Title: The Far Side of Dark
Author: Ellen
E-mail: ellen@eclecticon.net
Rating: PG
Status: Complete (three chapters)
Spoilers: Through BtVS "Hush" and Angel "Parting Gift"
Comments: Willow/Doyle/Cordelia plot, no sex.  It may not be so easy 
for Doyle to go home again.
Usual Disclaimer: I don't own any of these people. If I did, this is 
what I'd be doing. All characters belong to Joss Whedon,
Mutant Enemy Productions, Warner Brothers and/or Twentieth Century Fox, 
including Doyle...but since you don't want him any more, may I please 
have him?


Chapter One

----
TARA
----

Willow said, "Don't you think that we should practice working together 
a little before we try to change Amy back? I mean, that's not the kind 
of thing we want to mess up. We could end up turning her into something 
worse than a rat."

"I think we'll do just fine, but sure, I'd be glad to do a few practice 
runs with you. What doyou have in mind?"

"Well, I've got this great idea for a spell that should be, like, 
totally safe."

"Safe?"

"I tend to get serious weirdness when I do rituals by myself," she 
admitted sheepishly. "I want to try something that won't end up with 
anybody getting hurt or going blind or getting married or anything 
horrible like that."

I laughed. "OK, no problem. What's your idea?"

"Well, Xander's girlfriend Anya taught me this summoning ritual once. 
Actually she didn't intend to teach me, she was only using me to do it, 
but I learned it anyhow. It was to retrieve something that somebody 
really wants, and it did get messed up actually, because some stuff 
fell on my hand while we were doing it, but you and I can make sure 
that doesn't happen, right? Anyway, it was intended to fetch an object, 
and I guess as long as the object isn't, like, a bomb or something, it 
should be pretty safe."

"Let's go for it, then. What kind of object do you want to retrieve?"

"Well, it probably shouldn't be something that I want. I got a little 
burned the last time I did a ritual about getting my own will done, so 
I think I need to let go of the my-own-will thing here. I try to learn 
from my mistakes, you know. Is there something safe that you'd like 
fetched from someplace?"

"Hmmm. I can't think of any object that I particularly want, and I 
agree with you about not doing ritual for personal gain. Tends to mess 
up the energies. So, I don't really want to think of one, either."

Suddenly Willow's face lit up. "I know! There's one way I can be sure 
that we're retrieving something totally harmless. Something nice and 
expensive and completely safe. Let's go for whatever it is that 
Cordelia Chase wants most at this moment. Guaranteed, it will be
whatever is most fashionable in L.A. right now. Then I can send it to 
her 'cause I kind of owe her one."

"Who's Cordelia Chase?"

"Cordy is like the ultimate material girl. I went to high school with 
her but she lives in L.A. now. All she ever cared about was how she 
looked. You couldn't get a dangerous wish out of her if you tried. 
Well, maybe you could," Willow amended, "but only if Xander was 
involved, and he's with Anya now, which is mostly because of me, which 
really bites, but that's why I sort of owe Cordelia a favor."

"Well, I can't say that I really got all of that, but whatever. Sure. 
We'll go for whatever Cordelia Chase wants most at the moment. That 
sounds pretty unselfish, so it should be okay. Do you have a picture of 
Cordelia? That should help the focus on getting what she wants."

"In the yearbook, sure." Willow rummaged through her things until she 
found her high school yearbook and showed me the picture.

"Pretty," I commented. "I bet she always gets everything she wants."

"Well, she did up until last year. Then things kind of fell apart."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, like the falling down stairs and getting impaled, breaking up 
with her boyfriend, family losing all her money kind of falling apart. 
Like I said, I kind of owe her one."

"Okay, I'm cool with that."

"Anyhow, the last time we did this, what we brought back - well, it 
ended up being who, actually - showed up in another part of town. I 
don't want that to happen this time, so if you'll help me tighten 
things up a bit, I want to make sure that whatever we retrieve shows
up right here in the circle."

"Gotcha. I can handle that."

