Title: Fate Fulfilled

Rating: PG-13 (violence)

Summary: Change a decision and you may change the course of history. But do not try to trick fate or negotiate with it; this would be vain endeavour. Another one of those infamous 'what if'-stories, set directly after "Hero" (Season 1/09).

Disclaimer: Thank you Joss Whedon for your awesome characters

Note: My debut, one short story split in two parts. I didn't even bother trying to give Doyle an Irish accent. That would sound pretty silly; I'm not a native speaker. Please just use your imagination.

It's choice – not chance – that determines your destiny. (Jean Nidetch)

# # #

Part I

"You try our patience." Both Oracles looked down on him with a disapproving expression on their faces, while He spoke. "What is done –"

"Cannot be undone", Angel interrupted. "I know. You keep saying that. But I need Doyle. You can fold time. You've done it before. Bring him back."

"To what end? To nullify his noble death? To leave his atonement unfulfilled?" Her voice was a mixture of anger and light compassion, but Angel did not let them mislead him from his purpose.

"If it means he lives."

"He doesn't so that you may." He obviously didn't share Her compassion, but nevertheless She shared Her brother's opinion. Still, She found softer words.

"You do so that others will."

She hit Angel's soft spot, but he was still not distracted from his goal.

"He was my friend."

Compassion filled Her voice again.

"If it is so, then so shall it ever be."

"But this is of no consequence", Her brother fell in, in Their distracting manner of continuing each other's argumentation.

"The war rages on."

"Do not come to us again on so self-serving matter."

Angel already felt he had lost; still he had one argument that They couldn't brush aside.

"There's one consequence, even by your generous standards. Doyle was my sole contact to the Powers That Be. Without his visions, I'm fighting blind."

Angel went over the top; the male Oracle was on the verge of losing temper.

"Do not question the Powers That Be. Your grief is of little significance. All will soon be made clear." He turned around, but His sister still looked into Angel's angry eyes.

"Wait, brother…"

He turned around, his gaze searching the eyes of His sister, and then facing Angel again.

"Your wish shall be granted. But remember: Do not try to trick fate or negotiate with it; this would be vain endeavour."

As it became evident that the Two would say no more, Angel turned around and headed for the door.

"It seems he has to learn it the hard way…"

But Angel did not bother listening any more.

# # #

Angel blinked. It took him a second until he understood where he was. Or rather: when he was. He was standing on the platform again, the light from the Beacon becoming brighter and brighter. But instantly he knew what to do, now that he got a second chance. He didn't waste any more precious seconds discussing with Doyle or reassuring Cordelia like he did the first time, but immediately changed to his vampire appearance, jumped without hesitation and grabbed around the grating that surrounded the Beacon. Behind him, he heard Cordelia and Doyle shout, but he didn't bother turning his head. He could feel the almost unbearable pain of the light on his skin, so he knew he didn't have much time left.

Cordelia, on the platform, grabbed Doyle's arm, her eyes filled with tears.

"No, Angel…"

Doyle stood dumbstruck next to her; he squeezed Cordelia's arm between his fingers, but she didn't even notice. Then he found his voice again, which was a mere whisper.

"Come on, Angel, old boy… you can do it. Come on!"

Angel quickly grabbed the power supply cable and pulled. He felt he didn't have much time anymore; the terrible bright light already tore on his skin and left huge dark-red, burned marks on his face and on his hands. He could only guess what a struggle it must have been for Doyle, who would have done just the same when the light had been so much brighter. The beams forced him into his human form and ate through his face, where he had hardly any skin left. Gathering all of his strength for one final pull, he dragged the cable apart - and then he felt his muscles refusing to obey.

# # #

Cordelia screamed as she saw his body fall down; she didn't even seem to notice whether he was successful. While she ran towards the ladder, Doyle looked up to the Beacon, whose light shone dimly in an afterglow. Somehow he felt that something was strange, that something was not as it was meant to be. He had a weird feeling that it should have been him who had jumped – he was not jealous of Angel and his act of bravery; he just had the slight feeling that he missed the one chance to atone for his deed. But these thoughts occupied him for no more than two seconds, and then he was running after Cordelia.

Down in the cargo hold the Listers circled around Angel and Cordelia, who dropped to her knees next to the unconscious vampire, tears streaming down her face.

