasn't to sit there and watch me sleep, either.
And while I'm holding him back from doing what he should be doing, I haven't yet figured out what it is that I should be doing, in the time I have.
A year as a human, with no demon to hold me back... like Cordelia says, there's a lot you can do in a year.
But I'm going to have to leave them, once I get out of here, to go out and do some of those things, and they aren't going to like it.
Neither one of them is going to like that at all.
WESLEY
I took Cordelia over to the hospital in the afternoon for her daily visit, and then returned to the office of Angel Investigations. It would be best to have this conversation with Angel at a time when I knew Cordelia would not interrupt.Angel was upstairs, drinking some of Cordelia's atrocious coffee, when I returned.
He looked up indifferently. "Wesley. You're back. What can I do for you?"
"We need to talk, Angel, about your friend Doyle."
The name caught his immediate attention, as I had known it would. He gestured sharply toward the couch. "Sit. Talk."
I moved quickly, noticing with some displeasure how instinctively I obeyed him.
"So what is it?" he asked impatiently as I sat.
"I've spoken with Cordelia. She was in need of a confidante, and...."
He frowned. "She told you."
"Don't blame her for telling me, Angel. She's still quite young, despite all her bravado, and she's very frightened. She may put up a brave front, but she is quite terrified of losing Doyle."
"Are you going to tell me anything I don't already know?"
"She's going to ask you to turn him."
That shocked him, enough that he actually dropped the cup of coffee. It fell, shattering on the floor and splashing everywhere.
He didn't even seem to notice.
After a long moment, he said, "I should have expected that. She doesn't understand what she's asking, but you're right. She's scared, and she's headstrong enough to get this kind of idea and run with it."
"I suspect she may be contacting Willow about the requirements for an ensoulment spell. She mentioned to me that it shouldn't be too difficult to locate an Orb of Thessula."
"I think Doyle may have a little something to say about that."
"Would I be correct in speculating that the idea would not be as appealing to him as it is to Cordelia?"
"Yes, you'd be correct. For years, the one thing Doyle has wanted most was to be fully human."
Angel looked at me then, and his face seemed even more haunted than usual.
"I doubt that Cordelia, or I, could offer him anything that could compare with that."
DOYLE
"You're looking almost normal. Well, normal for you, that is.""Gee, thanks, Cordelia."
"No more tubes, huh? I guess you can actually move around now."
"Yeah, it's not a convoy when I go to the toilet any more."
Without asking permission, she reached out to touch my face, and I couldn't help but be reminded of Angel's surreptitious touch when he thought that I was sleeping.
Cordelia was bolder, but that obvious effort to be gentle was still there. "Healing right up. So, how much longer before you can keep your promise to take me out to dinner? Because I'm really losing patience here."
Her kiss was more insistent this time, more demanding, her tongue teasing at my lips, pushing for more. I didn't really want to respond, but I couldn't help it. Being kissed by Cordelia is just not something one can easily ignore.
When I finally gave in to it, I could feel, more than hear, her gasp of pleasure when the kiss deepened. Entwining her hands in my hair, she stretched out on the edge of the narrow hospital bed, pressing her body as close to mine as possible. There wasn't nearly enough pain to keep me from reacting to that.
I tried to break off the kiss then, pulling back. "Cordelia -"
"Please, Doyle." She pressed back in, her hands all over me, and I was torn between desire and... something else. Awkwardly, I pulled my mouth away again, but not before her roving hands had discovered my response.
"We're in a hospital, remember? Nurses and such, coming in any minute?"
"I don't care," she started off, and then stopped groping me and moved her hands to my shoulders, where they stayed for awhile. "Okay, I do care, but I don't like waiting. When they release you, will you come over to my place first?"
"First?"
"You know what I mean."
"Cordelia, I..."
She looked at me, and there was a desperate hurt in her face. "Oh, no, you're not going to play games with me, are you? Because we don't have time for that," and then she looked away, blinking fast, and took her hands off me.
She moved back to the chair, placing a safe distance between us.
"Don't you dare tell me that you're going to say no. No man has ever said no to me, I do all the saying no part. Rejecting is my job, not yours, and don't think you're going to be the first... the first..."
She turned away, seeking out the box of tissues on the radiator and grabbing one, then blowing her nose furiously.
"Now you've gone and made my nose all red and everything. I must look a fright."
"I'm sorry, princess," I said softly.
She stared at me for a moment, wiping her eyes. "If you weren't... if you weren't going to, you know..."
"I know. But that's the problem, isn't it?"
"You don't seriously think that I'm just feeling sorry for you, do you?"
"Not 'just.' I know there's more than that. But, feeling sorry? Yeah."
"You don't even know the more there is. And that didn't make any sense, did it?"
"It did to me. But I can't let you do this to yourself, 'Delia."
"Do what?"
"The closer we get, the harder it's gonna be on you. You know that, don't you?"
"You think it's easier the other way? Wishing that I... that we..."
"Could be."
"Why can't you let me decide that for myself?"
"Because it does take two, darlin'... and I don't want to hurt you any more than I have to."
"Then why don't you just let Angel turn you?" she blurted out in a rush. "Then we can have all the time in the world."
I was too stunned even to reply. And the next thought that crossed my mind shocked me even more.
All the time in the world...
Time enough to let myself love and be loved...
Why was it that the face that came first to my mind, when Cordelia said that to me, wasn't hers?
Why was I thinking of Angel?
Chapter Seven
CORDELIA
I hadn't meant to say it like that. I was going to try to ease into the subject.Well, so much for easing into anything.
He looked totally shocked for a moment, and then his face just closed down tight.
"That is not going to happen, Cordelia," he said coldly. I don't think he had ever used that harsh tone of voice with me before. He could have been talking to Spike, the way he sounded.
"Why not? Because the Powers that Be want you dead? Screw them!"
"You don't know what you're dealing with here."
"Excuse me, Mister Third-Grade Teacher, but I'm from Sunnydale, remember? Hellmouth, hello? I know exactly what I'm dealing with, thank you very much. In case I never mentioned it, I just happened to be right there helping with the spell when Angel's soul was put back the second time. You weren't there. You didn't even know Angel back then. You were probably out in some bar that night. I was the one standing there watching Willow go all witchy and weird, but it worked, didn't it? So don't tell me that I don't know what I'm talking about. When it comes to the whole giving a vampire back his soul thing, I think I know what I'm dealing with better than you. And, you know something else? Whatever it takes to keep you around, I'm for it."
I watched him struggling to calm down, and started to feel sorry. So, I tried to chill out, too.
"Okay," I went on, trying to be a little less shrill this time, "Coming down off the high horse now. Both of us. Deal?"
He hesitated, then said, "Deal."
"Good. Because I really don't want to fight with you."
"That's part of the problem, isn't it?" he responded, with a lopsided smile. "You don't want to fight with me, because you feel sorry for me. I think I liked it better when you yelled at me."
"Well, you don't think a little thing like you joining the souled-vampire brigade would stop me, do you?"
"I don't think anything would stop you, Cordelia. It's more a question of stoppin' me."
"So what aren't you saying?"
He winced, and I wondered what he was thinking. "You know how I couldn't tell you about the demon thing?"
"Of course. I also remember that you never actually told me. I had to find it out from someone else, which I did not appreciate, especially since it made me look like a complete idiot for not knowing."
"Well, what if I was a vampire?"
"As long as you had your soul and wasn't going to lose it... oh. The curse thing? Well, maybe we can change it, get rid of that. I mean, when we had to curse Angel it was an emergency, he was running around trying to end the world and all that crap, we didn't have time for fine-tuning. This time, maybe the time we do have could be enough."
"And if it isn't?"
"I'd rather have you be like Angel than be gone," I answered.
"I believe you would, yeah. I'm just not so sure about it myself as you are. And, when it comes right down to it, it's my life we're talkin' about here."
"Are you saying you'd rather be..."
"Dead than vamped? Serious possibility of that, yeah."
"Then I really don't understand you."
"It would be a neat trick if you did, considerin' I don't really understand myself. But I get the distinct feelin' that my new assignment, whether I choose to accept it or not, is the job of figurin' it all out."
"Well, don't take too long," I said bluntly, and then felt horrible. "Ouch. I shouldn't have said that."
"You say what you feel, straight-up, I know that. It's part of what I..." he paused, like he was trying to decide whether to use the word or not, and then he went on. "It's part of what I love about you, Cordelia."
He said it. He said it! I gave him one of my very best smiles. But the relief didn't last long, because he kept on talking.
"But there's more than one kind of love, y'know? And that doesn't necessarily mean that the two of us getting together is the right thing."
"I can't believe this. You love me, you want me, I'm practically throwing myself at you, and you're saying no? What am I missing here?"
"I just need to think things through for awhile. And, yeah, I know I can't take too long with it, but it will just have to take as long as it takes."
"And what about me?"
"You're just going to have to cope with it, I guess. If it helps any, you know I still want you, princess. But I'm not going to do anything about it, not until I make some decisions for m'self."
"And you just want me to wait for you?" I could feel myself getting upset again, and I tried to stop it, but I couldn't. I was on my feet before I realized that I was getting out of the chair. "How long am I supposed to wait? Until you're dead?"
As soon as the words were out of my mouth, I knew I was starting to cry, and I couldn't let him watch me cry. I grabbed my purse and headed for the door.
"Cordelia!"
I could hear him calling after me, but I wasn't going back. I got out of there as fast as I could.
Cordelia Chase waits for no man.
I was so angry as I left the hospital that I could barely see the numbers on my cell phone as my fingernail jabbed at it.
By the time the call was answered, I had my voice under control. No one would have been able to tell that there were still tears in my eyes.
"Serina? You remember that date you were going to set up for me, the one I turned down? Well, somebody needs to be taught a lesson. Think you can still do it? Good."
Chapter Eight
ANGEL
He was sitting in the chair beside the bed when I arrived. It was the first time I'd seen him out of bed and Cordelia not there.My first thought was how thin he looked, almost transparent, without the demon inside. And then I met his eyes and realized again how much strength was still there, even though it didn't always show.
"Hey. Good to see you out of bed. Did Cordelia leave already?"
"Yeah, she and I had a bit of a falling-out."
"Like old times?"
"I wish. No, not like that." He gestured, and I sat down on the edge of the bed.
When I sat down, the sheets smelled of his body. I tried not to think about that.
"You're going to have to keep an eye out for Cordelia for awhile. Make sure she doesn't do anything stupid," he said.
"Why? What happened?"
He smiled a little. "What I would have wanted more than anything, a month or two back. Would you believe it? She made a pass at me, and I had to say no. Well, you can guess how she took that."
"Not well, I'm sure."
"Then she started off on this other idea of hers, and..."
"I know." I found myself looking at his feet, his hands, anywhere but his face. "Wesley told me what she was going to ask me."
"Wesley told you, eh?" He seemed to linger on that thought for a moment. When I was finally able to look at him, I saw that he, too, was not looking directly at me. "Hmmm. Well, when my enthusiasm was a little lacking on that particular front, she puffed right up like a balloon. I didn't even get to tell her the rest."
"The rest?"
"Yeah." He stood up then, and I watched him as he stretched a little, still awkward in a body that was subtly different than it had been before. He straightened, and began to pace slowly around the room.
"I do have a television set in here, y'know, and we even get the newspaper sometimes. I know there's been a whole string of killings this past week, and you and I both can read between the lines where it spells 'vampire.' How many people are dead today who would be alive right now if you hadn't been here with me?"
I couldn't answer.
He sighed. "And then there's Cordelia. She ran out of here like the proverbial bat, so to speak, when I told her I wasn't going to head straight over to her place soon as I get out of here. It's not like I don't want her, but there's more than wantin' someone that matters. But she doesn't understand. She doesn't get how you can love someone, and still say no. Well hey, I haven't jumped into bed with you yet, have I?"
I felt myself going very still as I heard what he was saying.
The world seemed to go silent around me. Inside me, there was nothing but an empty space filled with the echo of his words, with what he knew, and what he was admitting to me.
And that was when he told me he was leaving.
"I'm going to have to go away for a bit. I know it's rough on you, and on Cordelia, too. I see that, and I'm sorry for it. But there are some things I just have to do."
After a long moment, I managed to say, "What?"
"I need to make things right with some people. Well, there's Harry to start with. It's not like we'd get back together or anything, but I owe her a proper goodbye. After the way I treated her, it took something to give up her brain-eatin' boyfriend because of me, even if it was partly for the 'starting with deceit' thing. She might have been happy with Richard, even if it was only for a little while. She should have had that. And then there's my mother, o'course. I'd like to take a little time to get things right with her, too."
He looked straight at me then, and the reflection of what he'd seen in me, what I felt, was there in his eyes. "Most of all, though, I need to sort some things out for myself. What I want to do with the time I have, maybe what it means to be human again, and what I want to do about... some things."
"I understand, I think."
"Yeah, I think you do."
"Just promise me this much. Come back to me, before... before it's over." I forced myself to keep speaking, although it hurt more than anything I'd felt outside of hell. "Don't make me wonder for the next hundred years where you were when you died, and if you were alone, and if you were scared..."
"Shush. You don't have to say anything more. I'll come back if I can, I promise."
I was on my feet, and he let me hold him then, just a brother's hug, and it was sweet, even though it only lasted for what seemed like seconds. Just holding him, that's all, not doing anything else but feeling the beat of his heart...
It would have to be enough.
DOYLE
They're releasing me today. Cordelia hasn't been back, and I don't know for sure yet whether Angel has told her I'm leaving.I'm not keen on the idea of disappearing without saying goodbye, but I don't know what else I could say to her right now.
There's only one thing she wants to hear, that I'm going to spend all the time I have with her, and I can't tell her that. There's a lot I can't tell her. Big change, right? The more things change, the more they stay the same.
I was starting to pack my bag, just waiting for the official word, when I had my last visitor. It wasn't Cordelia, or Angel.
"Mr. Doyle?"
Surprised, I said: "Uh, Pryce, was it?"
"Wyndham-Pryce. May I speak with you for a moment?"
"Sure. I can't go anywhere until they say so. What can I do for you?"
"Angel was kind enough to fill me in on the situation. I hope that you don't mind, but I happen to know Cordelia rather well, and since she is currently acting like someone has cut out her heart and eaten it for lunch - sir, what were you thinking?"
He was really angry, and that startled me. Then I found myself smiling.
That was good. Someone who wasn't tiptoeing around me, and who didn't mind being angry at me - it was a breath of fresh air after all the kid-glove treatment.
"You really care about her, don't you?" I asked.
"Yes, Mr. Doyle, I do. And, while your situation is undoubtedly difficult, I don't see why there was any need to hurt Cordelia. She's not as insensitive as she may appear at times."
"I know that. Probably better than you do. And I don't owe you any explanations about what was necessary here, but I'm glad you care. Cordelia can use all the friends she can get."
"Yes, well, I think she'll be needing her friends more than ever, if you are determined to leave under these circumstances."
"You're right." Behind him, a nurse was arriving with a clipboard, and I could tell by her smile and the forms that she was carrying that she was bringing the good news I'd been waiting for, that I'd be free to go.
"Take care of her, okay?" I said to him as I reached out for the clipboard and the pen, to sign the release forms. "It's good to know that someone is going to be there for her."
"Since you have chosen not to be?" He was still bristling at me, but I didn't mind.
"Since I have chosen not to be," I agreed quietly. "Watch out for her while I'm gone."
"I can assure you that I will do my best."
"All anyone could ever ask," I told him.
And then it was time to leave.
Chapter Nine
Chapter Nine Note: This chapter is set during the "Angel" episode "Expecting," written by Howard Gordon, but as it might have happened during "Year of Grace." If you haven't seen "Expecting," this chapter probably won't make much sense to you.
CORDELIA
"You live alone, right?""In the sense that I'm the only one living here who's actually alive."
Dennis kept signaling to me how wrong this all was. I wasn't going to pay attention. I didn't want to care any more. I just wanted things to be the way they should have been when I moved to L.A. - finding a nice, normal guy, and having a nice, normal relationship.
Is it too much to ask, to be with a guy who is human, and not dying, and not going to reject me? I mean, it must still be possible, right?
(Doyle... where are you? Are you still alive? Are you thinking of me?)
When I threatened Dennis with Madonna's Evita, he finally backed off. An overprotective ghost isn't all that easy to explain, but I managed to talk my way out of it.
"Sometimes, just to keep myself company, I talk to myself..."
When Wilson Christopher started to kiss me, I didn't let myself close my eyes right away. That was all part of the game, I guess. I had to keep my eyes open, keep looking at him, reminding myself that this wasn't Doyle, for as long as I could stand it.
And then finally I closed my eyes and let myself dream.
(Doyle, this could have been you and me, right here, right now.)
Warm lips, warm hands, touching me... as I had wanted for so long to be touched. It had been too long, since Xander went and spoiled me for other guys and then Doyle came along and kissed me and then died and I can't bear to think about it right now, I just can't.
