Watching

Doyle

I never expected hell to be like this.

I mean, when you’re a demon, you expect a little bit of pain and torture every now and then, but this – this was worse than in my worst nightmares. It was kinda like I always expected prison to be, before my life was consumed with more important things to think about such as cracking headaches and pure evil to be fought. But obviously it was worse – I mean, how many prisons have CCTV watching the outside world so that you can see how your loved ones are getting on without you? And believe me, as much as it hurts when you see them grieving over you, its worse when they begin to get over you. To forget. To say your name without so much as a second thought. But the worst part is when you become a past tense. "His name was Doyle", "Doyle would have loved this", or even "When Doyle was alive".

How many times I’ve wanted to yell out to them. To tell them I wasn’t dead at all. But I couldn’t. Partly because I wasn’t totally sure that it was true. Maybe I was dead. How was I to know what it would be like? But I’m sure that wherever I am, this isn't a normal death! Why couldn’t I have died a normal death? You know, you think that when you’re dead, that’s it. The end. Maybe some kind of afterlife . . .and maybe that’s what this is, but its not quite what they lead you to believe is it? "Deaths nothing to be frightened of", that’s what they tell you. I wouldn’t call this nothing to be frightened of. I don’t even know if I’m dead or not! What would be the point of dying if all that’s gonna happen is this?

You imagine life after death. Its gonna be the best – beautiful girls, food, and people who were half man half bracken demon would be whole humans! That’s the only thing I’d wished for since I turned 21, and my demon half emerged. A chance to be human. A chance to be normal! At least I had some stuff to be grateful for – at least I wasn’t in demon form all the time, like some people I know. I had friends who didn’t resent me for my demon half. Which is definitely a plus. And I was allowed the odd moment of pure happiness – unlike my good mate Angel – one single moment that could be classed as such and there he was – soul gone – back to an evil, blood sucking vampire.

This, though, was what can only be classed as PURE and unrivalled torture. Maybe the only thing that would be worse that this would be hell. From what Angel told me about it, I don’t want to be going there in a hurry! But thinking about that makes me doubt even more that I’m dead at all. Or if I am, that its for good. If Angel can come back safely from such a demonic place as hell, which has got to be worse that this, why cant I come back from the so called dead? I would give anything to be able to speak to Cordy, even if it was just for one last time. I’ve felt so bad ever since I realised that kissing her in those seconds before whatever happened, happened, had passed my visions on to her. I long to be able to talk to her, to explain I didn’t mean to do it. I hope that she knows I would never do anything like that to her. I don’t know how long I’ve been "dead", but I’m guessing its close on a year, from the way Cordy has begun to act around Angel these days. I mean, don’t call me selfish or anything, it could be nothing to do with me – knowing Cordy she’s likely to be moody for days if she’s put the wrong lipstick in her handbag for a trip to the toilet! But this is a different kind of mood – as if there’s something she’s avoiding talking about. And that’s not the Cordelia Chase I know . . knew. Cordy always speaks her mind, no matter what’s on it. Its speak first – think later.

I guess I should explain about my "prison". I don’t know where I am, how I got here or even why I’m here. But what I do know is that I am, and I have to deal. That sounds so much like Cordy – even if I couldn’t see here every waking moment of her life, whether I wanted to or not, I’m sure I would never have forgotten a single thing about her. Even if most of the time she was bagging some demon that had totally grossed her out. She wasn’t to know that I was half demon, in fact I didn’t tell her until a few hours before I died. One of the last real memories I had of her was her telling me to ask her out. That was just seconds after she found out I was a demon. I avoided telling her about my demon side because she always seemed to hate them. I was sure she would never be able to accept the real me. I cant believe I underestimated so badly someone I love so much.

Anyway, to get back on track – It’s the strangest room I’ve ever been in. Along one wall is what seems to be a huge screen TV. It shows me every move my two best friends make (although for some reason it doesn’t show me Cordy in the shower – maybe that’s just too much pleasure for me!), and its so real I want to reach out and touch. If this is supposed to be some kind of sick joke from the PTB, it’s not funny! "I know, let’s shoot the messenger – no, I know, let’s wait til he dies and then NOT LET HIM!". It makes me so mad – I’ve got all the mod cons, well, you know, somewhere to sleep, make food, drink, light, just no way to turn off the damned TV. I wish to God I could get away from seeing Cordelia morning, noon and night. It makes me realise more than ever what I’ve lost. And I don’t want that. Not that I would forget. My times with Cordelia were the happiest times of my life, even when I was married to Harry I didn’t have feelings this strong, its absolutely mad. I just want Cordy to get on with her life, to get over me, but never to forget me.

