Can We Talk?

The ending of 'Reunion' never happened- Darla & Drusilla are still out causing havoc.

*~*

When he awoke, the room was dark. His inner clock told him that it was well after midnight. That meant that he had now been back just over twenty-four hours. Subsequent events made it seem longer.

He sat up, badly startled by a soft sigh that came from beside him on the bed. Then he relaxed, smiled, as he recognized Cordelia's voice as she mumbled unintelligibly in her sleep. He wondered if she always did that.     

"Doyle," Cordelia murmured suddenly in a distressed sounding voice.       

Doyle made haste to reassure her. "It's all right, Princess," he whispered softly near her ear. "It's all right. I'm here."     

Somewhere in her subconscious, Cordelia appeared to hear him. "Don't leave me, Doyle. Don't ever leave me again." She was quiet for a second or two; Doyle again leaned over to whisper comfortingly to her, was brought up short as she said, "I love you, Doyle."     

Doyle caught his breath; his words of comfort froze in his throat. She had hinted in several different ways that this was the way she felt, but, of course, she had not voiced the words out loud. Nor had he. . .at least, not to her. He rejoiced to hear her say them, yet he was frightened too. Frightened and uncertain. They were major words, not to be said or taken lightly. Although he knew that Cordelia *believed* them to be true, he still just wasn't sure that. . .he just wasn't sure.

He was aware that Cordelia would be mortified to know that he had heard those sacred words in this way; he vowed to never tell her that he had. He leaned down, gently kissed her on the cheek. "I love you too, Cordelia. With all my heart. I always did. I always will. No matter what happens, I always will." He moved away from her, tenderly pulled the blankets more snugly over her. "Sleep well."     

He looked toward the door that adjoined this room with Angel's; a faint light shone through the crack at the bottom of the door. He assumed that meant that Angel was awake. With a quick glance back at the sleeping Cordelia, he quietly eased his body up off of the bed. He didn't want to wake her, so he left through the main door to the room and softly closed the door.      

He walked the few feet to Angel's room, stopped as he reached the door. He raised his hand to knock, then hesitated. He didn't want to wake the vampire, and, once again, he couldn't read Angel well enough to ascertain whether he slept or not. He decided to take the chance- they had a lot to talk about- again raised his hand and this time tentatively knocked. A few seconds passed, then the door opened to show an obviously irritated Angel on the threshold.   

Doyle took a step backward. "I woke you, didn't I? I'm sorry. I won't. . ."     

"Doyle, no." Angel reached out, put a hand on the half-demon's arm to stop his retreat. "I didn't know it was you. I figured you'd still be asleep." His eyes darted down the hall for a second, then returned to settle on Doyle. "Every once in awhile Wesley comes up here wanting to talk. Not that there's anything wrong with that. . .and sometimes we do. I'm just not in the mood tonight."

"Well, that's why *I* came. I can't sleep anymore, and. . .I don't want to bother you, man, but. . .I've got all this stuff runnin' through my head." He looked up at Angel, a pleading look in his eyes. "Can we talk?"   

Angel smiled, nodded. "Of course. And you're *not* bothering me. Come on in." He opened the door wide, ushered the new Oracle into the room, then closed the door. He gestured across the room toward the chair he'd obviously been sitting in; a thick book lay open, face down on it. There was an identical chair standing next to the one Angel had been occupying. "Sit down. Can I get you anything?"     

Doyle complied. He crossed the room, sat down in the offered chair. "Just water, if you've got it up here." Since his return, he'd found he didn't have a taste for anything else. He wasn't sure whether to be disappointed by that or not.      

"Yeah." If Angel was surprised by Doyle's beverage preference, he gave no sign. He went to the small refrigerator he kept near the bed, removed a bottle of water, then went to sit beside Doyle, handing him the bottle as he did so. "Here you go." He realized he'd sat down on the book he'd been reading; he removed it from the chair, laid it on the bed, turned to Doyle.     

