Bring Me to Life

A Buffy the Vampire Slayer / Angel Crossover Event

Part 76

Touched, Part 4

Sunnydale, California - 10 Walker Street

Just before dawn

Days Left Before the End of Days: 8

"A Pain-bow?"

Buffy's eyebrows raised in mirth as she leaned on the table in the strange home where she had set up shop, idly shuffling the poker cards in her hands.

Listening to the strange, yet handsome young half-demon, all-dead Doyle recalling one of his adventures with Angel and Cordelia during the early days of Angel Investigations.

"Oh yeah! Swear on my mother's life, lass," Doyle said with a mischievous grin, chuckling at the memory as he put one of the cards down on the table to exchange it for another. "Wolfram & Hart hired this creepy psychologist named Allen Lloyd to put Kate's entire police precinct under this weird spell that dialed everyone's feelings and emotions up to around 11, right? All part of this plan to kill Kate after she busted this fat John Gotti-wannabe Tony Papazian…"

"Little Tony?" Buffy's eyes widened in recognition. "Yeah, I heard of him. I saw his picture in the paper a couple times my dad used to leave it on the dinner table during breakfast. Was always linked to some murder or racketeering charge. Seemed like a real sleaz-o."

"Trust me, Bright Eyes, he was," Doyle said, regalling Buffy with the tale of how Angel confronted and took down Wolfram & Hart's demon-worshipping saboteur but got infected with Lloyd's "talking stick", the cursed wooden artifact that he used to cause others to lose control of their emotions. Despite her heartbroken, confused and depressed state, Buffy couldn't help but to giggle as Doyle described how the normally stoic, brooding and always-ready-to-punch-bad-guys-in-the-face Angel suddenly turned into an ultra-sensitive ball of emotions that offered hugs and was adverse to violence. All of which put him in a disadvantage when he, Doyle and Cordelia broke into the police station to save Kate and stop Little Tony.

"So then, Angel's beating the pulp out of Little Tony, and then he says all-serious and sensitive-like," Doyle said, before he began to imitate Angel's voice at the time, all tender and exaggeratedly sensitive, "'You know, Anthony, you can be a rainbow, and not a…' POW! He clocks Little Tony out cold, and then he goes…"

Doyle raised his fingers in the air doing air quotes, returning to Angel's overly syrupy voice during that time. "... 'pain-bow!'"

That did it for Buffy. She laughed.

And laughed hard.

Laughed so hard that her sides began to hurt.

She howled. She guffawed.

"I hate myself for missing that!" Buffy said through wheezing laughs and laugh-induced tears, holding her third beer.

"Funny, because I hated myself for seeing that!" an equally hysterical Doyle snickered, the half-Bracchen demon red-faced from the laughter and the alcohol and on his 4th beer himself.

For whatever reason, the former owner of this house seemed to not be lacking in beer or junk food. Something that the Slayer and the late Messenger of the Power found to be a blessing at the moment.

"But long story short, Angel saves the day, saves the girl, and comes up with the original 'dad joke', all in a day's work for our Dark Avenger," Doyle concluded with a flourish, waving his beer bottle around to the side like a magic wand.

Buffy's laugh faded somewhat, a ghost of a smile at the thought of Angel doing the hero things that Buffy always knew he was capable of. "Yeah," she smiled wistfully. "That's our Angel. Always coming through when it…"

She broke off, frowning a bit as she caught herself. "...well, coming through, anyway."

Buffy didn't want to give Angel that much credit. He might have come through for Kate that time, but that didn't mean he always came through. Like that part when he swore he would always love me and always be there for me only to skip town by senior year, a part of her thought in resentment.

Sensing that Buffy's mood had shifted, Doyle tried to steer the conversation back to something else. "Right…so that was one of our more fun adventures. Not quite as harrowing as the time Cordelia had us fighting with some weird granny ghost who was haunting her rent-controlled apartment."

Buffy smiled wanly at the thought for a moment. "A ghost? Yeesh, the things people have to do to get a decent apartment in California," she muttered aloud. She then slapped one of her playing cards on the table, plucking one from the deck.

"That's your third card, lass," Doyle said in a reminding tone. "Can't draw another one after this."

"What are we playing again?" Buffy asked idly.

"Five-card draw," Doyle reminded her. "Ace is wild. Best of 7. And we're tied 1-apiece."

Buffy smirked a little, proudly. "Still can't believe I beat you the first time, Mister 'I'm a Dab Hand at Poker.'"

Doyle frowned, unamused. "Beginner's luck, sweetheart," he shrugged it off with a 'pfft' sound. "Who'd figure you'd have three Jacks after I pulled out those two 10s?"

"Still beat ya," Buffy crowed in a sing-songy voice.

A smirk formed across Doyle's lips. "Still, I gave you quite the spankin' the last game. My flush, well…flushed ya, and flushed ya good."

Buffy pouted, her brow furrowed unhappily. "That was a lucky hand," she grumbled.

"Luck had nothin' ta do with it, darlin'..." he leaned back in his chair, arms held out slightly to either side in a proud flourish. "I'm just good. Learned the game on the streets of Dublin before I started making a livin' off of it in L.A., ya know."

"Is this the poker equivalent of 'You'll never beat me, Slayer, I'm a thousand years old, I have powers beyond your comprehension, yada-yada-yada' that most of the bad guys and demons I've stomped into the dirt thump their chest about?" Buffy asked, cocking an eyebrow at him. "Just curious."

Doyle gave her a mischievous smirk. "Ya got me, lass. It's all part of my grand master plan to take over the world through poker."

Buffy grinned playfully. "Well, just so you know, I will stop you, fiend," she replied teasingly.

Doyle let out a hearty chuckle. "Oh, I'lll get you, my pretty. And yer little dog, too," he said in an intentionally over-the-top impersonation of the Wicked Witch of the West from 'The Wizard of Oz.'