I usually spend a lot of my time sleeping, to get away from the pain, but it doesn’t always help. My dreams are always filled with images of Cordy, and it makes the hurt worse.

But tonight, I feel different somehow. I don’t know why, or what’s happening, but I feel a lot different. I know that coming from someone who is dead, this is gonna sound ridiculous, but I feel more alive. It’s the only way to describe what I’m feeling, I feel as if I’m coming to the end of my sentence here. But that’s only a dream, I’m sure, I mean, whoever heard of someone coming back from the dead after nearly a year? I’m going to get some sleep, maybe it’s something to do with it being a year since I died. Maybe I’m getting used to being here. Whatever, I’m going to leave it til morning.

Part Two

Cordelia

I think about Doyle all the time. I don’t know how to think about anything else. I keep going, helping Angel to fight evil, keep the office clean and tidy, but I’m on autopilot. If anyone were watching me, and I like to think that somewhere Doyle can see me, they wouldn’t know anything was wrong. And if he can see me, I would hate for him to think that I spent the rest of my life wishing he was here. Coz Doyle isn’t selfish like me. I’m so selfish, my best friend couldn’t even tell me his biggest secret. And that’s the worst feeling in the world.

Since Doyle died, I’ve tried to be a better person. But it’s not easy, when you’re someone like me who had everything a girl ever wanted. I was the most popular girl in school, I had a wardrobe to die for, and money. Lots of money. Until the tax department took away all of it. Suddenly, I was . . . poor. And I came to LA to become an actress, not a do-gooder. The only thing that I resent Doyle for at all was that when he died, I got his darned visions. Whenever the world is riddled with evil, which it usually is, I get a splitting headache. And all these pictures invade my mind. It took a while to get used to, but now I can usually get all the main details out of it. Usually.

But tonight is different. Angel and I have been walking on eggshells all week. And tonight is the day that I know we have both, albeit silently, been dreading. Tonight it’s a year since Doyle died. One whole year since I saw him disappear. Into thin air. It took a while for it to sink in. Angel and I were there when we needed each other. And then gradually, the hurting began to stop. But it never went away completely. And I know it never will. I realised that I needed to deal.

We don’t talk about him so much any more, Angel knows that it hurts me too much. I’m sure he’s going to say something tonight though, it would be un-Angel-like. Before . . before this happened he wasn’t the sharing type, he would rather keep his feelings to himself. And that attitude would suit me to the ground right now, but oh no, Angel has changed in a lot of ways since Doyle. He still doesn’t go on too much, and talking about Doyle hurts him almost as much as it hurts me. But I don’t think he’s going to let a day as important as this one go by without making any comment. So I guess I will just have to be prepared.

I would usually go back to my apartment around now, but I cant tonight. I can’t go back there alone. At least I know that if I stay here, Angel will be around. I stayed here a lot straight afterwards, I didn’t want to face that flat, alone or otherwise. Doyle found it for me, and even though we had some problems with it at first, but Doyle helped me through it. There may be more memories of him here, but I can cope with that, knowing Angels here. There’s no one around at my flat, apart from Dennis, my poltergeist flat mate, but I don’t think he’d be much use comforting me, I cant even see him.

It doesn’t seem like a year since he died. It seems like only last week I kissed him for the first time, before he jumped to his death to save so many others. And even though I know he’s gone, it doesn’t feel like it. It did, at first, it was terrible. But over the last few days I’ve begun to feel as if someday I might see him again. It’s ridiculous, I know, but it feels less final now. Maybe I was right. Maybe he can see me. Watching over me. Making sure I’m doing OK. That would be just like him, treating me like royalty. After all, he did always call me his Princess.

Part Three

Angel

Cordelia is avoiding the subject, but I can’t just let this whole damned day go without saying anything. Doyle was our best friend in the whole world, how could we not mention that it has been a whole year since he died? It would seem like we were betraying his memory. I have to mention it, and she’s obviously not going to start. It looks like that’s gonna be my job. Well, I guess now is as good a time as any.

"Cordy . . ." I begin. She must have guessed what I want to talk about from the tone of my voice, because she takes one look at me and starts making excuses about how she has a date tonight – but I’m not going to fall for that. She know I don’t believe her – she hasn’t had a date in the last year, so why would she, tonight of all nights?