(You're still alive somewhere... you're not dead yet, you're not...)
Had he ever really come back at all, or had I imagined the whole thing? Right now, I couldn't be sure of anything except how hollow I felt, with every place that he had ever touched (and every place he hadn't) on fire with needing someone, with needing him.
He wasn't there, but someone else was.
(If you knew... would you come crashing through the door, like Angel does when he rescues somebody? Would you pull Wilson off me? Would you throw me down on the bed and... No. You wouldn't. You won't. You're not going to come back for me. You're not going to come through that door. You're not going to do to me, ever, ever, what he is doing now.)
We were on the bed, and he was gentle, like Doyle would have been, and it felt good.
("We're in a hospital, remember? Nurses and such, coming in any minute?" No, I'm not going to think of him pulling away from me, I'm not. "Rejecting is my job, not yours, and don't think you're going to be the first... the first..." I can't think of him. I can't.)
I have no pride left, nothing to hold back, as I held back for so long with Xander. There is nothing left of me to protect any more. (Please, for one night, I don't want to be alone. Don't leave me alone.)
I think maybe I cried out Doyle's name, but I'm not sure.
When I next opened my eyes, Wilson was gone. He didn't say goodbye either.
And when I looked at myself, I knew that I was being punished.
ANGEL
I have seldom been so angry. And the worst part is, I'm not sure who I'm most angry at right now.The mystery demon who is using Cordelia as a breeder?
Wilson Christopher, for seducing Cordelia when she was vulnerable and needy?
Cordelia, for doing something foolish because she was hurting and she had to prove to herself that she didn't need Doyle?
Doyle, for leaving us, even though we both need him?
Myself, for not being able to stop this from happening?
I can't get her face out of my mind, when Wesley and I found her lying in bed, her eyes blank and staring. Despite her unnaturally bloated body, there was an emptiness about her, like something inside her was missing.
I know what it is. It's the same thing that's missing inside me.
I can't blame her for using sex to try to forget him. I've tried that kind of forgetting before, more than once, as a human and as a vampire.
The difference between us is, I already know from experience that it doesn't work. She still had to find that out for herself.
The demon breeder part of it was more than any of us would have bargained for. But the need to fill that emptiness... I know it well.
I couldn't protect her from it. How can I, when I can't even protect myself?
WESLEY
When I first saw Cordelia, I thought I had never seen such a beautiful woman. Then Rupert Giles reminded me that she was just a girl, a student, a mere child.She is not a child any longer. But I think she had not lost her faith in happy endings, until today.
Who was it who took away her innocence? Was it the man who used her last night, or the man who left her behind?
She whispered to me, over the swollen belly that marked what had been done to her: "They're not human. But, that could be okay, right? I mean, look at Angel. He's not human. And Doyle, he wasn't either... I mean, not totally... but he was good. Wasn't he?"
She looked at me as though she expected an answer. I had none.
Damn them both, both of them who did this to her. I wish that I could personally kill them both, not only the man who used her, but the other man too, who made it possible.
I realize that all the suffering that I could wish for him will probably happen to him anyway, with no need of any action from me.
That doesn't make it any easier.
It's odd, isn't it? Not long ago, I thought I'd never see Cordelia or Angel again, and at least as far as Angel was concerned, I would have preferred it that way. Now what matters most to me is protecting them both.
But I can't protect them from the one man who hurts them more than anyone else. And that is the one man they both love, as they never will another.
DOYLE
I couldn't shake the feeling that something had gone wrong.I had promised myself I wouldn't call, not right away. They needed time too, same as I did, even if they didn't know it yet. They had to get over needing me.
If I called them all the time, they wouldn't be getting over it, now would they?
Two or three times, when that feeling came over me, I almost picked up the phone, and then stopped myself. It was for their sake, I told myself, letting them have the space to figure out who they are without me. Cordelia has the visions. There's nothing I can do for them now that whatshisname can't do better.
Who was I kidding? I was missing them as much as they were probably missing me.
Eventually I convinced myself that it had been long enough. I would keep it casual, no flirting with - either of them - forget that thought.
Even then, the first time I dialed the number, I hung up before anyone answered.
Finally, I let the call ring through. Wouldn't you know, it was whatshisname who answered, not Cordelia. Maybe Angel had given up on Cordelia answering the phone by now.
"Angel Investigations."
"Yeah, I know. Is Angel there?"
There was silence on the other end of the line.
"All right then," I ventured after the silence went on too long, "What about Cordelia?"
The clipped British voice was icy. "She's not here at the moment, but if you are perchance inquiring after her health, I'm pleased to say that she has survived, no thanks to you. If it matters to you at all, we nearly lost her two days ago. But I presume that you don't particularly care."
In the background, from a distance, I heard Angel's voice. "She likes magazines. I got a few, you know, for when she comes back. Oh, sorry, I didn't realize you were on the phone. Who is it?"
"No one important," Wesley said coldly, and hung up.
I stood staring at the phone for a long time.
Chapter Ten
Chapter Ten Note: This chapter is set during the "Angel" episodes "She," written by David Greenwalt and Marti Noxon, and "I've Got You Under My Skin," written by Jeannine Renshaw. Some dialogue is taken from the episodes.
CORDELIA
The man has no dignity. I mean, Angel only had to say, "You want a job," and he was like, "Yes, please!" And then the tears. Really."There is, ah, something in my eye," Wesley stammered.
"Oh, don't go getting all sappy." I didn't get to say much more, since I felt the freight-train roar of a vision coming on.
That's twice now that Wesley has done the "It's allergies, it's something in my eye" routine. The man is such a wuss. I don't remember him being like that in Sunnydale at all.
The first time was when I told him, after that whole thing with the demon getting me pregnant and everything, that I now have two people I trust absolutely with my life.
Yeah, that's true. I do have two.
It should have been three.
I don't mention his name much. Wesley winces a little when I do, like after the vision with the exploding eyeballs in surround-yick, when I said, "Thank you Doyle."
Even in sarcasm, it hurts. So Angel tries to be nice about it and not remind Wesley.
Correction. Might as well admit it. We try not to remind ourselves.
But, Angel hired Wesley. So okay, fine. I don't mind that. It turns out that Wesley's not that much of a pain to have around, after all.
Things were fairly cool until I tried to get him to eat the brownies I baked, which nobody ever did eat, because Angel just had to slip and call Wesley "Doyle," and then I lost my appetite.
I knew that Angel and I were going to have to talk about it.
I just didn't know how to start.
ANGEL
"Pretend to read any good books lately?" she asked me."Cordelia. I thought you went home."
She gave me a look as she sat down. She wasn't going to be put off any longer, I know. But I didn't want to talk, and I didn't want to listen to her talk about him, either.
How many months are left? How many days? He's not here, and I'm being selfish.
I brought him back for the wrong reasons, I know. I didn't bring him back for his own sake. I brought him back for mine.
He's probably having a great time out there, making the rounds of the bars and the racetracks, doing all of the things that he enjoys while he still can. I shouldn't begrudge him one moment of it, but I do. I want him to be here, right here, with me.
I know that she felt the same way, at least then. I'm not sure how she feels any more.
She's probably going to tell me all about how she feels, and I'm not sure I want to hear it.
Do I want to hear that she feels the same way that I do? Or that she doesn't? Would it make a difference?
"You called him Doyle."
"It just... happened. I hope Wesley is okay with it."
"Oh, who cares about him! This is about Doyle. You never say his name."
"I say it."
She doesn't know how often I say it, when I'm alone, talking to someone who isn't there. I'm not fool enough to tell her that.
"No, you don't." Then she started yammering something about me being "unflappable." I wasn't paying a lot of attention any more.
She wanted me to talk about it, about how I feel. She didn't know what she was asking me.
She's strong, she's young and resilient. She's getting over it already. By this time next year, she won't think about him very often, I'm sure.
I'll never stop, not even after she has died of old age in her sleep.
Finally I was able to get out the words, "I miss him."
"Me, too."
I think I would actually have told her, if we'd been given enough time. I might have told her how hard it is to get through the day and the night, wondering where he is, wondering if he is thinking of me the way I'm thinking of him. She has no idea about the way it is that I'm thinking of him.
It would have been an unfair burden on her. She doesn't need to know that kind of thing. Like the kids say, "too much information."
But I might have told her anyway, once I started talking. Once I began, once I tried to explain how much I'd been around death for so long, and why this was so different, this time, why this was the one that I just couldn't get over... maybe I wouldn't have stopped until I told her everything.
I think she would have understood.
But I was just warming up to start talking about it when the vision hit her, and that was the end of that conversation.
DOYLE
After that phone call, I almost went back. I even went as far as the building.I didn't go in.
I ended up watching from across the street for awhile that night. There was a lot going on, it seemed, with everybody bustling busily in and out. There were some people I didn't know, looked like a child and his parents, as far as I could tell.
I lit up a cigarette while I watched, but I had to put it out. Between the glow of the cigarette and the sound of my coughing, there was too much chance somebody would notice me.
I wasn't ready for them to notice me yet. I wasn't sure if I'd ever be.
I more or less figured the lungs would be the first to go. I've been smoking on and off since I was twelve years old. So, the cough getting worse didn't surprise me any.
There was still time though. I wasn't yet done.
Cordelia left in a rush, and then she came hurrying back, carrying some poor imitation of a Shorshack box. Probably got it from Rick, who knows an ignorant sucker when he sees one.
I started walking toward the building then, without intending to do it. If they were dealing with some kind of demon possession, maybe they could use my help.
Then I started coughing again, and I stopped walking.
I'd only be a distraction for Angel, a distraction that could get him, or Cordelia, killed. He'd start worrying about me, trying to protect me, and we'd be back again where we were.
Of course, if the interruption only got whatshisname killed, I'd shed no tears for that. But I couldn't chance it, not with other lives involved.
Showing up now, while they're dealing with a crisis, would be pushing my luck.
My luck has a way of running out.
WESLEY
Even the demons know that I'm just a poor substitute.The exorcism did not go well. The demon inside the boy could skim the surface of our minds, reading our thoughts, or at least some of our thoughts.
That made the experience difficult, to say the least.
"What makes you think these people want you around any more than the others did?" the demon jeered.
"Because I invited him here," Angel said.
"Then you're stupider than he is. Tell him how you plan to kill him," it went on, taunting us both. "He's more afraid of you than he is of me."
That was worse than what it said about my father, worse than what it said about the Council.
Mixing truth with lies - that's more poisonous than either one.
It didn't know everything, but it knew enough. It started in on Angel, and there wasn't much doubt what had been at the surface of his mind.
"Guess who's here, Angel. He's talking to me right now. Doyle wants to know why you can't protect him."
Nothing was going to stop Angel from taking part in the exorcism after that, no matter what the cross did to his hand. You could see that it was personal now.
"You're letting him die. Just like he's gonna let me die. Aren't you, daddy? Two great protectors."
"You're wrong," Angel said with icy calm. "There's nobody here now who's going to die."
He was right, as usual, at least for the time being. But after it was all over, after we'd defeated the demon and saved the family from the boy himself, I couldn't shake the realization of the way the demon had gone wrong.
Doyle wasn't there, and yet, he was there, in Angel's mind. I suspect that in some ways, he remains far more present, far more alive to Angel than I am.
Perhaps he always will be.
The demon could sense my fear, but not what it was that I feared most.
It wasn't death, even at Angel's hands, should he ever revert to what he once was. I think I've passed beyond that particular fear now.
What I fear most is that the time will come when someone will say "Guess who's here" again.
And, this time, it will be true.
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Eleven note: The majority of this chapter occurs during the "Angel" episode "The Ring," written by Howard Gordon, and this chapter includes some dialogue from that episode.
DOYLE
I read in the newspaper where Kate Lockley's father died suddenly. Actually, I read it in the obits.Used to be, obituaries were not my favorite reading. The sports section of the newspaper, sure, I'd read that through. Back in the old days, I'd read the regular news too.
I'd been reading through the newspapers more thoroughly these days, hoping I might find something to tell me what was going on with Angel and Cordelia. Maybe some off-off-off-Broadway play or something would mention the casting of this new actress, or maybe some crime story would give me some hints of what Angel was fighting lately.
Now, it seems that I read the obituaries most of all. I guess it's a habit you start to get into, when it really sinks in that you're dying.
It was starting to sink in now. I had finally taken the time to stop by the walk-in clinic, when the coughing got a lot worse. They gave me one of those inhalers and a diagnosis, for whatever it was worth.
So, now I read the obits, trying to imagine what really killed them, thinking about what ought to be said in mine.
Trevor Lockley, survived by one daughter, Katherine. When they say "suddenly at his home," it usually means one of two things, suicide or vampires. If the father was anything like the daughter, I was betting against suicide.
Angel must be kicking himself that he couldn't save that one.
The impulse to go back was getting stronger now. I had to think about why, and what that meant.
I did have a choice. There was an alternative. But, I had to play out that scenario in my mind, see where it might lead.
I was going to take a little more time, thinking about it.
In the meantime, I needed to go out and relieve a little frustration. No, not that kind, I wasn't as much interested in that as I used to be. I wanted to watch something die, something that wasn't me.
It was expensive, but I knew the place, and knew how to get a ticket. I can clean up enough to fit in with that crowd when I want to do it. So, I got in there, although I had to lighten my pocket quite a bit to get in.
Then I saw the matchups for tonight: Grador vs. Siru and Angel vs. Trepkos.
Trying not to jump to any conclusions, I did a little mingling. I heard the word "vampire" quite a few times.
Damn. How was I going to spring him? With my demon half gone, along with a good piece of my lungs, I'm useless in a fight. Even at my best, I couldn't take on all the thugs I'd have to get through to get to him.
Did Cordelia and whathisname know? I could call and tell them, but Wesley would just hang up on me again.
Nobody owed me any favors big enough to bust out one of the demons from the fights. They were making the announcement already, and I still didn't have the faintest idea what I was going to do.
"Tonight's match features a new favorite in the ring - a vampire. Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome, for the second night in a row, and still fresh from his first kill: Angel!"
First kill?
Oh, man. They'd had him since yesterday and they had already made him kill. This was not good news.
I was getting wobbly, and I had to sit down, as I listened to the announcement.
"His opponent is a fan favorite who needs no introduction. This marks his twenty-first and final fight. Let's give a special welcome to a true champion: Val Trepkos!"
Trepkos. This wasn't my sport of choice, but I'd heard a few things about Trepkos. I inched forward, trying to get myself close enough to the pit to see what was going on, while I tried frantically to think of a way to get Angel out of there.
I wasn't coming up with one damned thing. I didn't even have a weapon with me. I had never felt so helpless, so useless, in my whole sorry life.
I had to sit there and watch Trepkos beat the crap out of Angel, knowing that if I said anything, if I did anything, it would only make it worse. Angel wasn't fighting back much. He was just trying to defend himself, and he didn't look like his heart was much in it, even for that.
I was frozen there, watching, and the weight of love and fear for him was so heavy on my chest right now that I couldn't breathe.
He fought like a man who didn't much care whether he survived the night or not.
He fought like a man who didn't really care to live if the price was too high, who was more than willing to die, as long as he could die his way.
And, God help me, I was beginning to understand us both, a little better than I ever wanted to do.
Trepkos had Angel down, and the crowd was starting to chant now.
"Killing blow! Killing blow!"
I couldn't do anything. Even if I threw myself into the ring, it wouldn't save him. And if I had to watch him die, there wasn't going to be much point in what was left of my life, either.
Trepkos wasn't killing him, even though he was down. Somebody was starting to get upset about that. And then, I heard:
"Call them off."
The crowd around me was suddenly moving away from the pit, heading toward the exits, and the gun that I had wished for in vain was there in Wesley's hand.
I never thought I'd be so glad to see Wesley Wyndham-Pryce, glad enough even to remember his name.
Once again, he was there to do what I could not. He was there for Angel, with Cordelia right behind him.
It was going to be all right, no thanks to me. It was going to be all right.
I let the stampeding crowd move me toward the exits. I didn't want anyone to see me, and besides, it was hard enough to stand, much less fight against the human wave that was pressing frantically to get out of there.
So, I left, like the coward I still am, and once I was out of that place and into the alleyway nearby, without any more bodies around me to keep me moving, I stumbled, and I fell to my knees on the sidewalk.
The escaping crowd rushed around me. I was lucky not to get trampled, I supposed.
I was on my hands and knees, getting violently sick, until long after the last of the crowd had escaped, and the noise had faded away into silence.
I was still down on my hands and knees in the alleyway when I heard the voices, from some distance away. "It's a good thing you found me in time."
Angel.
"We weren't going to let anything happen to you." Cordelia, of course. "Well, beyond the slavery and the severe beatings and stuff. Wesley came up with the key!"
"But Cordelia came up with the key to the key!"
Their voices faded away, and I was still down on the cold sidewalk, dry retching now, dizzy and feeling the cold seeping all the way into my bones. It felt like I'd never get warm again.
