Title: Just a Minute more
Part III of my series “Alternations”
Author: Maeve
E-mail: maevethefair@hotmail.com
Spoilers: Hero, of course
Disclaimer: Doyle, Angel, Cordelia and the multitudinous members of the Buffy 
Continuum and the Angel Atrium are not in any way shape or form, my own. Doyle 
*does* spend many a night warming himself by my fire...but that is something 
else altogether ::G::
Rating: pg13 for da da da da da dada- ANGST
Archive: If anyone cares to- I urge you (with hot pointy things) to do so but 
tell me.
Summary: If you know ptI and pt II, you know the Oracles have something up 
their sleeve for Doyle, but they wear togas.
Feedback: YESSS, I will welcome all kinds with open arms and a big smile. 
Except flames, I can only make toast with ‘em



He lifted her up, held her to his body. She smiled and cuddled close, 
always happy when he lavished his attention on her. Which was often, 
especially now. Doyle closed his eyes and rocked them back and forth slowly, 
dancing with the fragile female in his arms. She smelled fresh and young. His 
hand rubbed slow circles along the breadth of her back, a soft impromptu song 
hummed in the back of his throat. They stayed like that, together out on the 
hardwood floor of the upper rooms of Angel Investigations, happy and content, 
she a bit drowsy.

It had come to this, living in the same building as the vampire that 
served as their protector and friend. When Doyle came back from limbo, 
purgatory, hell in ice, whatever you call it. He couldn’t go home, not to his 
flat, it wasn’t a place he recognized as safe. For a brief time he and 
Cordelia stayed at her apartment, but Dennis was a little more on edge with 
the man around.

Newly reunited for the first time, the pair of lovers had searched and 
looked for a small anything to call their own, until the vampire offered the 
upstairs. “ I don’t use it.” was all he had said on the matter. Good enough, a 
week after they had moved everything in and were living comfortable. Living, 
which was a great thing for a man who had experienced the other side of fate’s 
coin, it was too real and too harsh, life now felt like a dream.

She sighed onto his shoulder, light hot breath lightly scoring his 
shoulder and making him smile. He’d do anything to please her, make her feel 
as loved as she made him feel. The young one cuddled in close to him, fingers 
curling against his chest, making him squeeze his eyes shut for fear of tears 
falling on her pretty hair. He took a shaky breath- if he had known life could 
be like this, so-

A knock at the bedroom door startled him, he craned his neck backwards, 
eager not to rouse the girl in his arms. The wood door swung on it’s hinges, 
Angel just beyond the lamplight in the warm little room, a blonde woman stood 
behind him. Kate was here too?

“ Doyle- are you ready?”

The demon shook his head in tightly. “ Just a minute more man,” he 
tilted his head towards the dreamer in his arms, “She’s almost asleep.”

Kate stepped into the room, past the vampire and into the light softly 
shed from three lamps. “ Why don’t you take her with us? She won’t mind, it’s 
appropriate...” her hands opened but he stepped back enough to avoid the 
woman.

“ If I don’t go, it means she hasn’t left yet.” it was stubbornly said, 
and the officer only nodded and walked out, but Angel stayed. 


“ I don’t have much longer before the sun’s up, you know I can’t go out 
in daylight and I promised her I’d be there.”

Cordy, if she was here would tell him to stop being so dramatic, that 
was her job, she’d laugh and fling her arms around his shoulders and kiss him 
til he felt better. If she was here

Wet tears spilled out the corners of his eyes, bright with sadness. They 
spilled down his cheeks and collected at his chin. “Ach, man I’m cryin. Take 
‘er before I drop her!”
Preternatural speed and cold hands took the sleeper from him, and not a 
moment to soon. He dropped onto the bed, bent half way over and wept with 
great chunking heaves. Kate came in again and sat with him, let him cry but 
put an arm over his back. 

“ Doyle-” she tried gently, no response.
“Doyle, please, we have to- The sun...it’s almost dawn and we can’t wait 
any longer.”

It hit home with his friend, and he sagged visibly. “ It’s real then.” 
he said, the question of it almost as if he didn’t need to even ask, it was. 
The sharp sting welled into his throat and he heaved a great shudder. “ She’s 
waiting, I can’t keep her waiting any more, right?”

He sat up, face clear but red from the emotions. He nodded and stood, 
grabbing his jacket from the coat hook by the door. “We’ll go then, Angel man, 
grab a blanket for my girl, would you?”

