A/N: Hey all! I'm back with another rousing chapter. Did y'all notice the "Monty Python and the Holy Grail" reference in the chapter title? I'm sorry, I just couldn't help myself.

A/N 2.0: Oh, and to fix up a few continuity problems I notice I've been having in this story, I reposted chapter six with a few more changes. Now it should all make sense if you read it from the start. Enjoy the chapter and don't forget those reviews!

****

"This can't be happening . . . I am not that crazy psycho . . . I am not that crazy psycho . . . " That became Cordelia's mantra as she paced the stone castle floor up and down the stairs. "I AM NOT CRAZY!!" Well, maybe that was stretching it a little. 'Try telling this one to the authorities and see them throw you into a psychiatric ward faster than you can say shopping spree.'

All this, this whole *thing* that was going on: the end of the world (at Disneyland, of all places), this mind-switching deal, that something she'd heard about the child. *Everything* was just getting on her nerves.

For a while, Cordelia had contemplated trying to escape the castle. Then she remembered the demons that filled the place weren't exactly fans of the vampiric race and decided on otherwise. The last thing she wanted was to be turned into dust. That was a vampire way of demise and she was *not* a vampire.

Not normally, anyway.

"Look on the bright side, Cord. At least it isn't sunny outside." 'At least I still have a sense of humor,' she told herself. 'And at least the voice in my head is my own.'

"Ain't dat the truth," a voice from the shadows came.

Cordelia strained with her newly-given vampire eyes to see who was in the tower with her. "Who's there?" the brunette called. God, she recognized that voice from *somewhere*. . .

"Don'tcha reco'nize me?" The mysterious voice still didn't show himself.

"Not if you keep yourself hidden in the dark, pal."

"It's strange, Cord. It's you in there. . . but on first sight ya look like a crazy vampire."

Cordelia's mouth made an "O" shape. Just by the way he said "vampire". . .

"You know, I noticed. Now who the hell are you?"

Fortunately for her, no introductions were needed. The figure seeped out of the shadows almost like water through the cracks of a door. Almost, Cordelia observed, like a ghost.

Cordelia got her first good look at the stranger from the shadows. "Oh God. . . It is you. . ."

*****

"That's the last of 'em." Willow and Tara's heads spun around at Spike's announcement. He had just finished putting the last unconscious body in Wesley's office and closed the door. The three of them decided that if anybody decided to waltz into Angel Investigations and saw unmoving bodies sprawled across the floor, it wouldn't look good for them.

"Well. . . Now what?" The Wiccans shrugged in unison.

"We wait for them to wake up, I suppose," Willow offered.

Spike took a seat in the red sofa near the office. "That's a trip to boredom city if there ever was one." He removed the cigarette pack from his duster pocket.

"Where is everyone?" Cordelia's voice drifted from the stairs. "They've all disappeared."

"They didn't disappear, pet," Spike said with his "100 years of dealing with Drusilla" voice. "They've all gone to the land of sugar canes and lollipops, remember?"

"Oh yeah." Drusilla rubbed her blue, tank-top covered belly. "I'm hungry."

"For what?" Willow questioned. "Blood or actual food?"

Before the vampiress could reply, Cordelia's form started to look dazedly around. She began to moan and collapsed down the stairs. When the tumbling subsided, Drusilla lay on the foyer floor, still moaning.

"The angel's bleeding. . ." She was rocking back and forth like someone had flipped over a turtle.

"Well, Peaches has got a few cuts on his forehead but he isn't exactly bleeding. . ."

"Not *Angel,* Spike. The angel. The one in the prophecy."

Tara caught Willow's drift. "Oh, oh! The blood that supposed to pour from the bowels of the angel." The blonde Wiccan paused. "Does anyone else here think that's gross?" Willow raised a hand.

Drusilla's moaning turned from that to hysterical laughter within a matter of moments.

"What's so funny now?" Spike asked irritably. He still hadn't moved from his spot on the red couch.

"Is this her 'I think everything in the world is absolutely hysterical' maniacal laughter or her 'Chicken Little: the sky's about to fall' laughter? Cause either way I'm still majorly wigged."

"Neither," Spike replied. "Or both. With her, it's really hard to tell."

Still lying on her back, Drusilla did an impersonation of a bird. She flapped her arms and made chirping noises. Willow and Tara gave the Cordelia-shaped vampire a puzzled look.

"The bird's going free. . . Breaking open the cage bars and flying away to his destiny." Her arms still flapped but now she was on her knees. "The Knight and his damsel are riding to Camelot on their stolen horse."

Spike understood his sire's meaning, but the two girls in the room were completely baffled. "What's she going off on?"

The younger vampire chuckled. "So that's how it is?"

"How what is? Spill the beans!"