Willow and I went over Anya's ritual a couple of times, to make sure 
that we had it right, and that nothing would spill this time to divert 
the spell. Between the two of us, we already had everything we needed. 
Everything seemed to check out.

"Ready?"

"Ready."

We began.

As we both focused on whatever Cordelia Chase wanted most, and I felt 
the energies begin to move, things started to get really interesting. I 
felt another energy being drawn into our circle, one that I didn't 
recognize. It felt powerful, but benign. I'm pretty good at sensing
the bad stuff, and this one felt strongly like it was a benevolent 
energy, so I just went with it.

In the center of our circle, an area of light began to grow. It grew 
larger than I expected, and I saw Willow's eyes widen a bit, too. 
Whatever Cordelia most wanted, it was larger than a piece of jewelry. 
Maybe a dress? No, bigger even than that.

Then as the light intensified, a human figure began to form. Willow 
started to frown, like she wanted to stop, but I shook my head. If 
there was a person in the circle, we couldn't stop in the middle. 
Stopping during the ritual might kill whoever it was, so we had to 
finish.

Maybe Willow was wrong about this Cordelia person.

The light became so strong that I could barely see, and then, abruptly, 
we were finished. Lying on the floor between us, apparently 
unconscious, was.... a guy in charred underwear?

Willow and I exchanged stunned glances.

"This is what Cordelia wanted most? I guess she's changed some," Willow 
mused. "Looks like I've done it again, huh?"

As the man on the floor stirred and moaned, Willow looked at him and 
then shot me a philosophical-looking grin. "Oh well, if I had to mess 
things up yet again, at least Cordy seems to have developed some good 
taste."

"I don't think you'll be sending her this package anytime soon, 
though," I pointed out, smiling.

"Uhhhh..." The guy in singed underwear --- who was really cute, by the 
way, despite the smell of burning clothes --- tried to sit up, put his 
hands on his head, and winced. 

"Gently," I warned. Willow and I each took an arm, and helped him sit 
up.

"Not to be obvious or anything, but where am I?" he muttered in a 
lovely voice that reminded me of my Irish relatives.

"It's okay. You're safe. You're in Sunnydale," Willow reassured him.

"Sunnydale?" He looked up at each of us, flinching as he moved. "Oh, 
that's sweet. Now I'm in the bleedin' Hellmouth? That's safe? Well, 
compared to the alternative, I suppose."

"How do you know about the Hellmouth? Who are you?"

He tried to smile, which was a fairly creditable effort given that he 
was grimacing with pain at the same time. "My name's Doyle, although I 
would think you might know that, since you've brought me here 
somehow." He looked around pointedly at the ritual paraphernalia which
surrounded us. "And if you've brought me from where I was headin' at 
the time, well, it looks like you ought to know what you're doin'."

"My name's Tara. Sorry for the inconvenience," I began.

Willow looked thoughtful. "Doyle. Where have I heard that name before? 
Oh yeah, the guy who works for Angel in L.A.?" She gave him another 
long, appraising look. "Well, Cordy must have done some growing up."

"Cordy? Who are you and how do you know Cordelia, and what does she 
have to do with this?" He gestured at the circle and then went, 
"Ouch," at his own movement.

I explained, "We were actually trying to retrieve an object, not a 
person. I guess when Willow thought that her old friend only wanted 
material things, maybe she misjudged her."

"Huh? Willow, eh? I've heard of you." He rubbed his forehead, then 
looked down at himself, apparently realized that he was wearing only 
some half-burned underwear, and winced again. "What? Pardon me for 
seemin' a little dim here, but seein' as I was just about to turn
into a large ball of fire, well, let me be a little slow on the uptake 
for awhile, okay?"

Willow looked at me, with a shocked expression. "About to turn into a 
ball of fire? You mean, we, like, saved you or something? Wow. Maybe I 
didn't mess up this one after all."

"Well, if keeping me from fryin' wasn't what this deal here was goin' 
for, then what was it? Because I'm not exactly accustomed to showin' up 
half-naked and smellin' like something that was in the oven too long in 
the middle of somebody's circle, you know."