"Angel…"

She lifted his head, hardly knowing where to touch it, since most of his skin was gone, revealing the muscles underneath. Doyle was next to her in an instant and put his hand on her shoulder. He didn't dare to ask if Angel was still with them – and he didn't know how to check the vital signs of a vampire. Cordelia came to the same conclusions and first looked helplessly at him and then at Angel again.

"Angel?! Come on… say something, please!"

She slapped him a few times, and as it didn't have any visible results, she started to sob, which suddenly was joined by a feeble voice.

"It's my fault… if I hadn't been so late, he would still be alive… We would've been here earlier and…" Rieff couldn't endure the pressure any more. Doyle, who was kneeling beside Cordelia now, looked up on him.

"That's not true, Rieff. We arrived before he did. It was the Scourge, not you. Really."

Doyle looked down at Angel again as Cordelia made a little squeaking noise.

"He moved!"

The elder Lister, who was standing on Angel's other side, nodded. "He's beginning to heal, look. In this case we're really lucky that vampires heal fast. No one would have survived such severe burns."

Indeed it looked as if Angel's face had recovered a little skin while the attention had shifted to Rieff and Doyle.

And now it was visible to all: Angel was wincing, and then he suddenly uttered a little groan.

"Angel? My goodness, you're still alive… un-dead… whatever!"

Cordelia broke into nervous giggling and hugged him tightly.

"Be careful, Cordy, those burns must be painful as hell."

"Doyle…" Angel's voice was still hardly audible, for he could barely move his burned lips.

"Angel? I'm here. You did it, man!"

"Doyle… you… alright?"

"Sure am. You're the hero, lad."

Angel slowly opened his eyes and looked into Cordelia's troubled face and Doyle's empathetic but yet worried smile.

"Great to see you guys…"

# # #

"Damn, that was close…"

Angel heard the familiar voice while was lying on the sofa in the office, Cordelia sitting next to him and Doyle leaning on the wall. He could hardly remember how he got here; he guessed Doyle must have brought the car to the harbour. He kept his eyes closed and pretended to be asleep or unconscious, while Cordelia treated his face, arms and hands with an ointment Doyle had supplied from a demon's drug store.

His thoughts wandered to the marvellous effects his plead had caused. In an instant he decided that this time he would not tell them he meddled with fate again. Last time his decision affected himself, but this time it was entirely different; this time he ignored a choice someone else had made. Maybe Doyle would understand. The fact that now all three of them had survived proved that no sacrifice had to be made at all, but still he didn't want him to feel like he had stole Doyle's moment of glory out of selfishness. Moreover, even if Doyle understood his gesture right, which was likely, he didn't want his friend to be uncomfortable or overly grateful when they were working together in future.

Cordelia stopped applying the lotion and slowly he opened his eyes.

"Hey…"

"Welcome back to the living, Angel." Cordelia's voice was uncommonly warm and caring, and he could hear the worries she had suppressed.

"…welcome home. You gave us quite a fright."

"Yeah, we already thought we'd need to find real jobs, you know… do you pay Doyle any money, after all?" Now that was more like the Cordy Angel knew.

"Not funny, princess." Doyle shook his head, yet smiling.

"So? Don't think I approve of your pennilessness."

"You won't get away so easily, Cordy. I took your statement on the ship for an invitation to an invitation."

"You still need to invite me in the first place, prat."

"True. Tomorrow, 8 o'clock?"

"Okay. And don't think you can take me out to one of those lousy loser-pubs of yours."

Angel remembered the talk he had with Doyle about him not daring to invite Cordelia, which seemed so long ago. He smiled slightly in Doyle's direction, who winked at him over Cordelia's shoulder, while she was looking down at Angel again. That was exactly what Angel wanted to hear: his two companions quarrelling about nothing. But also in general he felt much better now. The skin on his face was nearly recovered, and he could move his limbs again, even though it still hurt. He tried to sit up.

"Don't move… thirsty? Doyle can bring you some."

Angel nodded. "How are the Listers?"

While Doyle set off for the fridge, Cordelia smiled reassuringly. "They're on the way and send their greetings. They would have liked to stay, but, you know…" Angel nodded.

# # #

Cordelia looked into the mirror. She felt a little bad about leaving Angel alone tonight, who was still not fully recovered yet, despite his for human standards quite astonishing vampire healing. On the other hand she knew Angel long enough to know that he wouldn't want them to be all caring about him anyway.

"What do you say, Dennis? Can I go out like this?"

