Angel didn't like hospitals. He hadn't spent a lot of time in them in his 253 years as a vampire, and when he did, it was never because of something good. That tended to be the nature of a hospital after all.

But this… He stared at the partially-open door of Spike's room, the faint beep of the heart monitor seeming deafening to his sensitive ears. The image of signing his name to that old piece of parchment ran through his mind again, and Angel forced it away. That couldn't be what this was. The Shanshu couldn't be Spike's. He couldn't have strayed so far that Spike would be more worthy of redemption than him.

It had to be something else. Maybe Spike had made a deal with someone after he'd found out about the Shanshu, tried to assure he'd be the one with the heartbeat. But it couldn't be real. Couldn't be real redemption... Spike hadn't worked for it. Angel had had a soul for over a century. Spike had had one for two years. If redemption wasn't possible in a hundred years, then it certainly wasn't possible in two.

And Buffy… She was in there now, sitting by Spike's bed, waiting for him to wake up. It made Angel feel sick. The thought that his precious, beautiful Buffy had ever touched Spike was enough, never mind have feelings for him.

He sat up straighter when he heard voices. Spike was awake.

Angel cornered Buffy as soon as she walked out of the hospital room. She gave him an annoyed look that Angel had become more than familiar with over the years and tried to push past him. "I need to talk to the nurses," she said.

"Tell me how Spike's doing first."

At the look Buffy gave him, Angel could tell she knew he was concerned about something other than Spike's well-being, but she answered anyway. "He's awake, but I think he has a fever. I need to get a doctor."

Angel frowned. Apparently nothing had changed. "A fever, huh? So he's still…"

"Alive. Yes. Now please, get out of my way."

Angel didn't move. This couldn't be happening. It wasn't real. Spike had done something, found some way to make himself appear alive. "I don't like this, Buffy. It's clearly mystical."

"Mystical? I hadn't thought of that! Thank you so much Angel for telling me that a vampire suddenly coming back to life is mystical. What would I do without you?" Buffy hissed.

"This isn't a time for Slayer sarcasm."

"No, it's time for you to get out of my way before I knock you out."

Angel hated it when she did that. Always so ready to threaten him… "Still automatically resorting to violence and threats, I see."

Buffy threw her arms up in the air. "God, you are completely unbelievable sometimes!"

A nurse approached them then, obviously worried that they'd cause more of a scene in the waiting room than they already had. "Is there a problem?" she asked.

"No," Buffy replied. "I just came out to tell someone that the patient in room 212 is awake."

The nurse flipped a page on the clipboard she was holding. "212. Summers, William. I'll go find a doctor to take a look at him."

Angel's mouth fell open as Buffy thanked the nurse. William Summers? Where had that come from?

As the nurse walked away, Angel grabbed Buffy's arm before she could go back into Spike's room. "You checked him in under your name?"

"Yeah. What did you expect me to tell them his full name was, William T. Bloody? Besides, they tend to leave you out of the loop if you're not a relative."

Angel tried to be rational, despite the fact that this whole situation was making that very difficult. He didn't like it, but he could see a level of practicality there. "So you told them what, you're his sister?"

"Wife, actually."

Rationality was gone then. Buffy was telling people she was Spike's wife? Could this get any worse? "What!" Angel exclaimed.

"Angel, lower your voice. This is a hospital, not a stadium. Pretending to be his sister after, well, everything we've, um, shared would just be ookie, and I wanted enough leeway to be able to stay with him, okay?" Buffy snapped.

"No, it's not okay. You told people you were married to Spike. How could you do that?"

"Oh god Angel, grow up." Buffy snatched her arm away from him and went back into Spike's room.

Angel stood, fuming. This was not happening to him. Spike wasn't really human. He couldn't be. This wasn't redemption. It was a fluke, something gone terribly, terribly wrong. And Buffy… She couldn't actually have feelings for Spike. Angel knew they'd been together, but this… She was still cookie dough, dammit.

Angel had had enough of this. He turned around, his coat swirling behind him as he stormed out of the hospital.


His hotel was full of Slayers. They were running around everywhere, the ones that weren't seriously wounded tending to the ones that were.

And in the middle of it all stood Illyria, head cocked as she took it in the chaos.

Angel growled low in his throat. He wanted them all gone. He wanted peace and quiet—a good atmosphere in which to brood.