"Angel, look. I don’t want to talk about it. It hurts too much. Don’t think that I ever stop thinking about him, because I don’t. Just because I don’t talk about him doesn’t mean I don’t still mourn for him, don’t still love him just as much as I ever did. And if I opened up tonight, I’m afraid I wouldn’t be able to stop."

"Cordelia – I know you still hurt. I see it in your eyes every time his name is mentioned. Every time Wesley says or does something dumb, you want to see Doyle there with some clever comment. But he isn’t. I know, because I’ve been there with Buffy –"

"Don’t you dare compare me and Doyle to you and Buffy. I know you love her, but it was your choice to leave her in Sunnydale and you come to LA. And you’ve still seen her since you split up. You could see her whenever you wanted to, but I know that you resist that temptation every day. And I know you hurt as much as I do, and you're a good person, Angel, but it’s not the same."

"I should never have mentioned Buffy. But it’s the only thing that comes close to how you must feel, apart from my own feelings for Doyle. I loved him as much as you, Cordy, but it was a different kind of love."

"Yeah except you always knew that you loved him, whereas I didn’t realise until it was too late." I watch her turn away - I can tell she’s crying. I walk over to her, but when I put my arm around her she shrugs me off. "Where’s Wesley anyway? Surely he should be here by now." I know she’s was just trying to change the subject – she hates Wesley being here. I’m positive she used to think that he was trying to take Doyle’s place in her life, and although I’m sure one day someone will be able to, she’ll never forget him – and I’m certain that the person wont be Wesley.

"Cordy, he’s gone home. It’s late. Maybe we should –"

"Go home? You want me to go back to my apartment, alone, tonight of all nights?"

"You have Dennis"

"Oh great, I have a ghost for a room-mate and I cant even have a conversation with him. I’m staying here tonight Angel, and you can’t stop me. I feel closer to him when I’m here, even though I know that’s silly, because I’m not"

"That’s not silly. I come up here some nights and just sit, thinking about Doyle. But –" I stop myself. I had almost said ‘at least we can say we knew him’. But that would have been one of the most insensitive things I could say to Cordy tonight.

"But what?"

"I don’t know what I was going to say, Cordy. I would say that in time it’ll heal, but I can’t promise you that. But I hope, for your sake, that it will."

"So do I." She turns from the room. "I’ll never forget him though Angel. I may not have known him for very long, but I’ll never forget him." She walks from the room, leaving me to sit alone in my study. For a second I wonder where she’s going, then I realised that she’s going down to my apartment to get a blanket and a pillow from my closet. After it happened she had done this frequently. At first, she had made excuses for why she wasn’t going home, but after a few nights she had stopped this, realising that I knew exactly why she wasn’t going home. Doyle had found her that apartment, and if she was going to be somewhere that reminded her of him, she didn’t want to be there alone.

As I sit, waiting for her to return, I feel uneasy. Something is happening, I can feel it. It makes me feel strange – it doesn’t feel like forces of evil, and yet it doesn’t feel normal. But I can’t say anything to Cordy. I can’t go out looking for something that might not even exist. Not tonight at least. Some other night, I might have taken a walk downtown LA, tried to find out if any trouble was brewing. But there is no way I am leaving Cordy here alone without a good reason, on the anniversary of Doyle’s death. She needs people, and although I’m not exactly human, I’m the closest she is gonna come. I knew Doyle as well as she did, if not better, and I’d like to think I’m enough for her tonight.

