Hey everyone. It has been forever since I have written anything. This is an idea that came to me, actually through another story that I read having to do with time travel and all that. And I know this is a little out dated and such, but I've recently been watching the reruns of Angel on TNT and I realized, again, as I did when the episodes were new, that I am a huge Cordelia/Doyle fan even as long as he's been dead. Not Wesley, Angel or Connor has been able to fill the void Doyle left in her love life.
Disclaimer: I neither own nor claim to own any of the characters in Angel or Buffy the Vampire Slayer. If I did own them, then things would be going waaaay differently.
Rating: PG-13 to R, like everything else I write
Distribution: If you want it, take it. Just let me know.
Feedback: I live off of it. Let me know.
Dedication: To Glenn Quinn. 1970-2002, your memory lives on in these stories. May you rest in peace. You are deeply missed and loved. You're still our hero.
She'd lost the picture. That was what Cordelia Chase thought of the picture that now resided in her hand. She'd thought she'd lost it. On purpose, albeit, but lost it none the less. And she'd lost it for a reason, too. To make herself forget. To make it over, done with. And now it had come back to haunt her.
The photograph was of herself and a dark-haired man. Not Angel or Wesley or Connor. Not Xander or any of the boys she'd dated back in Sunnydale, but a man she'd never had the chance to date. A man she had never given a chance to. A man who, despite the fact that he had been dead nearly five years, still lived in her heart. A man whose untimely death and unexpected heroism still made her cry whenever she thought about it.
Who was this man? Well, that was a story all in itself. A half demon sent to Angel in his early days in the city by the Powers That Be to help out. He had been cursed, as Angel had, but in a different way. Not with a soul, as he'd always had one, but with visions. Snippets of the future meant to help lost souls find their way home. He'd been Irish, a near alcoholic, running from his destiny. He'd become the man that had saved their lives. Allen Francis Doyle.
He had died before she'd had a chance to give him a chance. Died before he'd gotten to take her on the date he'd worked up the nerve to ask her out on only moments before he had died. Died before he'd gotten to do anything except give her one kiss that had passed his visions onto her. Died before he'd gotten to find out if she could come to love a demon. Died before she'd had the chance to tell him that, yes, she could.
His death still haunted her dreams, even five years later. The memory of him on that platform, leaping to turn off the machine that would kill humans and half-demons alike. Leaping to stop the Scourge who had killed a clan of Bracken demons that had pleaded for his help. Leaping to save their lives. Leaping to atone for his sins. She'd wake up once or twice a year with nightmares of that day, drenched in a cold sweat and sobbing for all she was worth.
Which wasn't much these days, Cordelia had to admit. The fiasco with Connor, thinking herself to be in love with him, going evil, having that wicked demon child. Then she'd thought she was falling in love with Angel, knowing full well that he could never love anyone but Buffy. That had been the clincher. The day she'd thought she was in love with her brooding vampiric boss was the day she'd turned her life around.
She'd become herself again. Bossy, a little snobby, a bit pretentious, but herself. The Cordelia that she'd been before sleeping with Connor. Before she'd Ascended and Returned. Before she'd become evil. Almost like the Cordelia she'd been when she'd first moved to LA. But not quite as easily grossed out.
So, on that day, the five-year anniversary of both the day Doyle had died, and the day she'd received her visions, she went to his favorite bar for a drink with Angel. One drink quickly turned into a dozen as both of them were brooding over their dead friend. Cordelia got drunk; Angel got tipsy. His increased size and lack of blood made it hard for him to get drunk, but the potency of the Irish whisky and scotch they were drinking made him get close.
"Let me take you home." Angel said, helping Cordelia into her jacket. She shook her head.
"I'm not that drunk." She said, slurring her words. "And you're too drunk to be driving."
"Then let me walk you. It's late and unsafe."
Cordelia shrugged and wove her way toward the door. "Suit yourself, Brood Boy."
Angel followed her; none too steady on his feet either. He started off in the general direction of her apartment and she fell into step beside him. "Are you okay, Cordy?" he asked gently, the crisp air clearing his alcohol laden brain.
