It wasn't only his human face Doyle had lost while he was away. None of his possession were left, and the apartment had been let to someone else. A change of clothes belonging to Xander and the couch in Angel's apartment solved the problem for the time being, but they couldn't keep it that way forever. Considering everything, Angel couldn't blame Doyle for finding another bottle of whiskey as soon as possible.
The place was silent now, with Cordelia at home, Buffy and Xander at their hotel and Doyle asleep. Angel could almost hear his own thoughts out loud. Boy, were they buzzing in there.
This mission wasn't the biggest one he had ever encountered, but it certainly wasn't one of the easier ones either. Each one of the demons had its own strength plus the collective strength from belonging somewhere. Even if they did manage to stop the resurrections, the remains of this cult would take forever to get rid of.
Angel decided to banish work from his mind for a while, but this only made it turn to Doyle's position. He supposed it was ungrateful to not be pleased that Doyle was back and in shape, but that was the case. Doyle had let his self-hatred destroy one relationship, and he was about to do it again. There had been moments in the past when Angel had felt both pity and irritation with the half-demon's attitude to himself. That attitude certainly wouldn't improve now, and it didn't have any reason to. And even though he was ashamed to admit the thought, this would affect Doyle's work as well as his privacy. He couldn't very well disappear into a crowd.
He juggled with a couple of ideas, and suddenly one of them stuck. When he had thought about it for a second, he went upstairs and into his office. It was a little late, but hopefully not too late to make a phone call.
Angel knew the number well, he had been forced to use it a lot these past few weeks.
Giles? It's Angel. Sorry I'm calling at this hour. Er I have to talk to Spike, is he there?
Giles was clearly surprised. Angel wondered to himself when he had last spoken to Spike out of his own free will and not due to some evil his childe had been up to. He heard the vampire come to the phone, and he heard the mocking hatred in his voice.
Hello Spike. It was hard even to talk to him. I need to get in touch with Wilma Romanoff, do you have her phone number? Well, what about her address, then? Angel was getting impatient. No, I'm not going to hurt her. I need her help with something. Of course, there was no reason why Spike would tell him anything. At this moment, he could have cut the other vampire's head off. Spike, you can tell me now or I can ask Giles to cut your supplies for a week. I'm sure he'd do it.
Angel got a pen from one of the desk drawers and wrote the address down.
Thank you Spike. He couldn't help smiling at Spike's invectives. Same to you, Spike. If we're really unlucky, I'll meet you there.
He hung up the phone and looked at the piece of paper. It was too late to pay visits to an old lady. On the other hand, Wilma ought to be used to it.
**********
Angel rang the doorbell hard and repeatedly. He waited a while, and when nothing happened he pounded the door. There were a couple of thuds from the inside, then after a while some mumbling that sounded suspiciously like swearing before finally someone called out:
I'm coming! Keep your bloody pants on!
An old woman opened the door. She was holding a stake, but considering the way she held it she didn't count on having to use it.
Stupid, impatient people, she muttered. Not until then did she open her eyes fully. Oh, it's you! she said, sounding rather surprised. Come in!
She walked into the kitchen and he followed her. She seemed to be thinking hard, and after a while her face lit up.
she said.
That's my name.
I know. I just remembered.
He smiled a little. I'm sorry if I woke you up.
Oh, it's not the sleeping part that's the worst, it's turning back. One day I'll open the door as a turtle.
She opened the fridge and looked it through.
Care for some blood? she asked in the same tone of voice other people would have used to offer alcoholic beverage. I've got some pig and some chicken - and I dare say there's a little of mine somewhere too.
Pig will be fine, he said. His tone of voice made her turn around and smile at him.
You know, she said, even Spike doesn't much like it when I serve him my own blood. I can understand why, it's a little like in 'Alice' when she is introduced to the pudding. She poured some pig's blood into a beer glass. I only keep it in case he really craves something human. He's not getting much now, is he?
She put the glass in front of Angel and sat down opposite him.
