The Return

Author: Nicola Lane

Summary: Cordelia performs a spell to bring Doyle back from the dead. How will the gang react to his arrival and how will they fare when a new big bad makes his presence known? Set in season four. Cordelia/Doyle.

AN: Thanks for reviewing so quickly! The next couple of chapters will go up quickly because this is a story I wrote years ago and decided quite recently to edit. Beware: the writing style may change when I get to new stuff. Right now I'm only fixing the really bad grammar and nonsensical parts. Otherwise…I have the whole thing mapped out, so it should go pretty smoothly… (knock on wood!)

Now to acknowledge my reviewers…

Plyea: I really wanted them to bring Doyle back, too, but when the actor died I knew it was not to be! As far as the Angel reaction…sorry to disappoint, but there will be a little jealous Angel in this story. It feels necessary to me, even if I hate the Cordelia/Angel pairing. No worries, though, because I have a feeling that the ending I have planned will make you happy!

Cocoa Snape: Yeah, I really love Glenn Quinn. I started writing this after I heard about his death. Did you ever see the movie RSVP? I watched it only because of him! Doyle will be part of this story before you know it (as in this chapter) and yes, the team will play a big role. This is not (entirely) fluff. There will be action! And more old faces.

Chapter two: The Spell

The Starlight was a small bistro four blocks away from Hyperion. Most of the tables were occupied by a rather lively crowd and a crooning woman with a guitar was providing entertainment from a small stage near the entrance. Cordelia had managed to grab a fairly isolated booth in the far corner with a good view of the front door. It was thirty-four minutes since she had disconnected with Harry and Cordelia was fidgeting restlessly with the neatly folded napkin in front of her.

Cordelia glanced at the entrance compulsively and gnawed at her lower lip in concern. Harry will be here, she told herself for the hundredth time. It had almost become a mantra that played relentlessly in her head. Harry will be here. Harry will be here. Cordelia picked up her teaspoon and tapped it against the table. The rhythmic clicking helped calm her nerves.

"Can I refill your drink, miss?" Cordelia snapped her attention to the gangly teenager holding a teapot and nodded curtly. He tipped the pot and black liquid mixed with her heavily diluted concoction of cream and sugar. The swirling colors were almost mesmerizing to her sleep deprived mind.

Cordelia was sure that the waiter had called her name a few times before she responded to his prodding, because he looked mildly concern for her as he inquired, "can I do anything else for you?"

Cordelia forced a smiled and fiddled with a sugar packet. She ripped it open and dumped the contents into her tea before responding, "no thank you." She sighed and looked at the door. "I'm still waiting for someone."

The waiter smiled knowingly. "Call me when you're ready to order."

Cordelia felt her features melt into a gentle smile without prompting and nodded in understanding. Just as he was about to walk away Cordelia glanced at his nametag and said, "thank you...Steve."

Steve the waiter smiled, content with her reaction and shrugged. "No problem, I guess. It is my job." Cordelia nodded and smiled again, but this time it was slightly forced. Understanding his cue, Steve moved onto his next table.

When the demonologist finally entered the restaurant Cordelia spotted her immediately and raised a shaky hand in greeting. There was a lump in her throat, which prevented her from calling out, but Harry noticed Cordelia regardless. The older woman looked downright exhausted as she approached the table and Cordelia felt a sharp stab of sympathy for the woman who was hurting just as badly as her.

"Thank you for calling me, Harry," whispered Cordelia while the woman in question settled herself across from the seer.

Harry nodded and smiled sadly. "I…am so glad you came, Cordelia, it means a lot to me." As tears filled her eyes Cordelia reached out to grasp Harry's hand in comfort, but the demonologist dodged the gesture with an embarrassed blush. She explained, "sorry. I just feel so out of sorts." She sighed and looked down at the menu. "I was so upset when I learned about…"

As the sentence trailed off unfinished Cordelia averted her eyes and nodded slightly as she rasped, "how did you find out?"

Harry glanced down at the table and inhaled shakily. "I asked a friend of mine to research…the thing that killed him." She glanced up at Cordelia and smiled slightly. "I check in every year, just to see if there's any progress…and…there was." Tears began to pool in her eyes as she continued, "I wanted him to be happy, and it just kills me to know that he has suffered so much after giving his life so selflessly."

Cordelia nodded slightly. "I understand."

"I know you do," said Harry with a warm smile. It put Cordelia at ease.

The seer cleared her throat and laced her fingers together on the table before her. She gently inquired, "you said there was a spell?"

"I would do it myself if I could," insisted Harry as she began to fiddle with her bag. "My plate is just so full, and I have no idea how to hand this sort of thing."

"I can do it, Harry. Anything," assured Cordelia softly and the demonologist smiled.

"Good."

