TITLE: "Emergence: A Story of Doyle's Return (Crossover Fic)
AUTHOR: Jenny Kane 
DISTRIBUTION: Ask please
SPOILER WARNING: "Hero"
RATING: PG
PARTS: 6-10
CONTENT WARNING: Some violence, cursing
SUMMARY: One year post "Hero": Angel, Cordelia and Wesley discover that Doyle 
is not dead, but is in mortal peril. Can they get to him in time? Not without 
some help from Sunnydale.
FEEDBACK: Absolutely
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Buffy, Angel, Doyle and Company. They belong to Josh 
Whedon, David Greenwalt and the WB. No copyright infringement intended.


Chapter Six


      Cordelia and Wesley lay on the floor basically in the same places 
they'd been before, but, this time, Angel could see them breathe.
      "Hey," he said. "It's me, and I'm alone. The door's closed."
      He watched as they both stirred, and got slowly to their feet. They and 
the floor were still covered with drying, sticky fake blood. Wesley spoke 
first, "We thought it would be best if we kept up appearances, but we'll both 
be glad to get cleaned up, I'm sure."
      Cordelia was not so patient. "You found the Scourge, Angel?" she asked.
"You saw Doyle?"
      He looked toward her. "Yes, I found the Scourge. No, I didn't see Doyle."
      Cordelia turned away, crestfallen, but Wesley stood still a moment, 
studying Angel's, still-demonic face, then said, "Tell us, Angel."
      Angel heaved a discouraged sigh. "It's just like Cordelia said, only 
worse.  It's a huge, massive complex, fortress really, partially underground 
with heavy-duty security. It's heavily guarded, heavily armed." Angel shook 
his head. "We . . . I might get in, but we'll never get in, save Doyle, 
destroy the Beacon, and get out again. At least not alive, and not alone. We 
need help. We need a small army ourselves. We need . . ."
      "Buffy," Cordelia stated bluntly, turning toward them.
      Both men were startled, looked at her, but it was Angel who exclaimed, 
"What?"
      "Oh, don't say what like that, like you don't know what I'm talking 
about!"
Cordelia cried. "We need Buffy. I mean she is the slayer. This is right down 
her alley. She pretty much is a one-person army, right?  And Willow, Xander 
and Giles are pretty much apocalypse ready. They've all fought a few demons, 
saved the world a few times. In fact, I bet good old Buff would be pretty 
ticked off if she didn't get a crack at this Scourge." She paused, pointed a 
finger at Angel. "You say we need help, like a small army. Well, I give you 
Buffy and the 'Scooby gang', not just because they're actually pretty good, 
but also because we don't have time to go looking anywhere else."
      "Cordelia, I can't . . ." Angel began, pain in his eyes.
      "Oh no!  Don't do that either." Eyes blazing, Cordelia strode up to 
Angel, got right up into his vampire face. He could see how exhausted she 
was. "Don't you even dare tell me you can't ask Buffy for help. Don't even 
think about going all 'Buffy broody' on me. Now, I know you haven't seen her 
in a really long time, and I know it all ended badly, with your becoming 
human, and then turning back time, and then not being human again. And I'm 
sure it's been really, really painful for you . . . and her too, I guess. And 
I know the idea of seeing her doesn't exactly thrill you, but, you know, 
Angel, this isn't about you or Buffy. Doyle will die if we don't do 
something, soon. There's no time. There's just no time . . ." She turned 
away, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs.
      Angel stared at her, silently, wordlessly, helplessly. Buffy . . .  
      Wesley moved closer to Cordelia then. "Cordelia," he said softly, 
putting his arm around her, "I tell you what. You're tired. It's been a long 
day, and it's not going to get any shorter. Why don't you go get cleaned up 
and take a break? I'll go get Angel here decloaked, and clean up myself, and 
then we will all sit down and talk about this. All right?"
      "Yeah. Okay." Cordelia nodded, but turned for one last comment to 
Angel, "I know you're scared she won't help, but she will, Angel, she will." 
She turned, left the room and Wesley turned to Angel.
      Angel let out his pent up breath. "Wesley, what's going on?" he wanted 
to know. "I mean, besides the obvious? She's coming unglued, here."
      "Yes, I'm afraid she is. Not that I blame her," Wesley said seriously. 
"But, she's right, Angel. We're running out of time, and I think that you 
need to seriously consider what she said about Buffy." Angel opened his mouth 
to speak, but Wesley held up his hand and Angel shut it. "Hear me now, Angel, 
because there are things she didn't tell you. In the four hours that you've 
been gone . . ."      "Four hours?" Angel broke in. "I wasn't gone four hours."
      "Yes, you were. Angel, demon dimensions don't have time zones, at least 
none that corresponds with ours. And after having spent some time in hell, I 
would think that you would know that." Wesley rolled his eyes.
      Angel chose to ignore the final remark about hell, but did look at the 
clock. And, indeed, it was over four hours since he'd left in the Demon 
Doorway, twelve hours since Cordelia had burst in into the office with her 
vision of Doyle. Twelve hours, was that all? It seemed like forever . . . 
