Title: Numb
Author: Amber Anderson
Email: cathycprf@aol.com
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the BtVS characters. They belong to Joss
Whedon, Mutant Enemy, and Fox. If I did own them, I'd treat them much
better than Joss Whedon But, oh well. I'm just having fun. So don't sue me.
Notes: Cordy's POV on Doyle's death. Feedback is a must! 



"Been a good fight, yeah?" Doyle asked solemnly. "You never know until
you've been tested."

Angel looked at him a moment, breathing deeply, though he didn't need to.

I could only watch helplessly. Angel was going to die in a minute, and
there was nothing I could do about it. I felt the tears already welling 
up in my eyes.

"I get that now." Doyle continued. He sounded so sad. I don't mean sad
like sad his friend was about to die, I mean sad like I'm going to die
myself. But that was nuts. Angel was going to do it, not Doyle. I kept
saying that to myself silently.

Suddenly Doyle swiftly did a right jab to Angel's face, knocking him off
the platform. I stared at him in shock.

He turned around quickly, and walked to me purposefully. He grabbed me
without saying anything, and kissed me fiercely. He pulled away, and I
looked at him, hurriedly trying to read his face. My eyes opened wide, 
and my mouth opened and closed involuntarily, a delayed reaction to that
wonderful kiss.

His eyes were so sad. "Too bad we'll never know," he tranformed to his
prickly demon face; "If this is the face you could learn to love."

He turned to the glowing box.

Below us, Angel rolled off the ground and said hoarsely, "Doyle." Again,
stronger as he came to his bearings, "Doyle."

I stared at Doyle's face in mingled horror and amazement. In a few
seconds I was never going to see him again.

A full-blown shout from Angel. "Doyle!!" I heard him climb the ladder,
but my eyes were on Doyle. For the first time in my life, I was speechless.

As Angel climbed, he yelled again, "Doyle! No!!"

But Doyle had already jumped.

"No!" Angel repeated, coming up beside me. I ignored him, staring at
Doyle numbly.

I gasped "No. No." softly.

Doyle grabbed onto the railing and clinged to it tightly.

"No!" Angel shouted, but it's useless. It's too late. As that thought
reached my brain, I began to hyperventilate.

Time stopped. Everything happened in slow motion, Angel yelling "No,
Doyle! No!", Doyle sacrificing himself so that we could live, even him
kissing me seemed unreal.

I only knew that Doyle was dying, and there was nothing I could do about
it.

He gave us one last look, then he struggled to unplug the deadly box.

He managed to unplug the box, gave one heartwrenching scream, then
disappeared.

Doyle was dead.

I stared at the box where he used to be for an eternity. I was never
going to see him again. Then I let the tears come. I collapsed into Angel's
arms, sobbing into his shirt.

But it wasn't just because Doyle was dead.

It wasn't even that I felt like I was dying myself.

What I realized in that instant before the kiss ended, and Doyle jumped
to his death, was this.

I loved him.

I had loved him since he'd told me about that fabulous apartment.

But I'd been too stupid, and superficial, to realize this until it was
too late.

For Doyle was dead.

He wasn't going to magically drop back into my life like Angel had into
Buffy's.

So I cried, and sobbed, and wanted to die, for my missed chance.

I forced myself to go numb.

Maybe being numb would make the pain go away. . .


The End