Dreams of the Past (2/3)
By Christie
Category:  Doyle/Cordy
Rating:  NC-17
Content:  Drama, romance, sex
Spoliers:  any AtS episode up to (but not including) 
"Hero" is fair game
Summary:  Doyle and Cordelia are trying to build a
relationship but Doyle's past catches up with him.
Feedback:  Makes me one happy puppy.
Distribution:  Archives for any list I've sent this to
(but could you drop me a line and tell me where it's
going?), Cleo, anyone else please ask!
Disclaimer:  Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy (grr...argh),
The WB, not me.
Author’s Notes:  ** is used for emphasis, // is used
for thought.  This story is slightly AU: Cordelia
knows Doyle's a demon, "Hero" didn't happen.  Ahh, all
is right with the world.  : )  I'd also like to
preface this by saying this is a conversation-driven
story, something I'm not as comfortable doing as
description-driven pieces.  

~Dreams of the Past~
Part II

"Ow!  Doyle!  Stop pulling my hair!"

"What the hell do you want me to do, Cordy? That's why
they're called *tangles*."

"Hello?  Gently."

"I *am* doing it gently."

"Well, you suck."

Angel stirred the scrambled eggs in the pan, reaching
across the stove to turn the burner to the off
position.  He smiled to himself as he listened to the
bickering between his two friends, knowing that as
soon as he got food in front of them they'd shut up
and be happy.

Cordelia, however, did not smile when he placed a
plate of eggs in front of her.  Doyle did, immediately
dousing the meal with ketchup and digging in. 
Cordelia yawned and frowned, spearing a piece of egg
tentatively with her fork.

"You okay, Cordelia?"  Angel asked, pulling a carton
of orange juice from the refrigerator and filling both
hers and Doyle's glasses.  

Doyle looked up, putting his fork down and leaning
back in his chair.  Cordelia looked from Angel to
Doyle then back down at her plate.  "Yeah," she
muttered.  "Just tired.  I've been having these dreams
for over a week now.  Every single night.  I barely
sleep anymore."

She glanced nervously at Doyle as she spoke, who only
shrugged, reemersing himself in his
middle-of-the-night breakfast.  Angel paused, busying
himself at the sink before finally turning and leaning
against the counter top.  He crossed his arms over his
chest.

"Dreams?" he asked, keeping his eyes focused on
Cordelia.

She rolled her eyes, pushing her plate away and
standing up from the table.  "Bad liar.  I know he's
talked to you about it, so don't act like you don't
know," she said, bitterness creeping into her tone. 
"I'm gonna go work on my hair in the other room, so
feel free to do your Y chromosome thing and figure out
how you're gonna rescue me from my own subconscious."

With that, she turned, disappearing into Angel's
bedroom and slamming the door behind her.

Doyle finally looked up.  "You know that wasn't
directed at you, man," he mumbled, pushing his own
plate away and taking a sip of his orange juice. 

Angel shrugged.  "I know," he said, dismissing it with
a wave of his hand.  He moved around the table and
occupied Cordelia's chair.  "She's distracted.  And
tonight she kicked demon ass harder than usual.  It
doesn't seem like you're getting along too well, I
mean worse than normal."

"Tellin' me,"  Doyle snorted, leaning back in his
chair.  "The only time we're getting along is when--" 
he snapped his head up, smiling sheepishly at his
friend.  "Forget it."  He looked toward the closed
door of Angel's room and lowered his voice.  "All
week, every night she's had these dreams.  And when
she wakes up from them, if I'm there, she has to...
you know, *really* know I'm there.  If I'm not there,
she calls me, usually crying and I end up going over
there anyway."

Angel nodded.  "It they're upsetting her, or scaring
her this much, she's obviously dreaming about all the
bad parts of your life."

"Which is pretty much all of it."

"Have you told her they're real?"  Angel asked.

Doyle shook his head.  "You crazy, man?  They're
getting worse.  The other night she saw this time I
got beaten within an inch of my life.  It was really
just a few months before I started getting my visions
and met you.  I spent six weeks in the hospital.  No
way I'm tellin' her that was real."

"Well, Doyle,"  Angel reasoned, leaning forward and
clasping his hands on the table.  "I mean, how long is
this gonna go on before she thinks she's going crazy?"

"Yesterday."  Doyle raised his voice, doing his best
imitation of his wayward girlfriend.  "I'm outta my
mind, Doyle!  I swear I am one step away from drooling
and talking with marbles in my mouth!"

Angel sighed.  "And if she doesn't know its real, that
it's something going on with the higher powers, she's
gonna keep thinking that until she really does go
crazy."

Doyle frowned.  "She knows *so* much, Angel.  She
knows all kinds of things I did back when I wasn't...
scrupulous.  She calls this person she dreams about
Evil Doyle."

"Evil Doyle."

"But it's me.  *I'm* Evil Doyle.  She's not gonna want
to be with me when she finds that out."  Doyle sighed
heavily, picking up his fork and dropping it with a
clatter against his plate.

Angel stood, taking Doyle's and Cordelia's
barely-touched plates of eggs to the sink.  He
concentrated on cleaning them for a few moments, then
turned toward his dejected friend.  "You're not 'Evil
Doyle' any more,"  he tried, spreading his arms. 
"Just like I'm not Angelus...usually.  She can
understand that."

Doyle blinked and looked up at the vampire with an
incredulous expression.  Angel hung his head. 
"Alright, we'll go see the Oracles.  Tonight."