I laughed. "Well, if you were about to get fried, I'm glad we happened 
to snag you. Willow and I were going for whatever it was that Cordelia 
happened to want most at this particular moment. We had no idea it was 
going to be you."

He stared at me for a long moment, almost stunned. "Say again?"

Willow confirmed, "Yeah, we were trying to retrieve whatever it was 
Cordelia wanted most. We figured it would be, like, designer boots or 
something."

"And instead you got me, eh? Now that's .... different."

"Was your building burning down or something? Because maybe we should 
be letting someone know that you're here, and safe."

"Something like that," Doyle muttered. "Give me a few minutes here. 
It's kind of hard to think with someone still hammerin' on the inside 
of m'head."

"Okay." I couldn't help smiling. Wilow was right, this Cordelia seemed 
to have decent taste in men.

"Well, even if it was by accident, it looks like you two saved my life. 
I didn't think I'd ever have the dubious pleasure of a headache again, 
so I had better thank both of you."

"Luckiest mistake I've made in a long time," Willow said. Her smile was 
beaming with accomplishment. "In fact, maybe I should be thanking you, 
instead. This kind of makes up for some of the things I've screwed up 
lately. This time, I actually did something right, for a change."

"You and me both, then. Now, I don't suppose either of you ladies have 
any clothes that a guy could wear in public, do ye?"

"We'll try to come up with something. Should we call Cordelia and Angel 
right away, tell them you're safe?"

"No, I'd rather go to L.A. myself and surprise them. After m'head stops 
pounding out a tune on m'stomach, that is.... what was it you said you 
were goin' for, again?"

I repeated, gently, "Whatever Cordelia wanted most."

"And that was me? Well. Who'd have thought it?"

"Well, we didn't know that you were, like, in the middle of getting 
killed," Willow pointed out. 

"That could have something to do with it," Doyle agreed.

"When was it that whatever happened, happened? Because time tends to 
get kind of messed up with these things."

"Oww. It was... not too long after Thanksgiving, I think. I'm still a 
bit off my stride here."

Willow and I looked at each other. "Well, then it's been at least a 
couple of weeks," Willow said. "Funny I hadn't heard anything about it, 
but then again, we haven't really kept in touch with Angel and Cordelia 
much. You might want to think twice about the surprising-them bit."

"I'd agree there," I put in. "You wouldn't want to give this Cordelia a 
heart attack, would you?"

"Well, I suppose it depends what kind." He started to smile, a smile 
that glowed with mischief, while Willow and I exchanged glances again. 

"I don't think I'd mind at all finding out what she really thinks of 
me.... before she knows I'm still alive, that is. But first, I'd
better put some clothes on."



Chapter 2

-----
DOYLE
-----

I couldn't remember when I'd ever felt so free.

For the moment, at least, all the scores were settled, all the books 
were balanced. I knew it couldn't last, but for now, I could look in a 
mirror without hating what I saw. I could go anywhere I wanted, do 
anything I chose. I was on the other side of redemption and, man, it
felt good.

Of course, I knew exactly where I'd be going, soon enough.... to a girl 
who somehow wanted me back. I couldn't leave her grieving for me any 
longer. It wasn't fair to her. I knew that. It was important that I get 
back to Cordelia and Angel. I just hadn't quite figured out yet how to 
tell them that I'm still among the living.

So I took my time getting back to L.A., back to the old life, because I 
knew I'd never have a time like this again, when I was outside all the 
little boxes in the world.


------
WILLOW
------

He wasn't back yet. Where was he? 

It took me a day or two to come up with a pretext to call Angel and 
Cordelia, but finally I did. It was ridiculously easy, once I got over 
the pride bit. You know, not wanting to let Cordelia know that Oz had 
left me.

I would just ask them if they had seen Oz, and then I would see if I 
could find out what else was going on.

It wasn't going to be easy, but I couldn't stand not knowing.

"Angel Investigations." The voice was flat.