"Angel!"

Angel turned, feeling a quick shot of relief as he saw Charles Gunn walking towards him. "Hey."

"I was looking for you after it all ended," Gunn said. "Couldn't find you."

"I was at the hospital with Buffy."

"Buffy got hurt? What happened?" Gunn asked.

"No, Buffy's fine. It's Spike."

Gunn frowned. "Spike's hurt? Why'd you take him to a hospital? Last I heard, they tended not to specialize in vampires."

Angel sighed. "He developed a pulse."

"What? How?"

"Yeah, I'm asking myself the same thing. Buffy said he collapsed, and when she went over there, his heart was beating. She knew the healers were busy with the Slayers, so we brought him to the hospital. He was just waking up when I left."

"So the Shanshu was about Spike then," Gunn said softly.

"No! This has got to be something else. I mean, redemption and Spike don't exactly go hand in hand."

"Did the prophecy say specifically that it was redemption related?"

"Look, I need…I need sleep or something. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." Gunn patted his side. "Those healers patched me right up. Could've used one or two of them back in my days on the street."

"Good. Do something with Illyria, would you?"

"What do you expect me to do with her?"

"I don't know, give her a petri dish or something," Angel replied, walking past Gunn and towards the stairs, hoping he could find a little peace and quiet on one of the upper levels.

"Angel!" Gunn called, but the vampire didn't turn around.


Angel's room was exactly how he'd left it. When he'd moved into the Wolfram and Hart building, he'd always known there would probably be the need for a getaway someday, possibly one of the quick variety. He'd kept the Hyperion up and running, made sure the bills were always paid and the building was always accessible.

And here he was, back again. Back where he'd started when he'd signed up to be CEO of the L.A. branch of evil's personal law firm.

Only he wasn't quite where he'd started. He'd taken several giant steps back.

The phone rang, the shrill sound making Angel jump. He stared at it for a moment, wondering if he should even bother. For all he knew, it was Lilah Morgan placing a collect call from Hell to taunt him… When it rang again, he decided he might as well face whatever was on the other line. "Hello?"

"Angel, it's Buffy."

At the sound of her voice, Angel sat down on the edge of the bed. "Hey. Is everything all right?"

"Yeah, everything's fine. I just wanted to ask you about something Spike was talking about."

Somehow, Angel managed to grow even paler. Anything that Spike had to say couldn't possibly be good. He could just imagine the sort of things Spike would love to fill Buffy in on. "It didn't have anything to do with a werewolf did it?" he asked.

"Huh? No. It was about some prophecy. Um, Shine Shoe?"

There it was. The prophecy that seemed to be on everyone's mind these days… "Shanshu."

"Yeah, that's the one. He said you'd know about it."

So Spike did think this was because of the Shanshu. Angel wouldn't accept that. The Shanshu meant nothing. If it wasn't his, then it was nothing more than a false prophecy. The father will kill the son and all that…

Angel spoke again. "It talked about a vampire with a soul becoming human after an apocalyptic battle. But it was really unclear, and the texts have been tampered with in the past. I wouldn't put much stock in it."

"Yeah, well, there's a vampire with a soul turned human in a hospital room right now that makes me think otherwise."

"Buffy, this is Spike we're talking about here. If this Shanshu thing really did mean something, you don't think he'd be worthy of it? Come on."

"Actually, Angel, I do. I watched Spike change, and I know what kind of person he's become."

Buffy's words hit him hard. That wasn't how she was supposed to think about Spike. That was how she was supposed to think about him… "Look, whatever made Spike human, it was not divine intervention, okay? It's something bad."

"How do you know that?"

"Because it has to be! Look, I have a lot to deal with right now. We'll discuss this later, when Spike's out of the hospital, and we can really sort everything out."

"Fine. Good bye, Angel."

"Bye Buffy." Angel slammed the receiver down before standing up and yanking the phone out and throwing it against the wall. Anger was coursing through him, ready to explode. He'd suffered for over one hundred years. He'd paid the price for his sins with his own blood. With the blood of the people he cared for. He'd offered penance.

And he'd gotten nothing in return.