I know it's a blessing from one point of view, what they did to him. That doesn't mean I have to approve. I've always respected the slayers, but this is different. This is like putting bells on a cat, like that horrible woman next door. Cats are hunters, if you can't accept that, you shouldn't keep one.
Angel took a sip from his glass and looked silently at Wilma. She realised the slight tactlessness of her latest remark and made a gesture meaning bygones.
So, what do you want? she asked.
I need your help. Angel wondered how to put it. I know that you're a shapeshifter, and I've heard that you teach other people how to do it.
, she admitted, but shook her head at the same time. But I don't do vampires, I'm afraid. Not even a vamp with a soul.
No, it's not for me, it's for a friend.
She studied him carefully. A human friend?

She frowned, looking a bit reserved, so he hurried to assure her: He's a nice guy.
Far be it from me to suggest otherwise, she said. I've had a few demons, not many. What kind is he?

She looked very thoughtful. Never did a Brachen. Not meaning I can't, though. May I take a guess at which form he wants to take?
, Angel said.
She nodded, seeming everything but surprised. He was relieved. At least she didn't say no flat.
He used to be half human, he explained to her. He lost his humanity - it's a little hard to explain.
Restoration is always easier, she said absent-mindedly. And he's done shapeshifting before You could almost hear the cog wheels moving inside her head. Finally, she smiled.
Sounds like an interesting case! Bring your friend over!
Thank you, Angel said, and he really meant it. He finished his drink and prepared to leave.
, he suddenly said. One more thing. Do you think he could live with you?
She was surprised. Of course. But why? Does this have to happen quickly?
Well, yes, but that's not the entire reason. He's homeless.
She stared at him.
A homeless, former half-human Brachen demon, she said slowly, who befriends a vampire with a soul. That is positively one of the freakiest things I have ever heard of. And I have heard of a lot. I can't wait to meet your friend.
**********
Doyle hesitated when he stood by the door, but after Angel's slight push in his back he knocked. Angel had said that the woman who lived here could help him, and he wanted that more than anything, but he was still a little afraid. Spells were like surgery - even a routine one will make you a bit nervous. And there was nothing routine about this.
Wilma opened almost immediately.
she said with a friendly smile. You are, of course, Angel's friend. I'm Wilma Romanoff.
Hi. Doyle. Doyle shook the woman's hand, and they visually examined each other. He knew what she saw and was slightly surprised at her utter calm. What he saw was a tall woman in her seventies, with blue eyes and almost white hair. She wasn't big enough to be called stout, but healthy-looking and bosomy. She could have been his grandmother, only his grandmother would never have kept stakes by the door.
Nice to meet you. Hello Angel, won't you come in?
That's alright, Angel said, I'll leave you two alone. I have some work to do.
Doyle gave Angel a startled look, but Wilma seemed pleased with the answer.
Very well then. You know you're welcome to come over and visit me any time.
Angel thanked her and prepared to leave when she called him back. She casually touched his head, his chest and his shoulders.
, she said. Didn't kill you, did it. Remember that.
Angel looked down at his own body, then at her. There was nothing really to be said. He smiled at the two of them and left. The door closed behind him and Doyle was alone with the old woman. If this was his , it could have been worse.
Don't just stand there! the woman said, and he followed her inside. This is the kitchen and a perfect starting point if we want to get to know each other. Do you want something to drink? A cup of coffee?
No thank you, he said.
What he really wanted must have been evident in his face, because she said: How about a Yellow Submarine? Russian style, beer and vodka.
He accepted the suggestion and watched as she filled a large glass with beer and a small one with vodka, before putting the small glass into the big one. She then poured some beer for herself, without the vodka, and sat down at the table.
Now, dear, tell me a little about yourself, she asked him.
**********
When he had told her everything he figured she needed to know and answered all her questions she seemed so cheery that it got him into a much better mood.
Your conditions are excellent, so I really don't think this will be very difficult, she explained to him.
He was incredibly relieved, and she nodded in an incouraging way.
Yes. Even considering possible obstacles, like if you're a slow learner, there's no way this would take more than a month.
His spirits immediately sunk. A *month*!? What kind of spell is this?
