A/N This is a 'Doyle lives' full rewrite of season 2 of Angel the Series. It follows on from my season one rewrite - however I can't get the link to work - but if you haven't read it and are interested in doing so, it will be listed on my profile page - just click on my user name.

Obviously season 2 will make much more sense if you have read the first season. If you're new to the fic and can't face wading through 56 chapters and 150 000 words just to get back to this point; then some important episodes from S1, which will familiarise you to this AU and which include important canonical divergence that will have a lasting effect through season 2 are: The prologue chapters, Hero, The Prodigal, The Ring, Blind Date and To Shanshu in L.A - at least give those ones a quick skim read.

This is a complete rewrite - all 22 episodes are covered, and each episode is split into 4 parts - following the 4 act structure of the story. Each story will be posted over four days, to keep the flow going. I try to post an episode a week - so it can be quite fast paced. As with Canon, season 2 is very serialised (even more so than season 1) - with important elements of the story arc appearing and developing in even the MOTW episodes, so it is important to read every chapter as otherwise lots of things will not make sense!

Obviously, the main canonical divergence is that Doyle is still very much alive and so he has the visions. Therefore he is the catalyst for all the other changes and the lynch pin for all other character/ story divergence. As such, he probably gets the most page time. HOWEVER this is still very much 'Angel' the series and not 'Doyle' the series. It is an ensemble piece and follows the POV of all the major characters, including the baddies. Doyle has not been allowed to steal anyone's lines or important actions (visions aside!) so all characters get fully developed and explored (including the now visionless Cordelia), no one has their best scenes stolen! Hopefully this means that it doesn't matter who you're favourite member of the fang gang is - there will be something in this fic for you to enjoy.

The main pairing in this story (such as it is) is Doyle/ Cordelia... however if you look very closely in the later episodes you will start to see the first glimmers of CAngel... on one side at least.

That's quite enough yammering on from me so I'll shut up now and let you get on with it... I assume I don't need to tell you that I'm not Joss Whedon and I don't own any of this? Well I'm not and I don't. Enjoy! : )

"Bottom Line is, even if you see 'em coming, you're not ready for the big moments. No one asks for their life to change, not really. But it does. So what are we, helpless? Puppets? No. The big moments are gonna come. you can't help that. It's what you do afterwards that counts. That's when you find out who you are."

- Whistler, Becoming pt 1

What You do Afterwards - Season 2

Judgement

Part One

The green skinned demon stood up, it's red eyes seemed to glow. It's two horns gave it an air reminiscent of Satan himself. Perhaps this was a demon that you shouldn't cross. He looked out at the crowd in front of him - time to do some damage. He raised his microphone to his mouth and began to sing: 'At first I was afraid, I was petrified…'

'Don't worry honey, we can sort this!' Cordelia said, soothingly, to the worried man stood in front of her.

'My big meeting's in half an hour and I've got tabasco sauce down my front!' her boyfriend told her, holding his soiled shirt out towards her, disbelieving that there could be any possible solution.

'I've got 'Stain Be Gone'!' she told him, waving the bottle in his face. 'Here, you just pour it on, rub it in and ...poof!'

They stopped for a moment, a runner handed Cordelia a brand new shirt. 'Take it from 'and ...poof!' the director told her. She pretended to rub the cleaning fluid into the new shirt. 'And...Poof! The stain is gone.'

'That's great! I'll be able to make my meeting after all,' her boyfriend grinned. He buttoned up his shirt and turned to the camera to show off his pristine, white top; and someone off screen read out the voice over lines, whilst Cordelia and her onscreen boyfriend smiled down the lens. 'And...cut.' Yelled the director. The two actors dropped their smiles and Cordelia wandered off the set, away from the heat of the lights. The pager in her pocket began to beep and she checked it. '911'. It was from Angel. 'Hey are we done here?' she asked the director. 'I gotta go… duty calls...'

Doyle glanced around the table at the various demons that were sitting there. None of them were giving anything away, but then neither was he. The kittens that were acting as chips sat in the basket in the middle of the table, mewling. It was time to show his hand… he threw it down, triumphantly: Aces high, royal flush - no one was beating that. The tiny tabbies were his. The bigger demons, who had just lost out, began to complain. 'You cheated, half breed,' a big, scaly looking fella growled at him. 'I cheated?' Doyle protested in outrage. 'You've got x-ray vision!'

'I'm not using it.'

'Well, you would say that.'

'Are you calling me a liar?' The scaly demon kicked his chair backwards and stood up, glowering down at the small Irishman from his great height. Doyle's pager went off, he broke eye contact to check it. '911'. It was from Angel. 'Well, I'd love to stay and discuss this with y' further, bud, but my vampire boss needs me. You know my boss, yeah?' Scales sat back down… he knew of Angel, alright. 'Can I come back and collect the kitties later?' Doyle asked the dealer. 'I've got an emergency.' He did a quick head count of the small felines. 'But I know there's eight of them, yeah, no short changing me.' And he left the dark poker den and strolled out into the sunlight.