      "Angel, are you listening to me?" Wesley's sharp voice came to him.  
      "What?" He forced himself to concentrate. "Yeah, I hear you."
      "All right, in the time that you were gone, Cordelia has had four 
images come to her, and they are from Doyle, Angel. Just Doyle. There is a 
direct line, a connection between them, obviously forged when he gave her the 
visions. They've been weak signals up to now, coming to her only in her 
subconscious or in her sleep. Not anymore, though. That vision the Powers 
sent her must have broken this connection wide open." Wesley paused, "And I 
shouldn't even call them just images, Angel. She's not just seeing things, 
places; she is seeing what Doyle sees, and starting to feel what he feels. 
I'm sure he doesn't even know that he is sending these images, and thus there 
is no control over them." He stopped, looked Angel directly in the eyes. "The 
Beacon is almost complete, Angel, that's what these images are telling us. 
And more than that, they're telling us how terrified Doyle is becoming. As 
the images go along, they grow stronger, longer, more intense with each one." 
He paused again, for emphasis. "Here is what I think is happening. The Beacon 
is almost complete, and Doyle knows this. He knows what is about to happen to 
him . . . him and countless others out here in the world. Now, as his terror, 
as his pain, as the intensity of his feelings increases, I believe the 
frequency and the intensity of the images he is sending will increase as 
well. And since they are, as I said, uncontrolled, they will increase to a 
point where they will overwhelm her." Wesley stopped, let that sink in, and 
then went on reluctantly, "And, Angel, if he dies . . ."
      "Don't say that," Angel interrupted harshly.
      "If he dies, Angel," Wesley cut in sharply. "I don't know what that 
will do to her. I don't. If we don't get control of this, if we don't get him 
out of there, soon, we may very well lose them both."
      Silence for a moment as the two regarded each other, Wesley deadly 
serious, Angel in silent agony . . . about it all.
      "All right," Angel said finally. "Undo this soul thing, and go get 
cleaned up.  We'll go see Buffy."
      "I know that this is difficult for you, Angel."
      Angel shook his head. "No, not as difficult as it is on her. And on 
Doyle." He smiled grimly as he heard Doyle say, 'Don't do everything the hard 
way, man, when the best way is right in front of you.' And he had gone and 
done it anyway, or attempted to, by trying to avoid seeing Buffy, who was the 
best way.
      Wesley simply nodded, then closed his eyes to start the decloaking. 
      "Wesley, wait." Angel's voice stopped Wesley just in time; he opened 
his eyes, a question in them. 
      "I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry, Wesley," Angel said 
sincerely. "I haven't even begun to give you the credit and respect that you 
deserve. I have no excuses, except to say that, all these months, it's been 
about Doyle."
      Wesley smiled. "I've known that, Angel, even when you did not. I've 
always known it was Doyle. I've always known how much you miss him, and that 
I cannot replace him . . . and I don't want to try."
      "It's not about replacing anybody, Wesley," Angel told him. "Doyle's 
Doyle. You're you.  I just want you to know that you've been invaluable 
through all this. If we do make it through, he'll in great part owe his life 
to you."
      "If we get through this, Angel, we'll all owe our lives to each other. 
But Doyle will owe me nothing. It will have been my pleasure to help him." He 
smiled at Angel. "Now, let's do this . . ." He again closed his eyes.


Chapter Seven


     Forty-five minutes later they were on their way to Sunnydale. The car 
was quiet. Cordelia had fallen asleep almost immediately. She sat in the 
passenger seat of Wesley's car, and slept quietly for the moment. Wesley, who 
was driving, kept looking at her sharply, waiting for, expecting, another 
Doyle image to come through. She'd had one just before they had left the 
office, and although they weren't physically painful like the Powers visions, 
the emotional toll they took was clearly by far worse than any head-splitting 
pain. She wouldn't say what she had seen and felt, just that they had to 
hurry, but the agonized look in her eyes told clearly of Doyle's suffering.
      Watching her continue to sleep peacefully, Wesley decided that Doyle 
must be asleep as well, though he doubted it was a natural or peaceful sleep, 
but unconsciousness brought on by abuse and exhaustion. God, and now maybe 
Cordelia Chase, only knew what kind of horrors he'd been subjected to by the 
Scourge. It was incredible that he was still alive after almost a year as 
their captive. But, of course, they would have taken pains to keep him alive, 
so that they could wreak the ultimate revenge on him: torture and death at 
the hands of their new Beacon. Wesley shuddered at the thought, then told 
himself that they would get to Doyle in time. But as he, again, looked at 
Cordelia, he also had to wonder if the Doyle she and Angel had known before, 
and the Doyle they would, hopefully, find today, would or could, with all 
that he had to have been through, ever be the same.
      Thinking of Angel made him realize that the vampire hadn't said a word 
since they'd left the office. Unable, of course, to see him in the rearview 
mirror, Wesley turned his head toward the back-seat so he could see him. 
Since the sun was still out, the windows were covered to protect him from the 
light. Angel, his face normal again, sat slumped in the seat, obviously deep 
in thought.
