Title: One Day Part 1 Authors: Samantha McCullah & Stephen Meeker ------------------------------------------------------------------------ One second Cordelia was standing in the basement of the post office next to Angel and the next she had stepped through the portal of white light and into a room akin to an ancient Greek temple. Cordelia fell to the stone floor as waves of dizziness overcame her. She pressed her forehead against the cool stone until it passed. "Angel couldn't have warned me about this?" she muttered, rising to her feet. "What did you bring us?" a soft feminine voice asked, causing Cordelia to look over at the far wall and the two toga-clad, golden beings. "They probably want a shrubbery," Cordelia muttered under her breath, placing her hand in her pocket and pulling out the silver chain and heart. She held it up to the female of the pair. The woman reached her hand out cupping the silver heart gently. "A gift from the heart?" the woman asked; Cordelia nodded trying not to tear up. "It is suitable." "You were always pacified by baubles," the male commented before turning to Cordelia. "What do you want, lower being?" "I wish to plead for a life," she replied, trying to sound as formal as Angel told her to be. "And whose would that be?" the male asked as if he already knew the answer. "Alan Francis Doyle," she replied. "The half-breed?" the woman asked; Cordelia cringed at the use of that term but managed to nod. "He made a willing and noble sacrifice. He is resting comfortably in the Afterworld. Why would you wish to remove him from his rest?" "We--" she thought for a moment, "I need him." "You plead from the heart," the woman stated, her eyes shining. "Pity that is not enough. The powers of life and death are not in our hands," the man replied, waving his hand in a dismissive gesture. "Leave now." "But--" Cordelia began. "Leave, lower being," he ordered. "Before we tire of you." Cordelia closed her eyes tightly, fighting back tears as she felt power wash over her. When next she opened her eyes, she was standing next to Angel again. "Well?" he asked, his voice quiet already knowing the answer. Cordelia shook her head and pressed her face against Angel's chest fighting back sobs. He wrapped his arms around her and gently lead her up the stairs. Meanwhile in the Gateway for Lost Souls, the male being glanced over his shoulder at his counterpart. "Are you coming, Sister?" he asked before walking away from the room. She nodded silently, waiting until he was out of sight and hearing before turning around to face the being that had materialized in the corner. "One day," was all she said before following the male out of the room. Alan Francis Doyle nodded in understanding then disappeared in a flash of white light. Angel and Cordelia drove back to the office in a solemn silence. The wad of Kleenex Cordelia carried grew more and more mutilated as the trip went on. After a short trip that felt like hours, they pulled up at the office. Angel let Cordelia out at the door of the building while he went to park his convertible. She fumbled through her purse while she climbed the front steps. Cordelia finally rescued the door keys from under several tons of gum wrappers and other assorted junk. She jingled the keys slightly as she topped the stairs. "Glad you got the keys. I guess I left mine inside." Cordelia spun to see who spoke to her. The same brown leather jacket. The hair. The accent. It could only be Doyle, who Cordelia distinctly remembered not being alive. "You're not real!" "I feel pretty real," he smirked. "Wanna check?" She fought back hysterical giggles, still not sure if she should believe him. "Doyle?" she whispered. "Hey, Princess," he replied, opening his arms. Against her better instincts, she ran into his embrace. "You were dead," she whispered, running her hands over his back, as if making sure he were actually solid. "Yeah, that's parta the deal. The Powers rethought their position and decided to go with yer idea." "But Angel said the Powers don't usually change their minds," she stated. "Usually, no," he replied. "But you're such a convincin' arguer." "This can't be real," Cordelia denied, looking into his face, still searching for some sign that he wasn't real, that his entire presence was just some horrible, grief induced nightmare, but she still never took her eyes off of him, terrified that if she did close them, she would be right and he would be gone. "I'm real," Doyle stated again. "Very real, in fact." He glanced around suddenly. "Um, Cordy? Can we get inside? Kinda paranoid out here in the open." He met her eyes. "Never know who might be watchin'." Her eyes widened as she thought of the possibility that the Scourge could still be lurking around somewhere. "C'mon," she ordered, grabbing his hand and dragging him up the stairs. She unlocked the door, pushing it open, and led him into the inner office. He set down in on of the chairs and watched her as she busied herself making coffee. "All we have is coffee," she apologized. "Angel got rid of the liquor after you...." She trailed off looking up at him. "You can say it, Princess," Doyle smiled. "Dead. No longer living. Deader than Angel but still with more of a social life." "Still with the same wardrobe designer," she commented, her tone haughty, but the sparkle in her eyes as she looked at him took the edge off the comment. "Hey! Everyone in the Afterworld dresses like this," he smirked, pulling on the lapels of his coat. "Even you some day." "God, no!" Cordelia scoffed, turning from him to check on the coffee. "I would so be wearing Gucci or Versace in Paradise." "Cordelia?" Angel asked, suddenly appearing in the doorway. "Who are you talking to?" "Oh, Doyle," she replied, waving her hands like it was nothing big. "Cordelia, Doyle's dead," Angel reasoned. Just then Doyle maneuvered his chair out from behind Cordelia's blocking form. "Hey, man," Doyle greeted. "Doyle," Angel nodded before turning back to Cordelia. He opened his mouth to continue to try and convince that Doyle was dead when he suddenly realized that the object of conversation was sitting calmly in a chair staring at the vampire. He narrowed his eyes at him, and the half-demon raised his eyebrows in response. "Doyle?" "The one and only," Doyle laughed. "See, I'm not crazy," Cordelia stated, walking over and putting an arm over the back of Doyle's chair.