Wesley was at the British theme pub, having a game of darts with two other men. He was winning, of course, and his success had attracted the attention of a pretty, young blonde woman who was watching him, admiringly. 'Sorry lads,' he apologised as he threw his last dart, finalising his win, 'I'll give you a rematch.' His pager beeped and he stopped to check it. '911'. It was from Angel. 'But it'll have to be another time.' He picked up the wad of cash he had just won, from the table, and gave the attractive blonde one last smile. As he looked into her eyes, he threw his dart towards the board without looking, expecting it to hit the bullseye. It hit one of his opponents in his neck; the man began to choke. 'Right, well, I'll be off.' He scurried out of the bar and drove away.

The Angelmobile pulled up outside of a large gym, and the four team members poured out of it, weapons in hand. As they marched inside, an attendant looked up: 'Can I help you?' he asked, but team Angel never broke stride and continued to advance inside the gym. The attendant ran after them. 'I'm sorry, this club is for members and their guests, only.'

'Yeah well, I'm thinking of joining,' Angel told him. He led his employees into the weight room, the gym worker complaining behind them all the way. 'Is this really the right place?' Cordelia wanted to know.

'It does seem a tad public for a praetorian sacrifice', Wesley agreed.

'The quadrants match,' the vampire told them, 'it's a Carnyss demon. They love muscles and mirrors.'

'Well this place certainly fits that bill.' Doyle looked around at all the sweating, glistening, muscular men that were pumping iron around the room. He tried not to feel inadequate, reminding himself that exercise only ever made him miserable. The four of them came to a stop in front of a bank of shining mirrors. 'Hey guys, I'm not fooling around. I will call the pol…' the attendant trailed off when he noticed that, although four people stood in front of him, only three of them were reflected back in the mirror. The big one, with the swirly coat and the caveman brow, cast no reflection.

'Huh..no reflection,' Angel said, 'I'll fix that.' He swung his axe at the mirror and the shards of glass crumbled down, revealing a red robed human and a demon hidden behind it. The demon was holding a sword high, ready to plunge it downwards into the bodies of two bound and gagged human sacrifices. Angel vamped out: 'stop that.'

The human charged at him, but the vampire easily tossed him aside, throwing him towards Wesley. Angel then launched at the Carnyss demon, using his axe to deflect the swings of the sword. Doyle ducked between the two sparring couples and made his way to the side of the sacrifices. 'No need to worry, we'll get you outta here,' he told them, getting out a switchblade and flicking it open. He began to cut through their ropes.

The red robed human threw a punch at Wesley, which he ducked. As he came back up, his assailant was leading in with his other arm. The watcher ducked again. Then he hit the human with a right cross and, as his opponent doubled up, kneed him in the stomach. The human dropped to the floor. Cordelia dropped a round weight onto his head, knocking him out. Just as the two of them dispatched their own adversary, Angel managed to grab the sword from the Carnyss and stabbed him through the gut. Doyle had cut the bonds of the two sacrifices, and they were pulling the gags from off their mouths. 'You'll be OK, now,' the Irishman was saying to them, 'just stay away from guys with horns in future, yeah?'

The two sacrifices staggered out, into the weight room, and the small family of demon hunters followed after them. The gym attendant just stared in open mouthed horror '...that guy had horns…' he gasped.

'Steroids,' Angel told him, 'not good for you.'

The team were back at the office, but only Wesley was working; sitting behind Cordelia's desk, massive, ancient textbook in hand, he was in research heaven. There was a big whiteboard displayed over near the coffee maker. It was split into four columns: 'cases', 'leads', 'progress' and 'status' and various demons were listed, many of whom had 'status: killed, case closed' written in the final column. The team had been busy over the summer, they just weren't right now.

Doyle was lying out on the green sofa, his shoes off, reading the paper. Cordelia was sat next to him and his feet were resting in her lap. She was ostensibly reading a magazine. The two of them still weren't together. He still owed her all the 'Stain Be Gone' money she had lent him to pay off his creditors, earlier in the year; but there was a closeness between them that had only intensified since Voca had driven Doyle mad with the visions, on his birthday, and anyone who saw them together could plainly see how they both felt. Cordelia sighed, and put down her magazine. Doyle didn't look up. She ran a finger along the sole of his left foot, making him jump. 'You want somethin', darlin'?'

'No...I'm just bored ...what's your paper say?' The half demon began to read his paper out loud to her.

Angel was stood in the doorway of the two offices, fiddling with his 'No 1 boss' mug. It irked him that he had had to buy it for himself, sometimes he felt like his employees just didn't appreciate him enough.

'I'm beginning to think it was a sloth demon,' Wesley announced to the room. The three others all stopped what they were doing and looked up. 'Sloth demons don't sacrifice adolescents, Wesley,' Cordelia told him, 'it was the Carnyss, you I.D'd it.'

'No I don't mean the one we killed last night, I mean the one we…'

'That was a nice gym,' Angel interrupted, turning his mug over in his hands as he thought about it.

'...Incinerated a month ago,' Wesley continued, as if there had been no interruption. 'I think that's what Wolfram and Hart raised in that box whilst Angel was fighting Voca.'