"Hey, you leave Oz alone!" Buffy protested mockingly. "He's sweet."

Doyle laughed. "Yeah, I remember, I teamed with the lad. Doesn't have much to say, but he's a good kid. You have yourself some good friends ya picked, lass."

At that, Buffy's smile faded once again. Flashes of the night before, when her friends, her allies, the ones she trusted, turned their back on her. Told her they no longer trusted her. Stripped her of her leadership role, her duty, banished her to the cold, abandoned streets of the town atop the Hellmouth, her punishment for failing to protect them all.

"Yeah…" Buffy quietly, sadly murmured. "Great friends…"

Doyle silently cursed himself again for putting his foot in his mouth. "Buffy," he said apologetically, his teal blue eyes sincere. "I…'m sorry. I didn't mean…"

"It's fine, Doyle," Buffy sighed, putting her cards down for a moment. Her pretty green eyes, large and soulful, were full of regret, sadness. Failure. "Look, it is what it is, right? If they want Faith, they can have Faith. They've spoken. And I'm off the island. Island-less. No island for Buffy."

Doyle sighed, putting down his cards as he folded his hands on the table, giving Buffy a sad, sympathetic glance.

"They're just scared, lass," he quietly offered. "I mean, that Caleb bastard and his pals really put the boots to ya all. Ya can't blame them fer bein' a bit skittish to go back and pay them another visit. I mean, not everyone is as durable as you and me."

"Yeah…that's me. Durable Buffy," she quietly muttered, eyes downcast. Depressed. "I can take a lickin' and keep on tickin'. Doesn't matter how hard I can get hit. I don't break." She thought back on the night's earlier pain from her friends turning their backs on her. "Not the parts anyone can see, anyway."

That was the thing about being a Slayer, Buffy realized. She realized this long ago, actually.

She had a healing factor that was astounding. She could heal from major injuries that could take normal humans weeks or months to heal within hours. She could heal from nearly-lethal wounds within days. Her durability allowed her to survive wounds that would kill most humans and even demons.

But her heart…that was something that good ol' Slayer healing couldn't quite fix at an accelerated rate. Some wounds lingered. Some wounds never quite healed.

Angel losing his soul because of her. Having to send him, the man she loved, to hell with her bare hands. The death of her mother. Being too weak to save Jenny. Being too slow to save Tara. Being too late to save Kendra. Faith betraying her. Giles leaving her. Angel leaving her, for her own good. Then Riley leaving her. Spike trying to rape her. Being yanked from Heaven and having to claw her own way out of her own grave by her own friends. Angel leaving her, again. Her friends…having turned their backs on her. Banishing her from her own home.

Each one was a cut slicing her heart, making it bleed just a little bit more. Draining her just a little more.

Doyle swallowed, looking away from Buffy's sad green eyes for a moment. He knew what she was talking about. All too well. "Yeah…I know what ya mean," Doyle said quietly.

Off her questioning gaze, he replied. "I was married once. Before…well, before I met Angel and Cordy. I was just a little bit younger than you were and hadn't even been in the States a full year when I got hitched to Harriet."

Buffy's eyebrows raised. "You were married?"

Doyle looked at her in mock offense. "What, ya find it hard to think a woman'd find me marriageable, Slayer?"

Smiling wanly, Buffy held up her hands in defense. "No, no! You're totally a babe, Doyle. I just…you just don't seem like the marrying, settling down type."

Doyle snorted, but smirked at her playfully. "Well, it just so happens, Miss Assumptions, I was. I happened to be a school teacher, even volunteered at a soup kitchen. That's where I met Harriet." His eyes were clouded in fond memory. "God, she was everything I could have ever wanted. Blond, wavy hair, blue eyes, skin like she'd spent a day at the beach…man, she knocked my socks off." His tone grew wistful. "We were even thinking about having kids of our own."

Buffy listened to every word he said, growing envious for a bit of Doyle's ability to choose such a life. Having kids was a fantasy Buffy had at one point, but after everything that had happened to her over the last few years since she was called as The Slayer, it was a dream that she had started to let fade into the background. This life, this hard, harsh life she led, was so dangerous that she couldn't imagine bringing a child into her world and forcing them to live with it, especially seeing how Robin turned out, all hard and bitter after losing his mother. Besides, Buffy realized, she would have only ever wanted children with Angel, but because of his vampire physiology and the curse on his soul, it pretty much made that dream impossible.

Silencing her thoughts, Buffy leaned closer. "So what happened?" she asked quietly.

At that, Doyle's face shifted and changed, revealing his hidden secret; lime-green skin and light blue spikes with burning red eyes that despite their angry color held a deep sadness.

"Well, this happened," Doyle sighed, then his face shifted back into his regular, blue-eyed handsome human guise.

Buffy's mouth formed a surprised 'O' shape. "You didn't know you were…?"

"Half-demon?" Doyle finished, before sadly shaking his head. "Nah, I didn't. Me ma and da split before I was born and he wasn't something my ma ever talked about much growin' up. Turns out he was a Brachen demon, and apparently not so nice a guy. So ma failed ta mention to me where I got my not-so-boyish green looks. When I found out what I was, I…well, I didn't take it well, to put it mildly."

"You freaked out," Buffy guessed, her tone sympathetic.

"Again, putting it mildly," Doyle said with a heavy sigh. "I didn't want to believe it. Then when I did, that's when my social drinking became heavy drinking. I pushed everyone away, my family, my friends, my job…even Harry." His eyes grew haunted with regret. "She tried to tell me that it didn't matter to her what I was, that she loved me all the same, but I couldn't hear it. It got so bad that I eventually drove her away, too. I loved her, but I was just too angry…angry at me ma, angry at da for a million reasons, angry at the world. How could I have kids with Harriet knowing what I was? I didn't even know what I was. I felt like I'd been livin' a lie my whole life, like life had given me a burden and saddled me with it without askin' me what I wanted."

