TITLE: Long Drive Home AUTHOR: Ragna (Obsessive-Compulsive Spike - SpikeGrrl1@aol.com; fourstarmaryfan@yahoo.com) PART OF: Protector Extraordinare SEQUEL TO: Good To Be Alive RATING: PG CLASSIFICATION: Doyle/Buffy friendship, Doyle/Cordy relationship SPOILERS: Uh...I'm setting this way in the future, like a year from now. So all of the newest seasons (BtVS - 4; AtS - 1) DISTRIBUTION: Any sites with my fic up; you all have unspoken permission. I write it, you can post it. Everyone else just keep my name on it and let me know. ARCHIVED AT: http://www.angelfire.com/de/hellmouth/myfic.html DISCLAIMER: If you don't recognize it, chances are it's my own creation. If you do, Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Kazui Sandollar, FOX and the WB own it or them. I'm just holding Spike and Riley hostage. Carolyn's got Xander, May's got Oz & Giles, Cathryn's got Ethan & Wesley, Melissa has Forrest, Shelly has Angel, and Gillian has Doyle. You may see them by appointment only. FEEDBACK: Sorry I'm not home right now I'm walking in the spiderwebs so leave a message and I'll call you back...in other words, I want it. Don't care if it's onlist or not. AUTHOR'S NOTES: A couple of people really liked "Good To Be Alive," so I decide, ::sigh:: new series. But it'll be a short one, I think. I hope. ~*~*~*~*~ It really had just been one cosmic fuck-up. Or at least that was what Doyle believed. It hadn't happened suddenly. He hadn't fallen naked from the sky one instant, like he'd heard Angel had. he hadn't woken up from a coma instantaneously like Faith had. He'd died. He'd been gone months, dead and his ashes scattered all over the hold of that damned ship. And then some funny things had started to happen where he was, in limbo. The Oracles visited, and when the Oracles visited, there were big things in store for whoever it was they had to visit. And they were there, that time at least, to visit Doyle. "You, Francis Allen Doyle, have been chosen," the female Oracle had said. Doyle had looked, wondering if one of the others in limbo, were paying attention. No one was. "Chosen for what?" he asked, looking both of them in the eye. "To help guide the Slayer, to help her live life the way she needs to," the male Oracle said, almost glaring at Doyle. "Which one?" Doyle asked. Even in Limbo, they were able to watch what was going on earth. Most of the time Doyle had watched Cordelia, proud of the way she handled things, they way she grew and blossomed again, even if he wasn't there. But, occasionally, he looked at the other things he knew he should, and he'd seen Buffy and Faith switch bodies, and the havoc that was caused, and then Faith's attempt to kill Angel. That was what scared him, if he'd have to help Faith. "The first of the two Slayers, Buffy," the female oracle said. "Faith has her own help." And then he was gone, and in the outskirts of Los Angeles, his wallet full of money, and the address of Cordy's apartment in his pocket. Like he'd ever forget it. Doyle smiled, while he was driving back to Los Angeles from Sunnydale, about Cordelia's reaction to seeing him. She slammed the door in his face, took a few minutes to regroup and then opened the door to make sure it wasn't a cruel joke. And then she threw herself into his arms, sobbing, kissing all over his face, and she just wouldn't let him go, not even when Angel called and left ten messages asking why she wasn't at work. The ride back from Sunnydale was a long one, and it was those memories that made the ride that much shorter. And there were memories with Buffy, things that she'd shown him...how to use a crossbow, how to match his clothing better (even if Cordelia was helping him with the same thing), and how to talk to Cordelia without babbling like an idiot. Of course, one of the more memorable events was the drinking game they played while watching Rocky Horror Picture show, guzzling Pepsi and ginger ale until their bladders were about to burst. It was a night Buffy had been feeling down, after everyone else had gone out on their dates, and it was just the two of them. "So, what are we going to do? Go on patrol?" Doyle had asked, staring at the Slayer. She seemed depressed, not her normal self. "Riley and I had a fight. So I don't want to patrol...he and that damn Initiative can do it." Doyle nodded, not wanting to pry. "How about a drinking game?" Buffy perked up. "To what?" "What's the strangest movie you own?" Buffy looked around her dorm room. She and Willow had an extensive video collection, one that Willow's boyfriend Percy added to every once in a while. And it was one of his additions she had pulled out. That night had been a riot, and the only thing Doyle had wished was that Cordelia had been there as well. But afterwards, he realized that might just have upset Buffy, being the lonely one there. So it was a good bonding experience for the two of them. Doyle's cell phone rang, dragging him from his thoughts. "Hello?" "Doyle...thanks. For last night." It was Buffy. She called sometimes, just to talk. "No problem. It wasn't all that bad." "Yeah...hey, how close are you to LA?" He looked at the sign coming up. "About 30 miles away." "Hey, there's a little boutique about 10 miles down the road. I'd say get Cordy something. If I remember correctly, tomorrow's her birthday. I know she said she loves the boutique up there." Doyle smiled. He already knew all that, but it was interesting, having Buffy remind him just like any friend would. "All right." "And pick up a gift for Angel and Wesley to give her, just in case they forgot. If they didn't then you give them to her, but put my name on one of them." "Since when did you become great friends with Cordelia?" "Since I started borrowing her boyfriend as my guide." Buffy laughed, a laugh Doyle knew was masking some heavy heartbreak. "Look, we talk occasionally. Is that so wrong?" "No, it's just a sign of the Apocalypse," he quipped. "I'll do what you say, Buffy." "You're my hero," she said sarcastically. "I have to go. Coming back next week?" "You know it," he said before hanging up. Looking at the phone, he dialed the now familiar number. "Hey, Princess," he told the machine that answered instead of Cordelia. "I'll be back soon. I thought maybe you and I could go eat dinner, so don't make anything. I think we should have our own birthday celebration, together." He hung up and made sure to locate the exit to get to the boutique. Cordy was more important to him than anything else, and he wanted to make sure she knew it. And maybe the girl he was sent back to help wanted him to have her know that, too, because she knew what it was like to lose someone important. She'd lost quite a few people. And Doyle swore he wouldn't lose him, not if he could help it.