Angel looked around, he wasn’t good with children, they didn’t like his 
coldness or dark nature. Kids sense that stuff and take off screaming, but not 
her, she was such a pleasant baby, always smiled. This was the first time he 
held her, ever. It should have happened weeks ago but Doyle wouldn’t let her 
go for a minute. The vampire half expected to hear the sharp wail of a 
frightened infant, but she stayed asleep, the little bow lips curled in a 
smile.

In spite of the event swirling around him, he felt warm all of a sudden. 
 Kate came, touching his shoulder so as not to startle him, she held a thick 
blanket, wrapped the child and took her from him. The curtain dropped again 
and the foursome walked out into the dark of early morning.

***
It shouldn’t have happened this way, never. With Doyle and Cordelia only 
so recently (re)united, living as happily as a pair can who have a direct line 
with the Powers That Be in between his ears. As best the employees of the 
Champion of Man could, without letting work interfere (though, that had never 
been a problem for Cordelia anyway) They had lived and made love together, 
creating a make-shift relationship. The trick was not to ever think of where 
he had been or could go again. 	

All would be right in the world on a Sunday afternoon when she would sit 
with him on the green couch in their bed sitter above the office, stretched 
over his torso and reading or talking. It was like a normal, Glossy catalogue 
existence. Less than a year after his return she was pregnant.

“Doyle, we have a problem.”
“A problem? Did I mix plaid and stripe or something?”
“No no, not *that* kind of a problem. I’m sort of pregnant.”
He sat down with a thump, “Not much for subtlety are ya Princess?”

“Nope.” she sat across from him, waiting for the next move. It wasn’t 
that bad, sure she’d gain a massive amount of weight and loose her figure 
forever- and that kid was getting bottle-fed, no question. She hadn’t really 
given much thought to whether she should have it or not, hell, lots of 
actresses have kids. Jodie Foster, Susan Sarandon, and some pretty ones did 
too . It was all a matter of how to tell him, that no matter how careful he 
thought he was or how cautious she thought she had been, something defied the 
odds and here she was. In an interesting condition. 


The night she figured it out she had tried to fit into the Gucci 
pleather pants and couldn’t quite do the button, her abs were *round*. What 
other woman was there within twenty miles that she knew?
It was a pain to think about but she called, ick, Kate. Not the biggest 
fan of Kate, ever, or anything but it was a necessity especially now. She 
asked very careful in circles until the lady cop sighed exasperatedly and 
snapped 
“Is this friend of yours pregnant with Doyle?”
“Mmmm, what if she was?”
“You’d better tell him.” Done and done.

“What are you going to do about it?” She asked him now, sitting across 
from him, waiting. 

He ran his hands through his hair, blinked hard. He stood, sat down 
again, stood and then made a few steps towards her. “ Are you sure-?”
She inadvertently bit her lip and furrowed her brow, had this been the 
smartest thing? Doyle always said he loved her, and she loved him too. Didn’t 
he always say he wanted to marry her? What was the problem? Was it too late to 
change her mind? Could it be that this was some sort of a horrible mistake and 
now that she was getting all fat and ugly he was going to stop calling her 
princess and leave her like her dad always told her mother? What was taking 
him so long?! She nodded hesitantly, “I’m sure.”

He closed the gap between them , put his warm and sweating hands to her 
belly and felt. Soft skin, so soft and their own kid inside her, oh was he 
dreaming? How could any of this be real?

“Delia, I gotta ask you something...”

*****	
Ten minutes later they were at the sea, looking out onto the inky 
blackness of the pacific. 
Three adults stood with their backs to the sleeping city, watching the dawn 
come with aching slowness. The woman held a swaddled bundle, the taller man 
had his rams in his pockets, nervous but doing his best to mask it for the 
sake of his friend. In the center was the other man, the third member. He was 
waiting for something, holding a bright pot in his hangs. Shadows cast under 
his eyes, but the pale of the waning moon gave him light enough to be seen. A 
tremulous hand pulled away the lid of the pot.

“ We stand here in memory of Cordelia Chase-Doyle, fighter, mother, and 
beloved.” The baby opened her eyes and put a hand upwards, fading stars fading 
night above her so infinite, uncompromising...

“ She was amazing, she did so much for so many- and while” he stumbled 
in his words and bit back a choke. “ While she had not found her dream of 
success in acting, her life was spent in helping the lost souls of the world 
find a home... I loved, love her with all my heart and if I could, if I could-
” he cut himself off, bowing his head away from the words floating out into 
the air of morning. Angel’s hand rested on his shoulder and the deep voice 
next to him continued.