Buffy sighed herself, knowing that feeling all too well. She lost so much when she was Called. "Preaching to the choir on that one, buddy," she muttered sadly.

Doyle gave her a sad smile. "Yeah, I know. Must've sucked for ya. Barely being 15 years old and suddenly bein' told yer 'the only one who can fight the forces of darkness and the vampires' and that whole sad song."

Buffy shrugged. "It did suck. It sucked big time." Her expressive green eyes looked at him in almost pity. "Still…you just got married, found someone right for you, and you get sucker-punched with surprise demon genes? That at least has equal suckage."

The corner of Doyle's lips quirked into a small grin. "Well, then here's to us sucking, Summers," he said, raising his glass in a toast.

Buffy chuckled quietly, "I guess I'll drink to that," she nodded, grabbing her own glass and clinking it to Doyle's as they toasted to their respective miseries.

Buffy smiled…and then found her smile fading slightly as she caught the curious look in Doyle's eyes.

"What?" she asked, puzzled. "Oh, God, do I have something in my teeth?"

Doyle chuckled. "Nah, yer pearly whites are still pretty as a picture, Buff."

Then he stood up and walked over to the living room, where he began to fiddle with the stereo.

"Um, helloo?" a confused Buffy called out, standing up and following him to the living room. "Pretty sure the power's gone for the entire town now, Doyle."

He only turned to her with a knowing smile. "Well, let's just say I know some people in high places who can make an exception for you and I."

Then without warning, the stereo came to life.

"I remember the sickness was forever,

I remember snuff videos…"

Doyle closed his eyes, briefly savoring the sound. "God, I love that song," he said appreciatively. "Sam Fender, 'Seventeen Going Under', he does a mean tune."

Puzzled, Buffy nodded. "Yeah…Sam Fender's great, love him, but can we get to the whole 'How did you turn on the power without any power' thing?"

"Like I said, Buffy…I know some people in high places," he confided. "But enough of that for now. You're obviously feeling down. And what used to cheer me up back in the day when I used to get depressed was good music, good beer, and a little dancing."

He held his hand out to Buffy in an invitation. "Care to join me in the latter?"

Cold Septembers, the distances we covered

The fist fights on the beach, the bizzies round us up

Do it all again next week

Buffy looked hesitant. "I'm not really in a dancing mood, Doyle, thanks."

But Doyle wasn't having it. "Oh, come on. I bet you can cut a rug with the best of them."

Buffy still shook her head, annoyed that he wouldn't take the hint. "I can. But an apocalypse is coming, my town's fallen apart, my friends kicked me out and my ex- and I broke up yet again, so you'll have to excuse me if I'm not feeling in the mood to shake what my mama gave me, or whatever."

"Hey, come on," Doyle said, cajolingly. "This is my last time on the mortal plane before I go back to the Other World. Indulge a dying man's last request, eh?"

Unimpressed, Buffy only raised an eyebrow. "Gee, did that line ever work on the other girls when you were alive?"

"After a few pints? You'd be surprised at my success rate," Doyle winked at her knowingly.

An embryonic love

The first time that it scarred

Embarrass yourself for someone

Crying like a child

Despite herself, Buffy chuckled. She had to admit, Doyle was pretty charming…and cute. She put a hand on her sculpted hip, raising an eyebrow at him. "Aren't you supposed to be convincing me to get back in the fight? Put on my boxing gloves and do my best Rocky Balboa impression and go charging back in the ring against The First, Caleb and their pals?"

"I am, but the PTBs didn't exactly tell me how to do my job, and I don't see them around, do you?" he replied with a sly grin. "Hey, if you don't say yes, then I'll just have to make like Billy Idol and start dancing with my-seeelf, uh-oh…" Then he started to awkwardly sing, sway and hum to the music.

Now Buffy laughed, holding her mouth to her hand to cover the giggle that bubbled from her mouth. "Okay, okay! If I say yes, though, you have to promise to never butcher that song ever again. Got it? I happen to love the 80s classics, and I can't have you destroying them."

Doyle grinned. "That's the spirit, lass," he said, getting closer to her and extending his hand once more.

And the boy who kicked Tom's head in

Still bugs me now

That's the thing, it lingers

And claws you when you're down

Slowly, as if testing out the waters, Buffy hesitantly reached out her own hand…and then they touched.

Doyle put his other hand on her waist, leading her as they began to rock and sway to the music, which began to pick up the tempo.

As she looked up at the slightly taller man, Buffy had to admit, to her chagrin…Doyle was actually a pretty good dancer. And up close like this, he was…really cute, she had to admit. Now she saw why Cordelia had a thing for him before he died.

"Pretty nice moves for a dead guy," she nodded, impressed.

"You move pretty nimbly for a reanimated girl yerself, lass," he smirked.

"Dancing and slaying. The two things I do best," she shrugged nonchalantly as her feet and hips moved in rhythm to the rocking melody of the music.

"Like a proper young lady," Doyle said in a mock stuffy voice.

"But of course!" Buffy replied in an airy, mocking tone of her own. "How else would I find a suitable husband to marry?"

The two shared a quiet laugh, and the moment allowed Buffy to finally relax a little. She had only known Doyle for a few hours now, but she had to admit…she was beginning to like him. He was funny, and he was charming. And sweet. Sincere. Cute, though a really bad dresser.

Honestly? Buffy could think of much worse company right now, she silently relented.

I was far too scared to hit him

But I would hit him in a heartbeat now

That's the thing with anger

It begs to stick around

"You're alright, Doyle," the pretty Slayer said softly, looking up at him with a tiny smile.

His reply was a cocky grin. "You're not so bad yourself, Miss Summers."

"Buffy," she corrected. "Just Buffy. Miss Summers was my mom."

"Well, then you must call me Allen," he smiled, dancing in time with her.