She stared at him. Didn't Angel tell you how I work?
He shook his head, still shaken by her news. Another month of his life.
I'm not a wicca. I am a shapeshifter. I can change my own shape into something different. That's what I will teach you to do. I don't use spells, I use faith.
Oh, so I just have to think that I'm human and I'll be human again? He couldn't help being bitter. She viewed him with much compassion, but he had a feeling that none of this was new to her. Actually, since he had arrived, he hadn't felt that anything was new to her.
That's not what I said, she explained patiently. If that was true, all lunatics who think they are Napoleon would actually *be* Napoleon, and how would that look? No. But the world is to a high degree what we assume it to be. If we believe we can change it, we can. What you have to do is acknowledge the shape you're already in, then get to know the shape you want to assume - that shouldn't be a problem in your case - and have faith that you can change one into the other.
Faith in God?
If you want, but not necessarily. Have you heard of the placebo effect?
He nodded.
Well, that's an example. People get well because they believe that they will get well. And they're just the amateurs. She smiled at him, and he smiled back. Being human after a month was better than never.
If you have finished your drink, we can proceed into the living room, she said. Oh, and by the way, drinking will not exactly help you get human faster.
I won't drink, he said quickly, so quickly that it made her smile.
They sat down in her sofa.
So, I've told you about me, Doyle said. What about you?
What about me?
Well, what about your name? Are you Russian?
She shook her head. Dutch. My husbands family were exiled Russians living in America. And before you ask, my husband died in 1942. I have a daughter called Tineke, she was born after his death. I never remarried. Happy?
He was, but still curious. You must have loved him a lot then? When he saw her empty look he continued: Since you never married again.
Oh. Well, there have been other men, I just never married them. I always liked being a widow, you can control your own life and at the same time be much more respected than an old maid. Of course, all that is very different nowadays. As for my husband I don't know if I very much loved him at all. Is that a terrible thing to say? she asked curiously.
He shrugged. No. But if you didn't love him, why did you marry him?
Well that's a question She sighed. When he preposed I wasn't sure. I mean, I liked him and all. He was an American soldier - my family had fled to England since the Netherlands were occupied - and a sweet, fairly intelligent, good-looking young man from a nice, wealthy family. I just didn't love him. I would tell people that, and they would say 'why not?'. There's no way of answering that, not for a girl of nineteen. He was dull, that is the sad truth. No imagination, no sense of humour, his mind as dry as chalk. God bless his soul.
Was he killed in the war?
She looked absent-minded. No, vampires.
That didn't make much sense to Doyle. But you're okay with Angel? I mean, I know since he's got a soul he's different from the other vampires, but still
You don't understand why I respect Angel?
I do! I mean, he's my friend, of course I understand! Just not completely.
She seemed very amused. I'll let you in on a secret. He's not the only vampire I let into my house. I've spent quite a lot of time with my husband's killers. She laughed at his shocked expression. It's a long story. Do you want to hear some?

**********
FLASHBACK

Their dull little house in the outskirts of London had once belonged to some friends of Ivan, or so he said. Wilma didn't find it surprising that they had abandoned it. She would have wanted to abandon it even without the war. Ivan being home on leave ought to have made it brighter, but she was more bored than ever.
This was only their second night together this time around. Wilma sat in an armchair pretending to read a book, but she couldn't concentrate, her eyes kept moving in Ivan's direction. She knew that he would want her this night as well, and God help her, but she wasn't in the mood at all. She hadn't even been yesterday, but she was too young and inexperienced to claim she had a headache. As far as she knew, there was no away around it. All she could do was stall it a bit.
This was awful of her. The little time spent together, and all she could think of was how much she missed her privacy. If she didn't get out this instant she would go mad, she knew it.
She slammed the book shut. I think I'll go for a walk.
He looked at her, surprised, with raised eyebrows.
It's past curfew.
She sank back into her chair, defeated. His face softened as he looked at her.
Tell you what, why don't we break curfew for once? We'll take a romantic walk together?
We can't do that.
