Thanks for all the fb - I'm getting the idea that you ppl don't like cliffhangers... well you might not want to read this part then cos it resolves absolutly nothing!

If you like then pls review - I love the little emails... or even just say hi! or tell me to stop writing... or anything! I need noise!

mwah xx

Chapter 15 - Familiar Faces at the Off Ramp

As the dust settled, Buffy knelt down beside Angel. Blood was pouring out of the deep tear on his neck and pooling on the floor around him. She could feel it leaking through her fingers as she applied pressure and seeping through her trousers. As the smell of blood grew she knew that there was no way Angel could survive this. He hadn't even been human for two weeks and already he was dying. She felt the tears flood across her cheeks and started to shake uncontrollably. It took her a few seconds to realise that Cordelia was shaking her and yelling at her to move. Another pair of hands, large, male hands, wrapped themselves under her arms and bodily lifted her out of the way. She hung, limp as a rag doll in Riley's arms and watched as Spike kneeled by Angel's prostrate form. As soon as she realised what was about to occur the world came flooding back in.

"Spike! Hurry! You have to save him please!" Cordelia was sobbing uncontrollably and was being restrained from attacking Spike by Gunn. The tough street fighter had tears in his own eyes as he realised that Angel had been robbed of the world again. Wolfram and Hart had actually brought the big guy down. The world suddenly seemed lacking in heroes. Wesley started pulling a distraught Willow and Tara out of the room. He was not going to lose his friend, his hero.

"Spike, pull yourself together and do it. He has lost a lot of blood and if this is going to work you need to act now! You claim that you're the Big Bad well bloody well act like it! Giles take your car and take Willow and Tara back to the hotel and start to set up for the ritual. We need to do it before he wakes up – we can't risk him feeding, I don't want him to have to carry that guilt. Take Xander and Anya – you may need people to go and get ingredients we don't have. Lorne will help you if you need it; his cell and Caritas' numbers are on speed dials 7 and 8. Gunn, Riley for God's sake get those two out of here. Take Darla's body with you. Get them all cleaned up. Stock up on blood – human and animal – and get food for tonight. Use the company credit card. Leave you're rig Gunn – it'll be easier to get Angel into. Move now!"

Whether it was the fact that he was the only to take charge or the tone of voice that broke no arguments it didn't matter, the room was clear in seconds. Gunn didn't bother telling Wes that Lindsay and the goons from Wolfram and Hart had cleared out and taken Darla with them. Soon it was just Wesley and Spike and the fallen Angel. Spike gently laid himself across Angel's body. He brushed a soft kiss upon the blue tinged lips and whispered, "See you soon Peaches", before sinking his fangs in, directly over the bite that his Sire had made. A few swift pulls and he felt Angel's heart slow to the point of no return. Tears in his eyes he glanced up at the watcher, he ran a sharp nail across his throat and as he did so said "Don't let him hate me." He waited for Wes to nod and pulled Angel to his throat. After a few eternally long seconds he felt the indescribable sensation of his blood being pulled from his body and he began to fly.

As carefully as they could they lifted Angel's body and carried him to Gunn's pick-up. Spike climbed in the back with his new childe. His only response to Wes' raised eyebrow was a low growl that could be interpreted as nothing other than the territorial and protective warning that it was. Wes swallowed a gulp, nodded briefly and climbed into the driver's seat. He gently pulled out of the parking lot, driving back to the Hyperion as carefully and safely as possible knowing that if Gunn didn't kill him for damaging his baby, Spike definitely would for risking his childe. Glancing in the rear-view mirror he had to smile. Despite the tragedy of losing his life, it looked as though Angel would never be alone. He flicked his eyes back to the road and away from the 'Big Bad' who was holding his childe, gently tracing a finger across the plains of Angel's face.

Angel opened his eyes and found himself standing at the middle of a road. Directly under his feet was the junction of a cross roads. The world around him was a hazy mix of blues and golds and the only definite shapes were that of himself and the road beneath his feet.

'Great, I'm dead and the white light is a freckin' junction!'

Angel looked around. There was nothing but and empty barren space and the four roads. There was nothing to tell him where he was or what he was meant to be doing. The silence was oppressive and, still being angry at himself for letting Darla die he decided to break the stony silence.

"What? Are you Bastards that Be too busy to just send me to the afterlife? You screw me around during my life and now you can't be fucking bothered to get off your omnipotent asses and bump me off the mortal coil! Well that's fan-fucking-tastic! In case you hadn't guessed I'm pissed. I'm meant to be done, dead, over! I've been drained! For god's sake just let me go! What am I meant to do here – eenie meenie minee mo? Pick a road? Start wa…"

"That's exactly what you're meant to do boyo"

"Doyle?"