“If we could ask anything of her, it would be that she watch over us, 
and let us know she’s alright where she is.”
Doyle nodded and crossed his left arm across his chest and patted 
Angel’s hand. He had loved her too, in the way he loved all his friends, 
quietly and content (though he would never admit it).

“I wish I had known her longer than I did, she was such a charismatic 
person, so full of life.” Kate offered her words up, letting the baby in her 
arms distract her before she shed tears of her own. It would honor the dead 
woman, but she couldn’t bring herself to compete with the father of the little 
girl she held.

****

The reception was tiny, Buffy, Willow, Xander, Oz, Giles, Mrs. Summers 
for the Bride’s side. Her mother hadn’t been able to clear her society 
calendar after Cordelia let slip the possibility of a grandchild. Her father 
was in prison, end of story. it didn’t matter, her real family ( but don’t you 
dare tell any one in public or who matters) was there to see a Justice of the 
peace make it all official. The groom didn’t really have guests; his Mam was 
standing to the side, happy enough to see her boy married again. 	

It didn’t matter at all though, not after dinner in a nice restaurant 
and then home to bed for a twelve hour honeymoon. It was only the joy of 
calling each other the new names.

“Wife, d’you want tea?”
“Husband, only if you bring it to me, I’m being lazy for two.”

Eight months after she was in the hospital with a painful birthing. He 
stood next to her for as long as he could, the blood coming too fast and in 
too many waves for the half demon to take much more. All Doyle remembered was 
the lights on the ceiling looking him in the face, and a nurse telling him “ 
Daddy, it’s time to get up.” 

“Dad- I missed it?” he was shocked, after all that damn waiting he was 
out for the actual delivery. Christ on crutches.

The nurse smiled apologetically and nodded, “ You were out cold for a 
while, we were going to put you in  trauma but you came around.” she smiled 
again and helped him up, walking him from the reception room to a small 
bedroom. She was there, Cordy, her beautiful hair sweaty and pulled back in a 
messy pigtail. Hospital gown swathed her, white light on her tired face. The 
blanket she was holding whimpered, then set up a squall. 

His face split into a grin that felt painfully wide, but he couldn’t 
stop it. In a moment the dizziness had passed and he was on the bed with her, 
kissing her cheek and face and lips and any part he could get a hold of, then 
the yellow blanket pulled back, a baby girl, a absolutely miniature person 
with purple spots on her face from crying, but soft hair, so dark. Cordy 
grinned, passed the baby to him, laying back against the pillows to watch him.

Alan Francis, a father. There was a tight happiness in his heart that 
felt like his throat could close, the wisp of nothing he was holding was *his* 
daughter, his. Even more amazing, his and Cordelia’s. The baby cried and waved 
her fists in the air, he brought her closer and cooed soft words. “ You’re 
dadda’s little girl, dadda’s princess aren’t you? So sweet, so sweet, with her 
skin and hair, you look like I did when I came, don’t you yes you do. Can you 
do this?” he stuck out his tongue and the cries quieted, he smiled and the 
eyes peeped open minutely.

“God Doyle, she’s only an hour old, she doesn’t even know you’re talking 
to her!” her voice was tired and angry, but her face was creased in smiles.
He looked up to see her, blushed with pride and something else. “ 
Princess, will you marry me?”
“ I already did.”
“ I know, but if it takes marryin to get a baby out of you, then I want 
to do it again and again.”
She scowled, “ Only if you give birth.”

He had laughed, and she had too, but then her face went grey and she was 
tired. He put the baby in the bassinette and kissed her once more, “ I love 
you Delia, I do.”
“ I know.” she answered with that exhausted grin before shutting her 
eyes and falling asleep.

****

The group stood a few minutes longer in silence, the demon broken but 
straightening, consoled for a moment. The deep glow on the horizon brightened. 
“Doyle, the sun-” Angel whispered, he hated to rush this, but it was 
important he see her of, be there when they interred her to the air.
“ Ah know, but I-”
“She was important to all of us, but I have to see her off, you know I 
said I would...”	

There was no answer. Doyle stepped forward, gripping the side of the 
little urn, the lid flung to the ground, fingers of breeze already grabbing 
hold and stirring up the ashes of his dead wife. “ I love you.” he whispered 
and in a sweep of upward arms the urn’s contents were emptied into the air, 
taken hold of by the wind and whisked away from him. He dropped the urn and 
ran forward, watching her disperse into the air as if she hadn’t been more 
than a spectre in the first place.