"Great." She replied sarcastically. "I'm drunk off my ass and still mourning over a man who died five years ago. Not to mention the fact that he wasn't even my husband, or fiancé, hell, he wasn't even my boyfriend for that matter. All we had were possibilities." She said tearfully. "A whole glob of possibilities that he died before we got to explore. I wonder sometimes, y'know? What he'd look like now. If we'd be married, or have kids, or still be dating, or living together, or engaged. And now I'll never know. I'll never know because he's dead!"
Angel put his arm around her in a brotherly fashion. "I know. But there's nothing we can do, Cordelia. We've just got to keep doing what we've been doing. We've got to keep going. Keep fighting. We can't ever let his death have been in vain. He died because he wanted us to go on. To continue saving lives and killing demons."
"I miss him, Angel. Even now, I miss him. I wish it had been me sometimes. That I wasn't the one who had to go on and live a life that feels empty."
"I wished that for a long time, too."
"If you could change the past, would you do it?" Cordelia asked, "Would you go back and stop him?"
"Would you?" Angel countered, not sure what he would do.
"Stop him? I don't know. I just wish I'd had the chance to tell him how I felt about him. I wish I'd had the chance to try to stop him. To do something so I could stop feeling this way. I mean, what was wrong with Connor or Wesley? Nothing. They just aren't Doyle. And I never got to close that chapter of my life so I can't possibly move onto a new one. It doesn't work like that." She said, "I just wish I could go back and tell him everything. That's what I miss most, Angel. I miss talking to him. He always listened so well. And I loved how he called me Princess and 'Delia all the time, even though I never got to tell him that."
And an uninvited guest heard the wish that had been made in a half-drunken stupor, but straight from the heart none the less. And unbidden in the night, a vengeance demon showed her face. "Wish granted."
The next morning, Cordelia woke up in her apartment. She looked around and squinted in confusion. Everything looked different. It looked like it had several redeorating's ago. Not at all like the apartment in which she lived. She became quite nervous when her gaze settled on a woman standing at the foot of her bed.
"Who the hell are you?" she demanded, sitting up in bed.
"I am Christyanka." She said, walking the length of the bottom of the bed. "I have granted your wish, mortal. You are returned to the past. You may change it if you wish; though I would not necessarily advise it. You now have the opportunity to tell this man who has hurt you all the things you wished. Keep in mind that whatever you do differently here will mean a change in your time as well. You are here exactly forty eight hours before the Scourge attacks the Lister demons."
Cordelia gaped at her. "How can you do this? You're only supposed to be able to grant vengeance wishes."
"This is it's own sort of vengeance. By his death, he hurt you. This is what you have chosen as revenge. Go now, mortal. Relive. Do what you wished."
With that last bit of advice, the demon disappeared. Cordelia leapt from bed, anxious and petrified to find out if she had been telling the truth. The newspaper on the kitchen table was dated October 12, 1999. Exactly five years and three days in the past. Cordelia rushed to the shower.
She was at the coffeepot, making coffee that had drastically improved in five years when she heard that familiar Irish brogue. The voice that had haunted her thoughts; her dreams for years. The voice she'd thought was forever doomed to be captured on a videotape that was always in the VCR in her bedroom.
"Mornin', Princess. Is that coffee I smell?"
Cordelia turned around slowly, barely daring to breathe, let alone believe that Doyle was really standing behind her in their old office building. When her eyes came to rest on his dark, curly hair, his sparkling blue eyes, the all too familiar mismatched clothes, and the almost, but not quite tall stature of one Allen Francis Doyle, she felt like crying. It was only when she flew into his arms and felt his solid chest against her cheek that she really believed he was real.
"Not that I'm objecting to this unexpected display of affection," Doyle said, his own arms going around her, "But could ye possibly loosen up your grip, 'Delia? I'm havin' problems breathin'."
Damning the consequences, Cordelia changed the future. The immediate future at least. She pulled back from the shared embrace, took his face in both her hands, and kissed him fiercely. And it was even better than the kiss she had experienced in the final minutes of his life that he hadn't had yet. Because this time, he wasn't dying and there was no transfer of visions.