Part Four

Doyle

I went to sleep. And when I woke up, it felt worse. A lot worse. Now I can almost smell my own fear. What is happening to me? Was this last year some kind of test? Maybe I’m going to go on to some kind of better place. But I can tell that things aren't going to stay the same for the rest of my after life. I’ve decided that’s what this is. I am dead, and this is where I wait while I’m judged by the big guy upstairs. He decides if I go to heaven or hell. I reckon if got a few things working against me – the half demon thing is one, but that’s not my fault. And if I could get away with it, I never used it. When I changed into demon form, I was always change straight back, even though Angel was always on at me, telling me I’m stronger like that. Which I suppose is true. Had I not been in Brachen form while I was trying to unplug the beacon, I probably wouldn’t have managed it before I died. And then all those people, including Angel and Cordy, would have died too. But that’s not the only reason I’m not sure I deserve to go to heaven. I’ve always been a bit of a dodgy geezer, I did a bit of gambling in my time, and to say I enjoyed a good drink every now and then would be a bit of an understatement! But none of these seem like grounds to confine me to an afterlife in hell! And I hope that the way I died might score me some brownie points, along with the fact I’ve been in love twice, and I’ve never hurt an animal in my whole life! I suppose I’m just going to have to wait and see. I catch sight of my hand, and notice that it seems to be becoming . . . well . . . transparent. Or translucent maybe. I was never too good at school. But either way, I’m fading. I must surely be coming to the end of my time here. Thank God. I turn to the screen, for one last look at my Princess, and my best buddy. And it pains me to see that one of my last memories of Cordy will be of her clutching her head in agony. It’s a sight I know all too well. She’s having another vision. Although I kissed her because I would never have chance to do it again, whether she wanted me to or not, by doing so I had burdened her with my so-called ‘gift’. She will be spending the last days of her natural life having pictures of all the evil in LA invading her head, and it’s my fault. I sometimes wonder if she hates me for it. I hope she doesn’t. I notice Angel has dashed in from the room next door, and is comforting her. I wish it were me doing that, but had I still been alive, she wouldn’t have had them in the first place. It’s a no-win situation. Catch 22 I believe is the phrase. Cordy seems to be settled now. Having told Angel what she saw in her vision (and might I add what a grand job she’s doing at deciphering what those visions mean – it took me nigh on a year to get used to it) he’s off to fight the evil and return home before sunrise, while she settles down. I can see that she is trying to watch TV, but it takes me another minute before I can make out what she is watching. Its something I haven't seen in a long time. Cordelia and Angel’s last recorded memory of me. The morning I died, she got me to film an advertisement for Angel Investigations. She played it non stop the night I died, it was the first thing I noticed after the initial shock of still being able to see her, while she couldn’t see me. I hear my voice drifting out of the set.

"Our chips are down, and our rats are low"

"Rates!" I could make out Cordy hissing at me.

"It says rats!"

It still makes me smile when I hear her answer the ‘phone with a cheery "Angel Investigations – we help the hopeless". Although admittedly her voice has become somewhat less cheery since this time last year.

I decide I don’t want to see any more. I have my final visions of my two best friends, and I don’t want anything else to get in the way. Which seems to be just as well. My time has obviously come, and there is nothing I can do about it. I fall to the floor just as what feels like a lightening bolt hits my head.

Part Five

Cordelia

I had another vision. I wasn’t quite sure what it was this time, but I could give Angel enough information to go on. He went off, fighting evil. I got the feeling that he didn’t want to leave me alone tonight, in case I did something stupid, but evil was calling and he had to go. As if I would do anything dumb anyway! I mean, this is a year since Angel died, I’m hardly gonna want to give him another friend to mourn over! And I couldn’t let him leave the people of LA to fight their city’s own battles - as the Oracles told him when he went to beg for Doyle’s life, Doyle was only a messenger, while he was a warrior. And warriors don’t give up, leaving their cause to fail just because they want to spend some time with a friend who is a titchy bit upset. So I told him to go.

And now, I kinda wish I hadn't. This was a night we had hoped the PTB would spare us from his visions, but it wasn’t to be. I want Angel to be here with me, so we can talk about Doyle. It doesn’t hurt quite so much if we talk about all the fun times we had with him, coz its like there’s still a part of him here with me. Instead I try to remember all those times on my own, but I can’t. When Angel and I talk about it, sharing each others memories helps us to remember more. I realise we still have a copy of the video. The morning Doyle died, he and I had recorded a film, an advert for Angel Investigations, to go out on TV. Angel was in broody mood (kinda like always, but worse) and he wouldn’t help. So I asked Doyle to star in the ad. To be the ‘common man’. And he did. It’s the only real memory I have of Doyle, that I can watch time and time again, without it fading. Other than the seconds before he died. I’m sure that no matter how old I live to be, I’ll never forget those few seconds.

"Its too bad you’ll never know" he said to me, as he shook his head, and his gorgeous face was covered in blue spikes. "If this is a face you could learn to love". And he jumped. I couldn’t believe it, he had sacrificed his own life to save ours. And in those few seconds, I realised that I loved him more than I had ever loved anyone before.

I get out the video, and push it into the machine. As I sit back down, I hear his soft Irish lilt come out of the TV towards me. This is one of the best moments I could wish to have recorded forever. He was having fun, joking around, and he looked truly happy. I have never noticed before how at home he looked around us, but I now realise how much he enjoyed being part of the team. He made Angel Investigations what it is. Was. Now he isn't here anymore, and although we’re still going, it’s not the same. After Wesley arrived, I just wanted him to leave. I felt like although he never knew Doyle, he was trying to take his place. Now I realise that we need a book type guy to help interpret my visions. Doyle didn’t need one, he was half demon, and he usually knew what he was doing. Coz I’m a bit new at this, having Wesley around has turned into a bit of a blessing, now I’ve realised that he isn't trying to take Doyle’s place.