I couldn't save him, but Wesley could. Wesley, and Cordelia.
He didn't need me to save him, at least not that way. But, through my shivering, I remembered the look on his face when he fought, the look that said he didn't care much, one way or the other.
In another way, maybe he still did need me. Maybe.
One thing was sure, though. I needed him.
Maybe it was time I did something about that.
******
It still took me a little longer to get up the nerve to go back.My next scan of the newspaper turned up Cordelia's name, all right, but it wasn't pretty. She'd managed to get herself a part in a play, and they'd roasted her and toasted her and had her for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
I suppose that Wesley would probably be comforting her over that review, right about now.
I wanted them to go on with their lives without me, I did. So, why did it have to hurt so much?
It was time to go back. The toughest part was over. I had made up my mind what I wanted to do.
Now I just had to find the courage to face them again.
I went over to the building, and waited on the other side of the street until I saw Wesley and Cordelia leave. Then I waited a little longer.
Finally, I managed to walk across the street, and let myself in.
The office was a mess. It looked like there had been a fight of some kind. Cautiously, I went over toward the elevator.
The inside of the elevator was splashed lightly with blood.
It took a long moment before I could bring myself to press the button and start downstairs.
When I heard his voice, at first all that I noticed was my own relief. "Wesley? Cordelia?"
Then I noticed the plaintive tone in his voice. "Could you let me up now? Please?"
I got off the elevator and walked slowly toward the bedroom. "Uh, guys?" he called out again.
Then I reached the door of the bedroom, and stopped.
Angel was lying on his bed, wrapped up in a cocoon of chains. He was trapped again, a prisoner again.
But this time, I could help him.
He saw me, and his face went slack with astonishment. I didn't say anything. I couldn't trust myself to speak.
I just walked forward, and, fumbling, started to unlock the chains.
Chapter Twelve
DOYLE
He was trussed up with those chains like a sacrifice laid out for slaughter. I tried not to let too much of the anger show in my face as I started unlocking and pulling the chains away."Jeez, man, what were they thinkin'? Suppose something came in here to get you while you're helpless."
"A few hours ago, Doyle, anything that might have come in here would have regretted it for the rest of its very short life."
"So, you turned back? How'd that happen?"
"Long story. But I guess it will take awhile for you to get all those chains undone, so I might as well." And he started to explain about the actress who slipped him something that made him get way too happy for her own good.
My hands were shaking a little as I undid the chains, and it wasn't from fear, either. No matter how dangerous he was as Angelus, they should never have left him alone like this when he couldn't defend himself.
Something might have gotten in and killed him, and the thought of that... well, it made me feel weaker than I did already, which was a neat trick in and of itself.
Finally I had it all off him, just about the time he finished telling me about Rebecca Lowell. With the chains gone, he stretched and sat up, rubbing his arms and legs. I moved back a bit, letting him move off the bed.
When he got up, I sat down on the edge of the bed. After he'd gotten himself uncramped by walking around a bit, and doing a few exercises, he turned back to me.
"Thanks for coming back," he said.
"It was time," I answered.
"What changed?"
"Well, mostly, I made a decision, about... what Cordelia asked you to do for me."
"Oh."
He came over then and sat down on the bed, a safe distance away from me, not touching me at all. "So, tell me."
"Well, I had to make up my mind before I came back. Otherwise it would be too easy to let you or Cordelia change my mind, you know."
"I suppose that tells me what your decision is, then."
"Yeah, I guess it does. I've been thinking about it plenty. Getting to live 'til we start zippin' around the galaxy in starships someday, even if I haveta stay away from those bikini babes at the beach in the meantime, well, it is kinda attractive, I have to admit. Especially doin' it with good company, such as yourself."
"There's a 'but' coming up," he said quietly.
"There's a 'but,' that's right. Even if they do the whole curse thing with me, that'll just make two of us who can't afford to get happy. Twice the danger, if we do start havin' too much fun, you get the picture?"
"Yes, I do."
"So we'll have to spend the rest of two immortal lives trying not to be happy, knowin' that the alternative is double trouble for the rest of the world. I suspect that I'd make one vicious vamp, y'know?"
He nodded silently. "The gentlest people sometimes make the most formidable vampires."
"I don't know much from gentle, to tell you the truth. I've got to admit it, I have a bit of a mean streak of my own, even though I try not to let it show much. But, the two of us as vampires of the evil kind, we could take down the world."
"Could happen."
"And to keep that from happenin', well, we gotta stay miserable, both of us, for however many hundred years we get before one of us gets staked, and the one thing that's worse than being miserable yourself is watching somebody else be miserable for you."
"True. Someone else's suffering is always harder to take than your own." He was looking at me, and I looked away.
"So, I really don't want to do that to either one of us."
"I understand."
"Anyway, once I had my mind made up, I figured it was time to come back."
"Despite everything," he said softly, "It's good to see you."
"Yeah. Same here."
"So, what's your situation right now?"
I shrugged. "The docs call it 'end-stage emphysema.' What that means in terms of time, nobody wants to say, except that sometimes people live with it for ten years, twenty years or more. Of course, you and I both have it on pretty good authority, that just ain't gonna happen with me."
"No," he whispered.
"I guess it makes some sense, though. I was wonderin' which would go first, the lungs or the liver, 'cause I guess I've earned a good go with either one of 'em. Heart's still sound, though."
"I know. I can hear it from here."
"Can you, now? I forget that sometimes."
"Your heart's still strong as ever," he said, and he half-smiled, the saddest little smile I'd ever seen. "I like hearing it."
"Yeah, well..."
I got to coughing then, and couldn't stop. I finally gave in and went fumbling in my pocket for that damned inhaler - I hate that thing, stupid docs should've known I'd never use it, it stinks worse than fifty demons.
It rolled on the floor and out of my reach, and oh shit, I couldn't breathe.
He was there then, grabbing the inhaler off the floor, putting it in my hand. I tried to use it straight away, but my hand wasn't exactly steady, and I had to try a couple of times before it did me any good.
Finally I got enough of that foul stuff into my lungs to calm down the spasms and get a little air in. It didn't seem like nearly enough air, but it would have to do.
I didn't want to look at him. I looked everywhere else but at him. I knew what would be on his face.
Then his arms went around me. He didn't say a word, and he didn't try to force me to meet his eyes. He just reached for me, and then I was being held. If it wasn't so warm an embrace as I could have used right then, feeling as cold as I did, it was all the strength I needed.
Finally my breathing calmed down enough that I could speak, if I wanted. I still took my time, pulling a handkerchief out of my pocket to wipe my mouth. He shifted his position a little to let me move, but he didn't let me go.
He wasn't going to like what I had to say.
"So," I said when I could get the words out. "There is goin' to be somethin' that you can do for me."
"What?" He was still holding me, and I didn't pull away.
"Even though I don't want to go the vampire route, I don't particularly want to die in hospital either, with a friggin' zillion tubes runnin' in and out of me. So, I've been thinking about what I'm gonna do, when I'm ready, which is not yet."
"Not yet," he echoed softly.
"I'm not lettin' go quite yet. But when the time comes, I'd rather decide for myself, you know? And you can help w'that."
His face was close to mine, but I still wasn't looking at him. "What did you have in mind?"
"When I ask you - and only when I ask you, mind, not before that..."
"Yes?"
"I'd like you to kill me, when I'm ready to go. To drain me, actually, if you wouldn't mind that."
His body jerked against mine. "NO."
"You don't haveta, if you don't want. Just killin' me will do, when I ask you. After all, the blood of a former half-demon with emphysema ain't goin' t'be quite so sweet as the blood of a slayer, but at least it's human now."
"Don't ask me..."
"You can skip the blood if you don't want it, but it's yours for the takin' when the time comes, if you do."
I felt him trembling then, with his arms still around me, and I made myself go on.
"You can think of it as the last thing I can give you. I'd like that."
"Oh God, Doyle."
He was shaking worse than I had been, and I couldn't look away any longer. I forced myself to meet his eyes, knowing what I would find there.
My hand went up, without thinking about it, to touch his face. Always pale, always cool, but now more than ever it was the face of a dead man, except for the pain in his eyes.
I touched him, and his eyes closed, hard. He moved his head so his lips touched my hand, and left them there.
"Doyle..."
"I'm still here."
He turned his head a little, and his lips moved against my hand then, his eyes still closed, like he was looking for something that he couldn't find if he kept them open.
I leaned in closer, and he pulled me up against him, so close that I could feel the length of his body against mine.
He didn't say anything. Neither did I.
I started to kiss him then, and he answered it like he'd been waiting for two hundred years, like my mouth wasn't bitter with the taste of inhaler, like my time was going to run out tomorrow.
I don't know, maybe it will, you never know.
So I'll grab hold of tonight.
Chapter Thirteen
ANGEL
His hands were enough.In all the fantasies I'd had of him, I had imagined myself exploring, touching, claiming every part of his body. I had imagined long hours of tasting all the different kinds of joy that we could share.
But all that it took was his touch, simply that, to turn me to fire in an instant.
If I had burned to dust, I would barely have cared, as long as it was with him.
Nothing else mattered.
CORDELIA
A couple of hours after I left, knowing that I wasn't going to be able to sleep anyway, I figured it was time to go back and let the boss out of the chains.He'd had time enough to stew over the whole thing, I suppose. Not that I was going to let him forget it, of course! Like the elephant, Cordelia never forgets.
So I went back, ready to be begged a few times before I would finally let him go.
When I arrived at the office, the elevator had gone down. I pushed the button to bring it back up, and then something occurred to me.
Wesley and I had left the building, not by the sewers like some people or not-people tend to do, but from the office. That means the elevator should still be on the office floor, where we left it. With Angel still in chains on his bed, who had moved the elevator downstairs?
Had someone come in since we left? Maybe Rebecca Lowell, coming back to stake Angel?
Before I got into the elevator, I went to one of my secret stashes in the office. It might not do any good, but just in case, I wanted to be ready.
After all, I'd just faced Angelus. What was there left to scare me now?
Well, being the one to kill Rebecca Lowell was one way to get instant fame, I suppose. "Aspiring actress murders former television star." The tabloids would love it, and it ought to be worth a movie of the week, at least.
I don't think Wolfram and Hart would defend me, though.
Too bad.
So I grabbed both a stake and a knife from my little hidey-hole, trying to cover the vampire/not-vampire options, and knowing that I would probably be making a fool of myself. After all, even if Rebecca did come back, she probably didn't even know how to use a stake.
I got into the elevator, and went down to the apartment.
I can walk quietly when I want to, even though I usually don't, but the elevator itself made plenty of noise, more than enough to announce my arrival. Still, there were no voices, no sounds of an argument, no crashes from a fight, nothing like that.
I made it as far as the bedroom door, with a stake in one hand and a knife in the other, and then stopped.
Suddenly it was flashback time, because I'd played this scene before. Oz had been with me, and we'd walked in to see Xander and Willow, and...
And even that had made more sense than this, except...
Except that it made a weird kind of sense, after all.
Doyle and Angel. Angel and Doyle.
It explains a lot, you know?
I could feel the weight of the stake and the knife, and I could feel the weight of a lot of other things, too, all turning around in my mind at once.
At least they were sleeping, or it looked like they were sleeping. I don't think I could have coped if I'd actually seen them, like, in the middle and everything.
Suddenly things made sense, in a really weird way.
Why else would any man be fool enough to turn me down? I mean, I work hard enough at how I look. I ought to know that no straight guy could possibly say no to me. He had to have been gay all along, he just didn't know it yet, that's all. It made all of the pieces fit together.
It wasn't me. I realized that with the most amazing feeling of relief.
It wasn't really about me, after all. It was about Angel.
I just stood there for awhile, holding what I was holding, and trying to figure out what I was going to do about it.
After awhile, I was able to decide.
I put the stake and the knife down on the nearest table, and very quietly, moved into the room.
Yeah, they were both sleeping. Angel, well, he'd had quite a night. Turning evil and all, takes a lot out of you, I guess.
Doyle looked like death not much warmed over, except for the smile that was still on his face, even while he was asleep. The smile was good to see. But he was so thin. He'd always been a skinny little weasel, hadn't he? But not like this, not like he'd forgotten about eating for a long time.
The part of me that wanted to be angry had given up. I couldn't look at him, at how sick he looked, and still stay angry. It just didn't work.
Maybe it was a good thing he'd stayed away for so long, because if it had been just a couple of months ago, I might have been using the stake and the knife right now.
Instead, I found myself standing next to the bed, glad that the sheets tangled around their bodies covered what I didn't need to see.
I reached out, tentatively, to touch Doyle, and Angel's eyes opened. His hand flew up from under the sheet and caught my wrist.
Then he just lay there for a moment, staring at me, like he was trying to figure out whether I was going to hurt Doyle or not.
I couldn't blame him for that. I hadn't been too sure about it myself, until a few minutes ago.
As quietly as I could, I whispered, "Is he real?"
Angel nodded, searching my face. He seemed to find an answer there, and he released my hand.
I reached out and brushed my fingers against Doyle's sleeping face. It was damp, with curls of hair clinging there, but it was warm. It felt human.
And I knew for sure then that I couldn't hurt him, even after what he'd done to me, no matter what the reason, or what this thing with Angel meant.
No matter what.
DOYLE
It had all been way too fast, but it felt like I'd hit a wall hard, and I dropped right off to sleep, feeling Angel's arms around me. There was still time enough to do it right, another time. Maybe quite a few more times, but first, sleep.I was slow to come out of it, and when I felt somebody touch my face, it took me a bit to realize that the fingers were warm.
Not Angel.
I opened my eyes, and then felt a stab of panic at what I saw.
Cordelia.
Oh God, she was going to kill me.
When the fear hits, it's like somebody kicking you in the middle of the chest. From the first time you can't get your breath, as soon as you get scared, it just keeps getting worse. I tried to sit up, tried to move away from her, and found that I could barely move at all.
Angel moved with me, keeping his arms protectively around me. "It's all right, Doyle," he soothed. "Take it easy. I'm right here."
"Hey, I'm not going to do anything to you, okay? I put the knife down, like, five minutes ago. I'm used to living in Bizarro-land now, so not much can surprise me any more, not even naked vampires in bed doing things that I don't want to think about, and - Doyle? Doyle?" Her face and voice were fading. "Are you going to be all right? Stupid question. I mean, right now?"
I couldn't answer for a minute. The panic attack was starting to ease off a bit, as Angel held me and I started to realize that Cordelia wasn't going to hit me, but the breathing part still wasn't cooperating too well. Finally, closing my eyes so that I could no longer see Cordelia's worried _expression, leaning back into Angel's embrace and feeling how solid, how strong he was behind me, I was able to get it back under control.
When I could speak, I whispered, "Give me a minute."
"Well, yeah. Whatever. Angel?"
"Like he says, just give him a minute." Angel's hand moved slowly down my back, helping me to calm down.
"Sure. Right. Scooch over, and keep covered up, okay? Because I so don't want to see what's under that sheet."
Against my back, I could feel Angel's soft chuckle. "Got it." Still holding me, he moved his legs around, moving me very gently as he did, and I felt the shifting weight as Cordelia sat down on the bed.
"Doyle, can you hear me?" she asked anxiously.
"Loud and clear," I managed to say.
"Well, you don't have to be scared of me, okay? Because, yes, the thought of doing something horrible to you did cross my mind for a minute, but I'm already past it, got that? My friends all think Angel's gay anyway, and now at least you have a decent excuse for why you walked out on me, so that's a good thing, and I can forgive you, and... can you look at me?"
Reluctantly, I opened my eyes.
"I'm glad you're back," Cordelia said softly. "So, you went out to find yourself and came back gay. Whatever floats your boat. You think maybe you can manage not to freak out and quit breathing or anything just because I touch you? Because I do owe you a hug, you know."
As soon as I nodded slightly, she was on me, with Angel still holding me from behind. I could feel her being careful not to squeeze me too hard, or lean on me, but it was tough to keep my breathing even, just the same.
But I owed her some response, at least for not trying to beat me to death when she found me with Angel, and my arms went around her anyway.
This close, even without demon senses, I could smell her hair and her skin, and I could feel her trembling as she touched me. I could feel the strain of her effort to be gentle, like I was going to break into pieces any minute.
Yesterday I would have guessed that Cordelia would just as soon spit on my grave as look at me. Guess I knew better now.
Well, I haven't actually stopped responding to women, or at least responding to Cordelia, but... going from total panic to something entirely different in the space of a minute was more than my body could handle at the moment. But I hugged her with all the strength that I could find, and when her lips moved to my forehead, I tried not to squirm at the realization that there was only a crumpled sheet between Cordelia and a very naked me.
She kissed my forehead gently, and then, mercifully, she moved away. I grabbed for the sheet, trying not to be too conspicuous as I pulled it up a bit higher.
She noticed, of course, and laughed. So did Angel.
I felt the tension and the fear draining out of me at last. I was back where I belonged, and for now, it was all right.
