Disclaimer:- none of the characters belong to me, but the story line is totally my own.
Part One
Doyle
I never expected hell to be like this.
I mean, when you're a demon, you expect a little bit of pain and torture every now and then, but this – this was worse than in my worst nightmares. It was kinda like I always expected prison to be, before my life was consumed with more important things to think about such as cracking headaches and pure evil to be fought. But obviously it was worse – I mean, how many prisons have CCTV watching the outside world so that you can see how your loved ones are getting on without you? And believe me, as much as it hurts when you see them grieving over you, its worse when they begin to get over you. To forget. To say your name without so much as a second thought. But the worst part is when you become a past tense. "His name was Doyle", "Doyle would have loved this", or even "When Doyle was alive".
How many times I've wanted to yell out to them. To tell them I wasn't dead at all. But I couldn't. Partly because I wasn't totally sure that it was true. Maybe I was dead. How was I to know what it would be like? But I'm sure that wherever I am, this isn't a normal death! Why couldn't I have died a normal death? You know, you think that when you're dead, that's it. The end. Maybe some kind of afterlife . . .and maybe that's what this is, but its not quite what they lead you to believe is it? "Deaths nothing to be frightened of", that's what they tell you. I wouldn't call this nothing to be frightened of. I don't even know if I'm dead or not! What would be the point of dying if all that's gonna happen is this?
You imagine life after death. Its gonna be the best – beautiful girls, food, and people who were half man half bracken demon would be whole humans! That's the only thing I'd wished for since I turned 21, and my demon half emerged. A chance to be human. A chance to be normal! At least I had some stuff to be grateful for – at least I wasn't in demon form all the time, like some people I know. I had friends who didn't resent me for my demon half. Which is definitely a plus. And I was allowed the odd moment of pure happiness – unlike my good mate Angel – one single moment that could be classed as such and there he was – soul gone – back to an evil, blood sucking vampire.
This, though, was what can only be classed as PURE and unrivalled torture. Maybe the only thing that would be worse that this would be hell. From what Angel told me about it, I don't want to be going there in a hurry! But thinking about that makes me doubt even more that I'm dead at all. Or if I am, that its for good. If Angel can come back safely from such a demonic place as hell, which has got to be worse that this, why cant I come back from the so called dead? I would give anything to be able to speak to Cordy, even if it was just for one last time. I've felt so bad ever since I realised that kissing her in those seconds before whatever happened, happened, had passed my visions on to her. I long to be able to talk to her, to explain I didn't mean to do it. I hope that she knows I would never do anything like that to her. I don't know how long I've been "dead", but I'm guessing its close on a year, from the way Cordy has begun to act around Angel these days. I mean, don't call me selfish or anything, it could be nothing to do with me – knowing Cordy she's likely to be moody for days if she's put the wrong lipstick in her handbag for a trip to the toilet! But this is a different kind of mood – as if there's something she's avoiding talking about. And that's not the Cordelia Chase I know . . knew. Cordy always speaks her mind, no matter what's on it. Its speak first – think later.
I guess I should explain about my "prison". I don't know where I am, how I got here or even why I'm here. But what I do know is that I am, and I have to deal. That sounds so much like Cordy – even if I couldn't see here every waking moment of her life, whether I wanted to or not, I'm sure I would never have forgotten a single thing about her. Even if most of the time she was bagging some demon that had totally grossed her out. She wasn't to know that I was half demon, in fact I didn't tell her until a few hours before I died. One of the last real memories I had of her was her telling me to ask her out. That was just seconds after she found out I was a demon. I avoided telling her about my demon side because she always seemed to hate them. I was sure she would never be able to accept the real me. I cant believe I underestimated so badly someone I love so much.
Anyway, to get back on track – It's the strangest room I've ever been in. Along one wall is what seems to be a huge screen TV. It shows me every move my two best friends make (although for some reason it doesn't show me Cordy in the shower – maybe that's just too much pleasure for me!), and its so real I want to reach out and touch. If this is supposed to be some kind of sick joke from the PTB, it's not funny! "I know, let's shoot the messenger – no, I know, let's wait til he dies and then NOT LET HIM!". It makes me so mad – I've got all the mod cons, well, you know, somewhere to sleep, make food, drink, light, just no way to turn off the damned TV. I wish to God I could get away from seeing Cordelia morning, noon and night. It makes me realise more than ever what I've lost. And I don't want that. Not that I would forget. My times with Cordelia were the happiest times of my life, even when I was married to Harry I didn't have feelings this strong, its absolutely mad. I just want Cordy to get on with her life, to get over me, but never to forget me.
I usually spend a lot of my time sleeping, to get away from the pain, but it doesn't always help. My dreams are always filled with images of Cordy, and it makes the hurt worse.
But tonight, I feel different somehow. I don't know why, or what's happening, but I feel a lot different. I know that coming from someone who is dead, this is gonna sound ridiculous, but I feel more alive. It's the only way to describe what I'm feeling, I feel as if I'm coming to the end of my sentence here. But that's only a dream, I'm sure, I mean, whoever heard of someone coming back from the dead after nearly a year? I'm going to get some sleep, maybe it's something to do with it being a year since I died. Maybe I'm getting used to being here. Whatever, I'm going to leave it til morning.