Doyle was shocked when he suddenly found himself kissing Cordelia, but he was no where near shocked enough to not react. He kissed her back, twining his hands in her hair, angling her head back, pressing her small body against his. She groaned against his mouth, tightening her grip on him, like she never wanted to let him go.
When she finally broke the embrace, she was near tears. "I'm sorry," she whispered, laying her forehead against his, "But I had to do that just once. Now I think we should talk. Where's Angel?"
Doyle looked confused. "What's wrong, 'Delia?"
"I'll tell you everything in a minute. Is he in his office?"
"Should be."
Cordelia remembered where that was easily. She walked in without knocking, followed by Doyle and sat down in one of the chairs facing his desk. Doyle took the other one. The solemn, half-scared look on Cordelia's face got Angel's immediate attention.
"Is something wrong?"
"I have to tell you two a story. And you're going to think I'm crazy, but I swear to you that I'm not. I'm not the Cordelia that was here yesterday."
Angel looked at her like she was crazy. "What?"
"I'm from the future." She said, and proceeded to tell them everything. Except that Doyle died in less than two days. She left out the five years she had lived through that Angel had not, telling only of the coming days and her wish.
"You're right." Angel said when she'd finished. "I think you're crazy."
"But I'm not." Cordelia insisted. "Do I really look eighteen Angel? Cause I'm not. I'm twenty-three. And I didn't have blonde hair yesterday. And it was long yesterday, remember?"
"Scissors and peroxide can do that, Cordelia. And we all know you're a little unpredictable."
"Hold on, Angel." Doyle said, "I don't think she's lying. And I've had experience with vengeance demons. One of them would just love to meddle with time travel. It's not that far-fetched. But tell me something that only Cordelia would know."
She looked at Angel. "The Day That Wasn't." she said, then turned her gaze to Doyle. "And you're half demon. Bracken demon. But I don't find that out for another two days."
Angel, if it was possible, became even paler. "How did you know that?" he asked in disbelief.
"I told you. I'm from five years in the future. You confide in me one night when you're really drunk."
Angel gulped. "I'm not sure if I can believe this, Cordelia. This is way out there even for us."
"Oh, come on Angel, you're a vampire, he's a demon, we lived on a Hellmouth, what is so far fetched about time travel? Call Anya if you don't believe me. I'm sure she'll tell you that vengeance demons can take people back to the past."
"But what I don't understand is, if you're telling me the truth, and I'm not sure if I do, then why are you here? What terrible thing has someone done to you for you to wish to change the past?"
Cordelia took a deep, gulping breath. "I'm here to change the future. More than what I have by what I've already done this morning. I mean, there's no way I can do everything exactly right, now is there? I'm bound to do things differently simply because I can't remember everything I did yesterday, let alone what I did five years ago."
"'Delia," Doyle interjected gently, "You're rambling, and I don't think you ever got to the point, darlin'. Why did you make the wish?"
Cordelia was near tears again. "I was drunk, okay? I really didn't mean the wish. It was a rough day, and something happens, not too far from now that changes everything we know. It changes who I am. And I make a lot of mistakes because of it, do a lot of terrible things. Terrible enough to make me want to join Angel brooding for a couple of centuries. So on the fifth anniversary of this event, Angel and I went out drinking and I got drunk, there's no way to sugar coat that, and I wished that I could go back to talk to someone. To tell them things I never got to tell them because I was too afraid. And I wished that I could do it all over again. But I only have a couple of days to change everything or else I'm right back where I belong."
Angel sat up a little straighter. "But that doesn't sound like a vengeance wish."
"The vengeance demon said that it was its own type of vengeance. The type that came from years of grief. I chose my revenge by coming back to stop what had hurt me."
"Let's say I believe you." Angel said hesitantly, "And I'm not so sure I do, but let's just pretend for a minute. What is this big event? When is it going to happen?"
"Two days. Almost to the minute. And you'll find out soon enough. I'll fill in the blanks in about five minutes."