I was home.
Chapter Fourteen
CORDELIA
"So, how much are we going to tell Wesley?"Angel and I were sitting at his kitchen table, while Doyle slept. He had dozed off almost immediately, looking like he hadn't had a decent night's sleep in a long time.
I was feeling the lack of my necessary beauty sleep myself, since Wesley and I had been up all night watching our chained boss. We hadn't actually left until dawn.
I hadn't planned on getting back here nearly so soon as I had. In fact, there was no doubt in my mind that I was owed an entire day off, staying home in the comfy bed that I had left behind way too soon.
Still, I might or might not see Wesley on my way out, and he didn't know the chains were off, so I figured that I had better ask before I left. It's not that anything about Doyle and Angel was any of Wesley's business, but with the apartment just below the office, things could get embarrassing.
Angel frowned, toying with the mug of blood in front of him. As usual, he didn't like to drink it while I was looking, as if I cared. After the whole Momma-Demon experience, things like that didn't bother me any more.
"Let's not tell him anything yet. I put him, both of you, through a rough time last night."
"Not you," I started, but Angel waved his hand impatiently.
"Just tell him you unchained me and that I need some rest today. I'll come upstairs in the afternoon, and I'll deal with telling him myself that Doyle is back. In the meantime, ask him not to disturb me unless it's a true emergency."
"He'll think you're brooding."
"Let him. I'd like to have some quiet time this morning."
"Thought you might. I'll cover for you, no problem, when I get back, that is, which may not be all that early, considering what time it is now, and I do need to get some sleep which I did not get last night, as you know."
"You're really all right with this, aren't you?"
"I really am. Surprised?"
"Astonished," he admitted.
"I'm just full of surprises. If you can make him happy, Angel, just do it, okay? But I don't need to know the details," I added hastily.
He smiled a little then, as I stood up to go home. "Good to know we have your blessing."
"Yeah, well, I expect a raise for running interference between Wesley and your sex life."
"I'll do the very best I can." And I knew that he meant more than the raise.
ANGEL
After Cordelia was gone, I swallowed the unheated blood quickly, and moved back into the bedroom. There was no need to bother with any pretense that I wasn't in a hurry.Doyle still slept, looking wan and exhausted, but that hint of a smile was still there.
Careful not to wake him, I stretched out beside him, content simply to watch him for now. It was hard not to touch him, but I managed, for what seemed like a long time.
Then he began to stir restlessly in his sleep, and I gave in to the temptation to put an arm over him, very lightly, hoping to give him some comfort in his dreams.
His eyes opened immediately, although he didn't actually seem to see me at first. "Angel?" he whispered uncertainly.
"I'm right here."
He moved into my embrace then, seeming to be still mostly asleep, and then settled himself, resting his back against me. I felt him relax as he dropped back off into sleep.
I wouldn't disturb him for anything, and certainly not for my own desire, no matter how much it might be awakened by the warmth of his body pressed against mine.
There would be time for that, although never enough.
In the meantime, I tried to distract myself by planning what and how I would tell Wesley.
WESLEY
Despite our all-night vigil, sleep eluded me in the hours past dawn. I returned to the office. Rather than going to the desk, I sat down first on the couch to read the morning newspaper, postponing as long as possible the moment when I must go downstairs.Hmmm. "Drug lord prosecution adjourned to seek missing witness." I read the story, trying to focus my thoughts, trying not to remember the words spoken last night.
Of course, this might well be a matter entirely unrelated to anything supernatural. The city of Los Angeles had an abundance of crime which was entirely independent of the occult or the demonic. Nonetheless, it might be worth phoning around a bit to see whether this was a situation in which there might be some need of Angel's services.
It would at least give me something safe to talk about while unchaining my employer. This business with chains was becoming a habit, and a nasty one at that.
I stood up, and was about to take the elevator downstairs when I spotted the scribbled note from Cordelia on the desk. I picked it up, blinking at it in surprise, not expecting that she would have returned to the office before me.
"W - Chains are off. Give him alone time this A.M. - do not disturb. Later. C."
It was a long, empty morning in the silent office, filled only with the echoes of a taunting voice.
The phone rang twice. The first time, it was someone inquiring about hiring an investigator for a divorce case. I politely assured the caller that he could do better elsewhere, and the silence returned, dust motes drifting to the floor in a shaft of sunlight.
Finally the phone rang again.
"Angel Investigations."
"Where's Cordelia? I don't think I know you," said an abrupt female voice.
"Excuse me?"
"Just put Cordelia on the line, please. I have a message for Angel." The voice was brusque and impatient. Although I had never actually met Kate Lockley, I had heard quite enough about her to have a good idea who the caller probably was, and to guess why she might be calling.
"Angel is not available at the moment."
"I'll just leave a message. There' s no need for me to talk to him. I'll give the message to Doyle, if he's there."
After a moment, I said, "Doyle no longer works for Angel Investigations. May I help you?"
The woman made a sound of annoyance. "Just tell Angel there's a contract out on a missing witness, and the word is that some of the muscle may be some of those evil-evil things we've talked about. There's no need for him to call me back, okay? In fact, I'd much rather not talk to him today, so just give him the message." And she hung up the phone.
I put the phone down, looking at the note still sitting in front of me, and sighed.
Strangely enough, I thought I knew quite how she felt.
Chapter Fifteen
DOYLE
I stayed downstairs for most of the two days after I came back, partly because Angel asked me to stay, and partly because it felt so good to sleep in Angel's bed that I didn't want to leave. I guess I really did need to catch up on my sleep, and other things.After awhile though, downstairs started to get boring, especially when Angel wasn't there with me.
When Cordelia stopped downstairs on the second day, all bright and cheerful, to fill me in on what was happening upstairs, I was out of bed and pacing around.
"Hey, getting restless?"
"Yeah, a bit. So, what's up?"
"Oh, Angel's been working on this witness who's supposed to testify in this big case. He's all scared and doing 'I am loser, hear me whine' and Angel has been trying to convince him to do the right thing. Angel is probably dragging him by the ear over to the courthouse. I think the only way he'll ever do it is being more scared of Angel than he is of the bad guys."
"You could be right."
"So, since you like to gamble so much, do you think we should make a bet on how long it's going to be before Angel tells Wesley about you?"
I laughed. "I expect he won't be able to put it off too much longer."
"Oh, I don't know. He' s managed to ignore every meaningful look I've sent his way since yesterday."
"Yeah, and your 'meaningful looks' are hard to ignore, princess."
The endearment slipped out without my noticing at first, and then the awkwardness of the whole situation hit me again and I found myself staring at my feet. She came over to me then.
"Okay, touch alert," she warned me gently, before putting her hand on my arm, and I had to chuckle.
"I guess I do need an early warning system, at that."
"So, are you going to look at me, or inspect your socks all day? 'Cause I will tell you, they are so not worth the effort."
I gave in, and met her eyes. She was smiling in a determined way that hurt to watch.
"I'm sorry," I started to say, and she put her hand to my lips gently.
"Don't. Let's not go there, okay? One of us here in the office being in love with you is enough, thank you. I've never had to compete with 'tall, dark and handsome' before, and I don't intend to start. So, just let it go."
I nodded silently, and she made a little noise like a truck backing up. "Beep beep, hug alert." She imitated the sound so badly that I had to laugh, even as she put her arms around me.
And then I stopped laughing, because she was clinging to me like she was the one dying, like she was never going to let me go.
"Cordelia... princess, I..."
"Shhh. Don't say anything. Just, don't go away yet." She held me for so long that it was uncomfortable, even though she was being careful not to squeeze me too tightly, but I'd endured worse things than Cordelia's body against mine.
I had to admit that, even though it was Angel's touch that I wanted, that I needed, Cordelia's hug felt pretty damn good, too.
Finally she let me go, mostly, keeping one hand on mine.
"Doyle..."
"I already know it. Some things don't have to be said, now, do they?"
"Well, maybe not yet." She straightened visibly, and seemed to force herself to switch gears. "So, come to think of it, I do owe you a good swift kick, too."
"Oh, really? Can I take a raincheck on that one? And why?"
"Well, duh. Why didn't you ever call us while you were away? You knew Angel was going to worry." At my inadvertent smile, she added reluctantly, "Well, all right, you knew both of us were going to worry. So, why the silent treatment?"
"I did try to call."
"So what happened? Did you forget the number? I know you can be an airhead sometimes, but..."
"I didn't forget the number."
"So? What happened?"
I was silent long enough that Cordelia filled in the blank for herself. She has never been as dumb as she pretends to be.
"Wesley?"
My continued silence was all the confirmation she needed. Her eyes narrowed, and she pulled her hand off mine.
The _expression on her face was enough to chill me, even though I wasn't going to be the object of her fury this time.
"Wesley," she repeated. "Wonderful. Looks like I'm going to have to deal with him."
"Wait. Let Angel handle it."
"Why, because he'd leave some of Wesley's skin still attached? I don't think so. No, I think this one calls for my special and personal attention."
"Hold off just a bit then? Maybe you can 'deal with him,' as you put it, in the morning."
"Why wait?"
"Humor me. I'm bored here, visit a bit longer, why not? Angel's been gone for hours, and he must have a video or two you haven't seen."
I knew I wasn't playing fair, and she knew it too, but it worked, just the same. We both knew perfectly well that she wasn't going to leave if I asked her to stay.
Why was I protecting Wesley? Why was I playing on her sympathies to keep her from roaring straight upstairs to take that pompous ass apart? He certainly deserved it, and I would have thought I'd enjoy the prospect, but here I was, trying to block her from saying and doing something she wouldn't easily be able to take back later.
At first, I had no idea, but then I did. The instinct to stop her had come first, before the thought process really kicked in, but my thoughts eventually caught up with the gut reaction.
She needed Wesley. So did Angel. I didn't like it, but I had already learned to accept that it was true.
So, like it or not, I had best make it part of my personal mission to keep him around, for them. I wouldn't be here long, and they were both going to need him when I was gone.
That didn't mean I had to like it, but at least I could enjoy the process of distracting Cordelia.
"Hey, here's an old one. Ever seen 'Buckaroo Banzai'?"
I had completely forgotten that someone dies in that one, too. But I think Cordelia had been needing a good cry for a long time.
WESLEY
I hadn't spoken much with Angel, or Cordelia, since our splendid moral victory with the witness Marquez, but I was still in a fine mood when I came to the office after we'd heard the news of that villain's conviction. One more noble task had been accomplished by the Angel Investigations team, with my assistance. My outlook on the future, and my role in it, was definitely improving, and my mood was as bright as the California morning.In fact, I was feeling quite thoroughly pleased with myself, with the sort of hubris that always demands an immediate reprisal.
The reprisal arrived with Cordelia, who showed up late as usual.
"Good morning," I greeted her, waving the morning newspaper in her general direction. "Isn't it a fine thing when justice is served at last?"
She gave me a look that could only be described as poisonous. I sighed.
"What did I do wrong now, Cordelia? I know it's not your birthday yet. What did I forget?"
She managed to maintain a stubborn silence for a few minutes, but being Cordelia, she couldn't wait too long before blurting out what was on her mind. Once she did, though, I wished that she had been able to stay quiet.
"Did Doyle ever call here since he left?"
"Why do you ask? Have you heard from him or... about him?"
"He's not dead yet, if that's what you're asking. You haven't answered my question. Did he ever call?"
"Well... I thought it was best..."
"I thought I could trust you absolutely with my life. Guess there are still a few exceptions to that, right, Wesley?"
"Trust him? Wesley? Cordelia, you are more of an idiot than even I expected. And believe me, that's saying a lot."
The voice was familiar, chillingly familiar. I looked up against my will, not wishing to see.
Faith was in the doorway, leaning casually against the door, with a gun in her hand.
"Well, aren't you going to say hello, how are you, how was your long vacation? Since you're not polite enough to ask, I guess I'm going to have to tell you that comas are highly overrated."
"Faith."
"Well, three points for the bright boy from Britain. Nice to know you haven't totally forgotten me." Faith twirled the gun negligently as her eyes moved from my face to Cordelia's and then back to mine. "You know, I came over here to finish what I started with Angel, but I think I'm going to have a little fun first. What do you think, Cordelia? Want to watch while I settle an old score?"
Cordelia moved slightly toward one of the filing cabinets. "Sorry, Faith, I haven't developed a taste for spectator sports yet. I'm sure you understand. You're more of a doer than a watcher yourself, right?"
She seemed to be babbling, but I could see her inching toward the filing cabinet, and so could Faith.
"But, you know, I do know a club here in L.A. that you might like, except we kind of closed them down, but places like that, well, they just come back like bad pennies, know what I mean? Since you're new in town, maybe I should show you. Hey, you might even have some fun playing their little game, you know? You'd fit right in with the rest of the demons."
As she kept up the barrage of chatter, her hand was moving toward the filing cabinet, but Faith was not so easily distracted, and she could move much faster. I could only watch as Faith effortlessly intercepted Cordelia and knocked her to the floor with one punch. Cordelia fell hard, and didn't move.
"Stupid bitch," Faith snorted. "That move was old before daddy bought her braces. Now, where were we, Wesley old pal?"
She gestured with the gun. "Care to join me? Of course, it would be more fun if you said no. Then I get to start a little sooner. Not ready yet? Too bad. Walk slowly out of the office. I'll be following you, and the gun is very much loaded."
Silently, I obeyed her instructions.
I could only hope that Cordelia would be all right. It was unfortunate that I would never have the chance to apologize to her. My only regret was that our last conversation before my imminent death had to be an argument over Doyle.
As I walked out the door, with Faith right behind me, I hoped that my death would be quick.
But I very much doubted it.
Chapter Sixteen
ANGEL
I want to slow down time, so that these days can last forever.During the night he was up coughing again. It took him awhile to get back to sleep, but finally he did, and I watched him, listening to the strong rhythm of his heart.
He knows that I watch him. I don't think he even minds it any more. I don't sleep much, and when I do, the slightest movement from him brings me awake again. I'm grateful for even the silly little things, for all the noises and the smells of a sleeping human.
This morning, I'm counting on Cordelia being late. I know that she and Doyle had a good talk yesterday, and that I'm going to have to tell Wesley about Doyle today, before Cordelia's short supply of patience runs out and she tells him herself. I know that it's not going to be much fun for any of us. But I'll deal with it later today.
Right now, I don't want to think about Wesley or Cordelia at all.
He has an arm thrown over his face right now, covering his eyes, and I wonder if he's been dreaming. The arm is lying wrist-up, and before I think about it, I'm touching the point where the blood vessels run so temptingly close to the skin, brushing my lips against that soft pulse, just as lightly as I can.
I don't really want to wake him yet, but I couldn't resist. He twitches a bit at the contact, and I can hear his heart speeding up a little, as he stirs to wakefulness.
I want to keep this moment going, I want to live in it, and I know that those damned oracles were right all along. If he were here to stay, the warrior for their cause would be gone. I'm losing interest in the fight as it is. All that I want is right here.
If he were here to stay... but I can never forget that he's not.
Instead, I'm letting my fingers play with the hair on his chest, teasing him as he lingers between sleep and waking. He shifts, moving the arm away from his face, and bringing it up over his head, to rest on the pillow behind him.
The movement seems deliberate, almost seductive, and I realize that he's at least awake enough to know the effect that it has on me.
He doesn't open his eyes yet, though. I'm guessing that he wants to make the moment last, just as much as I do.
Now that the arm is off his face, I can watch the flickers of reaction there as my fingers explore slowly, and there's the beginning of some reaction elsewhere, too. But I'm not going there yet.
Two can play at the teasing game.
DOYLE
The morning began so well.He knows what his touch does to me. I still have trouble believing that it's the same for him, but he makes it plain enough.
What drives me crazy most of all is that he's always so gentle. He won't do anything that might hurt me, so he's always holding himself back, always keeping in control.
So I'm lying there, with my eyes closed, knowing that he knows I'm not really sleeping, and I can feel where his hands are going, even before they get there. He's tracing a path across my chest that he has traveled before, and I'm starting to sweat.
Without looking, I can sense his smile when my mouth opens against my will, and I hear myself make a little sound.
With my eyes still shut, I could swear that I can even tell exactly where he's looking at me.
By the time I get the first little lick from a cool tongue, just for a moment and then stopping, and a long pause before the tongue touches me again, well, I'm just about ready to start begging, and he knows that, too.
He won't let me suffer too long. By the time I let out the first moan, he's already taking very good care of me, and he's not going to stop for breath at all.
I wish that I could take care of him, too, in more ways than one. I wish he'd let himself go, for once, even if it would hurt.
I'm thinking about what that would feel like, right now. I still have my eyes closed, and I'm imagining that I feel his body moving against mine, and...
Does he know what I'm thinking about?
There are some things we've never done - hell, things that I've never done. I've had thoughts about men before, what boy growing up hasn't? Sometimes you look, and you imagine what it might be like, but when it came to the actual performance, it was always for the women, till now.