And there he was just as Angel had seen him last. Dark brown trousers, burgundy shirt covered by the battered brown leather jacket that was as much Doyle's trademark as Spike's duster was his. He hadn't changed at all. Short dark hair that made his eyes seem a brighter blue than should be possible. Needing to know and unable to resist doing so he reached out to touch Doyle's face. Feeling real skin and solid flesh beneath his fingertips Angel finally let out the breath that he had been holding since he heard those lyrical tones that evoked so many memories. Memories of family, friends and home wash over him creating a tidal wave of emotion. One emotion though took hold and Angel balled his fist and hit Doyle right on the jaw with perfect timing and aim. Not giving Doyle the chance to get a word in Angel let rip with everything that he had wanted to say to Doyle and had never had the chance to.

"You stupid little idjit! It was meant to be me that died – not you! You don't get to hit me and die! You left us! You gave Cordy the visions and they are killing her! I was the champion, I should have jumped, and I should have saved you!"

His shouting soon turned into tears and for the first time since the event, Angel grieved for his friend. That was a foreign concept; him grieving for a friend. He had seen people die, killed and he had died himself – three times, but he had never lost a friend before. He sank to the floor and sat their in utter disbelief. Doyle didn't respond to the punch or the vicious words that were aimed more at Angel than at him. Instead he just chuckled and said, "Let me tell you a little bedtime story."

Angel's head shot up faster than should be allowed; the speed of the movement should have snapped his neck. Those words. Some of the first words that Doyle spoke to him. A bedtime story that changed his life, as much as Darla and a Kalderash Elder did. Tentatively reaching out and praying to everything and its mother he replied softly, "But I'm not sleepy."

Doyle smiled that little half smile Angel had missed so much. When Doyle began speaking Angel paid more attention than he did before, knowing how precious time and friends really are now.

"Once upon a time there was a vampire. And he was the meanest vampire in all the land. All the other vampires were afraid of him; he was such a - bastard. Then one day he's cursed – by gypsies. They restore his human soul. And all of a sudden he is mad with guilt. You know: 'What have I done?' You know, he's freaked."

Angel can't help but smile, reliving the memory. He decided to keep the game going, wondering if Doyle would deliver the same message or would have forgotten – death could do strange things to a person after all. "Okay. Now I'm sleepy."

"Yeah, well, it's a fairly dull tale. It needs a little sex, is my feeling. So sure enough: enter the girl. Pretty little blonde thing. Vampire Slayer by trade. And our vampire falls madly in love with her. Eventually the two of them, - well, they get fleshy with one another. Well, I guess the technical term is perfect happiness. But when our boy gets there, he goes bad again. He kills again. It's ugly. So when he gets his soul back for the second time, he figures hey, he can't be any where near Miss young puppy eyes without endangering them both. So what does he do? He takes off. Goes to LA. To fight evil - and atone for his crimes. He's a shadow, - a faceless champion of the hapless human race."

Doyle stopped for a moment and glanced at his friend. The last time he'd said those words he'd thought that he had years ahead of him. Truth was, he'd barely survived six months. Now saying them again he knows that he has eternity – but the figure in front of him, the demon that made him believe that real heroes did exist, doesn't. He has a short time and an enormous decision to make. Doyle pulled himself together and carried on.

"Then the star of our piece entered his life. An Irish rake who reminded the vampire of his human self. Now this handsome lad was much more than meets the eye – he was a hero, he just didn't know it yet. He's cursed and needs a hand, so he digs the vampire out of hiding and puts him to work. Their first case they rescue a homely little thing – a real princess with a heart of gold. They become a team and more than that they become friends. A little family fighting the good fight. But the thing about the good fight? Ya never know 'til you've been tested. They were tested and our star realises that his mission was to save the vampire, to keep him fighting, to get him to care. He succeeds."

Angel's tears ran silently down his face as he looked up at the man who was his first real friend and he realised that everything that Doyle has said is true. Doyle saved him in all the ways that really matter – saved him from the loneliness and the guilt that destroyed him before. Doyle stopped him from vanishing and gave him a family that Angel loves more than anything on the earth. Doyle gave him a reason to fight.

"Working it out are ya? Seen the bigger picture yet? Ya think that 'cause you started to fight, cause ya danced with the devils at Wolfram and Hart you caused all that pain with Darla. Thing is… you didn't. The Powers did. Now 'fore ya start yelling and fighting hear me out. Lawyers woulda brought her back a vamp, we didn't let 'em. We had our reasons and we needed ya to fight for her and this kinda guaranteed it. See there's this little thing called the apocalypse and its comin'. It's so close that ya can smell it. Well, you've read the scroll – Vampire with the Soul – pivotal figure. Gotta say that I don't envy ya that. What's that ya thinking? 'M not a vamp no more. Yeah see here's the part where you get to choose. And Angel – make the choice you want yeah? Not the one you think ya should give."

Doyle made sure that he held Angel's gaze on this. It was vital that Angel made the right choice here. For all concerned. Whatever Angel chose, Angel had to want. Want with all of his heart and soul – otherwise it wasn't worth it. A lot rested on the guy in front of him and Doyle didn't envy him one bit.

