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No One Else But You

November 30th, 2000.

Cordelia Chase sat alone. She watched a video over and over and over again. It was a video that had been made a year ago. She and a half-demon named Doyle had made it as a potential commercial for Angel Investigations. It had never been shown.The half-demon named Doyle had died that very night.

The tears flowed down Cordelia's face as Doyle finished, "Is that it? Am I done?"

She leaned over, picked up the television's remote and froze the picture on the screen. Doyle, a goofy little smile on his face, stood suspended in time, looking at her.

Cordelia sank back into the couch cushions and sighed, fresh tears filling her eyes. God, she missed him. She really missed him. She missed everything about him: his wit, his charm, his stubbornness, his faults, his decency, his courage. She missed the pleasure of coming into the office and trading barbs with him, flirting with him really. (It wasn't the same with Wesley and Gunn. It wasn't the same at all.) She missed those blue eyes that twinkled so mischievously they could lead you to believe that they were missing something, when, in reality, they missed nothing, could look deep into your very soul. But mostly, she missed what might have been, what could have been, what should have been.

Cordelia rose from the couch, leaving Doyle still staring out at her from the TV screen. She went to the window, stood looking out at the darkness. She should be out there, helping Angel. He was out there this night, fighting evil. She knew he didn't want to be out there tonight, the anniversary of Doyle's death, knew that he was hurting too. He'd been understanding when she'd told him that she couldn't go tonight; the look in his eyes had been full of pain, had told her that he knew exactly how she felt. He missed Doyle too, especially tonight of all nights.

Cordelia sighed again, smiled slightly as she felt Dennis hovering near her, emanating concern. "It's okay, Dennis," she told him. "Really it is. I just need some alone time with this, that's all. I'll be all right."

Dennis radiated understanding and gave her some space, but stayed close enough to observe her. He had liked Doyle. He had really cared about his Cordelia; he had cared a lot. He had sensed a great deal of sadness in her since the half-demon's untimely death a year ago, in she and Angel both.

Cordelia stood motionless in front of the window. She closed her eyes and thought of Doyle. She thought of the first time that she had ever seen him, outside Russell Winters' house. He had been wearing that silly hat and had been stammering excuses for Angel's smoking car. She remembered the first time she had ever witnessed him have a vision, how painful it had looked. She chuckled softly to herself as she also remembered her ironic statement to him later that night when he had described the visions as his 'gift'. '"If that was my gift,"' she'd told him, '"I'd return it."' She recalled falling asleep on the couch, waking up next to him, her head on his shoulder. She never would have admitted it then, but waking up that way, being so close to him, had made her entire body tingle, from her head down to the tips of her toes. She remembered apartment hunting with him; it had been fun, despite her protestations, and she loved her apartment to this day. She thought of the evening when Kate, who'd been under the influence of a spell, had told them they had feelings for each other; she remembered vehemently denying that there was any truth to that. She vividly recalled the night she had finally given in and begun to realize that there was more to Doyle than she had originally thought; the night she had finally admitted to herself that she had feelings for him; the night he had save her from that vampire. And, of course, she remembered their last night: The Scourge, the half-Lister demons, the Quintessa, the Beacon, their first- and last- kiss, and. . .Doyle's heroic death that had saved them all.

Fresh tears filled Cordelia's eyes, and she put a trembling hand to her lips. That kiss. She would forever feel that kiss. She knew there would never be another kiss like it, knew there would never be another man like Doyle. No matter how long she lived or what she did with that life, there would never be anyone like Doyle ever again.

"Oh Doyle," she whispered. "I miss you. I miss you so much. I want to know what could be. I want a chance to know what we could be. I want you back. Oh God, I want you back."

"Well, you know, Princess, that's all we needed to hear." The voice, shaky and replete with a familiar Irish accent, came from behind her.

Cordelia's eyes snapped open and she drew a sharp breath. She knew she had to be dreaming as she slowly rotated to look at the television screen. Doyle's image remained there, unchanged and unmoving. Then where..?

"I'm not in the TV, darlin'. That's only in the movies, most of the time anyway," the voice went on, "I'm over here. . .by the door."

Cordelia swallowed hard as she slowly, carefully turned toward the
front door. She could feel Dennis again, hovering close, but she could sense
no fear coming from him; she could sense only...relief? Joy?

It seemed like forever before the front of her body faced the doorway, and what she saw there once she got there was impossible. She saw Doyle. He stood there looking awkward and uncertain, but he also looked real. So real. Too real to be imagination? He was dressed in jeans and a blue/green shirt; the color brought out the brilliant blue of his eyes. He wore the same brown leather jacket she had watched him die in; neither he nor it had marks or burns of any kind. No marks, no burns. How was that possible?