"What happens from now until five minutes from now?"
Cordelia looked at her watch. "Now," she said, planting both feet firmly on the floor and scooting back as far in her chair as she could go, "Now would be the vision from hell."
She was only off by seconds. The vision hit him a millisecond before her, doubling him over with brain boiling pain; the type that felt like someone was ripping out your spine. She barely saw him go down before the vision carried her away too, erasing all doubt that she had that she'd brought the visions back with her.
Angel looked around in confusion; not sure who needed his help more. Cordelia seemed to be having a vision, judging from the way she grabbed her head and screamed like it was splitting open. She braced her head between her knees, shoulders heaving with sobs. Doyle was on the floor, as he hadn't had the chance to get ready for the vision.
When it ended, Cordelia realized that things had already changed. The vision was different than it had been the first time around. This time, she, at least, saw the possible ending. A different ending. Another way to save the Listers and Doyle. All she had to do, was punch him before he punched Angel. Then they could figure out something else to do.
"Are you okay?" Angel demanded of them both as Doyle reached for the bottle of scotch he used for killing the pain.
"I'm fine." He said, looking at Cordelia, "What I want to know is, did you just have a vision?"
Cordelia nodded, still cradling her head behind her hands. "Yeah."
"Well that cinches it." Doyle announced, "She's telling the truth. Our Cordy definitely did not have visions."
"What did you see?" Angel asked; Cordelia answered.
"Lister demons. Half- breeds. A group of pure blood demons called the Scourge are coming after them. They'll attack in two days."
"You've lived through this before." Angel admitted grudgingly. "What do we do?"
"We stop them." Doyle answered solemnly. "I don't need to be from the future to know that."
"He's right. But first, I need to see the Oracles."
"How do you know about the Oracles?" Angel asked, curiosity getting the better of him.
Cordelia stood up. "I was their boss at one time."
That answer was one that could not have surprised Angel more. But he did as she asked. He took her to the place under the post office where the portal to the Oracles was. She seemed to know what to do and simply watched as he did the ceremony.
"We beseech access to the all-knowing ones." He said, and to his surprise, the door opened. Cordelia stepped through.
"Mortal," the female said, rising, "With what have you come to us to ask?"
"The gift first." Her mate demanded. Cordelia tossed her bracelet to them. Since it technically hadn't been given to her yet, she technically wasn't giving them anything. "What do you wish to ask?"
"I want to know if I can change it."
"Change what?"
"You know what. I want to know if I can save him without risking the safety of the world."
"Only the safety of everyone else that you have helped." The female said, "Without the Messenger you helped many, Cordelia Chase. The woman in Pylea, the demon fighters. Without his death, so much is at risk. Is one life worth so many?"
"Are you saying that if I save him, I'm killing Fred and Gunn?" Cordelia asked, her worst fears seconds from being confirmed.
"No. We are saying that you risk it. There is a sequence of events leading up to each person you save. The presence of the Bracken could disrupt that, leading to a different outcome."
"But I get the visions telling us about all of them. The visions would just go to him, right?"
"That is one possible outcome, yes. Another is that another vision would take the place of the one that you received leading you to all those people."
"Things could be better though, couldn't they?"
"They could," the female said compassionately. "But they could also be worse. It seems you are stuck between Scila and Charybdis. Nowhere to go. However, let me give you one piece of advice. We would not have allowed the wish to be granted if there was not a way for you to have your closure. Follow your heart, Seer. Do what you know is right. Love comes along only once, youngling. Don't let it go again."
When Cordelia appeared back in the chamber, Angel was waiting. "Are you okay?" he asked, knowing how the Oracles could be.
"Fine. I know what I have to do now."
"It's Doyle, isn't it? The person you've come back to save?"
Cordelia looked up at him. "You can't tell him. I know how to stop him. How to make it all go differently. And they told me there's a way to make the future right as well. Angel, how good is your memory?"
Angel just looked down at her. "I'll remember whatever you need me to."