      Wesley decided to break the silence, mostly because he wanted to know 
what Angel was thinking, but also to calm his own nerves. The quiet was 
getting to him.
      "What are you thinking about, Angel?" he asked softly, not wanting to 
wake Cordelia.
      "The Oracles," Angel replied, with an edge to his voice. "Funny, I 
haven't thought about them before, but I guess there's just been too much 
going on. I'm sure thinking about them right now, though."
      "Oracles," Wesley said, trying to remember exactly who they were.
      "Yeah, they're the mediators, the . . . link to the Powers that Be. 
When you have a question or a problem, you don't actually see the Powers, you 
see the Oracles. I've been to see them three times. The first time was when 
that demon's blood got into my bloodstream and turned me human. The second 
time was when I realized my being human was going to be a problem, especially 
for Buffy. I asked them to turn back time twenty-four hours so that, you 
know, the being human thing would never have happened. Except for me, of 
course.  I wasn't allowed to forget. Chalk up yet another torment to add to 
the list. Anyway," he sighed, "they did it." A pause, then, "the third time I 
saw them was after Doyle . . . well, you know, and they told me he was dead."
      "What?" Wesley asked.
      "Yeah." Angel nodded. "I went to them, asked them to turn back time 
again, so I could save Doyle, stop him from dying. They said no, they 
couldn't do it, that it was a selfish request, which I guess it was. They 
said that what was done couldn't be undone, that to bring him back would be 
to 'nullify his noble death and leave his atonement unfulfilled'. Noble death
, they said. And now, it turns out that he's alive. So . . . what?  They made 
a mistake?"      "That wouldn't seem really plausible, now would it?"
      "They're supposed to be omnipotent, yes," Angel agreed. "But if they 
didn't make a mistake, Wesley, then they lied. And because they lied, because 
we thought he was dead all this time, Doyle has had to suffer horribly."
      "And now, almost a year later, the Powers tell us that he is alive."
      "Right. A year. Why?"      "I don't know, Angel."
      "Well, whatever the reason, I don't like being lied to," Angel said 
flatly.
      "When this is over--if we survive--I'll be paying the Oracles a little 
visit. And they better have some answers."
      Wesley had no reply to that. Beside him, Cordelia stirred a little, 
murmuring something he couldn't hear, so he and Angel remained silent so that 
they wouldn't wake her further. They drove on into the gathering dusk, until 
Wesley saw a sign. "Five miles, Angel," he said.
      "Okay." Angel sat up straight in the seat. The sun was almost down. By 
the time they got to Sunnydale it would be safe for him outside. "Go to the 
college campus first. It'll be dark soon. She'll be out patrolling."
      Wesley nodded, and drove to the Sunnydale U campus. He parked the car 
in what he hoped would be an inconspicuous spot. It was dark now, and Angel 
slipped out of the car and walked to Wesley's window. Cordelia had felt the 
car stop, was starting to awaken.
      "You two stay here," Angel told them. "I'll find Buffy and be back as 
soon as I can."
      This woke Cordelia completely. "No way, Angel. You're not doing this by 
yourself."
      "Cordelia, you could have an image from Doyle at any time. Now I want 
you to be someplace safe when it happens."
      "Safe. In the car. With Wesley. In Sunnydale? Right, Angel." As she 
said this, Cordelia got out of the car. "Let's find Buffy, shall we?"
      Angel and Wesley looked at each other with a collective sigh. Wesley 
got out of the car, and he and Cordelia followed Angel onto Sunnydale U's 
campus.


Chapter Eight


      They had scoured the campus for almost an hour with zero results. 
Discouraged, they headed back to the car. They were almost there when 
Cordelia said, "Maybe
Buffy's just not patrolling tonight. Maybe she actually has something better 
to do. We should check with Giles."
      "And why would you want to do that?" A voice suddenly asked. They all 
three turned to see a brown-haired, earnest faced young man coming out from 
behind a nearby bush. He was dressed in green fatigues, and also carried a 
weapon, which was pointed right at Angel. "You've been all over campus, 
looking for Buffy. I want to know why!"
      "Do you know where she is?" Cordelia asked eagerly. "We need to find her."
      "I'll just bet you do," Army Guy said. "You, and this vampire." Then, 
to prove his point, and maybe to make sure he was right, he punched Angel 
hard in the face.   Cordelia screamed as Angel went down, his vampire 
countenance sprouting forth.
      Wesley tried to intervene. "You don't understand . . ."
      But it was too late. Angel was up and on his feet, charging at Army 
Guy. Before he could reach him, however, Mr. Fatigue fired his weapon. The 
stun-ray hit Angel in the chest, and, with a cry of surprise and pain, he 
fell again, was immobilized.
      Army Guy swung the weapon to cover Wesley and Cordelia, preventing them 
from making any move to help Angel. Then he pulled a wooden stake out of his 
green jacket pocket. "I don't understand, huh? I think I do." He then raised 
the stake above his head, ready to plunge it into Angel's heart. 