**

When Angel returned to his apartment just before dawn,
he realized Doyle was right, they shouldn't have left
Cordelia alone.  But there really hadn't been an
option; Angel wasn't about to let Doyle approach the
Oracles on his own.  It was obvious what they thought
his purpose in life was, and to come to them with
anything less than that might prove to be a huge
mistake.

And it had been.  At least, their efforts had been
fruitless.  He and Doyle had been thrown back out of
the portal almost as soon as they got the nature of
their visit out.  The issue was deemed by the Powers
as unimportant in the grand scheme.  It was all Angel
could do to keep his demon friend from lunging himself
at the golden twins.

Genuinely disheartened, Doyle had gone home.  Angel
returned to his apartment, finding Cordelia a huddled
mass on his couch.  He immediately crossed the room
and knelt before her.

"Cordelia.  What happened?  Another nightmare?"

The girl nodded and allowed a choked sob, covering her
face with her hands.  "Where is he?" she asked
finally, blinking up at Angel and peering around the
vampire to the empty room.  "Where is he?  He's okay,
right?"

Angel nodded, reaching his hands out to clasp Cordelia
by the shoulders, rubbing slightly in effort to abate
her shivers.  "Yes, he's okay."  Angel assured.  "He
went home to get some rest.  Do you want me to take
you over there?"

Cordelia shook her head and scooted over on the couch,
patting the cushion beside her.  Angel righted himself
then sat down next to her, opening one arm up and
allowing her to crawl into his embrace.  She sighed,
resting her head against his shoulder and sniffling
softly.

"I'm so afraid for him, Angel.  All the time," she
admitted softly.  "I mean, these dreams I'm having,
when I'm having them, they're not dreams.  It sounds
stupid, but they're real."

"Doesn't sound stupid,"  Angel murmured, bringing a
hand up and patting her shoulder.  "Cordelia,"  he
paused.  The decision was upon him.  Break Doyle's
trust, or let Cordelia continue to wallow in this
personal hell she'd found herself in every night for
over a week.  "Doyle cares about you a lot, and he's
afraid to lose you."

Cordelia lifted her head, blinking up at her friend
and boss.  "Why would he lose me?"

Angel shrugged.  //Minding my own business is
something I'm not that good at, especially when
someone's hurting.//  He paused, lost in his thoughts.
 //Doyle, please understand.//

"Cordelia, you know how I used to be bad and now I'm
not?"

The girl sounded suspicious.  "Yeah..."

Angel smiled.  "Well, Doyle used to be bad too, not
bad like I was, but not exactly what you would call
*good*."

Cordelia narrowed her eyes.  "Like how?"

"Stupid stuff.  Gambling, drinking, getting into
situations with people he probably shouldn't be
getting into situations with, doing things for them
that he might not do normally."

"Vague much?"  Cordelia raised her eyebrows and pulled
even further away from the vampire, shifting to sit
cross-legged on the couch facing him.  She shook her
head at Angel's exasperated look.  "But who cares? 
It's not stuff he does now."

"Right,"  Angel said softly.  "It's his past.  But he
seems to be the one least likely to let it go.  And
now you're dreaming about it, finding things out he
doesn't want you to know because it thinks it'll make
you not want to be with him anymore."

Cordelia leaned forward, resting her chin in her
hands.  She thought for a moment, staring into the
darkness in front of her.  She could make out the
vague shapes of the apartment:  the fireplace that
wasn't allowed to be lit, the shelves of books lining
the walls, all old, dusty volumes in languages that
were now considered dead.  //Kinda like the guy who
still speaks them,// Cordelia realized with a
half-smile.

Finally, she looked toward Angel.

"I love him, you know," she admitted, lifting her chin
in a manner of defiance.  "I tried not to, because of
what happened with Xander.  But all those guys I
*thought* were so *not* like Xander so they must be
right for me?  They were wrong for me."

Angel smiled softly and nodded.  "I know."

Cordelia paused, screwing up her face in
concentration.  "Wait a minute.  Back up.  You just
said I'm dreaming about his past?  Finding things out
he doesn't want me to know?"

Angel nodded.  "You're not going crazy."

She stood, pacing the floor in front of the couch,
dark hair swinging around her shoulders.  "The things
I'm dreaming, they've really happened?"

Angel nodded again.

"Oh god.  Oh god.  How is he still...?  I mean, he's
been through so much.  I called him evil!"

"It's okay, Cordelia."

"No, no, no, it's not.  I'm a  bitch!"

"No you're not.  You didn't know, and the stuff you
saw, it scared you."  Angel paused, steepling his
fingers under his chin and watching Cordelia as she
walked the length of the room and back again. 
"Doyle's atoning like I am, he's using his visions to
help people."  He paused.  "We went to the Powers That
Be tonight."

Cordelia paused, midstep.  She turned slowly toward
her vampire friend and raked her fingers through her
hair.  Her voice faltered slightly as she spoke. 
"What'd they say?"

Angel sighed, mirroring her gesture and running his
own hands through his hair.  "Nothing.  Cordelia, I'm
sorry.  We don't know how to fix this."

A short, strained burst of laughter escaped Cordelia's
lips.  She shrugged, moving to the chair she'd hung
her coat on and placing it over her shoulder.  "I'll
deal," she said with false cheerfulness.  "I mean, how
long could Doyle's past be?"

Continued in Part III