Buffy frowned. "'Allen?'"

"Allen Francis Doyle," the half-Brachen demon added. "It's my whole name."

Buffy's frown only deepened. "'Francis?'" she said mid-sway, an incredulous giggle threatening to escape her lips.

"Hey. Easy, now," Doyle said warningly, the pair moving in time with the music. "Me darlin' ma gave me that name."

"No, no! It's…it's a fine name," Buffy said, though a laugh still simmered at the surface of her pretty face. "Though if it's all the same with you, I'll stick with 'Doyle.' It's much cooler-sounding."

"Fair enough," Doyle said, with a wry smile. "I'm still surprised how you make 'Buffy' work for ya, though."

Buffy shrugged in feigned innocence. "I'm hot," she replied nonchalantly.

His eyes unconsciously roaming over the petite Slayer's tiny, but athletic and toned form, Doyle had to agree. "Fair play, Summers. Fair play."

Buffy laughed again, and laughed even louder as she let Doyle dip her frame over his arm, letting her head and ponytail flop backwards, her hands gripping his forearms for support, yet feeling safe. Relaxed.

For a little while, at least, it felt like her world wasn't ending. Like the world itself wasn't ending.

And Buffy welcomed it…

So it can fleece you of your beauty

And leave you spent with nowt to offer

Makes you hurt the ones who love you

You hurt them like they're nothing

(Oooooh-whoaaaaa, whoaaaa)

You hurt them like they're nothing

(Oooooh-whoaaaaa, whoaaaa)

I'm Seventeen Going Under (Whoooaaaa)

(Oooooh-whoaaaaa, whoaaaa)

The hours felt like minutes as Buffy and Doyle turned the empty home into a playground.

The Slayer and the late Messenger of the Powers amused themselves in between poker hands with all sorts of silly games and entertainment.

They competed in who could balance a pencil on their nose the longest. (Buffy won.)

They raced in empty office chairs from one end of the living room to the other. (Doyle won, though he cheated by knocking into Buffy's chair a few times.)

They did a drinking game of who could balance on a stool the longest after drinking several bottles of beer. (Buffy effortlessly won given her cheerleading experience and her Slayer abilities gave her masterful balance, though she did have a laugh at how Doyle stumbled over himself several times. She even balanced her entire body weight upside down on just one arm simply to show off a little bit, the Slayer preening in pride at Doyle's amazement.)

They sang offbeat karaoke together, their selection ranging from "Linger" by the Cranberries, Doyle's pick, to "Backstreet's Back" from the Backstreet Boys, a Buffy favorite, to "My Heart Will Go On" by Celine Dion, which both admitted was a guilty pleasure, and "Livin' on A Prayer" by Bon Jovi, an enthusiastic favorite for both Slayer and Messenger.

And through it all, Buffy felt her spirits lifting. As weird as it was to admit, she was having…fun. God, it felt like forever since she actually had some fun. Real fun. The kind where she laughed so hard her insides were hurting, where she lost all track of time.

For a little while, she could forget about Angel not wanting her anymore, about her friends kicking her out of her own home, stripping her of her Calling, about the Awakening looming days away from destroying all life. And she could just be a kid again for a little while.

And she loved it. Relished it.

And she had to admit, she was even crushing on Doyle a little.

He was a cutie, for sure. Not drop-dead smoldering burning hunk of hotness-level hot like Angel was, but still, Buffy found Doyle to be a honey. And he was nice. And funny, God, he was so funny. She had to admit she was beginning to understand why Cordelia liked him so much once. And why Angel still thought fondly of him.

She was…glad he was here, Buffy silently admitted to herself.

They found themselves hanging out casually on a couch somewhere in the middle of it, each one with a beer in hand.

"See this one right here?" Doyle said, pointing to a scar on his left forearm. "I got that when Angel and I were battling a Tensaur hatchling in the sewers. Nasty thing, horns, razors for teeth and claws that can rip a man to shreds."

"Nice," Buffy nodded. "Very manly."

She lifted her pant leg up, lowering her sock to reveal a small scar on her ankle. "Fire demon's nest," she explained. "Got a little too close to their mama. She damn near melted my legs off before I broke free and chopped her head off with some ancient relic called the Blade of Galrus."

"Impressive," an amazed Doyle said with a nod, taking a swig of his beer. "I thought that blade was lost to time."

"Giles has a way of getting lost stuff," Buffy shrugged.

Doyle lowered the collar of his shirt just a bit to reveal another battle scar. "I got this bad boy saving Cordelia from a couple of vampires one night after work."

"Studly," Buffy smiled with an approving raised eyebrow. "Bet Cordy was grateful for that, huh?"

"On the contrary, she yelled at me for ripping her favorite Chanel sweater by accident when I was fumbling around for a stake," Doyle rolled his Irish blue eyes.

Buffy nearly spat out her beer as she laughed. "Yeah, that's more like the Cordelia I remember," she choked out laughing.

Doyle chuckled. "Oh, yeah, she was a handful."

Buffy's eyes grew a little mischievous. "This one's my favorite."

She slowly lifted up her somewhat see-through white shirt and black halter top underneath. The fabric peeled away to reveal a small scar near her ribs…as well as very taut, well-sculpted abs and skin the color of golden honey.

Doyle couldn't help but to swallow down another swig of beer, his mind going to places he was sure that it shouldn't be going as one of Angel's best friends.

"Uhh, umm, that's…neat," he stammered, caught offguard.

"I got that one when I killed the first Ubervamp that attacked us a few months back," Buffy shrugged. "Nasty critter. Took me two, three fights before I could take it down. Wanna feel?"

She took Doyle's hand and let it settle gently on her ribs where the scar was.

Doyle swallowed again, his cool hands on her warm frame, feeling the soft skin and the hard muscle underneath. She smelled like vanilla and…and something else.

