Hey. This was a random spur of the moment burth of creativity. I write it in three hours. I also just watched "Hero"…so that explains the point of the story.

I hope you enjoy it. Please READ AND REVIEW!

Irish Haunting

"Your weak…your useless…you couldn't save me…why didn't you stop me?"

Every night it was the same. Every night she would get into her bed, close her swollen eyes caused by crying, and drift into an uneasy dream…no, not dream. Nightmare!

She was standing in a dark room, wearing what she wore the night he died…the only source of light being the dim spotlight that was on her…illuminating her in the dark room. Suddenly his figure would surround him…several bodies of the same face. And everyone was glaring at her.

"Your weak…your useless…you couldn't save me…you let me die…WHY didn't you stop me?"

They would all start screaming at her in that familiar Irish drawl she always looked forwards to hearing when she went to the office. But now it was a voice that haunted her.

The figures disappear and suddenly she is standing on the platform watching as he kisses her. She sees the blue mist around their mouths and she remembers the feeling she felt when the visions were passed to her. Then he says it…"I guess we'll never know…if this is the face you could learn to love"

And he turns and looks at the beacon. A Beacon of Light. A beacon of light usually symbolised HOPE…not stupid Death. He jumped and, as always, she wishes she had stopped him. The light begins to tear the very fibre of his being. She can hear his painful screams as it burns him…melting him…KILLING him.

Suddenly the light dies down as her Irish love disconnects the beacon, and suddenly she is again in the dark room with the spotlight on her and again he is around her again

"You're weak…you're useless…you couldn't save me…you let me die…WHY didn't you stop me?"

Again and again he repeats the words…louder and louder…screaming in her ear until she falls on her knees sobbing

"I'm sorry…I should have stopped you. I should have saved you. I never told you how I really felt. Doyle…please forgive me!"

And she would moan in her sleep until she woke up…until Doyle slowly faded and she woke in her apartment. The apartment he helped her get. She sniffled as the memories of her dream left her and the good memories of Doyle came. She loved those memories. The "Cordy/Doyle" Files…as she labelled them in her mind.

She would never escape these nightmares. It had been 2 years since he died and yet every night she had the same dream…playing on her fears that he was weak and useless and that Doyle's death was HER fault! Maybe it didn't help with her nightly ritual.

She would come home and give Phantom Denis her coat. As always, he would have a glass of wine ready on the table for her…and a glass of single malt whisky for Doyle, even though he couldn't drink it. Then she would sit down on the couch and take her wine in one hand…pick up the remote in the other…and move her arms so Phantom Denis dropped a brown coat over her legs. Then she would press play and watch as Doyle acted in his "Weasel Factor" fashion in the commercial and tears would stream down her eyes as it neared the end. And as he spoke those infamous words…"Is that it? Am I done?"…she would down her drink and pull the jacket on her legs closer to her face and cry into it as she took in the scent that was her Irish half-demon and remember how she got this jacket…the jacket her love died in.

The night he died, Angel drove her home and lay her sleeping, yet crying form in her bed. After kissing her forehead he left her to wallow in her mind. Too bad he didn't know she was having the first of MANY nightmares.

The next morning, she awoke with a feeling of dread. No memory of the nightmare remained, but the memories of the night before came crashing back into her head and she knew that today would be different. That the voice that she always looked forwards to hearing would no longer say "Mornin' Cordy" or "Mornin' Princess" as she walked into the office. That she would no longer feel the concern as he was hit with another vision.

She stood on unsteady feet and was shocked when a brown jacket fell onto the floor. She recognised that jacket. It was unmistakable. It was Doyle's! She picked it up hastily and hugged it…hoping that last night was a dream and that he was actually in the house. A note fluttered to the floor. Cordelia picked it up confused and opened it to read…and again tears welled up in her eyes. She knew that handwriting just as well as she knew the jacket.

My Cordy,

I know I'm gone. I'm sorry I left you alone. I love you with all my heart. I'm always with you…I promise.

Look after yourself…don't let Angel brood to much.

Again…I do and ALWAYS will love you

You have my heart,

Doyle

From then on, she would watch the video and cry. Hug the jacket and cry some more. Read the note and cry even more. And then she would go to her bed to complete the ritual…the nightmare.

Yes…she would NEVER escape these nightmares

She still suffered from the nightmares. When everything bad happened, she would sleep and still have those nightmares. When she slept with Conner, Doyle haunted her. When she turned evil because of Jasmine, Doyle was their, in her mind, haunting her and being the only good piece of her mind…even if he was acting evil.

Now Jasmine was no longer within her, and Cordelia lay in a hospital bed in a coma, in a constant and un-escapable sleep where she was haunted constantly with the memory of Doyle and his death…where he could torment her with his words forever more. And yet, she could still hear her friends in the waking world…all asking questions around her

"How could this happen?"

"Why did she do it?

"Why didn't I notice?"

Finally the day came when she escape the torments of her head. As she kissed Angel goodbye in the office of Wolfram and Hart…she felt her soul slowly slip away until she no-longer belonged to the world. There, she finally answered the question of "Why?"

"I love Doyle…"

She stood in the heavenly plain that she knew she would not be able to leave…just watching her friends below live their lives.

"Well…princess…I'm flattered" said the voice of the Irish man she so longed to see smile once more. She turned sharply, shocked by the sudden voice. His voice! Doyle! She rushed forwards and leapt into his embrace…thankful for his touch, his presence…the fact that they were together again.

No longer would she be haunted by his cruel words. No. Now, she was always told

"You're strong…you're needed…I love you Cordy"