The tape is just getting to the part I don’t like. After he finished reading the cards, he asked if he was done. I told him he sounded ‘weasly’. I hope he didn’t have the impression that I hated him when he died. But tonight I’m not going to get the chance to see that bit, because just as I turn to switch the tape off, I hear a horrid gurgling noise coming from the VCR. I dash over to the machine and eject it just in time to see my last happy memories of my best friend torn to pieces. I frantically try to wind the tape back in, but I realise that its too late. The tape is gone.

"Why didn’t we make copies?" I sob, knowing the answer already. We didn’t even consider that there would be a need for copies. "I hope you’re satisfied!" I yell at no one in particular. I think maybe it was aimed at the PTB. As I break down, a sudden wash of coldness waves over me. And as I shiver, I remember the old saying "some one has just walked over your grave". I wonder if this is true. How will I die? When will I die? Will I have any body left to even have a grave? "Come on Cordelia, pull yourself together! You aren't the type of girl for morbid thoughts like this" I tell myself, but it’s no use. Still unable to get warm, I snuggle up with the blanket that I brought up from Angel’s apartment earlier, and cry myself to sleep.

Part Six

Angel

Walking through downtown LA on the first anniversary of my best friends death, looking for evil that could jump out on me at any second, certainly isn’t high up on my things to do list. The Powers That Be have certainly come up trumps this time, haven't they?! Couldn’t they even give us one night alone, to ourselves, to grieve in our own way? Obviously not. I wonder if Cordy is getting on alright, alone in the office. I didn’t want to leave her, I even suggested that we ignore the vision just this once, which certainly isn't like me, and spend the time talking about Doyle, like we had wanted to. But she gently reminded me that Doyle died so that we could all live, and the Oracles had refused to bring him back to life because he was a messenger and I was a warrior. Wouldn’t ignoring a vision, even only one, mean that he had died in vain? He died so I could help others live, and letting anyone in need slip through our fingers wasn’t doing that. I knew that she was right, but I told her that I was going to be as quick as I can.

I hear a noise in the alleyway to my right, and turn to jog down it. Having spent the last year in this ‘job’ has sharpened my reflexes to their highest extent, and when I spotted the demon I dealt with it quickly. When I catch sight of its victim, though, who is thankfully unhurt, I am surprised.

"Kate?" I ask. I recognise the unmistakable face of my friend in the Police force, Detective Kate Lockley. I’ve helped her out in a lot of cases, although in many of them she doesn’t know exactly how much I’ve done! "What are you doing here?"

"Angel? Well, it would be you, wouldn’t it? I’ve been tracking this guy for a while, and when I got a tip-off that he was out on the rampage tonight it was too good an opportunity to miss. He matches the description, a somewhat odd looking fella - but we’ve seen plenty of those haven't we? – of a guy who has been attacking young females outside libraries and book stores – "

"And you went after him alone, knowing he would attack you!? Kate, what were you thinking of?"

"Angel, I’m a police officer, we’re trained to deal with guys like these. Anyway, he’s gone now – he is gone, isn't he?"

"Yeah, I took care of him good and proper. You won’t see him anywhere again, so the female population of LA is safe once again!"

"Super Angel eh? Or LA’s Guardian Angel! I think not. But thanks Angel, I must admit he was a bit more than I bargained for!"

"Well I couldn’t just leave you could I? Anyway, I have to get back to Cordelia." Kate raises her eyebrows, when have I been in that much of a hurry to get back to her before? So I hastily add "It’s a year tonight since Doyle . . well, you know"

"Oh Angel, I’m so sorry! You go, I’m sure Cordy needs you" I can see she’s fighting back her desire to lecture me about muscling in on police cases.

"Bye Kate, see ya around." As I walk back to the office, the air seems to grow chilly. Well, chillier, its not usually that hot here, well, not at night anyway! It makes me shiver, and it takes a lot to make me grow cold. But just as quickly as it came, its gone. This worries me, unusual things always do. I hurry to get back to the office, in case something has happened to Cordelia.