Something powerful. Something enticing. No wonder Angel was so ga-ga over her, Doyle realized.

"It's, um…nice," Doyle gulped, suddenly reminded of how long it had been since he was with a woman…

Then he quickly retracted his hand before things got any…well, hotter, honestly.

"Well, umm, ya got me beat on scars, Buff, that much is fer sure," Doyle laughed nervously, swallowing another gulp of his beer.

Buffy smiled innocently. "Chalk it up to another round of things I'm better than you at, apparently," she smirked.

"Hey, I still had you beat at the chair races," Doyle protested.

Buffy scoffed, laughing. "Because you cheated!"

"Oy, if the ref didn't see it, it didn't happen, yeah?" Doyle quipped, feigning innocence.

Buffy gave him a wry look. "Ah, so we're playing by professional wrestling rules, then?"

"Exactly!" Doyle grinned back cheekily. "All's fair in love, war and chair racing."

The pair laughed.

Buffy then smiled, leaning against the couch with one arm and a beer in the other hand. "God, it's a shame I didn't meet you sooner, Doyle," she smiled wistfully. "You'd have been a lot of fun."

Doyle sighed, his eyes growing sad for a moment. "Yeah, well, chalk that up on the list of things I'll never get to do. You seem like you'd have been pretty fun for me too, Summers."

The two smiled, sharing a moment in comfortable silence, silently toasting a friendship that could have been…

DOYLE.

The name thundered in the young half-Brachen demon's head like a thunderclap. It boomed so hard that it made him flinch.

Buffy frowned, troubled at the look of distress in her new friend's face. "Hey…you okay?"

Shaking it off, Doyle smiled nervously. "Uh…yeah. Headache or somethin'. Hey, you want another beer?"

Satisfied that there wasn't any apparent trouble, Buffy shrugged, smiling. "Might as well. I'm not driving anywhere."

"Two beers comin' up, lass," Doyle smiled charmingly, then stood up and walked over to the kitchen.

Once out of Buffy's eyesight, Doyle slumped against a nearby wall, grabbing his throbbing head.

Then, the deep voice spoke again.

THE POWERS ARE GROWING RESTLESS. YOU ARE WASTING TIME, MESSENGER. WHY HAVE YOU NOT RETURNED THE SLAYER TO BATTLE?

Doyle closed his eyes, taking a deep breath and summoning as much calm as possible. Calm down. I'm working on it. I just need a little time…

TIME IS NOT SOMETHING THAT IS ON YOUR SIDE, MESSENGER, the unseen voice thundered in his head. YOU HAVE A MISSION. RETURN THE SLAYER TO BATTLE SO SHE CAN STOP THE FIRST EVIL. IF SHE DOES NOT RETURN, ALL OF EXISTENCE FACES COMPLETE ANNIHILATION. YOU ARE FAILING, MESSENGER…

Powering through the loud, painful, airplane-like buzzing in his head that the voice's presence was creating, Doyle swallowed down a groan, rolling his eyes at the impatience in the bodiless voice's tone. Like it or not, it takes a little work fixin' someone's psyche. It's called the human condition. She's not a wind-up soldier or a laptop that needs a factory reset. She's a young woman who needs some guidance. Needs understanding. Needs a friend...

HER NEEDS ARE IRRELEVANT, the voice coldly retorted. SHE IS THE SLAYER. HER DUTY IS TO THE WORLD, NOT TO HERSELF. WE HAVE NO TIME FOR YOUR DELAYS, DOYLE.

And I'm getting bored with yer threats, Doyle responded in silent annoyance, resulting in the buzzing growing louder, more painful, causing his knuckles to ball white as he repressed the urge to cry out in pain. I…I can get her back, but ya have to…let me…work here.

TIME IS SHORT. FINISH THE MISSION, MESSENGER. The voice's deep tone grew even more ominous. OR YOU WILL FACE DIRE CONSEQUENCES.

Then the voice was gone, as was the loud buzzing in Doyle's head.

Taking deep breaths, Doyle rubbed his aching temples. The presence of one of the Powers' emissaries within his head was almost as painful as the visions he used to get when he was alive.

Shaking his head, Doyle's eyes opened, a sad, guilty look in them. He knew what he was supposed to do. He was supposed to rally Buffy, get her back in the fight. But after fighting alongside Angel, Doyle had come to learn a thing or two about warriors of light. The key to them was not the mind, or the body. They needed to have the heart. Without the heart, the will to fight, their defeat was inevitable. Their death was inevitable.

And Buffy, as he had come to learn from her in the last few hours he had spent with her, had always relied on her heart. And it was broken now. Betrayal after betrayal, setback after setback, all at once, and all collecting after years of painful battles and heartbreaks and losses. How could he just wind her back up and send her back out there to face her death like she was some toy soldier on a battlefield? She was a sweet kid, Doyle had come to see that. Beautiful, strong, cared about others. This couldn't be the only way, Doyle tried to think.

It can't be. She's been through enough. There's gotta be another way…

"Hey, Dancing Man," Buffy's voice called from the living room. "How's those beers coming?"

Swallowing, Doyle rubbed his shaking hand across his face, then armed himself with a grin. Taking out two beers and another deck of cards, he walked back outside, where he eyed a sitting, unaware Buffy on the couch, giving him a warm smile on his return.

Doing his best to keep it together, Doyle managed to flash her a charming grin. He held up the beer and the deck of cards.

"So, Buffy…care to play again?"

Sunnydale, CA - The Summers Home, 1630 Revello Drive

2:17 p.m.

Willow sat in a couch in the living room, Oz in the seat right next to her offering silent support.

In front of her, Giles and Wesley stood, a spellbook and an assortment of magical stones from quartz to rose quartz to lais lazuli to labradorite and others laid out on a table in front of them. Anya was there, as well, requested for her previous experience with the supernatural.