"Like I said at the beginning; pick a road."

Doyle waved his arm and as Angel watched in awe, each of the roads took a form. Details emerged from the ether, giving each road a personality, an individual style… and obviously a meaning and… a purpose.

The one to his immediate left became a dirt path, strewn with small stones and lined with deep grooves from what could only have been cartwheels. It looked like the type of road he used to play on when he was a boy. It was dusty and uneven and homely. It was a gentle and welcomed reminder of Ireland. It was even accurate right down to the cobalt grey sky and the heavy clouds that hung their. As he turned to face it he felt a cold but gentle breeze sweep over his face and he fancied that he could smell the homely light sea salt that had always been present throughout his childhood.

The second road, the one directly in front of him, had the form of a normal sidewalk. There was newspaper and litter on the ground and a bright street lamp flickered over head. Chewed gum was stuck to the pavement in little splashes of white and there was the smell of fresh rain and garbage. Wisps of steam curled up from grates and gave the street an early morning mist. Tall monolith shadows of buildings rose on either side of the street; the sky was nowhere to be seen. It was LA and it was dark and it was the other home in his incredibly long life.

The third was dark and as Angel looked closely he realised that it wasn't a path at all. It was a raging river of blood. It frothed and foam and surged violently along its path. It crashed into its banks. It took him a few moments to realise that the banks were stacks of corpses, putrid and rotten. Severed limbs kept coming detached from the banks and were pulled away by the strong current. They bobbed along in the water as the waves stripped the flesh from the bones. The smell was the most overpowering thing that he could remember smelling and his head was filled with the sounds of flesh being ripped and torn. Even more sickening though was the gurgling noise that the river made… it sounded like drinking.

The final path was very different. A thin river of blood ran down the centre of a road that blazed a brilliant gold. The river was calm, more like a babbling brook. It was peaceful and almost picturesque. The light was soft and warm and like the hazy sunshine of autumn and it danced round the river, weaving in and out of the blood at will. Despite the bloody stream, this path was as peaceful as the country lane. It was certainly warmer.

After taking in all aspects of each road he turned back to Doyle and pinned him with a look. "Is this you're final job with me? Guide me to my chosen path? Because if it is I think I'm going to need a little more information than these pretty pictures. A picture may be worth a thousand words, but I don't want it to be worth a thousand lives."

"It's good to see that you've learnt that it's not as straightforward as good and bad. Ok here goes. Just listen to it all and remember that each path carries a cost. Right then, road number one – it's the past. The Powers' will put you back in time. You'll be Liam again and you're family and village will be spared the pain of Angelus. You'll live the life you would've if ya hadn't met that blonde bit a-stuff. Catch is, Angelus will still exist – ya can't stop that, and a life'll have to be taken from you're past in order to balance the magicks.

Road number two is now. You get to be human again but here in this time. Catch? You won't be allowed to go anywhere near your friends, they won't remember ya and ya won't be allowed to help in the good fight. Well, any more than the average mortal can.

The third? Innit obvious? What did ya think'd happen when that mad cow drained ya? Ya think that you're friends'd letcha go without a fight? Not likely! They had Spike finish the turning. Here you get to be a real vampire – the true childe of William the Bloody. Think you can guess the catch.

And lastly, route number four. Vampire with a Soul. Pro to this time – secure soul and only as much guilt as you give yourself. Con – you'd hafta become a Seer for another champ.

Before you decide bear this in mind – just because you choose what seems to be the most virtuous path it doesn't mean that it'll all work out good. You could become a real vamp and the good guys will still prevail. Shansu was wrong. This choice was the reward – becoming human to get this chance at a new life. What you choose won't guarantee an outcome; it'll just make some more probable. Not everything is written in stone. People still gotta have free will – makes prophecies kinda tricky. That's all I can give ya man, dunno any more. It's up to you now."

Angel sat down in the middle of the junction and thought. This wasn't a guarantee of anything – just a chance to lead a new life, which ever he wanted. And he knew what he desperately wanted. He just didn't know if he was selfish enough to take it. He ran the whole conversation over in his head several times to see if Doyle had helped him out in other way. Finally it clicked and he knew which path he was going to choose. Doyle had told him all he needed to know to make the right choice.

He stood up and faced his lost friend and smiled. He didn't need to tell Doyle, he already knew. The twinkling blue eyes knew everything that Angel was about to do and they glowed with pride. Pride at having a hand in the creation of such a creature. He'd never doubted Angel and knew that Angel would work it out and do the right thing. Angel reached over pulled Doyle into a hug, brushed a light kiss across Doyle's lips in unspoken gratitude. Unspoken as he knew he could never really repay the debts he owed Doyle. He straightened, turned and, without a backward glance to the friend that he had to leave behind, he set out on his chosen path.