To leave Willow in a temporary state of suspense, Spike took an extra long drag on his cigarette. He slowly let the cigarette fall to the floor and even more slowly crushed it beneath his boot heel. By the time he had finished his teasing, Willow's face was the color of her hair.

Spike noticed the change in color with his working right eye. By the way she was glaring he knew that if he didn't tell her what Dru had meant, he would become indistinguishable from the dust that currently lay on the hotel floor.

"Brave Sir Harris ran away."

*****

Xander gripped the wheel of the stolen ambulance so hard his knuckled turned bone white. His breathing had become ragged and it felt as though his heart was running the Boston Marathon on its own volition.

"I don't see why you're still so hyper, Xander," Anya voice piped up from the seat next to him. "We made it out of the hospital alive and now you can go save the world without a hitch! Stop worrying!"

'Save the world without a hitch? What was Anya thinking? Apparently, she doesn't remember those Glory days which involved that small thing called Buffy's death. I mean, just getting out of the hospital nearly ended the world in itself.'

Man, had those two made a commotion. Xander's "shirtless Anya" plan didn't work out *exactly* as planned but, hey, they got out alive.

Barely.

At this current time, Xander would like to give you a quick recap of the events of the past few hours in as best detail as possible:

4:46 p.m.: I reveal my plan to Anya.

5:31: I *finally* convince her that this plan is not all that bad of an idea and she removes the previously aforementioned article of clothing.

5:32: Anya shrieks and three lab-coated doctors come charging into my room. The trio, two males and one female, freeze at the sight of my shirtless ex-demon. By the time the docs get into my room, they find me shivering under my hospital blanket (part of my plan, you see).

5:35: After several minutes of coaxing, the lady doctor gets me out from under the sheets. The two male doctors were. . . um. . . busy at the moment. . . examining. Not the touchy kind. More like the eyeballing kind.

5:36: The two male doctors inquire Anya's state of shirtlessness and she replies like I so diligently told her to. "He did it." I hold the shirt up in my hand as proof.

5:38: Those burly male nurses are forcefully grabbing me by the arms and dragging me out of the hospital room. Male doctors have yet to stop staring and don't notice my departure. So far so good.

5:39: Wait a minute. Why aren't they taking me to the ambulances and to some correctional facility? (You see, I was going to hijack the ambulance while in it. Being a Scooby, it's a good skill to have) Oh, God no! They're taking me to that padded room! No, this is not good. I yell for the ambulances, knowing full well they aren't going to listen to the pleas of a head injury patient.

5:43: Okay, so I panicked. I guess those past six years hanging out with the Slayer taught me a few things about fisticuffs. I broke free from the tough grasp, got hold of a broom and took out those two male nurses. (No, please, don't *ask* how I did it. I just did) I had run back to get Anya where those two doctors were still "questioning" her. In my freaked state of mind, I knocked them out with that broom too. (Unnecessary, yes, I see that now)

5:44: That female doctor called security. Now we're being chased. Not the kind of thing one, namely me, would want.

5:46: We reach the elevator to find it filled with hospital cops. Anya suggests the stairs and I comply.

5:47: Eight. . . flights. . . of. . . stairs. . . bad. Can't. . . breathe. At least now we've found a way into the ambulance parking area.

5:49: I hear a stampede of feet enter the garage and I'm now even more scared than I was when I knocked out those nurse guys. Unless I get into an ambulance pronto, I'm as good as a mentally insane criminal.

5:50: Madre de Dios, they're getting closer and they've got straitjackets and handcuffs. C'mon. . . open, damn you, open!

5:51: Success! I've picked the lock of the damned ambulance and climbed in. Unfortunately, twenty hospital security people are right on my ass and I haven't gotten the thing started. For once, and only once, do I wish Spike were here. . .

5:52: Sweet Merciful Zeus! Anya hot-wired the ambulance. I'll ask her later how she knew how to do that.

5:55: I don't know how I did it, but I did. We're out of the garage and getting the hell out of Sunnydale. Disneyland here we come.

5:56: Terror grips my heart as I realize *cops have cars.* Anya says not to worry, but I still do.

And that's right about where we find our fleeing hero and his lady. "Stop worrying? Anya, I have the entire Sunnydale police force riding my ass and you say not to worry?!"

Anya waves her hand in his face to get him to be quiet. "Hush, Xander. I'm on the phone."

For the first time since their breakaway, Xander took his eyes off the road. "You're WHAT?!"

"You can?" Anya asked the mysterious person on the other end of the phone, ignoring Xander's outburst. "Great! I owe you one, Tini." She clicked her cell phone shut and placed it back into her purse. "See, I told you. No worries."

"Who the hell was that?"

"That was my old friend, Tini. She's a Pleuon demon." Xander blinked in confusion. "Pleuon demons are magical, silly. I just asked her to cast an amnesia spell on the Sunnydale police, and *bam*, no more coppers on our tail."