The two Watchers had been running a series of magickal diagnostic tests on the redheaded witch for the last 30 minutes.

As Giles held a piece of rose quartz towards her forehead, Willow started getting antsy. She knew this battery of tests was probably going to take a while, but even she hadn't expected it to take this long.

"So…what's the verdict, doc?" Willow quipped, somewhat nervously.

Giles looked at Willow, then back at Wesley, who nodded as he compared the stone's color to the notes in The Paranych Grimoire, a book which contained a litany of spells including those focused on healing and healing of magic users.

Giles put the rose quartz down, offering Willow a small smile. "I'm afraid I have to diagnose you with a very terminal case of 'your magick is still there.'"

Willow groaned, dismayed. "I knew it," she began to rant. "I just knew it! I mean, I figured that something was wrong with my powers after Warren zapped me, but now I…wait, what did you say?"

Off her wide-eyed confusion, Giles smiled. "Willow, we've ran all the tests that the grimoire recommends, several times, and this is one of the most respected books about cases like this. And all the tests came back the same—your magick is still in your body. In fact, it seems it's growing stronger since, well, whatever it was that happened the other night at the Bronze."

Willow and Oz looked at each other, meaningfully. They knew exactly what had happened. Oz might not have been sitting there today if what happened that night didn't happen, and Willow knew it.

"Then…then it doesn't make sense," Willow threw up her hands, exasperated. "If my magick is still there, then why can't I use it?"

"Well, maybe you can," suggested Wesley, "but not consciously."

"What?" Willow asked, puzzled.

Wesley frowned as he thought back to a discussion Willow and he had privately weeks before when she had visited Los Angeles to help restore Angel's soul. "You mentioned to me that last year, you took a rather…dark turn, yes?"

Willow looked away, shame clouding her eyes. "I nearly destroyed the world, Wesley. That wasn't a dark turn, it was a full-blown total eclipse of the heart."

"Lorne would love that line," Oz offered plainly, but with a hint of a smile as he tried to lighten the mood.

Willow gave him a tiny grin of appreciation.

Wesley frowned, however, not liking to talk much about the people who were once his friends. "Yes, well…" he continued, "maybe the reason why you can't access your powers is not so much a physical or metaphysical reason, but more of a psychological reason. Maybe the reason why you can't use your magick is because on some level, you're afraid of it. Afraid of what you might do if you unleash your full potential again."

All eyes looked at Willow in concern.

"Willow, is…is this true?" Giles asked, softly.

Willow frowned, not really sure what to say. "I…I haven't thought of that," she uttered quietly.

"But it does make some sense," Oz said. Off her confused stare, he explained. "Well, the other night at the Bronze, when we were attacked, that's when your powers suddenly came back. It was life or death. You had to act, or I would've been killed."

"Which means I would've had to act subconsciously?" Willow suggested.

Anya brightened. "Great! That settles it. To get Willow's magick back, all we have to do is try and kill Oz again."

"Wait, what?" Willow cried out, alarmed at Anya's absurd suggestion.

As if she didn't hear the witch, Anya looked to Wesley. "Wesley, do you still have one of your guns?"

Wesley looked at Anya, utterly gobsmacked. "What?"

"Whoa there, Quickdraw!" Oz said, holding up his arm. "Before we jump on that crazy train, maybe we should hear what the others think."

Giles cleaned his glasses. "As much as I appreciate Anya's enthusiasm, I'd prefer we not try and shoot our friends, thank you."

Then he looked at Willow. "Willow, they might be on to something. In the past year, your magick has not only grown exponentially, but you've gone through some very painful, traumatizing events. Maybe on some level, the reason why you can't connect with your magick is because deep down, you may still be afraid of it."

Willow's eyes looked away from Giles, wringing her hands nervously. Despite telling herself that it was a mistake, that they were wrong, deep down, something had been nagging at Willow from the start. And even before Warren's ray gun had struck her.

"Well, it's not exactly like I have the best track record with unbridled magickal power," Willow sighed, full of regret.

Taking pity on her, Giles put his hand on her shoulder. "Willow, it's true, you've faced your battles with darkness within you. But you've shown that you can grow beyond that darkness. That you're capable of so much more."

Willow gave a faint smile at a man who had taught her so much, had become just as much of a father to her as he was to Buffy.

Oz squeezed Willow's hand in support, but despite Giles's words being directed at the lovely redhead, he couldn't help but to reflect on his own journey the last few years. For so long, he had fought the wolf. Struggled with it. Let it separate him from everyone he loved, everyone he cared about. Then he had finally learned to make peace with it. He thought he was ready. And then that damn device from Warren in the forest changed everything. Brought back those old fears, those dark nightmares of losing control of the beast within him, hurting others, hurting his friends, hurting Willow…

Did I really come this far just to lose everything again? He wondered silently. Is this really all there is? Or is there more for me? I found the balance once before…found my way back from the darkness. Maybe…maybe I can do it again. But maybe this time…

The young blond werewolf looked at Willow, then Giles, then Wesley and Anya. Then to a photo on the coffee table. One with Buffy, Willow, Giles, Xander, Dawn and Cordelia, with himself in the lower corner. It was taken in their senior year of high school. There they were. His friends. His home. And he smiled.

Maybe this time I don't have to do it alone…

Listening to those words, Wesley looked away for a moment. He himself had struggled with darkness of his own in the last year. But while Willow had come out stronger for it, Wesley still felt as though he was mired in that darkness. Though lately, he was starting to feel like perhaps it was time to finally see the light at the end of the tunnel. To finally figure out what his place in the world was and embrace it. He just didn't know where it was…

Her eyes lowering, Anya mused on the wise Watcher's words, as well. She, too, had brushed up with darkness. After all, one doesn't just choose to shed their humanity for demonhood twice without admitting there was a little darkness in her. Yet the last time, she had chosen to become a human. To abandon her powers and the freedom that being the feared and legendary Vengeance Demon known as Anyanka gave her and to embrace the mortal coil of humanity as plain ol' Anya Jenkins. But am I better for it?, she wondered. Have I really learned anything? Or am I just Anyanka without the power? All bark without the bite? I was a demon, then I was a human, then I was almost a bride, then a demon again, and now I'm…whatever I am now. But am I better? Did I learn anything? If I'm not a demon, and I'm not Mrs. Xander Harris…then who am I? Who is Anya Jenkins?