"Cordelia?"

"Yes, who is this?"

"Hi, it's Willow."

"Oh. Willow. What do you want?"

"I won't keep you too long, Cordelia. I was just wondering if Oz had 
stopped by there to visit over the last couple of weeks."

"He hasn't been here since he brought the ring. Wolf-boy go off the 
leash?"

"Well, yeah."

"Too bad. Anything else I can do for you?"

I had never heard Cordelia so down, even after the fluke with Xander. 
Back then, she had showed only anger. Everyone knew she was hurting, 
but there was no way that she was ever going to admit it.

Now, it was like she didn't care any more. She didn't even take the 
opportunity to gloat that Oz was gone.

Cordelia not gloating, especially where I'm concerned, is a very, very 
bad sign. For her, not rubbing it in was like giving up on life.

Still not sure exactly what I was going to say, I asked to say hello to 
Angel.


-----
ANGEL
-----

Willow was never very good at keeping secrets. I could tell as soon as 
I got on the phone with her that she knew something she was afraid to 
tell.

"Yes, Willow?"

"Hi. I, uh, called for a couple of reasons. First, I was wondering if 
Oz has come by lately?"

"No, he hasn't. If that means you two are having problems, I'm sorry."

"Yeah, mega-wolfy-runaway problems. Just let me know if you see him, 
OK?"

"Got it. Anything else I can do for you?"

"Well, this is going to be a weird question."

"I'm used to weird questions, Willow. What is it?"

"Can you tell me about your friend Doyle?"

"Why are you asking? I don't think you two ever met. What do you want 
to know?"

"Well, um, he's, um, ah....."

"Dead. You can say the word, Willow. He's dead. What else do you want 
to know about him?"

"Is that why Cordelia is....."

"Yes, that's why Cordelia is. Is there some point to this conversation, 
Willow?"

"Well, there could be. I don't think I can do this over the phone 
though. Can I come out there on Saturday?"

"You're always welcome here, Willow, but whatever it is about Doyle...
Cordelia's hurting enough right now. I know that you two don't like 
each other much, but I've never known you to hurt anyone deliberately. 
Whatever you want to say, think about it carefully."

"I am. See you Saturday, and, Angel?"

"Yes?"

"Please don't tell Cordelia that I'm coming out there. I want to meet 
with you alone."

"All right."

I hung up the phone, replaying the conversation in my mind. Whatever 
Willow wanted to say, she obviously believed it was important enough to 
make the trip out to L.A. in person to see me. What could Willow, who 
had never even met Doyle, have to tell me about him that could be so 
urgent, now that he was dead?


-----
DOYLE
-----

Too many days already. I knew that. I should have been back days ago.
So many good places to have fun between Sunnydale and L.A. So many 
places to party. So many places to... hide.

Admit it to yourself, man. You're not just running free. You're running 
scared.

You're scared to see her again.



Chapter 3

------
WILLOW
------

I took the bus to L.A. on Saturday. It's a very long ride. It gave me 
too much time to think.

I know it wasn't my place to tell Angel if Doyle didn't want him to 
know that he was still alive. That was Doyle's business, not mine.

But what if Doyle was in trouble somewhere between Sunnydale and L.A.? 
Angel couldn't go looking for him if he didn't know that he was alive.

But what if Doyle didn't want to be found?

I shouldn't be interfering, but I already had interfered, when I 
brought him back. So I was already in the middle of this, whether I 
liked it or not.

What was the right thing to do? I was on my way because I knew I had to 
tell Angel, but that didn't mean I was going to stop agonizing over it.

I would do what had to be done, but I knew that hearing it from me, 
instead of Doyle, was going to hurt.

It might hurt Angel just as much as it would hurt Cordelia. He was just 
a little better at handling pain, that was all.

But that didn't mean I wanted to be the one to do the hurting.

I had been so pleased with myself when I brought Doyle back. It was 
going to make Cordelia so happy.

Besides, the man was awfully good to look at, and had the most 
marvelous smile, and it just felt good to know that he was alive 
because of me.