Part Two
Cordelia
I think about Doyle all the time. I don't know how to think about anything else. I keep going, helping Angel to fight evil, keep the office clean and tidy, but I'm on autopilot. If anyone were watching me, and I like to think that somewhere Doyle can see me, they wouldn't know anything was wrong. And if he can see me, I would hate for him to think that I spent the rest of my life wishing he was here. Coz Doyle isn't selfish like me. I'm so selfish, my best friend couldn't even tell me his biggest secret. And that's the worst feeling in the world.
Since Doyle died, I've tried to be a better person. But it's not easy, when you're someone like me who had everything a girl ever wanted. I was the most popular girl in school, I had a wardrobe to die for, and money. Lots of money. Until the tax department took away all of it. Suddenly, I was . . . poor. And I came to LA to become an actress, not a do-gooder. The only thing that I resent Doyle for at all was that when he died, I got his darned visions. Whenever the world is riddled with evil, which it usually is, I get a splitting headache. And all these pictures invade my mind. It took a while to get used to, but now I can usually get all the main details out of it. Usually.
But tonight is different. Angel and I have been walking on eggshells all week. And tonight is the day that I know we have both, albeit silently, been dreading. Tonight it's a year since Doyle died. One whole year since I saw him disappear. Into thin air. It took a while for it to sink in. Angel and I were there when we needed each other. And then gradually, the hurting began to stop. But it never went away completely. And I know it never will. I realised that I needed to deal.
We don't talk about him so much any more, Angel knows that it hurts me too much. I'm sure he's going to say something tonight though, it would be un-Angel-like. Before . . before this happened he wasn't the sharing type, he would rather keep his feelings to himself. And that attitude would suit me to the ground right now, but oh no, Angel has changed in a lot of ways since Doyle. He still doesn't go on too much, and talking about Doyle hurts him almost as much as it hurts me. But I don't think he's going to let a day as important as this one go by without making any comment. So I guess I will just have to be prepared.
I would usually go back to my apartment around now, but I cant tonight. I can't go back there alone. At least I know that if I stay here, Angel will be around. I stayed here a lot straight afterwards, I didn't want to face that flat, alone or otherwise. Doyle found it for me, and even though we had some problems with it at first, but Doyle helped me through it. There may be more memories of him here, but I can cope with that, knowing Angels here. There's no one around at my flat, apart from Dennis, my poltergeist flat mate, but I don't think he'd be much use comforting me, I cant even see him.
It doesn't seem like a year since he died. It seems like only last week I kissed him for the first time, before he jumped to his death to save so many others. And even though I know he's gone, it doesn't feel like it. It did, at first, it was terrible. But over the last few days I've begun to feel as if someday I might see him again. It's ridiculous, I know, but it feels less final now. Maybe I was right. Maybe he can see me. Watching over me. Making sure I'm doing OK. That would be just like him, treating me like royalty. After all, he did always call me his Princess.
Part Three
Angel
Cordelia is avoiding the subject, but I can't just let this whole damned day go without saying anything. Doyle was our best friend in the whole world, how could we not mention that it has been a whole year since he died? It would seem like we were betraying his memory. I have to mention it, and she's obviously not going to start. It looks like that's gonna be my job. Well, I guess now is as good a time as any.
"Cordy . . ." I begin. She must have guessed what I want to talk about from the tone of my voice, because she takes one look at me and starts making excuses about how she has a date tonight – but I'm not going to fall for that. She know I don't believe her – she hasn't had a date in the last year, so why would she, tonight of all nights?
"Angel, look. I don't want to talk about it. It hurts too much. Don't think that I ever stop thinking about him, because I don't. Just because I don't talk about him doesn't mean I don't still mourn for him, don't still love him just as much as I ever did. And if I opened up tonight, I'm afraid I wouldn't be able to stop."
"Cordelia – I know you still hurt. I see it in your eyes every time his name is mentioned. Every time Wesley says or does something dumb, you want to see Doyle there with some clever comment. But he isn't. I know, because I've been there with Buffy –"
"Don't you dare compare me and Doyle to you and Buffy. I know you love her, but it was your choice to leave her in Sunnydale and you come to LA. And you've still seen her since you split up. You could see her whenever you wanted to, but I know that you resist that temptation every day. And I know you hurt as much as I do, and you're a good person, Angel, but it's not the same."
"I should never have mentioned Buffy. But it's the only thing that comes close to how you must feel, apart from my own feelings for Doyle. I loved him as much as you, Cordy, but it was a different kind of love."
"Yeah except you always knew that you loved him, whereas I didn't realise until it was too late." I watch her turn away - I can tell she's crying. I walk over to her, but when I put my arm around her she shrugs me off. "Where's Wesley anyway? Surely he should be here by now." I know she's was just trying to change the subject – she hates Wesley being here. I'm positive she used to think that he was trying to take Doyle's place in her life, and although I'm sure one day someone will be able to, she'll never forget him – and I'm certain that the person wont be Wesley.