Doyle uncapped the bottle of water, took a swig; once again, it just tasted *good*. "Thanks, man."     

"Sure." Angel nodded, then, "So, what's on your mind?"     

Doyle almost choked on the water at Angel's directness. Talk about your lack of preamble. Angel slapped his friend on the back a couple of times and Doyle's coughing fit subsided. He then answered Angel's query, "The question is what's *not* on it. Seems like everythin's there, just ready and waitin' to make me crazy." He leaned back in the chair, ran a hand through his hair. "I don't even know where to start, man. . . oh, yeah I do." He nodded in the direction of the adjoining door. "Cordelia's in there. Scared me half to death."     

"She woke you?"   

"No, but when I woke up. . .you knew she was in there with me?" Doyle raised his eyebrows at the vampire.

Angel nodded. "Yeah. She stopped by, asked me if I thought it would be okay. She just. . .wants to be near you, Doyle; she wants to make sure you're all right. Is there something wrong with that?"     

Doyle shook his head. "No, of course not. And I know I hurt her feelings earlier when I said I'd stay here with you. Actually, it. . ." he
smiled, "felt good. . .waking up with her there; it felt good knowin' I wasn't alone. . .once I, you know, knew who I wasn't alone *with*.  It's just. . ."     

"Just what, Doyle?"     

Doyle hesitated, looked away from the vampire for a second or two, then looked straight at him as he said, "She said she loves me, Angel."     

Angel sat back in his chair, looking somewhat amused. "And that's news to you?"     

"Well, yeah. . .actually," Doyle told him; he was perfectly serious. "And to be honest with ya, man, I think it's pretty much news to her too."     

"Why would you say that?"   

"Well, she said it in her sleep for one thing."    

"Ah." Angel nodded. "It came out of her subconscious. I would think that makes it *more* real, not less."     

Doyle heaved a deep sigh. "You're determined to shoot me down here, aren't you, man?"

Angel looked taken aback. "No, Doyle. It seems to me that you're the one trying to shoot *yourself* down. I don't get this, Doyle. Why wouldn't 'I love you' be exactly what you want to hear? What's going on?" Angel's eyes then took on a knowing look. "You're scared, right?"     

"Try terrified," Doyle admitted, winced at Angel's chuckle. "No, I mean it, man. This is just too much, too fast. I mean, think about it, Angel. We didn't know each other that long, before I. . .well, you know. And yeah, I knew I was crazy about her the minute I set eyes on her, but
she. . .well, you were there, man. . .she didn't see *me*. . .not at all. At least, not until it was almost over. Then she finds out I'm half-demon, tells me to ask her out to dinner- which I never got to do, by the way. . .thanks to you- and watches me burn, all in about fifteen minutes." He had to look away from the pain in Angel's eyes; he'd never really wanted to think about what it must have been like for the two of them, watching that Beacon destroy him. . .he had a feeling he wouldn't have much choice now.   "Not much of a courtship, no?"     

"Not much, no," Angel agreed.     

"So, I'm dead. . .gone for a year. Now, I'd like to sit here and tell you that I don't *begin* to know how much she- and you too- have thought about me these past twelve months, but that wouldn't be true." Doyle looked up at the vampire; their eyes met. "You haven't talked about me much, Angel, but you *have* thought about me often enough. . .which was nice, I don't mind tellin' ya."    

Angel shrugged. "Every day. I wouldn't deny it. . .neither would she, I'm sure. . .but, I don't think I. . ."     

"It's just not enough time, Angel! Or too much time. Or both." Doyle shook his head. "Not enough time for her to get to know me *before* I died; too much time *after* I died to think about me. . .to maybe build me up into somethin' and someone I'm not. . .and then fall in love with *him*." Doyle looked away from Angel, stared down at his brown shoes. "I'm just not sure that the real thing- me- can measure up."     