His fingers are curling around behind me, holding me firmly, while his mouth torments me, and I want even more. I don't want him to stop, but I want more. He doesn't want to cause me any pain, and I'm not actually fond of pain myself, so we can agree there, but... there are times, like now, when I wish that he didn't have to hold himself back.
I'm thinking how much I would like to feel his body shudder, how much I'd like to hear him moan right next to my ear, and the thought of that just keeps washing through me while he's working on me, but I'm the one doing all the moaning, and all the shaking, and it seems like there's only my voice doing all the crying out around here.
ANGEL
I almost lost it this time, I wanted him so much... but I didn't, even though I was so far gone in that he barely had to touch me before I had to press my face down on the bed to keep myself from taking a taste of him.Taste, hell. I wanted a lot more than a taste of him. But I muffled my mouth with the sheet as soon as he touched me, and I didn't let myself take that first taste, because I wasn't sure if I would be able to stop if I did.
When I could sit up afterward, there was a wistful sadness in his smile as he watched me.
"I won't break, Angel," he said softly. "I may not be in the best of shape here, but I'm not quite so fragile as you seem t'think."
It took me a moment before I could speak. Then I answered, just as quietly: "I don't ever want to have to remember hurting you."
We stared awkwardly at each other for a moment, and then I swung my legs around and left the bed fast. Over my shoulder I called back to him, "Shower."
"Yeah."
He lets me lather him up in the shower because he knows that I like doing it, but he always looks amused, like he's just putting up with the whims of a small child. I like using the hand-held shower nozzle to get all the suds off his body, too, and I'm thorough about it. When he gets that tolerant, condescending _expression on his face, I just laugh a little and keep right on rinsing.
He won't let me help him dress, though, even when he gets out of breath doing it and has to slow down. A man has to keep his pride. I busy myself with something else, and I pretend not to notice.
He's not fooled by that, of course, but he hasn't called me on it, yet.
There isn't much that he doesn't see. I think that only makes it tougher, knowing that he understands so much that I don't say. But I believe that he knows that I wouldn't trade a minute with him for anything else in the world.
DOYLE
"So, are you ready?" he asked, after it was perfectly obvious that I was."Sure. Goin' upstairs together, though, is that really the way you want to spring the news on whatshisname?"
"It saves some explaining. He'll figure things out fast enough when he sees us."
"I expect he will, yeah. Well, if that's the way you want to play it..."
"That's the way I want to play it. He can accept it, or he can leave. Simple as that."
Showered, dressed, and ready as I would ever be to face the world and Wesley, I followed Angel into the elevator.
He stepped out of the elevator ahead of me, so he saw Cordelia first. I tried to stay right behind him as he raced to her side, and not all of the hurting in my chest was physical, when I saw her lying crumpled on the floor.
She stirred groggily at his touch. Even from a distance, I could see a mark on her face that was going to become a huge shiner soon.
"Angel. It was Faith. Is Wesley all right?" Cordelia half-opened her eyes, tried to look around, and then winced, and I had to wince with her.
"He's not here, Cordelia."
"Faith - she must have taken him." Cordelia stared at Angel, and I could see the look of horror in her eyes as they struggled to focus. "She'll kill him. Angel, she's going to kill him. We're going to lose them both."
"We won't lose them both. I promise you that. I'll get him back."
Angel turned to me. "Watch Cordelia. Stay with her."
"I'm on it. Go."
And he was gone.
Cordelia put her head in her hands with a moan. "Doyle? Is that you?"
"I'm here." I knelt down beside her.
"I didn't think anything could hurt worse than a vision," she groaned.
"It will be all right. Talk to me. Who's Faith?"
With a look at me that mixed gratitude with annoyance - yes, another one of those "I know exactly what you're up to" looks that I've been getting from both of them lately - she took the hand that I offered, and held it tight, and began telling me about Faith.
Chapter Seventeen
CORDELIA
"I think we'd better not stay here, 'Delia."I had distracted myself from the pain as long as I could by telling Doyle all about Faith. But my face still hurt, all the way from my nose around to the back of my head.
"Do you think she'll come back here?"
"She might."
"You mean, after she kills Wesley, don't you?"
"I don't know, princess. From what you've told me, I expect she'll take some time with him. But I don't think it's safe for the two of us to stay here to find out."
"We could go to my place, I guess, but Faith might still find us there. I'm listed, you know. You never know when you might get a call."
"I understand. But it's probably still better to be there than here. At least Dennis can give us some warning if she shows up, yeah?"
"That's true. Are you okay to drive? Because I'm not. My eyes keep getting crossed or something."
"I think I can manage."
He helped me out to the car. "What if Angel needs the car?" I fretted.
"He'll know who took it, and most likely, where we went. He'll find us."
"All right." I was hurting too much to argue as I got into the car. He slid behind the steering wheel, and I closed my eyes.
He started driving in silence. Or, at least it was silent at first. Then, through the throbbing of my pounding headache from Faith's punch, I kept hearing an irritating, persistent sound.
"What's that?"
"What?"
"It sounds like a meow. We don't have a kitten in the car, do we?"
"No kitten."
"So what's that mew, mew, mewing sound?"
"I'm sorry about that, princess. Can't help it," he said softly.
"What do you mean, you can't help it? You're the one meowing?"
"It's not meowing."
I looked over at him, his pale, thin face set in a neutral _expression, his eyes staring straight ahead at the road.
"That's my lungs," he finally admitted. "A bit noisy, I know. Still better than the alternative, for the moment."
"Oh," I said heavily.
Suddenly the pain in my head didn't seem all that important, after all.
When I fell silent, watching him drive, he spoke quietly, still not looking at me. "Sorry. I didn't mean to make you feel worse."
"Oh, like if you just chose the right words, then I wouldn't feel bad about you any more? Grow up," I snapped, and then said, "Sorry. That was out of line, I guess. I get bitchier than usual when my head hurts."
"No offense taken."
The rest of the ride was quiet, except for the mewing sound.
When we reached my apartment, I was able to get out of the car and walk in by myself. It wasn't that it hurt any less, but I didn't want to lean on him, if I could help it.
I noticed him noticing that, too.
As soon as we were inside, I announced abruptly, "I need to lie down."
"That's fine. I'll stay out in the living room."
"Look, I don't want you to take this the wrong way or anything, because it's not anything like that, but could you stay in the bedroom with me? I promise not to molest you."
He laughed a little, softly. "I understand."
"Good. Because I don't want to deal with an angry, jealous vampire, okay?"
"No problem."
I stretched out on my bed, grateful to be there, and grateful to have him there, too. He sat down on the bed next to me. As I closed my eyes, he took my hand.
"You can rest now, princess. I'm here."
"If I fall asleep," I found myself asking, without intending to say it, "Will you still be here when I wake up?"
"I'm planning on it."
"Thank you."
DOYLE
This just keeps getting harder.I watched Cordelia drift off into a fitful sleep, her fingers still entwined with mine, and I tried to figure out what I should do.
For their sakes, I had to hope that Angel would find Wesley in time, even though part of me didn't mind at all that Faith was probably torturing the hell out of him right now. But whether Wesley lived or died, it didn't solve my problem.
What was happening to me was tearing both of them apart. I couldn't stop it, and watching it hurt them was so much worse than dealing with it myself.
This would have to end soon. None of us could stand it much longer.
I knew that I could probably survive for months. I wasn't that close yet to the end of the year they'd guessed for me. But I had already done some homework of my own. I knew what was going to come next: sleeping hooked up to a machine that would force air into my lungs, and carrying an oxygen tank around with me everywhere I went, with a tube going into my nose.
It would be one thing to put up with it if it meant that I'd live for years. I could make that trade-off, to buy some serious time. But, all of that, just to get a few more weeks? And it would only get worse for Angel. He was half-afraid to touch me now. Soon he wouldn't dare to make love to me at all, for fear that I'd stop breathing in the middle.
I knew exactly how I wanted to go. But was it really fair to him to ask?
I used to be a church-goer, as a young lad, and I knew what the church would say about what I was planning. The church would say that if I died in the midst of an act of mortal sin, I'd go to hell. But, if I were still married to Harry, and if it were to be her arms that I might die in, while we were in the midst of the marital act, well, that would be all right with them.
Crap on that. I wasn't dead long, that first time, but it was long enough that I wasn't too worried about hellfire. I think we go pretty much where we expect we're bound. I expect that Angel never met anybody in hell who didn't truly believe, in that tormented soul, that he or she belonged there.
I used to believe that I belonged there, too. Angel and Cordelia were the ones who taught me otherwise. I couldn't believe that anything as right as Angel and me would be a problem for whatever Powers make the call on where we have to go.
But here I was, putting them both through a different kind of hell, by making them watch me die. It was a poor return for what they'd done for me, but sneaking off to die without them would hurt them just as much, maybe more. So, which way from here?
What would be easiest for them to live with, after I'm gone?
When the phone rang, Cordelia moaned in protest at the sound. I picked it up as fast as I could.
"Ben's Taxidermy," I answered the phone cheerily.
"Very funny, Doyle." It was Angel's voice, and he sounded exhausted. "I'm glad you're there. Wesley won't die, but he's had better days. Do you think you could stand it if I send him over there?"
"Sure, this place is the convalescent ward, one more patient is welcome. Where's Faith?"
"She's staying with me. No arguments. Wesley's cab will be there soon. Don't give him a hard time, Doyle, he's already had enough."
"Faith is coming home with you?"
"It's nothing that you need to worry about. You and Cordelia and Wesley, you three just stay in, and keep safe." He sounded terrible, like someone had been beating him. Come to think of it, Faith probably had.
"Look, this is something I have to do," he continued. "So, give me just one day here without having to watch out for the three of you, okay?"
He hung up without waiting for my reply, and without telling me what, if anything, he had told Wesley.
Well, this was going to be an interesting day.
Chapter Eighteen
DOYLE
When the doorbell rang, I reluctantly removed my fingers from Cordelia's grasp. She stirred in protest. "Let Dennis get it," she muttered drowsily."That should be Wesley," I reminded her quietly, and her eyes opened immediately.
"Oh. Right." With a wince, she began to sit up, and I headed for the door.
Dennis had not opened the door for Wesley. I tried not to admit to myself that I was pleased by that. It sounded pathetic, even in my own mind.
When I opened the door, and Wesley Wyndham-Pryce and I took stock of each other, I was suitably impressed by the number of cuts, burns, and mottled marks of various kinds covering almost all the visible parts of his body. His gaze was as appraising as my own must have been, though perhaps even wearier. "Doyle. Perhaps the sole redeeming virtue of this atrocious day is the fact that you actually look worse than I do, even without the benefit of Faith's tender ministrations."
"Glad I've brightened someone's day then," I answered acidly, and let him in.
Cordelia, disheveled by her nap, was up and moving out of the bedroom. The mark on her face had blossomed into a huge bruise. As Wesley approached her, I noticed that he was holding one arm awkwardly, as though it might be dislocated.
The two of them stared at each other for a moment, and he reached out, with the arm that didn't seem impaired, to brush his fingers very lightly against her face. I stood still, watching them.
In that moment, seeing the gentleness of his gesture as he touched Cordelia, seeing his obvious concern for her, even though her injuries were visibly less severe than his, I couldn't hate the man, no matter how I tried.
"Bitch," he whispered, and when Cordelia's eyes widened, he added hastily, "Not you, of course. Faith."
"Who is with Angel right now, I hear," I put in, since Cordelia had missed that phone conversation.
"What?" She glanced at me, then turned to Wesley in confusion.
Wesley nodded slightly, as though the movement hurt. "Quite correct. Apparently after Faith had amused herself sufficiently with me for a few hours, Angel decided that she needed his personal attention, at home."
"He what?" Cordelia sputtered.
"Yes, it's quite the interesting turn of events, isn't it? He packed me off here to hide out with the two of you, for my own safety of course, while he spends some quality time with Faith."
The bitterness in Wesley's voice told me even more than his words. I decided it was time to de-escalate things a bit, since I had been the one foolish enough to bring up Angel. That had been a bad choice of subject, at the moment.
"Have you had that arm looked at?"
He turned to me with a disdainful glare. "I'll attend to my own injuries, in my own time, thank you, Mr. Doyle."
"What's wrong with your arm?" Cordelia asked, and I was relieved that I had succeeded in diverting them from the topic of Angel.
"Nothing that the electrocution of a certain rogue slayer wouldn't cure. Or gas, perhaps. Gas would do the trick nicely." With a sudden wobble of exhaustion, Wesley found his way to the couch and abruptly sat down.
Cordelia sat down next to him, and gestured to me to sit on her other side. I did, glad that it was a reasonably large couch, and glad that Cordelia had her back to me as she put a hand lightly on Wesley's shoulder. He flinched at the touch.
"You didn't deserve this," she said with growing anger, as she looked him over.
"What, Faith's fascinating exploration of the basic torture groups? Oh, but I did, Cordelia. Isn't that the word of the day? If I had been a better Watcher..."
"Screw that," I interrupted rudely, and Wesley looked astonished. "Cordelia filled me in on this Faith, and she's obviously way too far gone for it to be the result of anything you did. The only one responsible for Faith is Faith."
"Coming from you, that's quite unexpected," Wesley said slowly.
Cordelia turned toward me with a smile, the first one that I'd seen since Angel and I found her on the floor. "Doyle is a lot wiser than he looks, you know."
"Naah, just very familiar with bad choices. She made hers. Someone needs to call her on them."
I hadn't realized what I was going to do until I stood up. "Dennis, you listening?"
An immediate rattling in the cupboards in the kitchen was my reply.
"Don't let anyone in here today that you don't know, got it?" The rattling came again, even louder, as though Dennis wanted to assure me of his enthusiastic agreement.
Wesley stared at Cordelia. "He's talking to - your ghost?"
"Sure. Doyle knows Dennis, he was here when we found out about Dennis. Doyle, where are you going?"
I didn't answer, but she figured it out fast enough. "You're not going anywhere near her, are you? She could kill you in two seconds."
"Make that one second," Wesley corrected, giving me a scornful look. "Angel's instructions were quite strict, Doyle. You and I and Cordelia are to stay completely away today while he deals with Faith."
"I never was the kind to do what I was told."
"Doyle," Cordelia protested, "Don't go there. What if she decides to torture you next? Whatever Angel's doing with her, you'd only get in the way."
I turned to Wesley, ignoring Cordelia for the moment. "I'll take the car, so I shouldn't be too long. Will you stay here with Cordelia?"
"Of course." Our eyes met, and I saw a grudging truce acknowledged in his gaze.
"Doyle - "
Then I turned to Cordelia. "I'm not leaving you alone. Wesley will stay."
"What do you think I am, a baby? It's not me I'm worried about right now, it's you."
Echoing her words deliberately, I responded, "It's not me I'm worried about right now, it's Angel."
"And what do you think you can do about it if you walk in there and she's beating him up? A tap of her little finger would be enough to knock you out."
"Thanks for the vote of confidence, both of you," I said dryly.
Furiously, Cordelia snapped back: "So then, what? What do you think you're going to do? Throw yourself on the same stake she uses on him, so the two of you can die together? Don't be an idiot, Doyle! There's nothing you can do there. He doesn't want you there, he wants you safe."
"I know that, Cordelia. That's exactly why I need to be there."
She stared at me for a moment, then let out a little half-scream of frustration. "Men! No matter how sick they are, it doesn't change what they think with." She turned to Wesley as though for confirmation, and then she and I both noticed Wesley's stunned _expression.
With a sinking feeling, I realized that Angel had not yet told Wesley what Cordelia and I had just revealed.
Bright move, Doyle, I told myself. The man's down far enough already, he didn't really need to be kicked just now.
"Excuse me," Wesley muttered in a strangled-sounding voice. "Cordelia, where is your W.C.?" She didn't understand the question, so I was the one to point him in the right direction.
He rushed off, weaving more than a little, and she and I both heard the sounds of vomiting.
The sole redeeming virtue of Wesley's day had just bitten the dust. At the moment, I could be fairly confident, even without looking in a mirror, that he looked worse than I did.
Cordelia gave me a rueful little half-smile. "We messed up, didn't we?"
"We did."
"I still don't want you to go."
"I know. I'm still going."
"I know. But please, do come back. I'm not ready to lose you yet."
Very softly, almost in a whisper, I asked, "And do you think sometime you will be?"
"I don't know," she admitted. "But, not today, okay? Do we have a deal?"
"Not today, if I can help it," I agreed, and let myself mean it.
Not today. But soon, I added in my own mind, soon.
In the meantime, I had instructions to disobey. I kissed Cordelia very lightly, on the unbruised side of her face, and left the apartment.
Dennis closed and locked the door behind me.
Chapter Nineteen
ANGEL
Somehow I knew that something would happen if I left Faith alone, even for a few minutes. But what I feared was that she would do some harm to herself.A visiting demon wasn't quite what I expected.