Well, we oughtn't, but what the heck. You're the one who always tells me to lighten up.
It was tempting. She still wouldn't get any privacy, but at least she would get some fresh air, and a walk with Ivan was better than none at all. But the curfew was there for a reason. She was frightened to death of the bombs, and even though she knew they were far from safe in the house, it was much better than the outside. She stood up, slowly.
Alright, Vanja, she said. I'd love that.
It was raining outside, not much, but enough for Wilma to take her umbrella. She would have preferred for Ivan to take his as well, instead of both of them using hers, but that would have forced them further apart than a newly wed couple were supposed to be. They walked a few blocks, and after a few attempts to start a conversation, Ivan was as silent as she was.
A woman's voice, rather childish, disturbed the silence.
What a pretty couple! Aren't they pretty?
The young woman who had spoken turned to the blonde young man who was with her.
Very, love, he assured her. The couple came closer to Ivan and Wilma, a little too close. Wilma, who was used to the English offishness, became uncomfortable, while Ivan was more confused.
Thank you, he said. Now if you excuse us, we were on our way
You are such a pretty little thing, the woman said, standing in Ivan's way. I think I would like to kiss you. He started to feel threatened and tried to move, but she grabbed him hard, with more strength than he had expected. Don't you worry, she cooed. Then her face changed.
Wilma was startled. In a second, the scary stories she had heard as a child entered her mind, and before the woman's fangs were fully buried into Ivan's neck, she had broken her umbrella. The blonde man had been coming at her, but had to take a step back. His face had changed, too, and she panicked at the thought of trying to keep this monster away with a stake made from a broken umbrella. She met his eyes, trying not to look at Ivan, who had stopped struggling the woman.
Aren't you a feisty little thing? the man said. He gave her an utterly amused grin.
She could have tried to stake him, or run away, or scream her lungs out. Those were the logical options, and had she tried any of them she would most likely have been dead in a second. Instead, she found herself grinning back.
That caught him off-guard. Before he had time to get over his surprise and attack her, a voice was heard:
Hey! What are you up to?
It was a police officer. Poor man, Wilma thought as she sneaked into the nearest unlocked gateway. He didn't stand a chance.
**********
Spike had barely finished the policeman before he realised that the girl had gotten away. That put him in a bad mood that lasted all the way home. Drusilla, on the other hand, was perfectly happy.
That young man was an American, she said.

I like Americans, she declared. They aren't as dry as some people over here. Then again, I liked the policeman too. I thought he was very sweet.
I'm glad you enjoyed the meal, love.
She looked up at him.
Are you still mad about the girl? It was a pity she escaped, but I did let you have half of the policeman.
Yes you did. That was very kind of you. He kissed her and sat silent for a while before he suddenly said: I want to give it another try. It bothers me that she got away. That lousy little stake she had wasn't mush of a defence.
Drusilla realised that Spike's pride was hurt, and she agreed. Alright, I think you should. Do you think you can find her?
There aren't all that many places she could have gone. He thought for a while. You know, she did have a lot of spunk for such a little one. Maybe I should make her my childe instead.
Don't you dare! Drusilla sat straight up, jealous.
It's been kind of empty around here since Angelus left. Don't you think you would enjoy some more company?
Drusilla sulked. She didn't want another woman that would take Spike's mind off her. Angelus had been one thing, a new vamp was entirely different.
, Spike said and shrugged. I'll just kill her, then. As long as I get her one way or the other.
**********
Wilma had knocked on the door to an apartment, and heard footsteps from inside.
Who is it? a suspicious female voice asked.
Please, you have to let me in, she begged. My husband and I were attacked by, she couldn't say vampires, criminals. I ran away. Please let me in.
The woman opened the door just a little.
Are you German?
Oh God, if the woman thought she was German she would send her right out to the vampires again. I'm Dutch. My husband is an American soldier. Was. I think they killed him. Her eyes filled with tears. She hadn't been very fond of Ivan, but he was her husband.
The woman hesitated for a moment, then opened the door fully.
Come on in then. You shouldn't be out at all, it's past curfew.