      Angel closed his eyes, the only part of his body he could move. No! If 
this happens, Doyle dies! 
      "Don't!" He heard Wesley and Cordelia cry together, just as another 
voice, familiar and frantic, yelled, "RILEY, NO!"
      Angel opened his eyes to see Buffy swoop in, grab Riley's arm just as 
it was about to come down, push it away from Angel, and take the stake from 
his hand. Angel closed his eyes again, and breathed a deep sigh of relief, as 
Wesley and Cordelia landed on their knees beside him.
      Riley Finn and Buffy Summers exchanged a long look. Then Riley stood 
open-mouthed in amazement, as Buffy turned away from him, and joined Wesley 
and Cordelia on the ground beside Angel.      "Angel . . ." Buffy began.
      "Just a minute, Buffy," Wesley broke in. "Angel, are you all right?"
      "It'll wear off," Buffy said. "He'll be okay."
      "I hope so, Buffy, for all our sakes," Wesley replied, then turned to 
Cordelia."Come on Cordelia. They need to . . ."
      "No." Cordelia resisted his efforts to pull her to her feet. She turned 
on Buffy."I want to know what he did to him!"
      "It's a stun-ray," Buffy said, trying to figure out what these three 
were doing here, together. "It didn't hurt him. It'll wear off in a minute."
      "Great." Cordelia rolled her eyes. "Just great. And, you know, that 
stake wouldn't have worn off . . ." She broke off with a cry of distress, 
closed her eyes, as another Doyle image overcame her . . . the Beacon even 
closer to completion, pain, impending death, and fear, stark, overwhelming 
fear. "Wesley . . ."
      "Come on, Cordelia," Wesley said gently, helping her to her feet.
      "But, Wesley, there's no time. They're going to kill him. The pain . . 
. and he's so scared!" Cordelia was almost sobbing.
      "I know. I know, Cordelia, but Angel and Buffy have to talk. Come on, 
you can lie down in the car." He looked over at Buffy and Angel. "Talk, you 
two, talk." He then led Cordelia to the car.
      More confused than ever, Buffy turned to Angel. "Are you okay?"
      "You tell me, but yeah, I think so." Only he still couldn't move 
anything except his eyes and mouth. "That thing packs a wallop."
      "It'll wear off in a minute."
      "That's what you said a minute ago." He looked at her, and their eyes 
met. There was silence for a long minute, then, "Buffy . . ."
      "Angel," Buffy interjected. "Why are you here?"
      "I need your help," he said simply, quietly, desperately. "All of you . 
. . Giles, Willow, Xander, and him too," he looked over at Riley, "if he's a 
friend of yours.
But before anything else, you'd better talk to him, because the last thing
I need right now is somebody trying to turn me into ashes." He closed his 
eyes, found he could move his head a little. "Go on, go talk to him, while 
this stun wears off."
      "Okay," Buffy said, but didn't move. "How bad is it, Angel?" He opened 
his eyes, looked directly into hers. "What you need help with, how bad is it?"
      "Bad," Angel whispered, closing his eyes.
      "Great," Buffy muttered, getting to her feet. "Apocalypse again. 
Another evening ruined." She then walked over to where Riley stood rigidly 
waiting. "Riley . . ."
      "How much money could I win if I bet that he," he nodded at Angel, "is 
one of those things, if not the thing, that's always been too complicated to 
talk about?"      "A lot," Buffy looked up at him . . . their eyes met.
      "So?" Riley asked, eyebrows raised.
      "It's still too complicated and way too long a story to get into the 
whole thing right now."
      "He's a vampire, Buffy. You're the slayer," Riley interjected. "Am I 
crazy thinking there's a discrepancy here?"
      "No, and I know, Riley, believe me, I know, he's a vampire and I'm the 
slayer," Buffy said softly, sudden sadness in her voice. "Yes, he is a 
vampire, but not your usual vampire. He's a vampire with a soul, Riley, a 
conscience." She watched the look in Riley's eyes change from hardness to 
surprise. "He struggles every day with the guilt over what he did before he 
got his soul, and he's trying to atone.  And yes, he was my vampire, as crazy 
as it sounds, and probably was, and I thought he'd be mine forever. But 
obviously, it didn't work out. In fact, it ended rather badly, and very 
painfully, for both of us. I haven't seen or talked to him in over a year. 
So, believe me when I tell you, Riley, for him to come to me for help? Well, 
it's life or death, and we need to listen to him."
      Her eyes never left his as she said this, and the look they held was 
deadly serious. Riley's eyes still held surprise, but also some grudging 
admiration as he looked over to where Angel lay and was now regaining his 
mobility. "A vampire with a soul, huh? Trying to make up for his evil deeds? 
You learn something new every day." He looked down at Buffy, who was also 
looking at Angel, a look in her eyes he'd never seen. "It may have ended 
badly, but you still care about him, don't you?"
      Buffy nodded. "And always will." But the look that was now in her eyes 
told him he didn't have to worry about that.
      "Well, I'm glad I didn't stake him, then," Riley said seriously, 
leaning down to kiss her on the top of her head. "Let's go see what he needs 
help with."