I hadn't even had time to button my shirt after my shower when I heard Kate's voice on TV, talking about Faith, and I was still trying to assure Faith that she was safe with me when something attacked us. As timing went, it was definitely not my day.
I don't like intruders, and I don't much care for fights in my own home. This one was short, because there isn't much out there that can stand up to a vampire and a slayer working together, but it was far from sweet.
The noise ended abruptly when Faith killed the demon, but I knew that something more fragile than my furniture was in danger of being shattered.
She was staring at the blood on her hands, whispering, "No," and I could see her shaking.
So I did the only thing that I could do. I put my arms around her, and I held her.
I told her it was going to be all right. And she kept shaking, and I kept holding her, and saying "Shhh," and stroking her hair, and finally she relaxed enough to start crying again.
I think that I must have been holding her, and rocking her gently, for a long time.
At one point, I thought I heard another sound, over her sobbing. But when I looked up, there was no one there.
DOYLE
I shouldn't have tried to take the stairs.It's hard to be stealthy when you can't go too far without wheezing. I had planned to take the long way down to Angel's apartment, by the stairs, so that I could see what was going on without announcing myself with every creak and groan of the elevator.
The problem with that was that my body had more than enough creaks and groans all its own.
Once I was partway down the stairs, I knew I was committed, no turning back. When I was almost all the way down, I knew that I ought to be committed, for trying the stairs at all.
I tried to catch my breath, hearing Kate Lockley's voice on the television on the other side of the door. I had almost made it to the door when the television was suddenly shut off, followed moments later by several loud crashes. Without thinking, I flung myself forward toward the door.
I landed on my hands and knees, falling against the door as it opened, just in time to see a dark-haired girl repeatedly stabbing some kind of demon I'd never seen before. Then Angel was there, and I looked up at him from the floor, but he didn't see me.
His hair was wet, and his shirt was unbuttoned, and he didn't see me at all. His attention was all on the girl, Faith, the rogue slayer, the torturer, the psycho killer, and worst of all, the one who had slugged Cordelia.
She was going, "No, no," looking at her hands like a bad imitation of Lady Macbeth, and he was putting his arms around her.
I watched in horrified fascination as he whispered to her, "Shhh. Shhh, it's okay, it's gonna be okay," and held her close, rocking her like a baby. She wrapped herself around him, and clung to him, and started to cry.
I didn't want to see any more. Slowly, I dragged myself backward, allowing the door that I was slumped against to close as quietly as possible. Then it was shut, and I was alone on the other side of the door, on the floor, at the bottom of the stairs.
I looked up the long flight of stairs that I had just come down. A year ago, I wouldn't have thought twice about stairs.
A year ago, I wouldn't have thought twice about a vampire comforting a rogue slayer, except to shake my head in disbelief. I was shaking my head now, all right, but it was only at my own stupidity.
I've done some idiotic things in my life, but this one was probably the dumbest of them all.
I could still hear her crying, on the other side of the door. I could still hear his voice, soothing her, comforting her, as I sprawled on the floor and tried to find the strength to get out of there.
The foolish tears that were starting to form in my own eyes weren't helping any, either, as I looked up at the stairs.
Still on my hands and knees, I started the long climb.
CORDELIA
Doyle had been gone far too long. Twice already, I had started to leave, to look for him. Twice already, Wesley had stopped me."Cordelia, if you have any doubt about what Faith is capable of doing to you - "
"All I have to do is look at you. Yeah, I know. I see. But she wouldn't even have to torture him, Wesley. One punch like the one she gave me, that would probably be enough."
"How long have you known?" Wesley asked quietly, distracting me.
"About Doyle and Angel?"
He nodded.
"Not long, just a couple of days. I walked in on them when I went back to unchain Angel, after the Rebecca thing."
Wesley drew in a breath sharply. "He's been back that long? I thought that he had just returned." Then he seemed to hear the rest of what I had said. "And you walked in on them?"
"Yep, all cozy, and you know, they're kind of sweet together, really."
"That must have been horrid for you."
"Well, it wasn't fun. But I'm okay with it now. I mean, Doyle and I never really, you know... it just never happened. And you are totally trying to distract me."
"Is it working?" Wesley teased gently, and for a moment, he might almost have been Doyle.
Almost. But Doyle was out there, probably getting the few remaining months or weeks of his life taken away from him by Faith, and there was nothing I could do about it.
Looking at me, Wesley asked: "You still care so much for him. May I ask why?"
I was angry for a moment, and then I wasn't. "It's hard to explain. He can be such an idiot sometimes, even though I know he was, like, a genius or something when he was younger, but you'd never know it. He dresses like a pimp, but he's funny, and he's brave when it counts, and he loves Angel, and me... he really does..."
"I believe you," Wesley said softly. "The three of you..." and his voice trailed off, as he tried to shrug, and then winced.
I had a pretty good idea how he was feeling, but I just couldn't find it in myself to say anything, not right at that moment, when all that I could think about was Doyle.
Then Dennis started rattling things around in the cupboard and thumping on the walls. "Dennis! What is it?"
Wesley looked up, trying not to show that he was frightened. He wasn't used to Dennis yet.
"Is it Doyle?" I asked, frustrated, and Dennis started thumping loudly on the walls.
"Where is he? Dennis, when are you going to learn to speak to me? Your mother spoke to me, why can't you!" Wesley just looked confused at that one, but I wasn't going to take the time to explain right now.
The front door to the apartment flew open. I ran toward it, and looked outside. At first, I didn't see anything.
Behind me, Dennis was still thumping and bumping and making a huge commotion, so I kept looking around. Finally, I heard the sound of a car horn, and I looked toward that.
Partway down the street, I recognized Angel's car, with two wheels up on the sidewalk. I could barely make out what appeared to be a figure slumped over the steering wheel. That was where the sound of the horn was coming from.
I took off at a run. I heard Wesley call out, "Cordelia, wait! It could be a trap!" But I didn't care.
By the time I reached the car, my head was pounding with pain, but that didn't matter either, because it was Doyle, and he was slumped unconscious between the driver's door and the steering wheel of the car.
"Doyle!" I didn't dare open the driver's door, because he might fall straight out of the car into the street. I ran around the other way, and managed to get in on the passenger side, despite the weird angle of the car halfway up on the sidewalk. My head kept hurting worse and worse as I reached out for him, trying to figure out if he was alive or dead.
For a long moment, he didn't seem to be breathing at all. Then, as I grabbed hold of him, he let out a gasp as my hands grasped him, and he started coughing.
He coughed so hard that it hurt to hear, but at least he was still alive. I pulled him against me, and just held him as lightly as I could, trying not to hurt him any more, while he gasped, and wheezed, and kept on coughing.
Wesley had arrived, and stood there looking just as helpless as I felt, while Doyle's body jerked with the force of his coughs. Looking down at Doyle, I noticed for the first time that the knees of his jeans were torn and dirty, and his hands were scraped and bleeding, too. But the coughing was the most frightening part.
"Doyle, don't leave me yet. Please. You promised, not today."
Finally the coughing eased, but he was still shaking, and gasping for breath, and there were tears on his face. It must have been from all the coughing. Or was it?
"What did she do to you?" I demanded, but I realized that he couldn't speak yet. He did shake his head slightly, though, as he continued to wheeze.
Wesley said, "Let's get him inside. Between the two of us, we can manage."
I held Doyle while Wesley opened the car door. Together, we managed to get him out of the car without dropping him on the ground, and if it hurt Wesley to take Doyle's one arm while I took the other and the two of us half-carried him back to the apartment, he didn't say a word.
Wesley and I brought Doyle straight in to my bedroom. We started to lay him down on the bed, and he shook his head just a little again and mouthed at me, "Need to sit up." So we propped him up against the headboard, and he nodded slightly, still taking those labored breaths that hurt to watch.
Wesley just stood there then, watching, as I climbed into the bed next to Doyle. After a few minutes, when his breathing had calmed down some more, Doyle managed to speak.
It was one word, and it seemed to be directed more to Wesley than to me. "Thanks."
Wesley just nodded. In a weird way, the two of them seemed to have begun to understand each other.
Then Wesley said, "I'll go attend to the car. I won't be back right away though, so don't worry."
"Where are you going?" I asked without looking at him, my eyes still on Doyle.
"After I remove the car from the sidewalk and park it properly, I intend to find the nearest pub and get as drunk as possible. I hope that you approve, but it doesn't really matter if you don't."
Somehow, despite his obvious distress, Doyle was able to come up with a decent imitation of his usual grin.
"I approve," he whispered.
And then Wesley was gone, and it was just Doyle and me.
Chapter Twenty
DOYLE
I was ready to let go this time. I didn't want to fight any more. And then I heard her voice, and I felt her hands on me.I made her a promise, and I owed it to her to try to keep it.
So here I am, in her bed, and the way she's looking at me hurts, but I'm learning to deal with that.
It's this confusion inside me now, as I'm thinking about Angel hugging Faith, while I'm looking at the bruise on Cordelia's face, and remembering who put it there... that's what hurts even more.
I know how he feels about me, sure. But saving souls? That's what he's for. That's why he's here.
And I... I just get in the way.
CORDELIA
"Can you talk now?" I asked him after awhile, when he was beginning to look better, and he wasn't wheezing so much any more."Yeah."
"What did Faith do to you?"
"It wasn't Faith. Well, not exactly. She never even saw me."
"Then who did this to you?" I pointed at his scraped hands and knees.
"It wasn't a who, it was a what. And my own stupidity, mostly."
"What kind of a what, that wasn't a who, was it?"
He laughed a little at that one.
"It was a staircase, actually," he finally admitted. "That, and my own pride."
I must have been staring at him like a fool, because he eventually look pity on me and explained. "I tried to get downstairs quietly to check out what was going on. So I went down by the stairs, instead of the elevator. I haven't tried stairs in a long time, and I forgot that I can't."
"Forgot that you can't what?"
"I can't do stairs any more. Well, down the stairs I can manage, more or less, if I take it slow, but up..."
"So what happened between down and up?"
"Between down and up," he answered reluctantly, "I saw Angel. With Faith."
"Fighting?"
"No."
"Wait a minute, they weren't - "
"No, not that either."
"Then what?"
"Well, something attacked them, but they killed it. And then she freaked out, and he..."
"He what?"
"Well, just kind of hugged her."
I think I squeaked at that. "Hugged her? He hugged that homicidal maniac?"
"Yes." He didn't sound any happier about it than I was.
"And then what?"
"She started crying."
"And then what?"
"Well, he was just comforting her, you know? Just... being there for her."
I looked at him, and he looked away. "You were jealous, weren't you?"
"There was no reason to be," he evaded. "They weren't having sex or anything. She was just crying, and he was..."
"Holding her, hugging her, comforting her."
"Yes."
"The bitch who hit me and tortured Wesley."
"Yes."
"That vampire can be such a total - "
"Shhh. Don't."
"So what happened then?"
"I tried to climb back up the stairs."
"You mean, while he was being all comforty with Faith, you were..."
"Trying to get back up the stairs, yes." Following my look to his scraped knees, he admitted softly, "I almost didn't make it."
"While he was with Faith."
"Yeah."
"And then in the car..."
"I passed out, I guess. Then I heard you calling my name."
I took one of his hands, holding it, looking at the palms that were scraped raw, and I felt like I might choke with the anger inside me, just staring at it.
"Oh, Doyle..."
"It's okay."
"It's not okay." I had to stop for a minute, but then I went on, hearing the fury building in my own voice, and not caring any more. "It is so not okay. You love him, and you nearly died today, and you know you don't have long, and he was taking care of Faith. That's not okay. That's not okay at all."
He was silent for a long moment, and when I looked at him, I saw that he was fighting not to cry. I couldn't stop myself then; I put my arms around him.
"No," he whispered then, "Maybe it's not okay."
We were both crying then, and holding each other, and I don't know who was doing more comforting, of us both.
I'm not sure when what was happening started to change. But somehow, it did.
I don't even remember when I started kissing him, but suddenly, I was.
And through our tears, for the first time since the hospital, he started to kiss back.
And then, everything changed.
DOYLE
I didn't plan it. But I was so empty, and she was there, and her arms were so warm, and her lips, and the anger in her voice, the anger in her face at Angel, was all mixed up together with her loving me, and I was angry too, and something else, something that was very much not okay, except that in her arms... it was.I couldn't show Angel that I was scared. But Cordelia was all anger and heat and shaking her fist at everything and somehow, that was what opened up something inside of me.
I know that I'm not in love with Cordelia, I'm in love with Angel, I know it. And yet, I do love her, and I don't really understand any of it any more. Sometimes it's all just more than I can understand, but she was there, and I could feel the force of it, her loving me.
She wasn't nearly as gentle as Angel. She was kissing me hard, and I tasted her tears and mine, her anger, and her fear for me, all in her kiss like a language that I understood, and I just... opened to it.
When I gasped then, it wasn't just because I couldn't breathe, not any more.
I was still sitting up, propped against the headboard, and she was unbuttoning my shirt, and her mouth was everywhere that her hands weren't, seeming like it was all over me at once, even though it couldn't be, and she was still crying, too, and so was I... but it didn't seem to matter any more.
She was doing all the work, but I'd run through my quota of pride today, and her hands were so warm, and her mouth was so warm... and I realized how cold I'd been, for such a long time, like being dead already... and how much I needed to be warm again.
When she dragged my jeans halfway down my legs and started to straddle me, I managed to say, "We shouldn't do this."
"Just... be with me once, before..."
She didn't say anything more. There was no need. She just kissed me again, a hard, demanding, desperate kiss, and as she touched me, her body covering mine, I found myself moving up to meet her, and that was the end of saying no, for me.
She was on me, and moving, and I groaned as I felt the sweetness and the heat of it, and she was covering my whole face with kisses as she moved, and I was being pushed hard against the headboard of the bed, and it hurt and it was glorious and she wasn't holding back and I didn't care any more when it hurt, because the pain of the joy and the joy of the pain was there for us both right now, both of us, no mercy and no pity. Her breath was on my lips, and she moaned against my mouth as she moved, her body seeking, pushing, not holding back, and with every thrust of her body around mine, I could feel what it was doing for her, I could hear her gasping against my ear, and I had missed that so much, so much... she wasn't holding back.
Neither was I.
When I let go this time, it was into the heat that surrounded me and her body was warm all around me and her arms were around me, and I was here. I was here, with her. I was warm. I was alive.
We were both shaking, and the tears were still there for both of us, but, oh God, as I held her and she held me and our bodies shook together, I felt so violently alive, and all of it was there, and real. I was angry, I was scared, and in her arms, I was finally able to say it.
It was the one thing I hadn't been able to say, not to Angel, not even to myself.
I could finally say it to her now, as we both wept, together.
"I don't want to die."
Chapter Twenty-One
CORDELIA
There was a message on the answering machine when I got out of the shower. Still toweling off my hair, I hit the play button.It was Wesley's voice.
"Cordelia, I won't be coming back over there at all today. There is some fairly substantial unpleasantness ahead regarding Faith. I must ask you to remain away from the office until further notice. I am certain that you will understand that I don't want to see you or any other innocents caught in the cross-fire." The recorded voice paused for a moment, then continued, "Stay safe. Be well."
His tone sounded oddly final. Then there was only a click and a dial tone.
Slowly, I reached out to shut off the ringer on the phone, then went to the door and made sure that all the deadbolts and double locks were securely in place.
I looked up toward the ceiling, although I had no idea where Dennis actually was. I seldom do.
"Dennis, are you listening?"
Thump, thump.
"I don't want to be disturbed at all, okay? Think, like, 'incommunicado.' Unless it's Wesley or Angel, I'm not here. I'm on vacation, got it?"
Thump, thump.
I didn't feel the least bit guilty. I deserved a vacation, didn't I? Let them deal with Faith without me.
I had something more important to do.
I returned to the bathroom to blow-dry my hair, and to finish thinking about what had just happened with Doyle, before I went back into the bedroom.
Part of me wasn't sure whether he would still be there, propped up against the headboard, sleeping in my bed. But he was, and he was shivering just a little in his sleep.
I stretched out beside him, and pulled the blanket over us both. When I put my head down next to his shoulder, he reached out and put an arm around me. I settled down against his side, being careful not to put too much weight on him, and he sighed a little, sounding almost contented, as I made myself comfortable.
Under the shadow of the blanket, I could even press my lips against his shoulder, without having to see that weird-looking tattoo.
DOYLE
I kept drifting in and out of sleep, and I knew that part of it was not wanting to be fully awake right now. If I was, I would have to think things through, and then figure out what I was going to do, and I wasn't ready yet.It was easier to doze, in Cordelia's bed, feeling the warmth of her body next to mine.
Funny how things happen. It wasn't that many months ago that I would have given almost anything to be lying here like this with Cordelia, knowing that she loves me, and that she wants me to stay. Now, as much as I'd like to stay here with her, I know that this isn't really where I belong.
There's another bed that's home for me, and another body that I need beside me.