Silence as the two stood looking at each other, Cordelia with disbelief, but also with the hope of someone who desperately wants what they are seeing to be true, Doyle with apprehension as he waited for her to speak.

She finally found her voice. It trembled as she asked, "Doyle? Doyle, is it really you? Or am I dreaming this? Please tell me I'm not..."

"You're not dreaming, Princess," Doyle said, smiling his impish smile. "It's really me."
     
As if in a dream, she found herself walking toward him, step by step by everlasting step. At last she stood before him, reached out toward him, then hesitated, terrified that her hand would go right through him, or worse. . .that he would simply disappear.
     
Understanding her fear, Doyle smiled reassuringly, stretched out his own arm and gently took her hand in his. Cordelia let out a sobbing breath as they touched, looked up into his eyes as her hand slowly, incredibly went up his arm until it rested lightly on his shoulder. She wanted to throw herself into his arms, to smother his face with her kisses, but she was still too afraid, did not want to break what still could be some sort of fragile spell.
     
"It is you, isn't it?" she breathed. "Somehow, it is you."
     
Doyle would have welcomed the hug and kisses, but knew he had to move slowly. "It is me. I'm here. I'm real. And I'm here to stay,
Cordelia. . . if you want me."
     
"Want you?" Cordelia cried. "Want you? Doyle, of course I want you. There's nothing I want more! But I still don't understand. . ." Her eyes were frantically searching his as she said, "You were dead! You were! We saw you die! And the Oracles said. . ."
     
"The Oracles." Doyle sighed at the thought at what had befallen the Oracles and how it had now changed his fate. He took Cordelia's hand from his shoulder, gathered up her other hand, held them both tightly in his as he said, "You're right, Cordelia. I was dead. My atonement was fulfilled. I was admitted to 'Bliss'. I should have been happy. All of the others were happy. But I. . .wasn't happy. I missed you. I missed Angel. I missed. . .it all. The Powers didn't know what to do with me. I think they thought that in time I would adjust. But I didn't. I kept going to them asking them how I could be sent back, begging them to send me back, even if it meant losing my atonement. I just wanted to come back to my life, back to Angel," his eyes filled with sudden tears as he said, "Back to you, Princess. But they said no, what was done couldn't be undone."
    
"That's what the Oracles told Angel too," Cordelia told him, squeezed his hands. His eyes were so full of pain that it tore her heart out.
     
Doyle nodded. "So, I gave it up. They were firm about it and they kinda gave me the impression that you guys didn't need me anyway. You had the visions and you'd found Wesley. . ."
     
"Wesley!" Cordelia rolled her eyes. "I mean, he's all right, but, Doyle, that is so not true. Of course we needed you. We still do."
     
"I believe you. But you did seem to be doing okay, first with Wesley, then with Gunn. . ."
     
"You've been watching us?"
     
"Sometimes. Sometimes I was allowed to watch you. I think they were trying to impress upon me how much you didn't need me. And you did seem to be getting along all right. . .until last spring when," he swallowed, "all those horrible things happened: the Oracles were killed, the office was blown up, Darla was resurrected, and you, Princess. . .oh, God, Princess, what happened to you. I tell you, Cordelia there have been lots of times when I wondered if I made the right decision, when I even regretted passing those visions over to you, but never more than I did that day. And all do I could do was watch, watch what I had done to you."
     
Again, her heart hurt at the agony she saw in his eyes. "Doyle, none of that was your fault. The Powers actually gave me the visions; you were just. . .the instrument. And it's okay, it is; they've been good for me; they've taught me a lot. And they. . .they were a part of you, so I always felt as if a part of you was still with me. So, you mustn't feel guilty or bad about what happened. It's all okay."
     
Doyle nodded, but didn't directly address her comments. "Anyway," he went on, "after that I decided to try one more time to get myself sent back. Oh, I know, Angel and Wesley and Gunn, they handled it of course, probably better than I could of, but I had to give it one more go with the Powers that Be, I had to try to get back here."
     
There was a desperate note in his voice that was almost frightening. It must have been horrible, even in 'Bliss', Cordelia thought. It must have been horrible to feel so trapped.
     
She removed one of her hands from his to gently touch his face. "Wesley and Gunn have been great," she told him gently, though no question had been asked. "But they've never been you." She smiled at him. "Now tell me about the Powers."
     
Doyle nodded, smiled back at her, raised his hand, and caught her free hand tenderly in his own. "When I went to them, they were stunned by the Oracles death. So was I. I had thought them to be immortal. Their death had left the Powers sort of vulnerable. They were actually willing to listen to me this time. I reminded them that your direct link to them was gone and that you needed that link; I also reminded them that they just might need it too." He paused.  "They heard me. . .I got their attention anyway. But they weren't absolutely convinced that you did need me. So they made a deal with me."
     
"What kind of a deal?"
     