Cordelia told him everyone they needed to save, everything that needed doing in the near future. And he listened to it all, believing every word she said. When they arrived at the office, Doyle was waiting in the lobby. Cordelia looked at Angel, and he nodded, walking down to his apartment without a word.
"We need to talk." She said, and he nodded.
"Where do you want to go?"
Cordelia shrugged her shoulders. "Someplace quiet."
They ended up in his apartment. It was as messy as she'd remembered. But for once it didn't gross her out. She simply helped him clear out two places to sit; and sat. He got them both something to drink, soda for once, instead of the alcohol he normally drank, and sat in the chair across from her.
"Why do you have my visions?"
"You give them to me in the near future."
"Because I'm not around to use them." He said bluntly, but she saw the raw pain behind his eyes. "How soon?"
"It isn't going to happen."
"How are you going to stop it? Destiny isn't up to us, 'Delia. It's decided by someone way above our heads."
"I know. And they let me come back to stop it from ever happening. They told me to follow my heart. And my heart tells me that I am not going to let you die. That I can't. Before you died in my time, you told me that it was too bad we'd never find out if yours was a face I could learn to love. Five years ago, I was snobby, bitchy and shallow. Don't disagree with me, you know I am. Want to know the truth I never had the chance to tell you? There was no learning to it, Doyle. I was in love with you. I just didn't know it until it was too late." Cordelia said, the words coming from her heart. She was fulfilling part of her wish. She was telling him all the things that she hadn't gotten to say.
Doyle could scarcely believe what he was hearing, "'Delia-" he began, but was cut off.
"Let me finish. When you died, it was like I did too. I couldn't function. I didn't want to. I started making mistakes. Then, the visions started killing me. Literally. Humans can't handle them. With every vision I had, my brain became a little less active until finally I had a demon guide turn me into a half demon. Then, a while later, I Ascended. Became a Power. But I was bored out of my mind up there, so I came back. Hooked up with Angel's son, Connor. That's another story in itself. One I'm not up to telling. Just watch out for Darla, okay? And somehow I got pregnant with a demon child that was hell bent on destroying the world. The baby turned me evil. But through all of that, there was one thing that stayed constant. One thing that brought me any measure of peace. The knowledge that, not matter what I did, or what I would ever do, no matter how stupid or dangerous, or deadly, it brought me one step closer to you."
Doyle joined her on the couch. "I am so sorry, 'Delia." He said, his voice thick with tears. Her tears were already streaming down her cheeks.
"You haven't done it yet. You can't be sorry. But that's why I'm here, Doyle. It's been five years, and still, the only person that I love is you. You're the only person I could ever love. And by saving you, I'm saving myself."
"My God, I love you, Princess." He murmured, and their mouths met in a kiss that was not as desperate as the one he had not experienced or as wild as the one they had had that morning. It was sweet, slow. Their tongues tangled, breath mingling as they kissed.
"Doyle-" Cordelia gasped hen he pulled his mouth back from hers. She leaned her forehead against his.
"Shhh." Doyle shushed her gently. "We can't do this, Cordy. When I get our Cordelia back, I don't know if I could bear doing this with you and then having to wait for her to realize what you have."
"I was there, Doyle. I realized it then. The second I knew that you were willing to die for me, I knew that I was in love with you. Give me tonight, just in case."
She didn't have to finish her sentence. He knew what she meant. In case the future wasn't what she was hoping it would become. In case her plan didn't work. And he knew he didn't want to die without having made love to her. He picked her up and carried her to his bedroom. He laid her down on the bed and she pulled him down on top of her.
They undressed one another slowly, taking time to discover every plane, every nuance of their bodies. He kissed her from head to toe, imprinting the memory of how she felt, how she tasted, how she smelled, onto his mind. By the time he slid inside her, she was breathless. The moment he entered her, it felt like coming home.
That night, in a small bedroom in a tiny apartment on an unknown street in the city of Los Angeles, two people found one another. They found what they had missed out on before. And a love that was stronger than death, stronger than time itself was culminated. And they knew, as uncertain as the future was, especially for them, that, no matter what, they would always have their love. And one another.
Chapter 2 will be up soon. Feedback is appreciated.