How had it all gone wrong?

Where was he?

What had happened to him?


-----
DOYLE
-----

It had been almost a week, and with every day, it got harder and harder 
to keep moving in the same direction.

You know that old story about the freed slaves from Egypt wandering 
around in the desert for forty years on a trip that should have taken, 
what, a couple of weeks? 

I was free, I was heading toward my Promised Land, and I kept taking 
detours along the way.

Being the coward that I still am (and I thought I had left that behind 
when I died), I went to my apartment first. The door wasn't even 
locked. It had been stripped bare, not that there was anything there 
worth much to begin with. 

Well, at least I hadn't barged in on some new tenants and gotten them 
out of bed. Things could've been worse.

Then again, they had already been worse. You can't get much worse than 
being dead.

They would never forgive me for not coming straight back.

I had actually gone ahead and died to be free of my guilt, and now here 
I was, alive and well and guilty again.

Can't win for losin', I guess.... even when you get a miracle.

It takes real talent to blow a miracle this big. Then again, when it 
came to screwing things up, well, I was always a major talent in that 
department.

Back from the dead as a hero, and stil a loser in life.


-----
ANGEL
-----

Willow was obviously nervous when she came in. She looked around, as if 
I wouldn't notice her surreptitious glances.

"Cordelia's not here at the moment, Willow, but she does stop by a lot 
on the weekends. Being here kind of reminds her of Doyle, and that's a 
comfort to her sometimes."

She nodded, and sat down awkwardly on the couch.

With a sigh, she said, "I just don't know how to tell you this. I 
shouldn't have to be the one to tell you. He should be the one to tell 
you. It's really not fair, you know?"

"Tell me what, Willow?" It was fortunate that I had many years of 
experience in being patient.

"He should be the one to tell you," she repeated stubbornly, staring 
down at her feet.

"If you mean Doyle, Willow, he won't be telling anybody anything, ever 
again. So what is this about?"

She took a deep breath, and finally blurted out: "He isn't dead."

"Willow, I saw him die. It's not like you to be cruel."

"I'm trying not to be cruel. He had no right to put me in this 
position, you know?"

"What are you talking about, Willow?"

"I brought him back. By accident. Tara and I were doing the spell that 
Anya used, you know, the one that brought back the vampire me?"

"I remember. Why would you be trying to bring her back again?"

"We weren't. We were just practicing, and for practice I said, 'Let's 
bring back whatever Cordelia wants most right now.' I figured, you 
know, it would be something with a price tag on it. It was only for 
practice, so Tara and I could learn to work together."

It was fortunate that I didn't need to breathe.

"What are you saying, Willow?"

"We brought back Doyle. He's alive. But that was almost a week ago, 
Angel. He was supposed to be coming here, so where is he?"

She twisted her hands miserably, with a piteous expression on her face.

"I didn't want to be the one to tell you. It should have been him. But 
I thought, maybe he got hurt or in trouble on his way here. But then 
again, maybe he just wasn't ready to come back and it wasn't any of my 
business. But then I thought, it is my business because we brought
him back. But then, I thought -"

"Willow, please shut up."

She did.

I paced back and forth for a few minutes, trying to work this through.

"The first thing is, you were right. Cordelia must not know, not until 
we have him here, alive.

If he was brought back and then got killed again... well, she wouldn't 
survive it."

Willow nodded. "I kind-of got that feeling."

"There are a lot of places to cover between Sunnydale and L.A.," I 
said, thinking out loud.

"Even I can't get to every place where he might have run into trouble, 
not anytime soon. And I don't want to leave Cordelia for more than a 
day or so."

"Would you want me to stay with her?"

"No offense, Willow, but she doesn't like you. I wouldn't ask Buffy 
either." I laughed shortly. "Wesley would be only too glad to stay with 
her, but she sees him as Doyle's replacement here, and she can't stand 
that."

"So, what do we do?"

She was looking at me with such trust, as though I would have the 
answer. "I don't have any answers, Willow. I never really did."