Angel didn't reply, sat back in his chair to study the half-demon intently. Unable to sense what the vampire was thinking, the silence quickly got to Doyle; he looked up to find himself the object of intense scrutiny. "What, Angel?"     

"I don't know, Doyle." Angel shook his head. "I guess I can sort of understand where you're coming from, but I also think that you're selling yourself- and Cordelia- pretty damn short. You make it sound like she didn't know you at all. She did. Not everything of course, but who does about anybody? And as for building you up into something you're not. . .you died a hero, Doyle; you died saving our lives. You're Oracle to the *Powers That Be*. . .how much more 'building up' could she possibly do?"     

"But I don't want her thinkin' she loves me because of those things, Angel!"     

"No. . .no. . .I didn't mean it that way, Doyle," Angel said quickly. "I just meant. . .You said she might have built you up into something you're not. I'm just saying I don't think that's possible. And she knows you're not perfect; she knows you have flaws. She doesn't love you *because* you're a hero or *because* you're the Oracle, Doyle; those things, like your flaws, are just part of the package." He leaned forward in his chair, looked Doyle directly in the eyes. "She loves you, Doyle- and I believe she *does* love you- because you're you."

Doyle nodded, but didn't look totally convinced. "But maybe that's the flip side of this whole thing, Angel. I mean, who am I? Who am I *really*?" He sighed. "Maybe it's not so much that I'm afraid that *she* doesn't know me. Maybe it's that *I* don't know who I am. It's nice to sit here and say that I'm still the same old Doyle I always was, but, we all know that's not exactly true." He looked down at the bottle in his hand. "I'm *not* the same, Angel. I mean, part of me is, yeah, but. . .there's a whole other side now. . .a whole other part that I'm not used to and that I don't really understand. And if I don't know who I am, if I don't understand me, how can she? How can anybody?"     

"With time, Doyle, with time," Angel told him, putting a hand on the half-demon's arm. "I know I've said it before, and I know it probably doesn't help you very much, but it all comes down to time. This is all just going to take time."     

"And who would know better about time than a vampire?" Doyle asked, raising his eyebrows in his own 'Doyle' way. Angel smiled, and Doyle reached up with his free hand, put it on Angel's arm. "Okay, man, time it is." He then moved his hand, leaned back in his chair. . .he felt better already. Angel nodded, removed his hand from Doyle's arm, leaned back as well. Doyle then looked at his friend with a quizzical gaze. "So, you *really* think she loves me do you, then?"    

Angel smiled at the half-demon's obvious need for reassurance. He nodded. "Yeah, I do, but, uh, if I were you, I wouldn't be letting her know you heard her say it in her sleep."     

"No doubt, man. Got that one covered. . .already figured that would be a big no, no."     

"Good." Angel told him, then, after a minute or two, "So, what else is on your mind?"     

Doyle didn't need to be able to read Angel to know that the vampire had something on*his* mind. He shook his head. "Your turn, man. It's a two way street you know."     

It always had been. "Yeah, I know." Angel hesitated a minute, then plunged forward, "About what happened at the parking garage. . ." He stopped, hesitated again.

"*A lot* happened at the parkin' garage, Angel," Doyle prodded. "You want to maybe be more specific, man?"    

"When I pulled you out of the fight, I know I. . .frightened you." Angel looked up at the half-demon, regret and apology in his eyes. "That's the last thing I'd ever want to do, Doyle. I *never* want you to be afraid of me. Not of *me*."     

"I know, Angel. And, I gotta admit, you did shake me up for a minute or two. . ."     

"I'm sorry, Doyle. . ."   