When I enter the building, I can here sobs coming from upstairs. I hurry, and as I burst through into the office, I look at Cordy. She looks at me, her usually pretty face totally drained of colour, and points at the VCR. I walk over, and pick up the tape lying on top. Its labelled "Doyle". This is the tape with his ad on. She’s been watching it again.

"We didn’t make copies, Angel. We should have made copies."

"Why . . " I look back at her, and I realise that there must be something else. Something I’m missing. So I look closer. All the tape is mangled. Our last, only, recorded memories of Doyle are gone. I put the tape down, and walk over to Cordy. She moves up and makes a space for me on the sofa. As I sit, she puts her head on my chest, and continues to cry. I am so concerned with consoling Cordelia that I almost miss the click of the front door. But I hear it. It sounds faint, and at first I’m not sure that’s what it is, but I hear it.

Part Seven

Doyle

While my head is recovering from the blast, I look around. I realise that I am no longer in the room. I also realise that I am exactly where I have wanted to be since I died. I am back in LA. This can’t be right, I’m dead. How can I be here? But its true, I am. Maybe this is some sort of heaven, the one place I’ve wanted to be is where I go, to spend the rest of my afterlife. As I stand beside the building where I spent the happiest times of my life, recovering, I see Angel. If I’m in heaven, then why is Angel here? I know he’s dead, technically, but he shouldn’t be in heaven! If any part of him is in any other dimension surely it should be hell? I hear voices floating out of the window on the top floor, and immediately recognise them as Angel and Cordy. There are only a few words from each, and I cant make them out, but I can tell that’s my Princess. I’d know her voice anywhere. Now I can hear sobs. I can’t wait any longer. If I can hear Cordelia, she’s here. She’s alive. And more importantly, if she’s alive, so am I! The PTB have finally granted my request, and let me return to my life here in LA.

As I climb the stairs, my stomach begins to churn. I know they’ve missed me, but what if they don’t believe its me? What if once I’m back, they realise that they never liked me in the first place? My head is swimming with ‘what ifs’. My legs are trembling, and I pause for a moment on the stairs.

"Come on Doyle, it’s now or never. You know she’s going to be thrilled to see you, you can do it. You aren't soft."

So I put my hand to the door, and go in. I can hear Cordy’s sobs coming from the other room. Now I can hear moving, and Angel appears, followed by Cordy. At first, he doesn’t recognise me.

"Who's there?" he asks

I can’t find my voice. It won’t come. All I can manage is a whispered "Princess . . "

"Doyle?" Cordy asks, her voice awash with disbelief. "Doyle is it really you? Have you come back to me?"

I’m feeling stronger now I know that at least Cordy believes it’s me. "Yes Princess, it’s really me." She runs to me, and fixes her arms around my neck. I can’t believe how good it feels to have her back in my arms, after I believed that I was feeling them for the last time exactly one year ago tonight. Angel, however, is looking much more sceptical.

"But . . . how can it be? You’re dead." I can tell he doesn’t believe its me. I’m going to have to convince him. With Cordy on my side, I feel as if I can do anything.

"Angel, its Doyle! He’s come back to us! Just be thankful for what it is. It know its him, he smells like Doyle, he feels like Doyle, he looks and dresses like Doyle. It is Doyle!"

"I’m still not so sure. I mean, how is this possible? I went to the Oracles and they told me that you had died for your cause and they couldn’t bring you back. I’m going to go and see them."

I’m not going to stop him. Whatever it takes to prove to him that I’m really back is fine with me.

"Go ahead Angel man, I mean, I’m back, I’ve got nothin’ to hide!"

I let Angel go, I’ve got some catchin’ up to do with my princess. I’m so glad to be back, nothings going to spoil tonight. Nothing

Part Eight

Cordelia

Doyle is back! I can’t believe it, he just came in the door, and when I saw him I couldn’t believe it! I knew what my eyes were seeing, and I knew he was there, but my mind couldn’t let the facts in! Lucky my heart knew what it was doing, it’s a good job I’m not a big thinker! Angel’s a thinker, I guess when he’s in here on his own most of the day he has time to think a lot. He doesn’t want to let any part of him believe that Doyle’s back, in case he isn't. I think he’s afraid of getting hurt again. That’s why he’s gone off to see the Oracles. He should be more trusting, like me! I know this is my Doyle just by looking at him, I don’t see why Angel cant. He came back from Hell, why can’t Doyle come back from the dead too? But he can do the worrying for the both of us, coz I’m happy just living for the moment! Whats that phrase again? That Latin thingy. It’s something to do with fish, I think. Anyway I’m not gonna spend my time thinking of stupid things I forgot to remember from school.