To make sure Anya was telling the truth, Xander caught a look into the rear view mirror. Where there had once been ten police cars chasing them, there were now none to speak of. A weight was lifted from his shoulders. "So, all the Sunnydale police have forgotten why they're chasing me and turned back home?" Anya nodded.

"Another thing. . . How did you know how to hot-wire a car?"

"When you've been around 1100 years, you learn a few things," Anya replied nonchalantly.

'Huh,' Xander thought. For the first time, he had nothing witty or sarcastic to say.

****

"Glad ta know I haven't lost my touch wit' the ladies."

Cordelia was still in complete bewilderment. "Doyle? B-B-But. . . How?!"

"I'm a ghost, Cordy, that's how."

"HOW?!"

Doyle knew there was really no easy way for Cordelia to understand this. "I died, remember?"

"Why are you here?"

Finally, a question that involved some thought process. "The Powers sent me to help you."

Cordelia walked up to the ghostly figure to get a better look. Up until now, Cordelia was sure that he had just been a figment of Drusilla's maniacal imagination. "Me? Why?"

The ghost Doyle, who now seemed to take on a more material, non-misty guise, crossed his arms and laughed. "You think the Powers just went and let Drusilla switch minds with ya? No bloody way. They allowed this to happen."

"Why?"

"Christ, princess. You think they told me? All I know is that head injury boy in Sunnydale all has a HUGE role to play in the upcomin' battle. And to be honest, I think his role goes deeper into the future as well."

"Well, duh, Doyle. Everyone knows he's the frickin' hero! I think there was some kind of bulletin over the Demon Broadcast System or something! I mean that all demons. . . know. . . Oh, God! Xander's in trouble, isn't he?"

The half-demon pursed his lips and nodded his head solemnly. "Mm-hmm. That's the word on the PTB street."

"And, in typical Xander Harris fashion, he's on his way here right now to play the strapping hero." Doyle nodded again. "Dammit! Why does it have to be Xander? He's the Zeppo, for God's sake. He doesn't know how to be heroic."

Doyle uncrossed his arms and held up a hand. "That's where you're wrong, Cord. He may not have superhuman strength, everyone who's ever met him knows that one, but he has a mental strength all his own."

"Huh? We are talking about the same Xander, right?"

"I'm serious, Cor. That boy's been through a whole hell of a lot the past six years of hangin' out wit' that Slayer girl. What with nearly being killed the first day the pretty Slayer comes to town, the Harvest, the Prayin' Mantis Lady, the Master, Angelus, Faith. . . Need I say more?"

"Yeah, okay, all right. . ." Cordelia interrupted. "I get your point. But why Xander the hero? Is it something in his blood?"

"Precisely," the ghost stated.

"What does this have to do with the Powers letting the Lady Insane switch minds with me?"

Doyle bellowed out a hardy Irish laugh. "Do you think the Knights of the Round Table in Los Angeles were anywhere close to figuring out what's about to go down in Anaheim? They're about as clueless as the girls of the same-named movie. The only one of the crew you got over there in L.A. who was close to figuring anything out was the Clorox vampire."

"Spike? You're kidding. . ."

"Not a word, princess."

"So. . . Wait. They let Drusilla switch minds with me because she was the only person. . . thing. . . that knew what was going to happen on the 14th?" The ghost nodded. "Why was I the lucky one to get mind-swapped? Was there some kind of lottery I won and didn't know about?"

"It's the half-demon in ya, Cord. The one that my ol' buddy Skip gave ya a while back. Angel's little girl tried to use it on poor Harris but his human mind couldn't handle the extremity of it all. You, having at least some demon, were able to handle it a lot better."

"What about Lorne? He's a demon."

Doyle tilted his head to one side. "As a woman, answer me this. Which would you rather be: A.) a pea green, horned demon from Pylea or B.) a young, 21-year old brunette female from Southern California?"

Cordelia looked into Doyle's eyes a moment, pondering his question. "I see what you mean. The woman's got good taste." She changed the subject quickly. "Now how am I going to get out of here?"

"When Drusilla's done, she'll return ya back to your rightful body. Just be a bit more. . . patient."

Cordelia threw the scratched-up arms into the air. "Patient? Patient? Do you know how long I've been waiting here for help? Why can't you get me outta here?"

Doyle sighed. "Only the person who made the transference in the first place can put you back in your rightful place."

"Oh."

"And besides, I'm only here to give ya the straight facts. To tell you how it is. Not to help, as much as I'd like to." A beeping sound entered the air and Doyle looked down at the watch on his left arm. "I gotta go."

"Whatdya mean, you gotta go? You have an elsewhere to be?"

"Unfortunately," the demon replied. "But don't worry, Cord. I'll be around." With a wave of his arm, he disappeared back into the shadow from which he came from. Before he was fully gone, Cordelia heard his voice say, "I'm not quite done here yet."