****
She wasn’t much better after he took her home. He cooked, made tea, 
soup, popcorn, anything, but she wouldn’t eat. Three weeks after the baby 
girl’s arrival the family was back in the hospital, Doyle let Kate hold her, 
stand back from the ambulance with Angel to watch the pair go off into the 
night.

She was sick the doctors said, just sick. The birth had been hard on 
her, she had lost a lot of blood. No curses or magic spells had done it, just 
plain medicine. Something he and Angel couldn’t fix with a knock-down drag out 
fight with a couple of unholy terrors. She was sick, and getting sicker. They 
would keep her there for observation, to see what it was.

He never left that corridor, he called back to the office and spoke with 
his friend, had him hold the phone down to baby level so he could hear his 
little girl make spattering sounds with a spitty paw against her face.

Five days later, a full business week, and Cordelia died. Scars had 
opened from where she had been stuck through in the abdomen with the iron 
stake, no one had foreseen it. She bled inside and no one caught it, she 
became what the doctor called “septic”. It had progressed in three weeks past 
help. Daily operations were in order to open her, clean her insides, stitch up 
the scars, but they only opened again or the infection would spread If he had 
been able to break it with a spell , he would have. But she was beyond 
participating in anything but sleep and mild talk. 

“ I love you Delia,” he whispered on the fourth day, her shudderings and 
breathing down to shallow inhalations. “Me too.” she whispered, and then 
brought him in close again, “ please, take me home.”

“ You won’t get better if I take you out...” but she hadn’t cared about 
getting any better, she wanted to go home and rest. The doctors told him he 
was surely to be the cause of her death, but they never said one way or the 
other if she would live without those operations. Her body would already be 
filled with scars, but more? So they went home in an ambulance, the baby and 
certainty of the future.

No more then twenty hours later she was gone, dead in a breathy sigh 
with him and the child on the bed, his quiet tears wetting her pillow. 

****

 Light was breaking and he could hear the slamming of car doors. Angel 
was off, driving for home at break neck speed. He had seen her go, and was 
never good at goodbyes. But Kate was still there, still watching him, saw him 
sink to the ground on both knees and cry long and hard.
There was a coo, the smell of baby’s skin, the little warm infant was 
thrust into his arms.
“Look forward Doyle, don’t let the past take away what the future has 
given! You’ve got a daughter , your’s and Cordy’s. You will never be without 
her...” he shrugged and looked up to her, smiling exhaustedly.
“ I know, I think. But it was so quick and... after what happened to 
*me* the least they can do is let me have a good life.”
“ You do have a good life. You have her.” she motioned to the child, the 
baby who at this moment was up and looking for her father’s smile.

“ I’m a lucky man then.”

Dawn came and washed over them both, bright gold banishing the last 
wisps of chill form the earth under his feet. Standing was difficult but 
accomplishable, barely. He gripped his daughter to him and let his chin point 
up, it was time, Kate was right, but that couldn’t stop the water welling at 
the corners of his eyes.

*** 

They watched him, having left the temple and walked out on the field of 
green. He lay there with Gillan at his side, watching his face twitch.

“ He has slept long, messenger?” ventured the Brother, his eyes half 
closed and hands boredly twisting the end of his robe. She looked up to see 
them, almost startled. Her luminous gold eyes were wet, she had seen his 
dreams. She had known he suffered.

“ No more than a few hours.” Answered the Sister for the messenger. She 
knew the younger one would look into his soul as he slept, knew she would find 
the root of the sadness and try to ease it for him. Gillan looked to her 
counterparts .

“ Is it fair to do this? He only wanted to go back-”

“ Do not let the taste of human passions fell you. We gave him what he 
wanted.”

The gold curls shook, “ No, we gave him a dream to fall into. It is not 
fair to any of them, such suffering! She died and he mourns again! They asked 
us for him!”

“It is shaped by his own wishes and expectations, you know that.”

The Brother stepped forward, his hands no longer bored, but tightening 
as he said with a hint of anger. “ It is not our place to do that, he didn’t 
say it was to be real.”

He was stopped, a hand on his torso, Sister saying with great levity, “ 
If you feel so strongly that he deserves reality, request council with The 
Higher Powers.”


_-end-_