"We need to celebrate!" I announce.

"Celebrate what?" he asks. He sounds quite surprised.

"Celebrate that you came back to me" I tell him, with certainty. "I always knew you would. Well, in my heart I did, it was just my head that didn’t want to believe it. In case you didn’t"

"Cordy, I never really left you."

"What do you mean?"

He replies by telling me where he’s been the last year. When I hear this I am totally shocked. He has been with me through everything. He didn’t leave me at all. All those times I was sure I could feel him watching over me, I was right. He was. And I’m grateful. I don’t know if I could have survived the last year without that feeling that I was being guarded. Even though I couldn’t believe it was him, I didn’t know he was there, he gave me a warm feeling. I would have felt as if I was totally deserted. And I guess the Oracles had their reasons for not letting him come back to us, but some kind of hint would have been nice. I hope they tell Angel something to satisfy him, I want more than anything to get back to the way we were before. Well, apart from Wesley. Oh right, Wesley! Well, there have been a lot of times over the last year when I’ve wanted Doyle to meet Wesley. And now he can! I’m so happy Doyle’s back, I just want to jump around with joy. My life is going to be totally perfect.

"I’m hungry" I tell Doyle. "Want some fish?"

"Fish? Where the hell did that come from?!"

"I was just thinking about that Latin phrase thingy. The one about seizing the day or whatever it is. It made me want some fish"

Doyle snorts with laughter. "Oh Cordy" he tells me. "You wouldn’t believe how much I’ve missed that. Even though I’ve been watching you all the time, it feels so good in person."

"Hi, Doyle" I didn’t see Angel walk in. "The Oracles tell me you’re back"

"Well I coulda told ya that myself Angel man."

They give each other one of those hug type of things that guys always do. One of those ‘glad you’re back mate but I’m not gonna tell ya how much coz I’m all macho and we don’t talk about our feelings’ kind of hugs. Typical. But I’m so glad we’re back to normal.

"Oh, and Cordy?" Angel starts. "That phrase – its Carpe Diem."

"I KNEW it was like fish!"

Part Nine

Angel

When I saw Doyle walk in the door, I swear, had I had a heart, it would have stopped. I was getting ready to fight some kind of ugly demon. And instead, I see my best friend, who I have resigned myself to never seeing again. But I couldn’t take it in. That’s the reason I decided I wanted to see the Oracles. I still can’t believe it now, as I walk back to the office, after my audience with them. I’ve been happy so many times in my extra long life, and every single one of those times, that happiness has been taken away from me. An unnaturally high amount of those times had something to do with Buffy, come to think of it. But I guess that’s just because I love her so much.

I was in the hall. I could see brother and sister, my mind was so full of other things to think of that I almost forgot to give sister the gift I had brought her.

"A diamond ring." She said "Impressive, but I think I already have one of these." Before she had a chance to ask for something else, I interrupted

"Exactly one year ago I came to you and asked for you to return the life of my friend, Doyle. You refused me this"

"Ah, yes. Doyle" brother said. "Continue"

"Tonight, someone has come back into my life, claiming to be my lost friend, but until you confirm that this is the Alan Francis Doyle I knew, I cannot accept it to be true."

"It is true" began brother "this is all you need know. This audience is concluded." I waited for the pain of being thrown out of the hall with force. It didn’t come. I looked up. Sister seemed to be deep in conversation with brother, although I couldn’t hear what they were saying.

"My sister has convinced me that you deserve an explanation. If that is what you want" he said, obviously daring me to defy him now I had been granted extra time.

"It is certainly what I want, if you would be so gracious as to explain to me what happened, I will do my best not to trouble you again"

"he was your friend. There are many laws in the afterlife where demons are concerned. It is written that when a demon dies for the sake of others, if he is still loved, truly loved, after one year in the afterlife, he may return to his body and continue his life." Sister told me.

"And that is all we are going to tell you. Your friend is returned to you, and be happy." Brothers words were still ringing in my ears when I returned to the small cavern at the entrance to the hall.

So Doyle is really back. And it is all thanks to Cordelia. It is true that I still loved him, but I’m sure I was beginning to forget. No, not to forget. I could never forget. But to move on. Whereas I know that Cordy was still as much in love with him 3 hours ago as the day he died. And now I know that my friend is really back, I can be happy. I just hope that this time, that happiness is not taken away from me. As I walk up the stairs, I can here Cordy’s voice float out to meet me.