***

Following her late dinner with Harry, Cordelia entered the hotel via the back entrance. She was careful to avoid the rest of the staff as she raced up the stairs and entered an empty room. It had a bed, a small table with a lamp and a adjacent bathroom. Cordelia quickly pressed the small window open, attempting to air the dusty room out. Next she visited the bathroom and washed her hands thoroughly, mentally going over what she needed to do for the spell.

Harry cut the meeting short after giving Cordelia the basics of the resurrection ceremony and sending her in the direction of a shaman who would provide the seer with a detailed spell and all the ingredients she needed. Cordelia met the man and after an hour in his unsettling presence she was finally at home and prepared to start the spell. She glanced at her watch as she locked the bedroom door. It was already 11:40 and the spell had to be completed on the last stroke of midnight for it to succeed.

Cordelia dropped to the floor and arranged five black candles into a makeshift circle on the rough carpet, lighting them one by one. She unfolded a tattered, yellowed piece of old parchment paper and recited the Latin words written there in practice. Five dishes of colourful powder were poured and placed between each candle in the circle. Cordelia closed her eyes after the words were imprinted on her mind and clasped her hands together.

The seer felt a warm tingling sensation in the pit of her stomach as she began reciting the spell. With each handful of powder she threw into the middle of the circle the heat would increase until she was basking in a warm, ethereal light. She let the spell take her over completely and felt herself gasping for breath as the last words passed her lips and the five candles extinguished themselves simultaneously. The entire room was masked in darkness.

Cordelia sat with her eyes closed, attempting to recapture her breath. Her heart was beating at a rapid rate as she strained to hear any sounds other than the ones she was making herself. It was difficult, too difficult, so she inhaled deeply and held her breath. After a moment she heard the ragged, jagged breath of someone else in the room. Feeling around, desperately searching in front of her for the other person, her hands fell across the unmistakable texture of a very male chest. It rose and fell unevenly. Cordelia dragged her hand up the body until her fingers were tracing facial features. She pulled away as he flinched and found her hands wet and tacky with what she could only assume was blood. Her breath caught in her throat.

"Doyle…" began Cordelia, uncertainly. "Is that you?"

A small, squeaky grunt was her only reply.

Breathing deeply, Cordelia threw herself away from the unidentified man and toward the entrance of the room. She fumbled against the wall frantically and let out a shout of success when her hands fell upon the light switch. The overhead light illuminated the bare room and its two occupants. From her spot at the doorway Cordelia saw a naked, black-haired man huddled in the corner. His back was to her.

"Doyle?" she asked, hopefully.

The figure was heaving and shaking profusely on the floor and seemed completely unaware of her presence. Cordelia began to walk toward the man, cautiously. As she neared she could hear incoherent mumbling. She gnawed on her lip in concern and reached out to place a gentle hand on his shoulder. He jumped back in alarm and bashed his head against the wall with a yell.

"Doyle!" exclaimed Cordelia who had a big, joyful grin plastered across her face. The once vibrant Irishman looked up at Cordelia with uncertainty for a moment and when he reached out with a dirty, bloodied hand to cup her cheek she curled into the gesture instead of shying away. Meeting his eyes with all the love she felt, Cordelia sighed, "Doyle."

"Cor…corde...del...delia?" stuttered Doyle in a quiet, vulnerable voice. Cordelia nodded, her throat too tight to speak, and tilted her head to the side in order to place a kiss against the palm cradling her face.

"You're back," rasped Cordelia, as if the notion was totally inconceivable. She wiped away tears as they splattered across her face and smiled widely. "It's you…"

Doyle squinted first at her, then at his surroundings. A whimper escaped him. "Is this...is this...this...Heaven?"

Cordy shook her head violently and grasped his hand tightly in hers. "No, no, no...this is the Hyperion hotel, home base of Angel Investigations. Do you remember Angel?"

Doyle continued to stare at Cordy with a glossy expression. "Are you an angel?"

"No, Doyle," sighed Cordelia with a sad smile. She allowed silence to fill the room she studied his haggard appearance. After a moment Cordelia was forced to look away as tears welled up in her eyes. "Oh God." Doyle looked down at himself. His entire body was covered in blood. Cordelia was breathing heavily as she stood up and stumbled toward the door, gently sobbing, "let me find you something to cover yourself with."

Cordelia came back into the room with a housecoat draped over her arm and gently wrapped it across his shoulders. "Doyle, I want to run you a bath, okay?" Doyle nodded mutely and she led him into the adjacent bathroom. After letting the tub fill, Cordelia guided Doyle into the scolding water and left him there to soak the blood from his skin.

Though she still felt uneasy with Doyle soaking in the tub, Cordelia no longer felt the numbing sadness in her heart. She glanced into the bathroom to see Doyle sitting motionlessly in the tub, studying the red tinged water with a great deal of detachment. She glanced away, sighing, and sat on the bed. Even still, there was a lightness in her chest that hadn't been there for a while. It was telling her: Doyle is back, everything is right. Nothing can ruin this.

Cordelia sat on her bed and sighed happily as the tears began to fall.

tbc…

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