-----
DOYLE
-----

I waited around Cordelia's building for what seemed like hours, hoping 
to catch a glimpse of her, but no luck. I kept telling myself to go 
knock on her door, but I couldn't bring myself to do it.

Once I knocked on the door, it would be over. Even if Cordelia was out, 
Dennis the ghost would recognize me and tell her. Sooner or later she 
would find out that I had been back for days before I let her know, and 
then I wouldn't be the hero any more.

Finally I got up the nerve. Walking toward her door, well.... it felt 
worse than getting burned up by that Scourge thing, and I couldn't have 
believed that there could be anything left in this universe that felt 
worse than that.

The difference was, when I was feeling that pain, I was dying a hero, 
and that made it bearable.

This was the pain of a coward, this time.

Down the hall, raise the hand, knock on the door. Yes, that next step 
was, knock on the door.

It's not that difficult really. You see, there's this hand - it's the 
thing at the end of your arm, and it has fingers, and a thumb. There's 
this door - it's a big piece of wood, right there in front of you. You 
bring the hand and the door together, yup, not too hard, anybody can do
it.

Anybody but me.

Suddenly the door in front of me seemed to ripple, and I saw the face 
of Dennis the ghost for a moment. Then the door swung open, and I knew 
that he had opened it for me.

"Thanks, Dennis," I whispered. "I think."

I could hear soft voices coming from the back of the apartment. Did she 
have somebody there, then? No, would Dennis have opened the door for me 
if she did?

My hands felt as cold as the dead thing I should have been. Damn, even 
Angel's undead hands must be warmer than this.

One foot after the other. You're getting closer now. Keep moving. If 
you stop, you may never start moving again.

I was almost at the door of the room by the time I recognized what I 
was hearing. Damn that stupid commercial, anyway.

How many more times had she played that videotape when I was already 
back, and alive, and could have taken away her pain?

She had her back to the door, facing her television. She wasn't crying, 
not this moment, anyway. She hit the pause button, and I saw my own 
foolish-looking face, past her shoulder, frozen on the screen.

She started to speak to the image on the TV, and the coward with the 
same face just stood there behind her, hiding in the shadows, and 
listened.


--------
CORDELIA
--------

"I'm such a fool," I said to the still face on the television screen, 
as I had said so many times before.

"I'm so sorry, Doyle. You saved my life, and you were too scared to ask 
me out to dinner. You made me laugh, and you almost made me love. No, 
you did make me love. Why should that be so hard to say, even when 
you're gone?"

I sighed into a silence which seemed full of his presence.

"You would have forgiven me everything, all the vicious things I said, 
because that was just the kind of man you were," I whispered. "You 
noticed everything. You really cared. I could have had everything. I 
could have had a real hero. And I was too afraid."

"So was I," said the voice I had been hearing in my dreams for so long.

I straightened in my chair. I wasn't sure where the voice was coming 
from. I was afraid to look.

"D-Doyle?"

"I was afraid too, princess. Then and now. I was as scared as you were. 
More, maybe."

I started to turn, and then froze. "If I turn around, will that make 
you go away? Please don't go away."

"I'm finished running away now, Cordelia. No more running. No more."

His voice broke, sounding closer than a dream, more real than anything 
I had imagined.

And then I couldn't help it, I had to turn around, even if turning 
around would make him disappear.

And he was there.

He was real.

"Oh, God, Doyle. Oh, my God."


-----
ANGEL
-----

"You're never going to tell her, are you?"

The man I had mourned stood before me now, alive. How could I not do 
this one small favor for him?

"I won't tell her. Willow won't tell her. But when you're ready, you 
need to tell her yourself."

"Does she ever need to know, man?"

"It's not that she needs to know. It's that you need to tell her."

He was silent for a moment. "Yeah. I get that."

"It's harder, isn't it?"

"What?"

"Living. It's harder than dying, isn't it?"

"Yeah. I guess you'd know, right?"

"I guess I'd know, yes. And now you know it, too. Welcome home, Doyle."