"Cordy, he's gone home. It's late. Maybe we should –"
"Go home? You want me to go back to my apartment, alone, tonight of all nights?"
"You have Dennis"
"Oh great, I have a ghost for a room-mate and I cant even have a conversation with him. I'm staying here tonight Angel, and you can't stop me. I feel closer to him when I'm here, even though I know that's silly, because I'm not"
"That's not silly. I come up here some nights and just sit, thinking about Doyle. But –" I stop myself. I had almost said 'at least we can say we knew him'. But that would have been one of the most insensitive things I could say to Cordy tonight.
"But what?"
"I don't know what I was going to say, Cordy. I would say that in time it'll heal, but I can't promise you that. But I hope, for your sake, that it will."
"So do I." She turns from the room. "I'll never forget him though Angel. I may not have known him for very long, but I'll never forget him." She walks from the room, leaving me to sit alone in my study. For a second I wonder where she's going, then I realised that she's going down to my apartment to get a blanket and a pillow from my closet. After it happened she had done this frequently. At first, she had made excuses for why she wasn't going home, but after a few nights she had stopped this, realising that I knew exactly why she wasn't going home. Doyle had found her that apartment, and if she was going to be somewhere that reminded her of him, she didn't want to be there alone.
As I sit, waiting for her to return, I feel uneasy. Something is happening, I can feel it. It makes me feel strange – it doesn't feel like forces of evil, and yet it doesn't feel normal. But I can't say anything to Cordy. I can't go out looking for something that might not even exist. Not tonight at least. Some other night, I might have taken a walk downtown LA, tried to find out if any trouble was brewing. But there is no way I am leaving Cordy here alone without a good reason, on the anniversary of Doyle's death. She needs people, and although I'm not exactly human, I'm the closest she is gonna come. I knew Doyle as well as she did, if not better, and I'd like to think I'm enough for her tonight.
Part Four
Doyle
I went to sleep. And when I woke up, it felt worse. A lot worse. Now I can almost smell my own fear. What is happening to me? Was this last year some kind of test? Maybe I'm going to go on to some kind of better place. But I can tell that things aren't going to stay the same for the rest of my after life. I've decided that's what this is. I am dead, and this is where I wait while I'm judged by the big guy upstairs. He decides if I go to heaven or hell. I reckon if got a few things working against me – the half demon thing is one, but that's not my fault. And if I could get away with it, I never used it. When I changed into demon form, I was always change straight back, even though Angel was always on at me, telling me I'm stronger like that. Which I suppose is true. Had I not been in Brachen form while I was trying to unplug the beacon, I probably wouldn't have managed it before I died. And then all those people, including Angel and Cordy, would have died too. But that's not the only reason I'm not sure I deserve to go to heaven. I've always been a bit of a dodgy geezer, I did a bit of gambling in my time, and to say I enjoyed a good drink every now and then would be a bit of an understatement! But none of these seem like grounds to confine me to an afterlife in hell! And I hope that the way I died might score me some brownie points, along with the fact I've been in love twice, and I've never hurt an animal in my whole life! I suppose I'm just going to have to wait and see. I catch sight of my hand, and notice that it seems to be becoming . . . well . . . transparent. Or translucent maybe. I was never too good at school. But either way, I'm fading. I must surely be coming to the end of my time here. Thank God. I turn to the screen, for one last look at my Princess, and my best buddy. And it pains me to see that one of my last memories of Cordy will be of her clutching her head in agony. It's a sight I know all too well. She's having another vision. Although I kissed her because I would never have chance to do it again, whether she wanted me to or not, by doing so I had burdened her with my so-called 'gift'. She will be spending the last days of her natural life having pictures of all the evil in LA invading her head, and it's my fault. I sometimes wonder if she hates me for it. I hope she doesn't. I notice Angel has dashed in from the room next door, and is comforting her. I wish it were me doing that, but had I still been alive, she wouldn't have had them in the first place. It's a no-win situation. Catch 22 I believe is the phrase. Cordy seems to be settled now. Having told Angel what she saw in her vision (and might I add what a grand job she's doing at deciphering what those visions mean – it took me nigh on a year to get used to it) he's off to fight the evil and return home before sunrise, while she settles down. I can see that she is trying to watch TV, but it takes me another minute before I can make out what she is watching. Its something I haven't seen in a long time. Cordelia and Angel's last recorded memory of me. The morning I died, she got me to film an advertisement for Angel Investigations. She played it non stop the night I died, it was the first thing I noticed after the initial shock of still being able to see her, while she couldn't see me. I hear my voice drifting out of the set.
"Our chips are down, and our rats are low"
"Rates!" I could make out Cordy hissing at me.
"It says rats!"
It still makes me smile when I hear her answer the 'phone with a cheery "Angel Investigations – we help the hopeless". Although admittedly her voice has become somewhat less cheery since this time last year.
I decide I don't want to see any more. I have my final visions of my two best friends, and I don't want anything else to get in the way. Which seems to be just as well. My time has obviously come, and there is nothing I can do about it. I fall to the floor just as what feels like a lightening bolt hits my head.