      Angel had watched them as they talked, had seen the kiss, was no fool. 
He was struggling to get up as they approached him. Riley took three long 
strides, reached Angel's side, and grasped his arm as he helped him up, then 
steadied him once he was on his feet. "You'll feel better in a second."
      Angel studied him a little warily, having trouble switching gears from 
army guy out to stake him to friendly guy helping him out. "I already do, 
thanks." He pulled out of Riley's grip.
      Riley nodded, hesitated a second, then held out his hand. "Riley Finn."
      Caught off guard, Angel looked at him sharply, right into his eyes, 
found nothing but integrity and apology there, and something else, something 
he couldn't name right now. He took Riley's hand and they shook. "Angel."
      "I'm sorry about all that, Angel," Riley said, releasing Angel's hand. 
"I didn't know."
      "Yeah, well, how could you? I'm not exactly wearing a sign that says 
'Good Vampire'," Angel acquiesced. "You were just looking out for her. I . . 
." a measured silence, then, "can appreciate that."
      Riley had no doubt of that. "I believe you." They both looked over at 
where
Buffy had stopped to pick up the gear she had dropped, rushing to help Angel. 
"Not that she needs much looking after. She's pretty self-sufficient."
      "She is that," Angel agreed.
      "I don't know. A guy needs to do something to make him feel useful, 
especially when, you know, the girl can pretty much whip your butt." Angel 
grinned to himself, as Riley went on, "Anyway, I saw you guys looking for 
Buffy, saw you were a vampire, so . . ."
      "I understand, Riley," Angel interrupted, as Buffy started toward them. 
"I do."Riley turned to look at him. More than you know, Angel's eyes told him.
      Riley nodded. "So, what's . . ."
      Buffy had reached them, gear in tow. "Okay, guys," she said, looking at 
them a little uncomfortably. She figured they'd been talking about her, so 
she got right to the point. "So, what's up?" she asked Angel. 
      "I'll tell you everything, but everyone all at once. There isn't a lot 
of time. I need you to get Willow and Xander and Giles and anybody else you 
trust. Get us all together, and you'll hear it all."
      "Okay." Buffy nodded. "Where do you want to meet?"
      Where else? "At Giles'?"
      "Right, okay. I'll call Giles, tell him what's going on, and I'll get 
Willow." She turned to Riley. "Riley, find Xander. Meet us at Giles'."
      "Right." Riley nodded, then looked at Angel. "Anything else?"
      "Yeah, if you've got anymore weapons, you might want to bring them," 
Angel told him gravely.
      Riley nodded, turned to Buffy. "Okay, I'm gone." He smiled at her, a 
smile that lit up his whole face, but he forbore kissing her. Then he was gone.
      Buffy watched him go for a second, then turned to Angel. "About Riley. 
Angel . . ."
      Angel held up his hand, stopping her. "It's all right Buffy, it's all 
right. Part of the reason why I left here was so that you could move on, and 
you have, and I'm glad. I'm not saying it doesn't hurt, but I'm glad. You 
know I want you to be happy. And he . . ." Angel looked in the direction 
Riley had taken, "seems like a decent guy."
      "He is." Buffy nodded, then, "But, Angel, I want you to be happy, too."
      Angel looked at her, thought of those twenty-four hours when he'd been 
human again, when he'd been able to be with her again. Twenty-four hours 
that, for her, had never happened. Thus, there was a pain in his eyes that 
she could not understand as he said, "We both know it's not that simple for 
me, Buffy." He shook his head. "Look, we can talk about this later if you 
want . . ." Although his tone said what for?  "But right now, what would make 
me happy is to . . ."
      "No, okay, you're right," Buffy said. "I'll go get Willow and her 
spells, and some more gear of my own, and . . ." She turned as they both 
heard Cordelia cry out again in pain and fear, and Wesley's voice trying to 
calm her.   
      Buffy turned back to Angel. "What's going on with Cordelia, Angel? And 
what's Wesley doing with you? Where's that Irish, vision guy?"
      "Doyle," Angel said, looking at the car, concern in his eyes.
      "Yeah, Doyle?"
      Angel looked back at her, sudden urgency in his face, and in his voice. 
"Buffy, I'll tell you everything at Giles'. Now go. And, hurry Buffy."
      Buffy nodded, then took off running toward the dorm. Angel sighed with 
relief. The hardest part, with Buffy, at least, was over.
      As he headed toward the car, he could hear Cordelia's sobs, her voice 
saying over and over, "We're coming Doyle, we're coming. Hang on . . . hang on."
      Yeah, Doyle, hang on, Angel thought, desperately, Because I'm coming to 
get you out of there, my friend. So just hang on!


Chapter Nine 


      They met in Giles' living room. They were all there, the group that for 
three years of high school had protected Sunnydale from vampires, demons and 
the opening of hell. All there, save Oz, who was out doing some more wolfy 
soul searching . . . Buffy, Xander, Willow, Giles, Angel, Cordelia and 
Wesley, with Riley now added to the mix (Anya was out of town, lucky her) and 
Spike? Angel had not known what to think when he'd entered Giles' house to 
find the punk-blond vampire there. His first inclination had been to stake 
him and get it over with. Then Giles had explained about a chip in Spike's 
head that prevented him from doing any violence, and although he was a 
reluctant help, he was, at times, a help.