I know. We were taking a walk. This was all her fault! At this thought, the tears flowed vividly.
There, there, the woman said. You don't look harmful, girl. Now you come on in, and have a cup of tea, and then I'll let you use the spare bed for tonight. We don't want you outside any more. She pushed Wilma inside with mild force. What's your name?
Wilma - Wilhelmina Romanoff.
The woman looked uncertain. But that's a Russian name, isn't it?
Yes. My husband's family emigrated from Russia.
I see. Well, I'm Mabel Patton. Nice to meet you, mrs Romanoff.
She had gratefully accepted the cup of tea, but before she had the chance to try the spare bed, there was an air-raid warning, and the following hour she spent in a crowded shelter. This caused her to fall asleep instantly when she finally got the chance.
When she woke up, she found mrs. Patton standing by her bed with a concerned expression on her face.
I've been talking to the police, dear, she said. They think they have found your husband's body. She hesitated to tell the rest. A bomb ruined half the block, so the body might be hard to identify. They want you to give it a try, though.
Wilma nodded and sat up. Fear suddenly struck her with full impact, and she turned to her new-found friend.
Mrs Patton?
Yes, dear?
You have been so very kind to me, I'm ashamed to even ask, but there's something I'd like to borrow from you. If you have one.
Mrs Patton did have one, and even though she didn't understand the first thing, she let the girl borrow it.
**********
Wilma walked down the street in a hasty pace. The identification process had been hard on her nerves, but it had an advantage: Ivan's body had been partly destroyed by the explosion, so there was no way of saying how he originally died. Officially he had died from the explosion, and she knew better than to bring up the vampires.
She was so deep into her own thoughts that she didn't quite see the man standing in the shadowy street until he grabbed her and pulled her close to him. She looked up with a gasp into the face of the vampire of last night. This time he was going to kill her for sure. Knowing that she would die, she felt a strange calm, and before she knew what she was saying, she blurted out:
I thought your kind was only out at night.
He raised an eyebrow at her remark. Not at all. We just have to stay away from direct sunlight. A common mistake - but very fatal.
He grinned and bent down his face over her neck, but quickly backed away again with a curse. Thank God, at least mrs Patton's silver cross had worked on him. She took the few steps back into the sun. This was the perfect time to run away, but she didn't. Instead, she stared at him thoroughly. When the pain from the burn had gone away, his eyes met hers for a moment. None of them knew exactly what to do. After a second, the vampire moved to sneak away. Her voice stopped him.
I have a bomb shelter in the garden.
He turned and looked at her. It was clear that he had no idea why she said this. She had no idea herself, and much less why she continued:
In case you want to stay away from the sun.
His astonishment didn't stop him from accepting the offer once he had decided she was honest. She had planned to go back to mrs Patton, but instead, she turned her steps to the place she for the moment called home, and he followed her. Him in the shadows, her in the sun. As they proceeded, she felt a strange sensation of exstacy. To her, this was Death she was walking next to. She could do nothing about the war and the bombings, nothing about the evil made by men, but this soulless death that had killed her husband she could make a pact with. For the first time since she left Amsterdam, she felt she could control her own destiny.
Here we are, she said, entering the dull little garden. This is the shelter.
He had stayed on the outside, in the shadows. Obviously.
You can come at night or whenever you need it, she said. I will be armed, and there is no one else around, now that you killed my husband, so shelter is all you will get.
He spoke for the first time since they had started the walk. You will have to get in there and invite me in before I can enter.
She thought for a while. Alright, call on me when you need it and I will invite you in.
Can I bring someone else?
This startled her. The woman? The one who
He looked at her to esteem her reaction. Finally, she nodded.
The woman then. But only her.
As she went inside the house, into safety, she knew her life would never be the same. She had made a deal with Death - with the Devil, people would tell her later in her life. By then she didn't care. She never took any part of the hunt, but she would hide Spike, and with him Drusilla, from any Slayer or demon hunter around. There was no logic in her actions, and morally they were wrong, but she couldn't turn back on them, and wouldn't if she could have.

END FLASHBACK
**********