But I'm not ready to leave yet. Cordelia's hair is freshly washed, and it smells wonderful. Her mouth against my shoulder is promising wonderful things without saying a single word.
I could try to tell myself that this is all for her, the last thing that I can give her, just as I want to give Angel the last thing that I can. But I'd be fooling myself if I said that's all there is.
It's peculiar enough, when I stop to think about it. I've never thought of myself as all that attractive, and I know I'm a sorry sight to behold these days, as Wesley was kind enough to point out. It's strange that even now, what they both want most is still the same thing. It's still me.
But it's not only for her sake, although that's part of it. I have to admit that to myself. I need it just as much as she does.
I just don't know what Angel is going to do, when he smells her body on mine, as I know he will.
I'm going to wait awhile longer to find out.
I reached down gently to kiss her on the forehead, and she moved her face up immediately, her eyes still closed, to catch my mouth with hers.
This time, her kiss was softer, and not nearly so urgent. Her hand came up to touch my face, her fingers brushing the hair away from my eyes, and I let my arms go all the way around her.
We took it slowly this time, as much of necessity as anything else. I don't have the stamina that I once did, and I need a lot more recovery time now.
When she wrapped herself around me, and pulled my body against hers, I didn't remind her that she had said it would be just once.
Once wasn't going to be nearly enough for either one of us.
CORDELIA
We had a whole day, and a whole night, before Wesley called to tell me that Faith had been safely taken off to jail. A day and a night, with no interruptions, just the two of us.We didn't talk much during that day and night. We had already said just about everything. That was good, because I didn't have to find the words to tell him how much I didn't want to let him go.
If he hadn't known it already, he did now, as I made sure to taste and touch everything that I could of him.
Sometimes, when I caught him watching me, his eyes were sad, knowing that I was making memories. But he wasn't fighting me, either, and he let me hold him, almost the whole time.
It was only after that day and night, only on the morning after, when the message came in from Wesley that it was over and Faith was safely gone, that we talked about it again.
"I have to end it soon, Cordelia," he said softly.
I just looked at him, not knowing what to say. He sighed a little, and looked away from me.
"I have to go back to Angel," he continued. "I have to settle things with him."
"Okay."
"That might take a little while."
"Not arguing."
"But once I work things out with Angel..." his voice trailed off.
"Are you in such a hurry?" I asked.
"If I don't finish it soon, it's just going to keep getting worse. I don't want to do that to any of us. It has to end."
"You're not going to ask him to..."
"Not to turn me, darlin'. I don't want to be a vampire, I already told you that."
"Then, what exactly..."
"You know, don't you," and he clasped one of my hands between both of his, "that in the end...."
"That it's Angel for you?"
He nodded.
"I got that awhile ago."
"Yeah. And that's how I want the end to be."
"You want him to kill you?"
"Yeah."
"Oh, God, are you thinking what I think you are?" He blushed a little, and that was my answer. "Because you'll scar him for the rest of his eternal life, if that's what you're thinking. I mean, talk about trauma. He'd never want to have sex again. Although in his case, that might not be a bad thing."
"Do you think it's too much to ask?"
I just stared at him. "Do you want him to cut out his own heart too and feed it to you before you die? Of course it's too much to ask. How can you expect somebody who loves you to kill you, especially like that? He'd never get over it."
"It's the vampire thing, though, we can't forget about that. It's not the same for him as it would be for you."
"No, it's probably worse," I said bluntly. "I know that I don't want to watch you die. I couldn't stand it. Why should you think that he could?"
"I won't be asking you, but if I ever had to ask you for... for a good death, just the way I want it... and it was in your power to give, I think you'd give it to me. But I'm not asking you."
"Please don't." After a moment, I went on: "The only thing I'd ask is, just let me know when, okay? But take your time, because I'm not in any hurry."
"I know that."
"Will you let me know? And I don't mean leave me a note, either."
"I understand. I won't do that to you, I promise. I'll tell you, before."
"I'm holding you to that," I whispered.
And then I just had to hold him, one more time, knowing that it was time to let him go.
Chapter Twenty-Two
ANGEL
Doyle hesitated in the doorway of the bedroom, with his hands in his pockets. "Good mornin'," he said quietly, and there was an odd _expression on his face.As soon as he walked into the bedroom, I knew why.
I had been waiting for him, looking forward to his arrival. After watching Faith disappear behind bars, I wanted nothing more than to forget her in the bittersweet pleasure of making love to Doyle. I had quite a few good ideas for the morning, but as soon as he came through the door, my plans were changed.
I sat up straight, and tried not to show how humiliated I felt. I didn't even have to get close to him to smell Cordelia, and to pick up the change in his own scent that told me plainly enough what he had been doing.
I should have expected it. I should have seen it coming, all along.
Our eyes met, and I could see that he noticed the change in my face. He straightened up a bit and squared his shoulders, looking at me, like he was trying to figure out what to say.
So I spoke first.
"Faith's not likely to get out of jail any time soon," I said. "If you still want to be here, it's as safe as it ever will be. But, if you'd rather stay with Cordelia from now on, I understand."
"It's not like that, man. Of course I still want to be here. Look, can I sit down?" He indicated the chair by the bed.
"Fine."
He pulled something out of the pocket of his jeans, some small object wrapped in a plastic bag with a pharmacy label on it, and tossed it negligently onto the table by the bed.
Then he sat in the chair, and I sat on the bed, watching him. I wasn't asking, and he wasn't telling. The awkwardness that fell between us was thick enough to touch.
"Did Wesley tell you anything about me making a complete idiot of myself the other day?" he asked.
"No. Wesley and I have been completely occupied with the Faith situation. Come to think of it, he hasn't once mentioned your name."
Doyle nodded slowly. "All right then."
He shifted his position restlessly in the chair. As he did, I noticed that the knees of his jeans were stained. He caught my look, but didn't volunteer an explanation.
When he still didn't say anything further, I said dryly: "At least you look rested."
"Rested? Well, I suppose. As I guess you already know, things happened with Cordelia. I was going to tell you, but it's not the kind of thing to get into on the phone."
"You don't owe me any explanations, Doyle. Do whatever makes you happy."
"You've got something of the wrong idea, here. Will you let me try to explain?"
"If you want."
He stared at his hands for a long moment. "I had what you might call a very bad day while you were with Faith. Since Wesley was good enough not to trumpet to you what a fool I was, I'll leave it with saying that I over-exerted myself and ended up getting myself completely wrecked. I gave Cordelia quite a scare."
"I see."
"So, when I ended up in her bed, the original intention was pretty much just surviving the night and nothing more."
"But, things happened."
"Well, yeah. She's having a hard time over me, and all of this with Faith just made it worse."
"So you're telling me this was nothing more than comfort sex, and that I shouldn't worry about it. Is that it?" I knew that my voice sounded harsh, but we needed to get this out of the way and all of his stalling wasn't helping either one of us.
He grimaced with annoyance. "You know it's not that simple with 'Delia and me. But she already knows that I'm coming back here, to you. That is, if you'll still have me."
"Why?"
"Why what? Do you mean, why should you still have me, after I cheated on you?"
"No, that's not what I meant, and I think you know it. Why are you coming back?"
"You want me to spell it out, then?"
"I think we need to make things clear. If you and Cordelia have a chance to find some happiness, even for a little while, I don't want to stand in the way."
"I knew you'd play this whole self-sacrificing riff on me," he snapped, with an exasperated scowl. "That's one thing 'Delia doesn't do, at least."
"No, I'm sure she doesn't."
"Okay then. I'm not going to tell you that I don't feel anything for Cordelia, because that would be a lie. There are feelings there, sure. But if what I really wanted was to be with her, there wouldn't be anything in the world that would stop me. I wouldn't come back here to you just out of guilt, or obligation, or anything of that sort. You and I both know I don't have time for that."
"Go on."
"If you'll have me," and he looked me straight in the eyes then, "I'd like to come back to you because you're the one I want to spend the rest of my life with, such as it is. And you're the one I want to die with. Does that make it clear enough for you?"
I couldn't come up with an answer to that.
He went straight on anyway, not waiting for a response. "I've made some decisions here. I'm not willing to be hooked up to any machines. Not so as I can sleep, and not to walk around, and certainly not to try to wring out another week or two of staying alive. I don't want either one of you to remember me that way."
"I - "
He held up a warning hand, "No, let me finish. I know you'd accept anything to keep me around longer. Hell, you proved that when you brought me back in the first place. But you can't always decide everything for me."
"No, I can't."
"I've got some of my own ideas for what to do with the time I've got, and most of them involve you, but I can't make you do anything you don't want to do, either. You're a free vampire, and there's no question about it, you're a long ways over twenty-one."
I had to smile at that, and he gave me back a shadow of his old grin.
"But if you can get past all the noble martyr crap for a little while, I think we could have some good times, worth remembering. On the other hand, if you're going to keep on treatin' me like a porcelain doll, maybe I really should go back to Cordelia. At least she's not so scared of hurting me that I might as well be jerkin' off alone."
I tried to keep my face impassive, but my hurt must have showed through to him anyway, because he quickly apologized. "Sorry man, that was harsh. And inaccurate. I don't feel alone when I'm with you, you know that. But sometimes I do feel like you're alone, if you know what I mean."
"I think so, yes."
I glanced over at the package, and he caught my look at it, and laughed a little. "Yeah. Call it a peace offering, except I'm not looking to rest in peace quite yet."
"Is that what I think it is?"
Now the grin was more real, with a spark of mischief in it. "Depends on what you're thinking, I suppose. Want to find out?"
"Well, first I'd like to get you in the shower. Did you have some problem with using Cordelia's shower, or was it that you just didn't want to get out of bed long enough?"
"Little o'both, I guess. I know that she wouldn't have a problem with it if I asked her, but I didn't ask. I kind of like taking my showers with you."
"Well, I hope you won't mind then if we get the scent of Cordelia's perfume off you, because it really doesn't suit you."
The relief on his face was almost painful to see, as he struggled to his feet. "So then, what are we waiting for?"
DOYLE
Under the hot water in the shower, his hands on me feel so good, everywhere.I wasn't sure if he was going to take me back. There's no way he can doubt, looking at me, how much I want him now, and I know the same of him, but he could still find some stupid reason to give me up, if I let him.
I'm not going to let him.
I've been thoroughly lathered up and rinsed, and I couldn't possibly get much cleaner. He's standing behind me now in the shower, not quite touching me, and I think he's more scared than I am.
There is the sound of the water running, which is loud enough that it mostly muffles the sound of my breathing, and the rest is just the silence of waiting for him, and the wait is lasting way too long.
Finally I had to speak. "So? We don't have forever, love."
From right behind me, almost against my ear, he answered. "No, we don't, do we?"
And then his body moved forward, and closed the distance between us.
Chapter Twenty-Three
ANGEL
I knew that it was the beginning of the end, even before he told me.I'm not sure why I went downstairs to see him in the middle of the afternoon. It was a slow day upstairs at the office, and I just wanted to spend a few minutes with him, I suppose.
I heard the sound of water running in the bathroom sink, and went in, not expecting a problem.
I found him collapsed, naked, on the bathroom floor, with his back up against the shower stall. He looked up at me with a completely humiliated _expression.
"Don't say a word," he whispered. "Just shut off the water, and help me up, all right?"
Obediently silent, I turned off the water that was running into the sink, on to a pair of Doyle's undershorts lying beneath the faucet, and reached down to pick him up. He was so light that anyone could have lifted him.
I carried him back to the bed. I had learned by now that he needed to sit up at all times, so I propped him up against the extra pillows before I pulled the sheet up to his waist.
He sighed then. "Thanks."
"Anything else I can do?"
"Thanks for not asking what happened."
I just looked at him. After spending more than one night with him, I had little doubt that I already knew.
"This damn coughing," he said then, miserably. "It just keeps going on and on and doesn't stop, and then I can't even stand up long enough to wash out my own shorts without it starting up again. When a grown man needs to be goin' around in nappies, this has to end."
He saw the _expression on my face, and snapped, "Stop it. I hate it when you go all pitying like that. Just stop it."
"I'll try."
"Well, you won't have to try much longer." He sighed again. "I want you to do it tomorrow. I'll make all of my own arrangements. That will give me enough time to make a few phone calls today, to set things up, so that you won't have to bother."
"You want me to..."
"Don't pretend that you don't understand. I want you to kill me, Angel."
"I don't want to do that."
"Well, if you won't, then I'll have to kill myself. And not only would that be a waste of perfectly good blood, but I really would rather not die alone."
"I don't want you to die... alone... either."
"Well, is it settled then?"
I didn't answer, and he frowned.
"Look, I know you don't want to do it. But it's the best way. I've been sorting through it all, all the ways that it could happen, and this would be the best way for me. So I'm asking you to do it as a favor, for me."
"Tomorrow?"
"Tomorrow."
"Do you think," and I tried to keep the pleading out of my voice, "Maybe you could stand it for just a few more days?"
He stared at my face, and then relented slightly.
"Day after tomorrow, then. I'll give it another day."
"I guess I'd better take what I can get."
"Yeah," he said. "I guess so."
Then I had to look away. "I'll be back," I said with difficulty, and started walking into the other room.
He called out softly after me, "This would be a little easier if you stopped trying so friggin' hard to be strong."
But I didn't turn back, not yet. He was wrong about that.
Nothing was going to make it any easier. And it was going to take everything I had.
DOYLE
It took me a long time to get my clothes on. Then, after I'd rested up from that, I made some phone calls.I figured I would wait till the last minute to tell Cordelia. I was going to keep my promise, all right, but not until I had to do it. One of them knowing the day ahead of time was enough.
In the meantime, though, even before she knew exactly when, she and I had some things to talk about.
Once I was fully dressed and my calls were made, I walked into the living room. Angel was still sitting there, with his head in his hands, not looking at me.
"If you're just going to be completely miserable for the next two days, then I don't much see the point of the extra day," I told him quietly.
He looked up at me then, and I couldn't believe how much it hurt, to see his face.
"I'm not sure I can do it, Doyle," he whispered. "What you're asking... I'm not sure I can."
"Yeah, you can. I haven't asked you for too many things."
"I know that."
"This time, I'm asking."
He didn't say anything. Abruptly, I said, "I'm going upstairs to talk to Cordelia."
"How much are you telling her?"
"Not exactly when, yet. But that it's soon."
"Do what you need to do. I'll stay down here for a little while."
"Okay then."
Pride's a funny thing, isn't it? Guess I should know.
I went on upstairs, leaving him alone.
CORDELIA
I hadn't seen Doyle since he went back to Angel, and when I heard the elevator coming up, I found myself feeling nervous.When he stepped off the elevator, he was walking very carefully, like just moving around hurt. I got up from behind the desk, and turned around to face him, glad that Wesley wasn't there.
It was bad enough that Doyle himself had to see what must have been on my face, when I looked at him.
"Hi."
"Hi there."
I don't know which one of us sounded dumber, or which one of us looked shakier. I started to put out a hand toward him, and then I let it fall.
I was definitely getting the feeling that a hug would not be a good idea right now.
"I just wanted to talk to you for a couple of minutes. Okay?"
"Sure. No problem."
He made his way over to the couch, and I sat down next to him, not touching him. He looked at me, and smiled ruefully, like he knew what I was thinking.
"Still not gonna break, princess, I promise."
Then I did reach out, and took one of his hands in mine. As soon as I was touching him, I felt better, and he seemed to relax a little, too.
"See?" he teased gently. "Now, that wasn't all that bad, was it?"
I shook my head, watching my own fingers moving without my thinking much about it, twining themselves around his hand. "Nope. So, how are you holding up?" I asked.
"Well, kind of at the wrapping-things-up stage right now, if you get what I mean."
I felt my fingers stop moving, and I stayed very still. After a long moment, I was able to look away from my hands, to his face.
"Don't worry, I'm going to keep my promise to you," he said quietly. "But, I want a promise back from you, in return."
"Whatever I can do."
"Help Angel as much as you can. He's really going to need a friend, especially... right after."
I nodded. "He won't be the only one," I reminded him softly.
"I know that. I'm hoping that the two of you can help each other."
I nodded again, and then I had to look away from his face and back to my hands. I really didn't want to cry right now.
We just sat like that, not speaking, for what seemed like a long time.
Chapter Twenty-Four
ANGEL
"Well, the sun's down," Doyle said in a too-casual voice. "Feel like taking me up to the roof so we can sit and talk awhile?""Sounds good to me." I tried to keep the same casual tone.
I noticed him putting a pack of cigarettes and a lighter into his shirt pocket, and I couldn't help the _expression on my face. He smiled. "Last puff, I promise. This is it."
There's really no unembarrassing way to pick up another adult and carry him up a flight of stairs, but I did my best to make it seem like nothing unusual was happening. The fact that he had asked, even though he knew I'd have to carry him, meant that it was important to him. That made it important to me.