"Willow," Giles said. "We've done all we can. But it looks like the ball is in your court now. You're the one with the power. And it seems you're the only one that can unlock it. The question is…do you want to?"

Willow's smile faded. Truthfully, she didn't know the answer to that question. Wasn't sure she even wanted to know the answer. But she knew that she had to find out. And soon…

Sunnydale, CA - The Summers Home, 1630 Revello Drive

4:36 p.m.

Kennedy was fuming, walking up the stairs alone as Faith had taken to training the others in the backyard.

Now that Faith had assumed complete command of the entire operation, Kennedy's time overseeing training for the others had come to an end quickly. Wesley, Faith's new Watcher, and the brunette South Boston native had taken it upon themselves to revamp and oversee the Potentials' training. With a little help from the more seasoned fighters like Gunn, Robin Wood and Rondell and some input from Giles, the Potentials had a completely new training regimen focused more on one-on-one hand-to-hand combat instead of simple form-based fighting drills. Even Dawn was allowed to start participating in them now, a new addition and one that Kennedy was not pleased about in the least.

With the others in research mode and the others focused on training the Potentials, Kennedy had started to feel like the odd woman out. Excusing herself, Kennedy had stomped up the stairs, hoping to be alone. It had all gone so wrong for Kennedy so fast, she mused in frustration. Kennedy thought with Buffy gone and a barely-holding-it-together Faith having a shaky hand on the wheel that she would finally have her chance at really shining here, at showing what a hero she could be. But instead, things had gone from bad to worse. Kennedy knew that a second coup attempt against Faith was impossible. The others had picked her. Given her confidence. And after being literally brushed aside by Faith hours before in the war room, Kennedy knew her own stock had plummeted in the eyes of the others.

This just can't get any worse, Kennedy silently grumbled before she turned the corner…

…where she saw a sight that froze her in her tracks.

There stood Willow.

And opposite her…Oz.

Tiny, annoyingly handsome and infuriatingly monosyllabic Oz.

Hugging one another.

It wasn't a friendly kind of hug, either.

It was an intimate kind of hug. A definitely "more than just friends" kind of hug.

The way he murmured something soft into her ear. The way her arms circled around him, stroking in circles around his back.

It both made something cold inside Kennedy's heart and at the same time filled her with an uncontrollable rage.

As they broke apart, it was then that the two took notice of Kennedy watching them in the hallway.

"Oh, um…hey, Kennedy," Willow greeted.

The brunette Potential just stared at them for a beat, then slowly replied. "Yeah…hey," she said, almost distantly.

Sensing he was about to intrude on a private moment, Oz cleared his throat. "I'll, uh, go downstairs and give the others a hand at the research on The First and Caleb," the young werewolf said quietly.

"Great…thanks, Ozzie," Willow said gratefully.

Ozzie? Kennedy turned the word over in her head, hating everything about how that sounded from Willow's mouth as Oz barely spared her a glance when passing her by to head down the stairs.

And that left the two women alone.

Kennedy gave Willow an accusing stare. "So…it's 'Ozzie' now, huh?" the young Potential said through pursed lips, her nostrils flaring as she crossed her arms defensively. "Are we working our way up to, what… 'baby?' 'Honey?' 'Sugar pup?' 'Wolfie-kins', maybe?"

Unamused, Willow frowned. "Kennedy…"

"Oh, and thanks for sticking up for me earlier when Faith was throwing me around like a sock on laundry day!" Kennedy continued, her tone dry and cutting. "Nothing like seeing your girlfriend tell everyone to stand back while I get throttled to make my day."

Willow gave Kennedy a look of incredulity. "You were trying to take Faith's place, Kennedy," the little redhead retorted, taking several steps closer to Kennedy. "You were undermining her, taking pot shots, and rubbing her nose in the fact that she survived getting tortured brutally by the same people trying to kill us and destroy the world. What did you expect me to do, jump up and down, get a pair of pompoms and shout 'Go Ken Go!' from the sidelines?"

"No, but I didn't expect you to tell everyone to get their popcorn ready while Faith was trying to beat me into paste!" Kennedy shot back, gesturing back to the stairwell downstairs.

"Ken, you were wrong," Willow said plainly. "You were in the wrong since last night. The things you said to Buffy, the way you spoke to Dawn and Oz and the others, the way you talked to Faith, and let's not forget how you kept brushing me aside when I tried to get you to calm down."

Kennedy rolled her eyes, clearly not in the mood to listen. "Oh, great! Please, it's not like I feel bad enough that nobody in this fucking house treats me with any kind of respect and keeps calling me 'rookie', or that I just got humiliated by the biker chick downstairs in front of everyone, now my girlfriend's piling on the ways I suck. Please, keep pouring it on, Will, it's not like my day can get any worse!"

"It wasn't my place to step in," Willow replied as calmly and as patiently as she could. "It was a Slayer matter. I—"

"And what exactly is your place now, Willow?" Kennedy asked, somewhat accusingly. "Can you give me a little clarity on what that is nowadays?"

Willow frowned. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"It means that lately I feel like you've been pushing me away!" Kennedy replied, a look of hurt in her eyes. "Ever since the hotel when I—"

"When you told Robin about Angel being a vampire and then tried to kill him even though I told you not to say anything to anyone?" Willow reminded her, folding her arms across her own chest and frowning. "Is that what you're referring to?"