      Angel had let it go. He really didn't have time to deal with Spike 
right now, anyway. However, he had been tortured enough by Spike to know that 
just because he couldn't be bad, didn't mean he wasn't bad, and, therefore, 
could not be trusted.
      "Okay," Giles said, after they were all present, accounted for, and 
seated. "Let's hear it." He wasn't sure how he felt about all this. He had a 
history with both Angel and Angelus, neither of which was always pleasant. 
But he knew how difficult it had to be for Angel to come to them for help . . 
. so he knew that they must listen.
      "Right." Angel let out a deep breath, ran a shaky hand over his face, 
then looked at Cordelia. She was free of images for the moment, and she 
smiled encouragingly at him, nodded. You can do this, the smile said. Angel 
had to wonder. He'd been trying to put it together in his mind, so that when 
it came out of his mouth, it would come out expediently, concisely, 
coherently. "Okay, I'll start at the beginning, I guess. When I first moved 
to LA, I tried to help people, but it was tough, doing it blind; and trying 
to find people on my own was haphazard, at best. And then, the Powers that 
Be, and I believe them to be the same forces that sent me back from hell, 
they sent me a guide, a messenger. They sent me . . . Doyle. Doyle is a 
half-human, half-Brachen demon who . . ."
      "Doyle's half-demon?" Buffy asked, surprised.
      "Half-Brachen demon, he said," Giles interjected. "Brachen demons are 
not evil. In fact, they are really rather peaceful. A little homely with 
their green and spiky faces, and those red eyes . . . But they are not 
threatening. Go on, Angel."
      "Doyle had 'visions': images, pictures, feelings sent to him by the 
Powers. It was these 'visions' that showed us people, led us to people who 
needed help. We met up with Cordelia, and the three of us, well, we joined 
together to . . ."      "Help the hopeless," Cordelia supplied.
      "Right." Angel smiled at her. "Things went as well as they could, 
considering what we dealt with on a daily basis, for a few months, anyway. 
Then, a little over a year ago, Doyle had a vision of a demon militant group 
called the Scourge . . ."  
      Giles head snapped up at that, and his eyes went to Angel, who 
immediately dropped his own. He hadn't been able to look Rupert Giles in the 
eye since he'd regained his soul, since he'd remembered what he had done to 
Giles and his Jenny.  "Angel, you've encountered the Scourge?"
      "Yes," Angel answered, knowing that Giles knew exactly what he was 
talking about.      "Who are the Scourge?" Willow asked.
      "Exactly who Angel said they are," Giles replied. "A demon, extremist, 
militant group . . . pure demon, pure . . . evil. They don't really tolerate 
humanity in any form, but they are particularly harsh on what they would call 
half-breeds, beings who are half-demon and half-human."  He glanced at Angel, 
didn't say, 'like your Doyle', but it hung out there as clearly as if he had. 
"They feel that the only thing a half-breed is good for is . . . extermination."
      "Nice!" Xander said.
      "Yeah, can you say Third Reich?" Buffy asked, her voice heavy with 
disgust.
      "Exactly," Giles said softly. "I'm sorry, Angel, please continue. He 
had visions of the Scourge . . ."
      "Right," Angel went on, determined to keep it together. "At the time of 
Doyle's vision, the Scourge had targeted and were murdering a group of 
half-Lister demons . . ."      "Another very benevolent group," Giles put in.
      "Yes, very," Angel agreed. "We sought them out, found them, tried to 
decide how best to help them. I was trying to get a handle on the Scourge. I 
managed to infiltrate them, discovered them to be conscienceless, relentless, 
merciless, and virtually unstoppable with their instrument of death." He 
paused. "They call it the Beacon. It's a large glass cylinder that, when 
activated, emits a bright, white, blinding light . . . that destroys anything 
with human blood."
      "Oh, really nice!" Xander cried. "They sound even worse than you 
without a soul, dead boy."
      Angel looked toward him, but it was Spike who answered him. "You'd 
better bloody shut up, Xandy boy, cause you don't have the first bloody clue 
as to what you're talking about."
      "You know the Scourge, Spike?" Angel questioned.
      "Let's just say I've run into them a time or two," Spike growled.
      "Go on, Angel." This came from Giles.
      "I'd arranged transportation out of the country for the half-Lister 
demons. The captain of this cargo ship called the Quintessa, well, he owed me 
money, and he agreed to transport them for me. But, before they could leave 
port, the ship's first officer betrayed us. That's how I knew how the Beacon 
works." He smiled a grim smile. "They killed him for his trouble. I was 
there, saw it all. It burned him until he was gone." He paused, staring out 
into space a minute, then, "I got to the ship as fast as I could, but they 
were right behind me, and before we knew it," he paused again, "we--Cordelia, 
Doyle and I--and all the Lister demons, were trapped in the cargo hold. We 
tried to get them out, but we were locked in . . . and so was the Beacon. 
