Amazing Grace

Chapter 3

He woke up hungry. And that feeling alone made him sick to his stomach. It was too much to take in.

He'd killed a little girl... Oh God ...she was someone's baby...

He closed his eyes and tried to fight off the urge to vomit again. After a few moments of meditation, he got out of bed and walked into his small kitchen.

Doyle was asleep in a chair by the table, next to several empty bottles. Angel didn't wake him. He didn't feel like sharing his feelings right now.

He took a small pot off the shelf above the stove and filled it with water, then set it on the burner.

Letting it heat up, he rummaged through the fridge for a jar of blood, but found to his dismay, that all he had were the little plastic bags.

"Damn it..." He mumbled.

A small grunt of a laugh made Angel start. Doyle continued to chuckle.

"You know, after everything, it's funny that the first thing I 'ear come out of your mouth, is 'Damn it.'" He shook his head, trying to hide a smile.

"Good to 'ave you back though."

Angel ignored him, and searched the shelves for something suitable to heat his breakfast in.

Doyle sighed. "Sooner or later you're gonna 'ave to tell me, you know." Angel closed his eyes again, and tried to pretend everything was perfectly fine.

"Here," Doyle offered an empty bottle to Angel. "Use this."

"What was it?"

"Scotch." Doyle pushed the bottle in Angel's face. "Good year." He tried.

Angel shrugged and took it. He grabbed a bag from the refrigerator, tore it open with his teeth, and poured it's contents carefully into the bottle.

"Whatever small amount of alcohol was left in there," He said setting it into the hot water on the stove. "I'm thankful for it."

Doyle nodded understandingly. "So tell me stuff." He pressed, opening another bottle and setting his feet up on the table. Angel gave him a disapproving look.

Doyle chuckled. "Make me." He took a swig.

"Why do you do that?" Angel asked, leaning against the counter.

"Cause you don't make that funny expression when I behave." Doyle replied fondly.

Angel shook his head. "That's not what I mean."

Doyle's grin faded a bit.

"Oh, you mean--" He raised his liquor bottle, forcing a chuckle. Angel waited patiently. Doyle sighed. "I find it...comforting. It 'elps with things. You know, bad things--they go away for a while."

Angel turned around to check if the blood was warm yet. He had a cryptic answer, and he didn't get the sense that Doyle wanted to talk about it.

"And that was a very clever maneuver to change the subject, by the way, but I'm still waiting." Doyle sipped his drink again, his eyes locked on Angel, who was busy trying to get his blood out of the pot without burning himself.

Doyle stood, and easily picked it up and set it on the counter. "You wuss." He joked. Angel smiled.

"Says the boy hostage." Immediately he wished he hadn't said anything. "Doyle I...I'm sorry..."

Doyle shook his head. "No. We 'ave to talk about it."

Angel grabbed his blood off the counter and sunk into a chair. "What is there to say?"

Doyle sat down next to him. "I know it was you."

Angel looked up at him, eyes wide.

"How?"

"I 'ad a vision. When you killed that woman. Jesse."

Angel shuddered. "I didn't know..."

"Know what?" Doyle asked, confused. Why did Angel have to keep changing the subject?

"Her name. She never told me her name." He looked intently at the bottle of blood in his hand, and set it down on the table, pushing it as far away from himself as he could without more effort then he felt like making. Doyle pushed it back.

"Oh no Bud, you gotta eat." Angel reluctantly took a sip, coughing in an attempt to swallow. Doyle slapped his back, and continued speaking.

"So, yeah. I know it was you, what I'm not clear on is..." He trailed off. Angel looked expectantly at him.

"What?"

Doyle studied him. "Why?"

Angel didn't say anything for a long time. It wasn't that he didn't know the answer, it was just that he didn't know how to explain it. This, he told Doyle, but Doyle's only response was to take another swig from his drink and wait for an answer. Angel sighed.

"I think--I think I've fallen in love with someone...again." He rolled his eyes at that last word. Doyle didn't speak, he simply continued to watch Angel, and wait. Angel continued with effort.

"I think I love Kate..." Doyle nodded. This he knew. Still, he remained quiet. Several minutes passed before Angel spoke again.

"I thought I'd gotten passed it, managed to bury it somewhere inside, you know?" Again Doyle nodded.

Angel continued. "But then there was that damn spell! And...I held her--and..." He trailed off.

For a while niether of them said anything. Angel drained the bottle, ran his finger along the inside, and licked it clean. Somehow he was both pleased and revolted at the same time. After a moment he went on.