Kennedy frowned, but looked down, averting Willow's gaze. "It's…it's not like people wouldn't have found out about Angel eventually…" she muttered, a bit petulantly.

"That's not the point!" Willow said in a louder, angrier tone. "Kennedy, I get that you want to be a leader. But the way you've been acting? That's not what a leader does. A leader shows they can be trusted. A leader puts the team ahead of their pride. A leader earns leadership by trust and respect, not by force. A leader leads by example. Buffy never asked to be a leader. Xander and I were the ones who wanted to join her. She didn't even want us to help, but we joined in because we saw she was trying to help people, and we wanted to help too." Willow thought about it. "Plus, kicking vampires in the face and killing monsters was kinda fun, but that's besides the point."

Kennedy opened her mouth to interject, but Willow raised her hand. "No! I talk, you listen. Buffy earned the right to be a leader not because she's the most powerful, but because she's willing to make the tough choices that none of us can. She's died twice to save the world from things that would give you nightmares, and she's still here. You have no idea how strong Buffy is, what it takes to be able to come back from the things she's come back from."

Willow got a bit emotional, her thoughts veering back to the night before, when the others turned against her, and Willow did nothing to help her best friend. Yet she put her guilt to the side for now as she continued to chastise Kennedy. "Angel earned the right to be a leader with not just his team, but ours by treating others with respect and proving he's willing to protect people even if it costs him his life. Giles is a leader because he has the experience. Spike's proven he can be a leader because he's changed, and he's got the battlefield time. And Faith earned the right to be a leader because not only has she changed, but she's stepped up, and she's proven that she can someone we can count on. And she has the experience, same as Buffy."

Willow pointed to Kennedy. "You just got here. You're pretty far ahead of the other Potentials, sure, but you're still just a beginner, Ken. You don't have the experience yet. You still need a Watcher, and you still need guidance. And you aren't exactly scoring points with your temper and lack of patience and insulting your allies. You're not ready to be leading anyone. Not yet."

Stung, Kennedy looked away, her cheeks burning crimson at Willow's frank assessment of her. Tapping her foot at an impatient, angry rate, Kennedy looked back at Willow.

"And what about Oz?" the young Potential asked, a tone of envy in her voice. "Is he a leader, too, in your book?"

Willow stared at her for a long moment. Then she answered. "I trust Oz with my life," she said quietly.

"What about your heart?" Kennedy asked, her hard tone softening a bit, her eyes beginning to sting. "Do you trust him with that, too? Because I thought I was the one you trusted with that."

Willow looked away, a hint of sadness in her eyes. This was it, she realized.

The elephant in the room was finally demanding to be noticed, and she couldn't ignore it any longer.

Willow took a moment, wringing her hands. "Kennedy…" she said softly.

Then her green eyes rose and met Kennedy's stung brown orbs. "...we need to talk."

Kennedy felt her eyes beginning to burn, felt like the earth was starting to move and swallow her. She knew exactly what those four words meant.

"Willow…don't," Kennedy said quietly. Her tone began to become more pleading. "Look, I…I-I-I know that I've been a pain lately, but I just wanted to help, Willow, I—"

"Kennedy…" Willow started, her tone almost pleading with her to stop. To not make this harder than it had to be.

"Look, I'm sorry, okay?" Kennedy said, a hint of desperation in her voice. "Is-is-is that what you want me to say? Okay, fine, I said it, I'm sorry. Do you want me to go apologize to everyone? Because I—"

"Kennedy," Willow said, her eyes still sad but her voice a bit harder, firmer.

"Willow, please," Kennedy said, her eyes brimming, glassy, as she rushed forward grabbing Willow's hands. "I'll-I'll do whatever you want me to do, I'll change, I swear, but…but I need you, Willow. Please, you're the best thing that's ever happened to me."

Willow felt her heart ache at Kennedy's words…yet she still tugged her hands loose from the young woman's grip.

"Kennedy…I'm sorry," Willow said sorrowfully. "But something's changed. You changed. You're not the same girl I was falling for. I…"

Willow paused, considering her words carefully. "I just don't see it working out between us, Ken. So…so maybe we need to go our separate ways."

Kennedy's eyes were glassy, wide, hurt. "But…but you're my way," she uttered in a hurt, hushed tone.

Willow shook her head, her own eyes feeling a little watery. "I can't be your way anymore, Kennedy. Not like that," Willow said softly. "Look, I'll be your friend, I will always be your friend. But you're still missing something, sweetie. I don't know what it is, but whatever that hole in your heart is, I don't think I'm what can fill it. I'm sorry."

She gave Kennedy a consoling pat on the arm, then walked around past her.

Like she was just in her way, a part of Kennedy darkly echoed.

Then Willow left and walked down the stairs to join the others.

Leaving a stunned, teary-eyed and dazed Kennedy all alone.

Her world suddenly more empty.

Her world suddenly colder.

Her fists balled suddenly into knots.

Her tear-streaked eyes thought to Oz, holding Willow. Holding her Willow.

Stealing her.

It was then that Kennedy decided, trembling in rage, her eyes shining with angry tears, that somehow, some way…Oz would pay for what he'd done.

And he would pay dearly…

To Be Continued…

Next: Buffy and Doyle's high-stakes card game reaches its conclusion. Will Buffy rejoin the fight?

Connor continues to spiral out of control. And Angel and Spike's return home is met with some unexpected visitors…

A/N: Happy holidays, everyone! Hope you enjoyed the new chapter. I wanted to do a little extra bit on Buffy and Doyle bonding since they barely exchanged five words when they interacted on the show. (I counted. lol) Thought it'd be nice for Angel's best friend and the love of his life to get to know one another, maybe give Buffy a little bit of fun before the storm clouds burst open on her again. And they definitely will...

Please read, review and comment below. More on the way soon!

Best,

Jean-theGuardian