They had lowered it into the cargo hold, and had suspended it from the 
ceiling." He stopped again, for this was hard. Cordelia, knowing and sharing 
his pain, got up and stood beside him. "The Beacon was activated, arming 
itself, as we stood on the platform watching it. The light was already 
beginning to shine through. I knew the only way to stop it was to jump 
directly onto it, and disarm it from there." Angel paused. "The only problem 
was, to do it that way, it was impossible to keep out of the light, and that 
meant . . ."      "Certain death," Buffy breathed.
      "Yes." Angel nodded. "But it was the only way, or we would all die. I 
was . . ." he had to stop as his breath caught in his throat, "preparing to 
jump onto the Beacon . . . " Turning to Doyle, saying good-bye with his eyes, 
as was Doyle. 'The good fight, yeah? You never know till you've been tested. 
I get that now.' Angel closed his eyes for a moment before he went on, "When 
all of a sudden, Doyle slugged me." He had never seen that coming, had been 
taken completely by surprise. He smiled slightly, looked at Cordelia. "I 
never knew he could hit that hard."
      "I don't think he knew, either," Cordelia whispered.
      "I fell to the deck below, and I knew, I knew what he was going to do." 
Doyle! Doyle! No! "But by the time I managed to get to my feet, climb the 
ladder, it was too late. He'd already jumped onto the Beacon." Angel's eyes 
took on a glassy look, and they all knew he was seeing everything he was 
describing, and in living color. "It was burning him, burning him alive, but 
he held on, held on until he'd unplugged it, disarmed it, destroyed it." 
Angel paused, held Cordelia as she began to cry, her face buried in his 
chest. "Then he screamed, an agonized scream. There was a blinding flash of 
light . . . and he was gone."   
      Angel stood still, strong and silent, and he continued to hold 
Cordelia, letting her cry it out in his arms. He looked out at the group, saw 
tears in all their eyes. Willow was openly weeping. Even Spike looked pained.
      Angel took a deep breath. "We thought him dead. I tried to find a way 
to bring him back, but the Powers wouldn't help us. We were forced to go on 
without him, met up with Wesley, quite accidentally." Wesley smiled. "And 
then we discovered that, before he jumped, Doyle had passed on his visions to 
Cordelia. She's been the one receiving them for the past year." He paused, 
looked down into her eyes, then back at the group. "This morning, Cordelia 
was sent a vision that told us two things. Number one: Doyle is not dead. How 
this is possible, we don't know, but he is alive. However, he is in the hands 
of the Scourge."
      "Oh, dear God," Giles breathed.  No one else spoke, but his horrified 
words were reflected in all their eyes.
      "And number two," Angel went on, "the Scourge is building another 
Beacon." There was a collective gasp from his audience. "And it's almost 
complete. We know this because when Doyle gave Cordelia the visions, he also 
somehow left a channel open between them, and since this morning he has been 
subconsciously sending her messages from his own mind, so she can see what he 
sees, feel what he feels, know what he knows." He paused, "And what she knows 
is this: the Beacon is almost complete, and when it is they plan to use it on 
Doyle. They plan to test it on him. They plan to . . ."
      "Execute him," Wesley stated bluntly.
      "Yes, execute him," Angel choked on the words. "And then . . ."
      "They will unleash their death machine onto the whole world," Giles 
finished.
      "Yeah," said Spike. "They'll take bloody pleasure in doing it too. 
Bloody pleasure."
      Silence, as it all sank in--the horror of it. Willow sat still, 
silently crying. Cordelia, exhausted by her tears, and feeling another Doyle 
image coming on, went to lie down on the couch. Wesley and a silenced Xander 
sat beside her. Buffy and Riley sat looking at each other in mutual horror, 
but also as two demon hunters who knew they had a mission to complete. Giles 
stood near the window, eyes closed, contemplating all that he knew about the 
Scourge. Spike just sat. They had all been through hell before, lived through 
horrors and events that would have killed most people, but this was almost 
incomprehensible . . . one race trying to wipe out another.
      "I know how to reach the Scourge," Angel suddenly broke the silence, 
startling them all; they all looked at him. "We opened the Demon doorway this 
morning. The guide took me to their fortress. I have the password to lead me 
back." He paused. "But I need your help. All of you. I can't do this alone. 
And I . . ." he paused again, "need you to understand something. I ask you to 
understand something for me, please. Understand, that, for Cordelia and me, 
saving Doyle is just as important as stopping the Scourge and destroying the 
Beacon." His voice was shaking; he steadied it and went carefully on, "And if 
you do decide to help us, I ask you, no I beg you, to please view it the same 
way. Everything he's suffered, he's suffered in my place. Please help me save 
him. You all owe me nothing. In many ways, I've brought you nothing but pain. 
But Doyle, he sacrificed himself so that others could live, so I could live. 
Help me save him, please." He stopped, as he felt strong emotion well up 
within him. "Excuse me," he said, and walked swiftly from the room.