"When the spell wore off, I couldn't get back...to not feeling anything. I got lost. I knew if Kate ever found out about--" He laughed weakly. "--me..."

He continued to laugh very quietly.

Doyle narrowed his eyes. It was almost worrying.

"I hate it... Love, I mean." Angel stopped laughing. "I guess I'm just not meant to have it..."

Doyle regretted bringing up the topic. "Angel man, you should probably lie down..." Angel started laughing again, obviously finding something incredibly funny.

Doyle was at a loss. "You--you don't look all together well..."

Angel continued to chuckle at his own private joke.

"No. No, I guess I'm not, huh?"

Doyle rised cautiously out of his chair. "Angel, you stay 'ere, I'll be back in a minute." He walked into the living room and picked up the phone. He needed Cordy here, now. Something was very wrong with Angel. He managed to put four digits into the phone before Angel shot into the room and slammed it back onto the receiver.

"Don't. I don't want her here." Doyle spun around.

Terror surged through him at the sight of his friend.

Angel had changed. This was bad. "She can't be here..." Angel continued. "It isn't safe."

Doyle backed away as Angel moved forward, so that the distance between them didn't change. Doyle knew he would eventually hit a wall. Then he'd be in trouble.

"Angel man, listen to me! You gotta snap outta this!" Angel shook his head sadly.

"I've tried. I can't."

"You can. Oh God, Angel you 'ave to."

"I'm sorry." Angel had Doyle backed into a corner.

He was very close now.

"Angel. What's 'appening to you?"

Angel laughed again, loudly this time.

"Nothing! Nothing's happening! Nothing ever happens, nothing changes!" He waved his arms in the air, trying to catch something only he could see.

Oh fuck. Doyle thought. He's cracking up.

"I've lost something..." Angel mumbled, still feeling out the air around him. "I've lost something and now I can't find it--I can't FIND IT!" He screamed the last words for the world to hear.

Doyle took a step away from the wall. Angel didn't notice. His eyes were blank, unseeing.

"It's there, Angel. Do you see it? Your soul? You can't find your soul? It's there. It's there or you wouldn't be looking for it. It isn't lost, Angel. Can't you see it?" Doyle whispered each word soothingly, trying to pull Angel back. "It isn't lost. You're not lost. You've just forgotten who you are. Don't you see it?"

Angel stifled a sob. "I tried looking for it. Last night...there was nothing..."

Realization hit Doyle so hard he nearly fell. "The mirror...you were--" He didn't know what to do. There was no convincing Angel that he wasn't evil. He believed it was true. There was no way of showing him, he couldn't even see his own reflection.

"No...no I guess you can't see it." Doyle walked closer. "But you can feel it. Angelus wouldn't be this torn up, he'd be out painting the streets red--"

"I am Angelus." Angel interrupted. He'd reverted back to human form, and was sitting on the couch. He seemed to have gotten a grip on himself.

"That's what you don't understand. When I was turned, I felt no different. I simply knew the power I had. I was evil because I chose to be. Other vampires kill to survive. I killed because I thought it was funny." He shook his head solemnly. "It was all so terribly funny."

"You were different then." Doyle persisted.

"No!" Angel shouted. "Shut up and listen, damn it! That's what I'm trying to tell you! It's still me here! What, you think cause some gypsies shoved a soul down my throat, I was magically changed into a good guy? A champion of the people?" He scoffed.

"No. I didn't want to, I could have gone on maiming and killing and never given it another thought, and I tried! I wanted to go on with Darla and Dru and Spike. I fought to be evil again. My curse is that I can't. It doesn't mean I don't want to." He sighed miserably. "The soul that blesses me, damns me to suffer forever."

Doyle breathed deeply, trying to understand, but the fact was he couldn't. Angel knew that. Angel had always known that. Maybe that was why he was so angry. He wanted someone to understand. He wanted Kate to understand. He wanted Kate to love him. All of him. But it would never happen. It couldn't.

There was no changing that.

Doyle walked over and sat down next to Angel. He didn't understand, but somehow he knew. Knowing and understanding are two very different things, but he had an idea.

"Well, bud. I guess all you needed to do, was come to terms with that fact. That's all you can do, you know." Doyle paused, and a faint, almost invisible smile was trying to sneak across his face.

"You were lost, but now you're found." He took a swig from his liquor bottle. "You were blind..."

He trailed off, and offered Angel the drink. Angel drank greedily, and sighed.

"But now I see."

END