Spike, on the other hand, had been nothing but a pain in the ass. He had never suffered half as much as Angel had. Angel was sure of that. Spike what, got a soul to impress a girl, and in a fraction of the time Angel had had a soul, Spike had gotten redemption? And Buffy at his side? It wasn't possible. Angel had been punished enough without adding this to it.

Buffy had spoken with such conviction when she'd said Spike had changed. She believed Spike could be a good man… Angel roared, knocking his bedside table to the ground.

It wasn't enough. He needed to break, to destroy. He was angry. At Buffy, at Spike, at the Powers. At himself. He lashes out against the furniture in his room, tearing and smashing until nothing but destruction was left.


Angel sat on the floor, leaning his head against the wall. He'd lost everything His destiny, his girl—everything. And Spike had it. He hung his head in his hands.

"You know, it's kind of hard for someone to take something that wasn't yours to begin with."

That voice… Angel knew it couldn't be, that he had to have reached a point of delusion. He looked up, staring at the woman who appeared before him. "Cor…Cordelia?"

"Nice to know you remember me, what with all the drama." Cordelia looked around. "Love what you've done with the place. When your decorator was done, did he whip a little girl and her house to the Land of Oz by any chance?"

Angel continued to gape. "How are you….you're…"

"Dead? Yeah, you, too, buddy, so don't go pointing fingers. But it seems like the Powers that Be decided I needed to rejoin the world of the, well, mostly living. Something about your complete inability to function without me. I could've told them about that."

Angel needed to touch her, needed to know she was real. He stood, walking slowly until he was standing in front of Cordelia. He reached out and tentatively touched her face. He felt her warm skin against his hand and knew this had to be more than an illusion. Angel grabbed her, pressing her against him tightly.

"Um…not so dead I don't need to breathe," Cordelia squeaked. "Think maybe you could cut down on the vampire-strength squeezing?"

Angel pulled away, though he kept his hands still resting on her arms. If he let her go, she might disappear… "I'm sorry, I'm just…"

"Yeah, yeah, I know." Cordelia pulled back from him. "I just want to state right now that I am none-too-pleased with you. I was getting along quite well in the Higher Realms this time, until someone had to go and completely ignore my warning."

Ignore her warning? He'd paid close attention to that vision, taken out the evil she'd shown him. "But I didn't," Angel said. "I re-found my focus. I got back on the mission."

Cordelia's expression turned sad, wistful. "No, you didn't."

Angel protested. "I did! I…"

Cordelia reached out, stroking his cheek. "I always knew these obsessions of yours would get you in trouble, Angel. They make you so blind, make it so you can't see anything around you. Sometimes you just have to let go. You have to learn what you can have, and what you can't."

She seemed…disappointed. Angel couldn't take that. After everything else that had just happened, he couldn't have Cordelia looking at him like that. She had to understand… "It wasn't supposed to be like this. Fred…Wes…they weren't supposed to die."

"But they did. Your obsession with Wolfram and Hart, it overshadowed everything. I thought…I thought you'd learn, but you didn't. You let it destroy everything."

He had. He hadn't meant to, but he had. He couldn't argue that, not to Cordelia. She knew him too well, and had always been the first people to call him out when he tried to deny what they knew was the truth. "Can I…can I fix it?"

"Maybe. I don't know. But you're going to have to let go, Angel. You're going to have to learn to do that."

Did that mean there was a chance for him? Could he come back from this, find the path to redemption again? If Cordelia was here now… "I can. You'll…you'll help me, won't you?"

Cordelia smiled, taking his hand. "Of course I will. It's why I'm here now."

Angel let go of her hand and sunk back down to the floor. Cordelia sat beside him, her arm wrapped around his shoulder. Angel just let them sit in silence for a long while, enjoying the feel of her there with him again. He'd missed her, more than he could ever tell her. So much had happened since she'd left. He'd made so many mistakes, made decisions Cordelia never would've accepted. "I killed them," he told her. "I killed Wes and Fred."

"They made the choice to join Wolfram and Hart, too. They knew the dangers."

Angel shook his head. "They were following me. They trusted me, and I let them down." He turned to Cordelia then, resting his head against her shoulder. Something about being with her again was pushing the anger out, replacing it with overwhelming loss. He'd killed two of his closest friends… Angel began to cry, the loss and the pain that had been building up inside him forcing its way out.

Cordelia held him, stroking his hair silently until he fell asleep.


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