I settled us both down where we could watch the light fading out of the sky. He leaned lightly back against me, reaching for the cigarette. We both knew that I would be there, right behind him, if he needed me.
I waited, certain that he was going to ask me again about his death.
But instead, he began telling me about his life.
DOYLE
I only got one good drag on that last cigarette before the coughing started, and I had to drop it on the roof next to me. I knew that it was going to happen. I just wanted it, one last time.I noticed Angel stubbing out the cigarette with one hand as he held me with the other. The gesture was almost vicious, with an anger that he wasn't showing me. But, I could feel it, just the same.
After the coughing was over for awhile, with Angel's arms draped very lightly around me, I said: "You said once that someday I'd have to tell you the story of my life. Only fair, I'd say, since we first met with me telling you the story of yours."
"Seems like a good time now," he agreed softly.
"I'd guess that's just as good a place as any to start." I gestured toward the crushed cigarette on the roof beside me.
"So, when did you? Start with that, I mean."
"I was twelve. Smallest kid in class, just another brat with only my mum's name on my records, and all the teachers thought I was really going places." I laughed a little at the memory, as much as breath would allow.
"You did well in school, I understand."
"Too well for my own good, yeah. I told myself if I ever got to be a teacher, I'd know better than to make a big fuss about one kid being smarter than the others. Gotta tell you, it took some daily effort convincin' the big guys that there was no need to knock me around to prove that they were better than I was."
"So you took up smoking?"
"Smoking, lookin' up every skirt I could, even drinking once in a while when I was sure that they'd be seein' me, whatever. I didn't actually like my pint so much back then, it was all for show."
"Even the skirts?"
"Are you kiddin'? I did like the girls, that was real enough. If that wasn't all that I liked, well, I'd best keep shut about the other, right? Oh, and playin' the fool in class just as much as I could. It didn't bring my grades down any, but if I could get myself yelled at a couple times a week, I'd get home safe."
"So you learned early to pretend to be something less than you were."
"Whatever worked, man, whatever kept my skin in one piece. But I always thought I wouldn't need to do that any more, once I was grown and could run my life my own way. For awhile, it was even true."
I shifted a little against him, with a small sigh, wishing desperately that I could smoke right now.
"I liked my life when I was twenty. I really liked it. Teachin' was my chance to do things right this time, so that nobody else would have to do what I did just to get by. And Harry, that wasn't just part of the game for me. I really did love her."
"I know you did," he said gently, when I remained silent for awhile. "I could see that when she came around, last fall."
"I know that she's forgiven me now for how I treated her, after I found out what I was. Still bothers me sometimes, though. She didn't deserve that."
"People can forgive more than we give them credit for."
"Yeah, I do believe that. I don't even remember everything that I did between the time I left Harry and the time the Powers that Be kicked my sorry ass over to you. What I do remember from then, I wish I didn't."
His only reply was the cool touch of his fingers moving gently at the back of my neck, then lightly massaging my shoulders.
It felt good, and I tried to let myself relax into it, as his touch made some of the aching go away.
"Ah, don't stop. You can do that all night, if you want."
His other hand joined the first then, fingers trailing from the back of my head and down all along my spine, while the other moved around my shoulders, then both hands moving together to work some of the tension out of my neck and my back. I closed my eyes to enjoy it more.
It was a different kind of pleasure, one that didn't have to end, a wave that I could just keep on riding forever.
The next thing I knew, I must have dozed off, and he was carrying me back downstairs. I felt like a little kid, but I didn't even mind.
When I really was a child, I had never had a minute when I had felt so safe, so protected, as I did right then in his arms.
And it didn't even matter that it couldn't last. I'd had it. That's more than some ever get in a long lifetime.
It would be enough, because it had to be.
ANGEL
I put him to bed, propped up against the pillows, and he reached out drowsily to pull me down next to him.He didn't have the strength to move much of anything, but that was all right. I held him, with my face down to his, and I felt him smile against my cheek.
I would count every hour as better luck than I deserved.
We hadn't talked again about what he wanted from me. I still didn't know if I could give it. But in the meantime, he was still here.
When I was sure that he was fast asleep, I whispered, "Love you."
But he had fooled me, because he whispered right back, "I know."
Chapter Twenty-Five
ANGEL
The last time that a day meant this much to me was when I was turning my back on Buffy, and on being human.This time, when Doyle glanced at the clock and then at me, neither one of us had to speak. There was no point in protest, nothing to say, nothing to be gained with tears.
This time, the decision was his, not mine. And I knew that once again, time had run out, and I would be the one left with only the memories.
DOYLE
It was evening when I placed the call to Cordelia.She picked up the phone in mid-tirade. "For the last time, I am not buying any magazine subscriptions! You don't have anything I want to read! And for another thing -"
"It's me, princess."
She stopped ranting, and her voice changed completely. "Doyle?"
"The very same."
"Are you all right?"
"Well, you remember that promise I made you?"
She was silent for a moment. Then, "You mean, now?"
"I'm keeping the promise, sweetheart, just like I said."
"I'm coming right over. Don't you do anything until I get a chance to..."
"Say goodbye. I know. I'll wait."
"Leaving now." She hung up.
I looked at Angel, and he nodded. "When she gets here, I'll leave the two of you alone."
"Thanks."
She must have broken every speed limit in Los Angeles getting here. It wasn't necessary. I would have waited.
I was sitting in the chair in the bedroom. She came in, and saw me there waiting for her, and she tried to smile. So did I.
Neither one of us was very successful at it.
I saw her exchange a look with Angel as he stepped out. Then she came over to me, and without speaking, just put her arms around me.
Ah, the warmth of her. I let my cheek touch hers, and just enjoyed it for a moment, in silence.
"Doyle..."
"You'll be all right, Cordelia," I whispered against her ear, as she hugged me far too hard. "You'll find somebody who will make you happy, someday. I know that."
"I'm never going to forget you," she said fiercely.
"I believe you."
"If you didn't have such a dorky name, I'd promise to name a child after you someday. But come on, who in the world would want to be named Francis?"
I managed a laugh at that one. "It's a perfectly fine name, has been for centuries. But I don't need that to know that you'll remember me."
"Doyle, I..."
"I already know it, darlin'."
"Well, I want to say it to your face, so just let me, all right? Don't fight me on this. I want to watch you hear me say it."
"Okay." She pulled back from the hug, grabbing my hands instead, her eyes dark with emotion as she looked at me.
"I did... learn to love you."
"I know you did. The truth of it is," and I gave her hands a little squeeze, "I knew that even when I went the first time, 'Delia."
She seemed truly surprised at that, and she squeezed my hands back, tighter. "You did? I didn't."
"I figured it out. You did say yourself, I'm not as dumb as I look." There, I'd managed to make her smile. Good.
"I said a lot of things, didn't I?" she said wistfully. "Wish I could take some of them back."
"I wouldn't change a thing, princess, you ought to know that. And, you know, I never did quit loving you."
"Even though..."
"Yeah. That's just... different."
"I'm really going to miss you." She bent down to me, and her kiss was very gentle this time, soft enough that if my eyes were closed, I might have thought I was imagining it.
"I know that, too," I whispered.
Then I did close my eyes, just as she released my hands from hers.
When I opened my eyes again, she was gone.
And Angel was there.
ANGEL
Doyle's voice was calm and businesslike."I've already made arrangements with a crematorium I know in town, one where they don't ask awkward questions about how folks died, especially the ones who come in with fang marks in the neck. They're expecting my body for disposal tomorrow. I've written a note, with all the information you'll need."
I nodded numbly.
"Cordelia's going to have a rough time too, you know. I've been thinking about what I can do for her. She needs something of mine that she can actually hold, y'know? I don't have much in the way of tangible things to give her, and I couldn't give her the one thing that she wanted most from me. You already have that, and I think you know it. But I do want to give her something. I think it will help her to have something physical to remember me by."
I was surprised by what he did next. With a little sigh, he began twirling the claddagh ring on his finger, and then abruptly pulled it off, wincing as he did it, as though he were pulling the bandage off a wound.
I had never seen his hand without that ring before.
He pressed the ring into my hand, and when my fingers refused to close around it, he reluctantly met my eyes, our palms still pressed together with the ring between.
"My ashes are to be released only to you, but if you don't mind too much, I'd like to let Cordelia keep my ring."
Finally, I let myself hold the ring, but now I didn't want to let go of his fingers, either. So I kept my hand over his, with the ring, still warm from his hand, pressed against my palm.
"I'll give you mine, then," I finally said.
"To be melted down? I don't think so. You know what they say, you can't take it with you." He paused for a moment, his fingers entwining with mine. "I already know what I'm taking with me. I don't need some metal mixed in with my ashes to understand that."
Slowly, I nodded.
"I'm asking that you leave some instructions with Cordelia and Wesley, and with whoever comes next, after they're gone."
"If anything happens to me, you mean?"
He smiled slightly. "If someone finally gets a stake in you, I suppose maybe they might catch enough of the dust to put it in with mine, but most likely not, considering the kind of battles you fight. Either way, they can send the ashes back home, after you're gone. Even if it's centuries from now, and even there's no one left of my family by then, it won't matter. That's still where I want whatever's left of me to go, once you're not here any more."
"I'll leave the instructions," I whispered.
"I've already said my goodbyes to Harry and my mother. Now there's only that one last request I mentioned to you, and you already know exactly how I want it done."
I pulled our linked hands, with the ring still caught between them, to my lips and pressed my face against his hand. "I can't do this for you. Of all the things that you could ask of me, Doyle, this is the one thing that I can't do."
"Yes, you can. What I'm asking you, ain't it every man's dream of the most glorious way to go?"
"I can't," I repeated.
His voice was gentle, but persistent. "You don't want to hurt me, I know it. I can feel it every time you touch me. Well, let me give you just one time when you don't need to keep control. That's the one thing that I couldn't ever give you more than once. You won't need to worry about hurting me, because when it's over, I'll be gone. So you can do anything and everything you've ever wanted to do to me, because I want to give you everything I have, until there's nothing left at all. No holding back."
"How can you keep asking me for that," I flared at him, "when you know what it's going to do to me?"
"How would you rather I should die, then?" he challenged. "Is there some better way? Because I'm waiting to hear it."
I was silent.
"Come on, then, tell me! You set this merry-go-round going again, so what did you have in mind for the ending, when you brought me back?" His voice was low, but now there was a barely controlled fury in it, as if he'd been saving this up for a long time. "Tell me. Would it make you feel better to say goodbye to me in a hospital bed, where the most you can do for me while I'm going is to hold my hand? I want more than that. Damn it, man, we both deserve more than that. Or would you rather just find my body?"
"No."
"I had my good death the first time, the one that I chose. You owe me the same choice now."
"God, Doyle, you don't stop at the low blows, do you?"
For the first time, I could hear the strain in his voice, as he went on. "Maybe I don't, then, but don't make me beg. That would be a cruel thing to do, and I know you don't want that."
"I don't want you to die at all," I finally burst out, unable to stop myself.
"Ah, I know. The truth of it is, I don't want to die, either, but I will. Y' see, I didn't get any choice about coming back and I didn't get any choice about dying. This is the only choice I get, right here and now, about how and when I go. Let me have that much."
He stopped for a moment, to catch his breath, then went on: "Bringin' me back for a year, that was your decision. I wasn't consulted. This one is mine to make, and I've made it. Full circle, turn about, it's only fair. You pulled me back, and I want you to be the one to take me out. I want you to be with me, and I want you to make it good for me, so good that there's no room left in me for bein' scared. I want you to make it so good that I won't mind dying. So let's see what you can do about giving me a proper sendoff, yeah?"
I moved without planning it, picking him up off the chair, and the ring that had been pressed between his hand and mine fell to the floor with a clatter.
"Get it later," he said. "After."
I couldn't speak at all, as I carried him to the bed. I could barely even see, and my hands were shaking.
"You can do this," he whispered. "You can do this for me. I know you can."
Then I shut his mouth with mine.
Chapter Twenty-Six
CORDELIA
I never actually left the apartment after I said goodbye to Doyle. I only went into the other room, and as Angel walked past me into the bedroom, he and I exchanged a look of complete understanding.Then he shut the door very quietly behind him, and I sat down, just one closed door away from the two of them, with nothing else that I could do but wait.
At first, all I could hear was the faint murmur of their voices, too soft to make out any words. But it wasn't all that long before I heard the first sounds coming from the bedroom.
I knew that they should have their privacy, but I couldn't help but listen to every moan, every thump, every groan that I could hear, knowing that it was the last time I would ever hear Doyle's voice.
I don't know how long it had been before the cries rose up into what sounded more like screaming. My hands were digging into the arms of the chair where I sat waiting.
In my mind, I was hearing the echo of another scream, so long ago.
And then I heard words, clearly. "Do it now, oh, God, please, Angel, do it now!"
And the scream after that ended abruptly, and for a long time, there was silence.
I sat frozen in the chair, unable to cry, unable to do anything at all.
The silence stretched for what seemed like hours, although I knew it wasn't, until it was finally broken by a howl. Angel's voice.
Then I could move at last, and I went to the door and opened it, knowing what I was going to see.
The sound of Angel's cry was so desolate that it almost blocked out the sight of Doyle's body, broken and crumpled under Angel on the bed.
I knew that Angel didn't see me, or anything else but the body below him. He gathered up Doyle's body in his arms, still making that terrible sound, and started rocking slowly back and forth. It was his vampire face that I saw, but I'd never seen an _expression like that on a vampire's face.
I'm sure I never will again.
I felt paralyzed, and I think that if I could have turned and run away at that moment, maybe I would have done it. But I couldn't.
I knew that there was still someone here who needed me, even though Doyle was gone. But I felt like I was covered with ice. I had never felt so cold in my whole life. I couldn't move at all.
As Angel rocked the body, Doyle's head fell back, showing the marks in his neck. One of his arms swung slowly back and forth along with Angel's movements. The sound that Angel was making was not even remotely human.
I've been around dead bodies before, and I've seen people killed by vampires, but never before someone that I loved.
For the sake of Angel's sanity, and maybe for my own, I knew that I had to do something. I knew that I had to reach out to him, had to touch him, before he was lost to the world forever, but oh God, how could I, with Doyle's corpse right there?
How could I even get near him, with that arm swinging like that?
For Doyle's sake, I could do it. I would do it, even if Angel killed me too. I had to do it.
I couldn't let Angel go over the edge, if I could do something.
Somewhere inside me, I thought I could still feel Doyle's presence, even though I was looking at him drained and dead, and whether it was real or imagined didn't matter. He had already told me that he wanted me to help Angel.
I just hadn't expected it to be this soon.
The _expression on Angel's face had gone blank now, and the sound had dropped down in volume, but it was still the same sound.
I think it was the hardest thing I've ever done, when I started walking toward the bed, but I could feel Angel slipping away.
I held on to the thought of Doyle's voice, and his smile, and I tried not to look at the marks on his neck, as I slowly approached them.
Angel didn't react to me as I came nearer. He was still rocking, still keening, still oblivious.
When I touched Angel for the first time, his body jerked, and he crouched lower over the corpse that he was holding. He let out a growl, like I was going to take Doyle away from him.
I wasn't even going to touch the body, at least at first. I was only going to touch Angel.
But then, moving on some kind of instinct that I didn't understand, I slowly began to put my arms around Angel, and that meant that I had to touch Doyle, too, because the body was right there.
I didn't think that I could do it, didn't think I could bear to touch it, but I did.
Angel flinched for a moment, hunching down over the corpse in his arms, and then, he seemed to accept that I wasn't going to hurt Doyle, as if that were even possible any more.
The body was still warm. It didn't feel like I was touching a dead person at all. Once I had gotten past that first moment, when I expected to feel something cold and horrible, and didn't, then it wasn't so tough any more, because it still felt like Doyle, even though I knew he was gone.
His eyes were closed. He must have closed them when....
His face was still warm when I finally touched it, and I was sure that I could feel him, still near us.
Angel wasn't fighting me when I touched the body, but he was still making that noise, and still in vampire face. The rocking was slower now, but his face was still empty, like the Angel that I knew wasn't there any more.
Not sure what I was doing, but knowing that I had to do something, I put my arms all the way around them both, and said:
"You're not alone."
And then, finally, Angel's eyes seemed to focus and he saw me, and knew me. When he recognized me, he finally stopped making that horrible keening noise, and he spoke at last, in a moan that at least sounded human.
"Cordelia..."
"I'm here."
His face changed back, as we stared at each other, and I knew that we were both going to survive this, together.
But first, we both needed to hold Doyle, to hold him, together, until we could let him go.
And we did.
Author's Epilogue:This story is for all of us who wish that, if Doyle had to die at all, he could have had a proper farewell. He deserved to have time enough for both Angel and Cordelia to love him. We will always miss Doyle, and we will never forget him. As for the beautiful man who made us fall in love with Doyle in the first place, the wonderful Glenn Quinn, I wish him all the good things in the world. May he live long and prosper, and never have to say goodbye too soon.