      Silence followed his departure, everyone so affected by his words, by 
his steely control over his emotions, that they could not move or speak for 
several minutes.
      Finally, Giles broke the silence, "Buffy, you'd better go talk to him."
      "Okay," Buffy slowly rose from her seat, "But I need to know what to 
tell him." She turned and looked at her friends (save Spike). "Do I tell him 
that you're with us?" And the word us escaped no one. "Do I tell him that 
we're all one-hundred percent committed to stopping this demon enemy and," 
she looked at Cordelia, "to saving Doyle? Can I tell him that?"
      She looked around the room, at each of her friends in turn--each 
nodded--tears in their eyes.
      "Good," Buffy said, nodding to herself. "Because, you know, when he 
sacrificed himself by jumping onto that Beacon, for all we know, he may have 
saved us all. Now, we need to get ready to move. All of you, get what you 
think we'll need to fight and defeat this Scourge. Wesley, Giles work on this 
demon doorway thing. Cordelia, as hard as I know these images are for you, if 
there's anything at all that you see that you think can help us . . ." 
Cordelia nodded. "Good. I'll go talk to Angel."  She then left them to their 
respective tasks.


Chapter Ten


      She found him in Giles' back room, sitting in the dark.
      "Angel?" she spoke softly as she turned on the light. Angel blinked, 
then turned away from her, not wanting her to see how close he had come to 
losing control of his emotions.      "I'm sorry, Buffy."
      "Sorry?  For what? Caring?" Buffy asked. "Don't ever be sorry for 
caring, Angel. And, you know, what you just did out there was hard. Reliving 
that nightmare." After months of hiding, suppressing his thoughts and 
feelings, she was sure.
      "Yeah." Angel closed his eyes. "Reliving the nightmare." He opened his 
eyes, looked at her, then away. "I . . . can't lose him again, Buffy. I won't 
survive it."      "Don't say that, Angel."
      "But I won't," he insisted. "I'll throw myself into sunlight, or I'll 
put a stake through my own heart if that's what it takes, but I won't survive 
it. I haven't survived it, not really. Oh, I'm still here. I've done what I 
had to do, gone through the motions, but it's not been real. Nothing's been 
real; nothing's been right since . . . " He paused. "You know, Wesley's 
right. Doyle is the best friend I ever had. In two hundred plus years, he's 
the only one who's ever understood me, who's ever really accepted me for who 
and what I really am." He stopped, looked at her. "No offense."
      "None taken. I'm sure it's true. You need someone like that."
      "Yeah, I do. So you see, I can't lose him, Buffy. I can't. And to find 
him like this only to lose him again, I can't, I won't survive it." Angel 
turned away, closed his eyes.  
      Buffy walked to him then, and put a hand on his shoulder. He jumped a 
little at her touch. "You won't lose him, Angel. You won't. We won't let 
you." No response. "Angel, a few minutes ago, you asked us to make saving 
Doyle a priority, to make saving him as important as stopping the Scourge and 
destroying the Beacon. Well, we just did that, before I came in here, each 
and every one of us. Well, not Spike, of course, but the rest of us, we all 
agreed that saving your Doyle is just as important as defeating the Scourge. 
So you see, Angel . . . " She moved to stand directly in front of him, 
looking down into his face. He opened his eyes then, looked directly into 
hers; he could see her determination and compassion. " . . . We won't lose 
him. We won't let you lose him."
      Relief flooded through him, but, "I know it's a lot to ask."
      "But that's just it, Angel, it's not a lot to ask," Buffy told him 
earnestly. "In fact, it's the least we can do for him. I mean, your friend is 
a hero in every sense of that word. He could've let you make that jump. It 
would have been the easiest way for him. It certainly would have been the 
safest way. But do you know what he did, Angel? He looked beyond himself, 
beyond what he needed. He looked at you and Cordelia and all those 
half-Lister demons you'd promised to protect. And then he looked beyond you, 
to all of us out here in the world.  He knew what we needed, and he put all 
of our needs above his own. So when he took that leap, Angel, he did it out 
of love and caring; he cared more about the needs of others than he did his 
own. That's what selflessness is, that's what a hero is, and that 's what 
Doyle is. He's a hero. And he did more than save, well, maybe all of us from 
the Scourge; he also saved those who would die without you. You say he's 
suffered all this in your place, but I don't think that's true, Angel. I 
think it happened just the way it was supposed to, and the way Doyle thought 
it should happen, too, with you out here . . ."
      "Fighting the good fight," Angel murmured.
      "Yeah." Buffy nodded. "For him.  So, let's do it, let's fight that good 
fight, Angel. He saved us, now it's our turn to save him, and," she smiled 
and shrugged slightly, "maybe the whole world too. All in a days work, huh?"
      Angel laughed a little, looked up at her. She nodded to him, grasped 
both his hands, and drew him to his feet. She looked up at him, their eyes 
locked. He could feel the old familiar strength, that he'd always felt when 
they'd fought at each other's side, course through him. He knew they were 
together in this, almost as one.
      "Okay," Buffy said. "Now let's get him the hell out of there."