'The thing about a gym…' Angel continued, talking to the room at large, 'is that you're never alone. You've got people around. That encourages you to work out, right? Doyle?'

'Don't look at me man, gyms are just not my style. There's something about them ...I can't put my finger on it.'

'Besides,' Cordelia pointed out, 'you don't have to work out, you're eternal… though chicken little, here, might benefit from membership.' She reached out and squished Doyle's underdeveloped bicep. 'Hey!' he protested.

'I might not always be,' Angel replied, 'eternal, I mean.' But Cordelia just shook her head; trying to shut down the gym conversation, she turned back to Wesley. 'I'm telling you, it was the Vartite monster. It took two days to kill that thing - and Doyle hasn't been walking right ever since!'

'Things got crushed,' Doyle chipped in, 'very bad things...I'm not sure I can have children now.'

'It's got Wolfram and Hart all over it,' Cordelia finished, patting Doyle's leg, comfortingly, as he reflected sorrowfully on his injuries. But Angel wasn't deterred from his gym musings. 'You got your steam. You got your sauna. You got fresh towels. I mean, how bad could it be?'

'You shower with a lot of men,' Cordelia told him, bluntly.

'Oh, that would be the thing I couldn't place!' Doyle said. 'That's why I don't like gyms ...I don't do public nudity.'

'Especially not after the Vartite monster finished with you.'

'Hey! I'm good as new, now.'

'Then why do you still limp?' she asked.

'It's psychosomatic.' Their lighthearted sparring was brought to a close when Doyle suddenly went rigid and and scrunched up his face. 'Vision!' the other three members of the team all said in unison, but Doyle only sneezed, turning green and shooting blue spikes out of his face as he did. 'Jus' a sneeze,' he told them, shaking off his demon face, and the team resettled back down, as it seemed that there would be no immediate work for them to tackle after all.

'I'll always be a loner,' Angel said, still brooding over the gym.

'What are we? Figments o' your imagination?' his best friend demanded, before scrunching up his face again. Everyone looked at him expectantly. 'Sneeze,' he said, sneezing and turning green once more, 'followed by vision'. His body seized up and his head slammed into the arm of the couch as he was hit by the images sent from The Powers That Be. Cordelia rubbed the side of his leg, soothingly, as he twitched and fitted on the sofa, his feet spasming where they still lay in her lap. Not that that would make the head splitting migraine cleaving his skull in two any better, but at least he knew she was there for him.

Slowly, he came back round from the vision pain and pulled himself back upright. Cordelia wriggled out from under his legs and went to fetch him some water and aspirin. As she moved, he sat up properly and rubbed his temples, groaning. 'These things are not gettin' any easier,' he said. 'Do y' think the powers are ever gonna let me off the hook?'

'What did you see?' his boss asked him. Cordy sat back down and handed Doyle the water and aspirin, he took them gratefully. 'Thanks, it was a demon, big, ugly thing. Like a massive, furry, grey monster. Nasty lookin'. It had these horns ...I didn't recognise it.' Wesley got up and started writing on the whiteboard 'N.D.U.O,' he said 'nasty demon, unknown origin.'

'Well, there's plenty of that in this town,' Angel commented, 'he'll fit right in.'

Over at Wolfram and Hart, Lilah was on her cell phone, as she walked down the hall towards her office. 'You have every right to review the contract,' she said to the person on the other end of the line. 'I encourage it. We'll talk on Monday. Of course… if you don't sign we'll sue your ass off and kill your children.' She laughed at the stunned silence she got in response 'Only joking, Donald! ...No one wants a lawsuit.' She clicked her cell shut and opened the door to her office. The room was dark inside. Classical music was playing softly. The room was not empty.

Darla hummed along to the music, her eyes closed. She opened them when she heard the door shut, and looked at the tall lawyer who had just entered. 'Chopin,' she told Lilah, 'the prelude, in C minor. So much better than the waltzes.'

'How are you today, Darla?' Lilah asked her, her voice taking on a much more gentle, soothing tone than the one she had used out in the hall on the phone. 'Are you feeling any better? It's a beautiful day outside.' The petite, blonde woman ignored her and just swayed along to the music. 'He had consumption,' she closed her eyes again, 'and died way too soon.' She moved over towards the window and pulled the blinds apart to look out across the city. 'He's here,' she said, in a dreamy sort of voice.

'Chopin?' Lilah was confused, but Darla just shook her head, smiling: 'Angel.'

'Can you feel him?'

'I always could.' She took her fingers away and the blinds snapped back together. 'He killed me,' she said, turning once more to look at Lilah. 'I remember now.' She laughed. 'My boy killed me for her,' her voice had a bitter edge to it now, 'with a soul in his heart.'

'He's taken from both of us,' Lilah told her, raising her prosthetic left hand to show what Angel had taken from her, 'So whenever you feel ready, we'll start thinking about giving a little back.'

'Mmm, Angel' Darla seemed to moan as she said his name. 'It's been a long time. I'd love to see that boy.'

A/N -Lilah's telephone conversation was canonical... do we think the 'Donald' she was speaking to might have been supposed to be Donald Trump?