Doyle walked into the first open shop he had found at this time of night - The Expresso Pump. He now knew that he was in Sunnydale, having purchased a paper with his coffee - which he had, with his patented Doyle grin, persuaded the waitress to make Irish.

He sat there, Irish coffee in his hand, absent-mindedly wondering why he was there, in Sunnydale, instead of in LA with Angel, Cordelia, and the two newest additions of Angel Investigations.

After gulping down half of his coffee, he set it down on the table in front of him, and turned the paper to the sports section. But, before he was able to start to read it, he flung his hands to his head in pain. A vision.

Once the vision passed, and the pain dulled slightly, he finished off his coffee, left a tip, and walked out, all the while muttering about 'the idiotic PTB' and, 'they told me mar atonement 'ad bin fulfilled when I *died*. Now I'm back, the least they could do is give me pain*less* visions!'