She wore a long figure-hugging black dress which, as she knew, would make Doyle grasp for breath when he was finally seeing her. Dennis waved her handbag in the air to show his consent. Even though usually he was not too enthusiastic about Cordelia going out with other men, Doyle was an exception. At least he helped her to free him out of his prison behind the wall and from his devilish mother.

She just took a last look into the mirror to check her lipstick, when the doorbell rang.

"Dennis, can you please open the door? I need another minute."

The handbag landed softly next to the bathroom door, and while she applied some more lipstick she heard the door open and a familiar voice speaking.

"Hi Dennis. You look fine, lad – hey, come on, that was a joke. Cordy's not ready yet, I suppose?"

"30 seconds!" she yelled through the flat.

She had been right – when she left the bathroom and stood in front of him, he could not avoid staring at her out of wide and sparkling eyes, dumbstruck. She wouldn't be Cordelia if she didn't enjoy the effect she could cause on men, so she cheekily smiled at him.

"Will you spend the rest of the evening standing there and staring, or can we actually go out?"

"Ehm…" He cleared his throat and forced himself to move again. "You look marvellous, princess."

Laughing, Cordelia noticed with ease that after all, he proved a little taste for this night. He wore his black leather jacket and a green shirt without any of the creepy patterns he so much liked - and which, as she noticed, matched perfectly with his emerald eyes.

"Okay… let's go then."

# # #

Being quite a nice night after a wonderful evening, they decided to walk home, as it was just a fifteen-minute walk to Cordelia's flat.

"So what do you think – could I come near your standards at least?"

Cordelia smiled, but of course she wouldn't make it too easy for him.

"I didn't even expect you to know the meaning of 'hors-d'œuvre', so it wasn't that hard to exceed my expectations, actually."

"Hey, come on, I'm not that much of a loser, right? I already had a life before troops of demons messed up everything."

"Yeah, I know… sorry." Cordelia thought of Harriet. She had not known the circumstances under which their marriage had broken when she had met her, but now that she knew about Doyle's demonic half, she had asked him during dinner.

"Listen." He had said. "We both know that I'm no hero. That I'm pretty much flawed, actually. She didn't leave me because she couldn't stand me being half demon. She left me because I couldn't stand it. There're dozens of things I did I'm not proud of. I wouldn't tell you in the first place, if it wasn't for that stupid honesty thing we decided." And because of the strange feelings he have had when Angel jumped to the Beacon and saved the day, but he hadn't mentioned that. And so he had told her not only about his broken marriage, but also about his failure in saving his fellow brachen hybrids from the Scourge.

"Hey… it's alright. I didn't mean it that way. You know."

"Yeah," Cordelia nodded. "You already proved you've got at least a little hero inside you. Remember when you saved me from that huge vampire guy? You stormed out of the office with Angel's crossbow, just to save me." She nudged him, and he felt a little uncomfortable; so she guessed he had more on his mind.

"That was a matter of course… but you know what?" He asked awkwardly. "That day I didn't really feel like a… you know, hero. That was nothing compared to the risk Angel faces almost every day. But yesterday, with that Beacon… You know, I was on the verge of jumping myself. It was the first time in my life I thought I could do something, that I could atone for my mistakes. Angel was just way too swift. But at least…" He looked at her. "At least now I know I can do it. That I've got strength in me, too."

"Told you so…" Cordelia smiled, unusually friendly. "As long as you don't try to put Angel out of the hero-business, I'm fine with it. I know he's particularly concerned about that."

By now, they arrived at Cordelia's house. Doyle brought her to her apartment door.

"Well, I hope you don't regret giving in. At least I had a great evening."

"Come on, Doyle. I had a great evening, too. If not, I would have told you a dozen times by now. You know that pretty well."

He grinned. "Yeah."

They stood opposite each other in front of the door, and neither said a word for a few seconds, until it felt awkward. Cordelia was the first to break the silence.

"I'd invite you in for a coffee, but I guess Dennis wouldn't be very enthusiastic about that…"

"I know… sleep well, princess. We'll meet tomorrow in the office." Doyle didn't even seem to be disappointed. He had expected no other ending of their date. A wave of gratitude flowed through her. Doyle was more like a gentleman than she had ever thought – or rather admitted - and definitely more than the guys she had recently been out with.

"Yeah, sleep well… Allen." She leaned forward and kissed his cheek, then turned around, unlocked the door and went inside, glancing at him for a moment and smiling before she closed the door. Doyle didn't move for at least two minutes. He just stood there and smiled before he turned around and went to fetch the car.

# # #