"I was just thinking about that Latin phrase thingy. The one about seizing the day or whatever it is. It made me want some fish"

Only Cordy could let a classic Latin phrase such as that make her hungry! But it had been such a tiring day, even without Doyle’s resurrection, I think I can cut her a little slack this time, don’t you?

I slowly open the door to the office, and I can see the laughter on Cordy’s face. She looks so much happier, its almost impossible to believe that she’s the same girl who was sobbing into my shoulder less that 2 hours ago.

"Hi, Doyle" I notice Cordy jump. I must have opened the door so quietly that she hadn't seen me come in. She was probably too wrapped up in Doyle. "The Oracles tell me you’re back"

"Well I coulda told ya that myself Angel man."

Leave it to Doyle to tell me how much of the obvious I was stating. When he says that, I know for sure, he really is back. We do one of those ‘typical macho hugs’ as Cordy would call it. In fact, I can see her thinking it out of the corner of my eye.

So the only thing left to do is to put her out of her misery and tell her what that phrase really is.

"Oh, and Cordy?" I began. "That phrase – its Carpe Diem."

"I KNEW it was like fish!"

I think its time for tea! As Cordy often tells me, I’m a surprisingly good cook for a dead guy.

Part Ten

Doyle

I know my first day back in the office is gonna be strange, but the thing I’m looking forward to seeing the most would have to be the look on Wesley’s face when he walks in. I’m sure how Cordy and Angel were going to explain my being here, but then, Cordy always does things in her own way, and they usually turn out OK. So I think I’ll just leave Cordy to sort it out in whatever way she wants.

The minute Wesley walks in, I can sense he notices something’s up. Well, I guess he’s going to, how many strange men are usually in Angel’s office first thing in the morning? Well, actually, I’m not so sure that’s a valid point, coz we always used to harbour demons in trouble, and people in trouble with demons here. But when he notices me, he does one of those funny little faces that people sometimes do, that means ‘who on earth is this guy and what’s he doing here?’ except of course Wesley is far too polite and English to say that out loud, so he makes do with the face.

"Got another client then, I see" He starts. "Right then, we’re going to need your info for the files – Cordelia, pass me that book would you." But Cordy doesn’t move. "Cordelia! I specifically asked you to pass me that book."

"I heard you! But this isn't a client."

"It isn't?" I can see Wesley is confused. It’s a tell tale sign when that face gets stronger, now he looks like he’s going to explode with curiosity if someone doesn’t explain to him who I am. I’m just about to jump right in there with the explanation when Cordy beats me too it.

"Wesley, meet Doyle" Cordy beams at me.

The wait is worth it! His eyebrows shoot up to the ceiling, and his jaw drops to the floor. I can’t help but wonder if his face will ever straighten out again. "But . . . you’re . . . the . . . what?! You can’t be! Not Alan Francis Doyle?! You’re dead!"

"I certainly am Alan Francis Doyle, half man, half demon, and well and truly alive. Although I have been dead for the past year."

Wesley looks ready to collapse! "Ah, yes, well, ummm. OK, I think I’ll just . . . sit down over here, while you tell me if there’s any work for me to do today."

Cordelia giggles like a schoolgirl. "Oh, Doyle, I’m so glad you’re back. You’re going to have so much fun winding up Wesley! It’s so easy!"

"Miss Chase, I request that you take that remark back immediately!"

"I will not! Anyway, you can’t make me – my dead guy’ll get you!" That’s just too much for Wesley! All the remaining colour drains out of his face and he mutters "honestly, why me? Did I even ask to be a Watcher in the first place? No. And then when I get fired from that, I cant just get a normal job, as a librarian, or a waiter. Oh no, I have to start a rouge demon hunting service and then join Angel Investigations! I think I need my head testing." He looks up. I don’t think he knew we were listening in. Angel and I are just managing to fight back the laughter, while Cordelia isn't even bothering to try. "And I’ll have you know that I don’t’ appreciate being laughed at. I think its time I found another job, don’t you?"

That stops Angel from laughing. Well, almost. "Ah, gees, come on Wes, you know we need a booky-guy to keep us going."

"OK, Mister Angel. I will stay, and be your ‘booky-guy’ on ONE condition."

"Shoot"

"That you never, EVER, call me Wes again."

And with that, the three of us crack up, leaving Wesley totally perplexed.

Its so good to be back in the action, I don’t even care if its going to be four against the evil from now on, instead of three. And with Cordy around, I know there’s no way I’m going to feel at all neglected!

Fic page

Home