"But only until I understood what was goin' on." Doyle took a deep breath. "Actually, I'm glad you brought this up. We need to talk about it. You need to give yourself a break here, man." Doyle leaned forward, held the vampire's eyes with his own. "You said you couldn't let me die again. Angel, you never *let me* die. What happened on the *Quintessa* was what was *meant* to happen. It was supposed to be me. It was my. . ." He searched for a word other than the obvious one that came to mind -it sounded too 'oracleish' for him- but didn't find one, went ahead and used the obvious one, "destiny, not yours. You were *not* supposed to die that day. . .it wasn't your time, and it. . ." he hesitated, then went on, "wouldn't have done you any good."     

"How do you mean?"     

"I mean it wouldn't have been enough to. . .gain you your redemption. It was too soon, man."     

His answer didn't surprise Angel. "You mean I need to do a lot more atoning."     

"You have *a lot* more to do, period, Angel. You were- are- needed here."    

"It now seems as if you are too." Angel looked pointedly at the half-demon.
     

"So it would appear, yeah. But it's not the same." Angel gave him another look, but he held firm. "It's *not*, Angel."

Angel looked away from the Oracle, sat back heavily in his chair. "Maybe it's not, Doyle, but. . .knowing all this doesn't make what happened any easier. It doesn't change the way I've felt the past year. It doesn't erase the memory of watching that thing kill you. . .watching that thing kill you, and. . .being helpless to stop it." He suddenly looked up at Doyle; the half-demon was startled by the glint of tears in his eyes. "I've never felt that helpless before, Doyle. Never. Standing there. . .watching it hurt you. . .watching it destroy you. . .hearing you scream. I've never stopped hearing you scream, Doyle. I never have." He turned away from the half-demon, closed his eyes.     

Silence reigned for several seconds. Then Doyle reached out, touched the vampire on the shoulder. Angel opened his eyes, looked up into Doyle's; they had turned a silvery blue that was almost mesmerizing. "I'm sorry, Angel. I am. If it helps you at all. . .it- the pain- it didn't last very long. It hurt, don't get me wrong, but I almost didn't feel it at first. . .I was so intent on what I was doin' up there. Would've been great if I'd gotten up there and didn't take care of it in time, now wouldn't it?" He paused. Angel's gaze was riveted on him; he hung onto every word. Who would have thought that he would *ever* have heard about this. . .from the source? "Probably the worst of it was when I finally got the damn thing unplugged. I felt the cables come apart in my hands, and right then there was this. . .burst of agony. . .pain like I'd never felt before, and wouldn't ever want to feel again. I remember thinkin' that this was it, that I was dyin', that I *really was* gonna die. That was a. . . strange sensation. And then. . .it was over; the pain was gone. There was. . .nothin'. Like bein' asleep, I guess." He took a deep breath, brushed a couple of his own tears away from his eyes. "Next thing I knew, I was meetin' the Oracles. They were congratulatin' me on my noble sacrifice, tellin' me I'd reached atonement, that I was bein' admitted into 'Bliss'. Which, as you know, was never very 'blissful' for me." He gave Angel a tremulous smile. "And, here I am. . .for better or worse."

The smile and the tears told Angel a lot. They told him that all Doyle had just imparted to him was a whole lot easier said than it had been done. That, Oracle or not, new life or not, he, too, would be forever haunted by what had occurred that night on a ship called the *Quintessa*. It was Angel's turn to reach out and touch the half-demon's shoulder. "For the better, Doyle. Definitely for the better."     

Doyle nodded, the glint of tears still visible in his eyes, which were back to their normal blue. "Thanks, man," he said softly. "Thanks."     

"No, Doyle. Thank *you*," Angel squeezed his friend's arm, sank back in the chair, relieved to have that topic taken care of.     

So was Doyle. In all honesty, he had played down the pain, and had not mentioned the overwhelming panic at all. He had done what he'd had to do, had done what he'd been *meant* to do, but that didn't mean it hadn't been the most terrifying moment of his former life.      

He took a deep breath. What he had to do now wasn't as his traumatic, but it was still hard. It would be more difficult for Angel, however. . . *had* been difficult for him for some time. "Angel? 

Angel looked up. "Yeah?"  