"They said that if you or Angel or both of you said out loud that you needed or wanted me back, well, then the choice was mine, I could stay in 'Bliss', or I could come back to you. But if you didn't, game over. I had to stay with them, no arguments, no complaints." Doyle shook his head. "If it worked, it was no contest for me, mind you. I knew what I wanted. But I gotta tell you, Princess, it was tough- terrifying actually- watching and waiting to see if you would say it in time. You couldn't just think it or feel it inside; it had to be said out loud. I figured tonight was my best bet, but, boy," he glanced at the clock; it was 11:55PM, "you and Angel like to cut it fine don't you, then? Deadline was at midnight."
     
"Oh God," Cordelia breathed, squeezing his hands tighter. They could've missed it; they could have lost him forever. Then it occurred to her, he had said 'you and Angel'. "Angel said it too?"
     
"Yeah." Doyle shook his head in disbelief. "All this time waiting, and you both say it at almost the same time. I don't know what made him think to say it; he was right in the middle of a fight with a particularly ugly guy. Maybe it just reminded him of some the fights we used to get into, I don't know. But he said it."
     
"Is he all right?"
     
"Yeah, all three of them are. If not, I probably would have gone there first. That might have done more harm than good though. Would've taken Angel totally by surprise. Not so good in a fight." He paused a second, then smiled. "He's on his way here now, Princess. He senses something is going on."
     
Cordelia frowned a little. "How can you know that?"
     
Doyle shrugged. "It's my new 'gift', in addition to being a direct line to the Powers. I can't actually read minds, but I can sense things, feel things, know things about people, beings, that I couldn't before. It's not like the visions, it's. . .it's hard to explain." He suddenly looked alarmed.  "It's not going to be a problem is it? I mean, I could probably get rid of it if. . ."
     
"No, Doyle, oh no," Cordelia broke in, looking at him in wonder. "Don't you get it? You're the new Oracle. You, Allen Francis Doyle, are the new Oracle to the Powers that Be. Wow."
     
Doyle was embarrassed. "Well, I. . ."
     
"You still are you, though, right, Doyle?" Cordelia asked, once again interrupting the new Oracle. She was lucky that he was so benevolent. . . and that he loved her. "Still half-human, half-demon?"
     
Doyle nodded, smiled slightly. "That hasn't changed, Princess."
     
"So," Cordelia said coyly, gently removing her hands from his to put them gently on his shoulders, "about this face of yours, the one you wondered if I could learn to love?"
     
"You mean this one?" Doyle shook his head slightly; immediately his skin changed from flesh colored to green, his eyes from blue to fiery red, and spikes suddenly shot out from his face.
     
Cordelia nodded, reached up to tenderly stroke his cheek. "Yeah, that's the one." She smiled her brilliant smile. "You know, I don't think learning to love it is going to be a problem." She slowly entwined her arms around his neck. "In fact, I don't think that anything about you is going to be a problem. Just. . ." Her smile dimmed a little as she said, "Just don't ever leave me again, okay?"
     
He smiled back at her from his green colored face. "That's my goal, darlin', that's my goal."
     
Her smile brightened again, as she looked unflinchingly into his fire engine red eyes. "Oh, Doyle," she whispered. "I'm so happy! So happy."
     
She closed her eyes as she brought her face to his; his eyes closed too as their lips met for only the second time. With another soft shake of his head, Doyle changed back to human form, then deepened the kiss, pulling her as close to him as he possibly could. They lost themselves in each other for several minutes, until, at last, Cordelia pulled away flushed and breathless from his kiss. This kiss had been better than the first; never before had she experienced such a kiss; she greatly looked forward to all those which were to follow.
     
"So," she said in a husky voice, her eyes full of passion. "Ask me out to dinner already, would you?"
     
"Yeah?" Doyle still held her tightly, for all his experience he'd never been kissed quite like that either. His voice was ragged as he went on, "Cordelia, would you. .?" The last time he'd started this question he'd been rudely interrupted, but this time no interference came. He could feel Angel was still several blocks away, driving like a bat out of hell, but that would be a welcome interruption when it came. "Would you like to have dinner with me sometime?"
     
Cordelia again flashed him her brilliant smile. "Oh yeah. Starting tonight. And then every night from now on."
     
"You're sure, Princess?" Doyle asked in a teasing voice. "I mean, I'm short, I'm poor, I'm a bad dresser, and I'm half-demon to boot." He smiled as she laughed. "But then again, I'm kinda cute. . ." he smiled again as she nodded vigorously, "I'm charming, at times, and I'm funny. And, above all else, I am the new Oracle. That all by itself should be interesting. Who else could you possibly get to give you such a huge variety?"
     
Cordelia laughed again. "No one else but you, Doyle," she managed to say before he swooped in to kiss her one more time. "No one else but you."