"We, uh. . .there's somethin' else we need to talk about, man."     

"Yeah?" Angel felt his guard go up. Not as hard or as fast as it would have had this been anyone else but Doyle, but he felt it go up nonetheless.

Doyle nodded, his face stony with seriousness and resolve. "Yeah, man. We need to talk about Darla." He once again didn't need to be able to read Angel to know exactly how he felt; his face said it all. "I know, man. I know. But she. . .and Drusilla. . .they're out there, and you know as well as I do that that's a very bad thing. They've been relatively quiet up to now, but we both know that's not gonna last." He paused. Angel said nothing; his gaze was fixed on some imaginary spot on the carpet, but Doyle knew intuitively that the vampire was hearing him. "I have to tell you that the *Powers* have been kinda worried about you where Darla is concerned, Angel. To be honest, I think she's the biggest reason they let me come back. . .and I think that, whether you know it or not, she's a big reason why you *wished me* back. . ."     

"No. . .I know it, Doyle. Believe me, I know it. She's not the *only* reason, of course, but, yeah, I know it." Angel spoke softly, didn't change position, kept his head down, his body slack.     

"I know you've been. . .somewhat preoccupied with her. . ." Doyle watched as Angel smiled slightly; they both knew that Doyle was being kind about Angel's recent obsession. "I know that when she was resurrected, she was brought back human. . .with her human soul intact. I know that fact intensified the kinship you felt with her. I know you tried to save her more than once, and I know that. . ." Doyle paused, swallowed hard. "I know that you were forced to watch when Wolfram and Hart had her turned back into a vampire. . ."    

"Lindsey." Angel's whisper was full of anger and agony.     

"Yeah." Doyle nodded. Lindsey was a major contradiction in terms, and he had no doubt that their paths would cross eventually. . .and that their crossing could prove pivotal. "I want you know, Angel, that I *did* try to intervene there." Angel looked up then; his eyes met Doyle's; they were filled with pain and mild surprise. Doyle looked almost embarrassed by the admission, and very regretful. "Obviously, I got shut down. . .but I *did* try."     

Angel look was now full of gratitude. "Thanks, Doyle. It's nice to know that someone tried."     

"Yeah. And you're welcome. But. . .now comes the hard part, Angel, and I think you *have* to know that you're sorta bein' put to the test here." Doyle paused, bit his lip as he thought about what to say next. "They *have* to be stopped, Angel, and you're the only one to do it. And. . .given everythin' that's happened. . .well, it'd be my guess that. . .killin' her is. . .gonna be pretty damn hard, man."    

Angel nodded. "I won't deny it; it will hard.  But, I can't look at it as. . .killing her. I have to see it as. . .putting her out of her misery. And I know that this isn't what she wanted. She didn't want to be turned, Doyle. In the end, she *didn't*."     

"I know, Angel. But, still, it's not gonna be easy to deal with."

"There are going to be *a lot* of things that aren't easy to deal with, Doyle," Angel told him, sudden determination entering his voice. "Darla and Dru are just two of those things. And yeah, they're important, but there are other things just as urgent. Saul, for instance, we need to get a handle on Saul. Darla and Dru I know. . .I've dealt with them before, I lived with them. Hell, I created Dru. But Saul. . .we've no reference points there, no knowledge. And we *need* to know, Doyle. He threatens you. . .and I don't know how to stop him."     

"Me either, man, though somethin' tells me I *should* know." Doyle shook his head; it was frustrating, knowing that he *was* the Oracle, but not knowing what to do with that knowledge, not knowing how to access all the power and ability that *had* to be there. . .somewhere. He guessed that he was being tested as well, since it had been at his insistence that he be sent back in this way. He knew that, in many ways, he was on his own. "So, where *do* we start?"

"Spike," Angel told him with a resigned shrug of his shoulders. "I'm going to have to talk to Spike. Let's just hope and pray he talks back."