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Starting Over

"This is *really* somethin'," Doyle marveled as the four of them stood in the lobby of Angel's hotel. He walked to the center of the room and slowly rotated so he could take it all in. When he'd completed his circle, he turned to Angel. "Quite a piece of real estate you got here, man. What's it settin' you back?"     

"Too much," Cordelia stated, moving from the entry steps to stand beside the half-demon. "You mean to tell us that you *never* saw this place during your whole 'blissful' existence?"     

Doyle grinned at her. "Sure I did. I saw *a lot* of things, Princess." He reached out, pulled her to him, held her in a gentle embrace. "But
*nothin's' * as clear as the real thing, up close and personal."     

"That's true," Cordelia agreed, nestling contentedly into his arms.     

"Got yourself enough broodin' space here, then, don't you, man?" Doyle teased Angel, who smiled and nodded.

"Amen to that," Wesley affirmed, walking across the room to stand behind what used to be the check in/check out counter. He had decided to at least *try* to behave normally around this new Oracle to the *Powers That Be*. It was tough to do when he felt like every move he made was now being evaluated on a whole new grading scale, but he reassured himself with the knowledge that he was doing some evaluating as well. Yes, Doyle had asked him for help, but he had not yet said he would *give* that help. As he had told Doyle just over an hour ago, he would have to wait and see. "Sometimes too much brooding space if you ask me."     

"No one did, Wesley," Cordelia told the Englishman, slipping out of Doyle's arms, and walking to the small refrigerator parked behind the desk. She opened it and took out a bottle of water. She looked at Doyle. "Do you want anything?" Then, as a thought occurred to her, "You *do* still eat and drink, don't you, little Irish Oracle man?"     

Doyle nodded, looking amused. "Yes, Cordy. I do *now*, since I *am* human again. Well, half-human anyway." He deftly caught the bottle of water she tossed his way. "Thanks."

"Sure." Cordelia opened her bottle as she walked back across the room to once again stand beside Doyle. She loved having him near her, to feel his closeness. It was still *so*unbelievable. "So," she nodded her head at their surroundings, "do you like it?"     

Doyle took a drink of the cool, clear water. It tasted like ambrosia to him. He hadn't needed water or food in 'Blissville'. Holding the bottle, drinking the liquid from inside it, comforted him, helped ground him, substantiated that this was all real; that *he* was real. He nodded. "Yeah, I do. It'll take some gettin' used to like you said, but, yeah, I. . ."     

"Speaking of space. . ." Angel said suddenly from where he was sort of lurking by the grand staircase. Everyone looked at him; they had stopped speaking of 'space' several sentences ago. "You'll stay, won't you Doyle? Here, I mean. With me."     

Doyle looked confused for a second or two, then gave a slightly sad smile. "Yeah," he said. "I hadn't thought about that. I've got no place to hang my hat, now, do I? The apartment's gone to someone else I'm sure."     

"Actually, the whole building's gone," Cordelia told him. "They tore it down to build a department store."    

"It's really gone?" Doyle asked, incredulous.    

Cordelia nodded. "Afraid so."    

"Another part of my old life gone." Doyle shivered a little. "Like I don't already know everythin's different?"     

Cordelia searched for a way to comfort him. "Well, it's a *good* department store! In fact. . .it's just the place to start rebuilding your wardrobe." Her face took on a rosy, dreamy hue as she thought of giving Doyle a whole new look.            

Doyle threw Angel a panicked glance. "You were sayin', man?"     

Angel rescued his friend with a smile. "I'd like you stay here. As everyone has so graciously pointed out," he looked directly at Wesley, who ducked his head a little, "there's plenty of room."     

Angel had given the invitation casually, but Doyle could sense the anxiety behind it. He knew his staying at the hotel meant a lot to the vampire. "Sure, man. As long as I get the 'best' suite in the house."     

"You mean, you don't want to stay with *me*?" Cordelia asked in a hurt tone of voice, a look of consternation on her face. She moved several feet away from the half-demon.     

Doyle looked at her in amazement, searched for words. . .found none. He could feel how much each of them wanted him to stay with them: Angel to watch over and protect him as well as having him there to talk to, Cordelia to. . .Doyle couldn't quite yet make the leap to where Cordelia wanted him to go; he just wasn't ready. There was no way he could please them both; he couldn't say no to Angel; it wouldn't feel right- yet- to say yes to Cordelia.      

Interestingly enough, it was Wesley who saved the day. "Cordelia, you only have one bedroom."    

Cordelia shrugged. "Yeah. So?"     

Maybe 'saved' was too strong a word. Wesley sighed, exchanged glances with the half-demon; he didn't need 'oracular' powers to see how Doyle was feeling: uncomfortable and. . .somewhat overwhelmed; he obviously wouldn't want to disappoint or hurt either of his friends. He didn't need them with Angel either; it was obvious how much the vampire wanted- needed- Doyle to stay with him. Cordelia wanted him too, but the *need* wasn't the same. Wesley wondered what it would be like to be this wanted.     

He hoped Cordelia wasn't going to be stubborn or dense about this issue. "Do you suppose Dennis would approve?"     

"He'd get over it."     

She was going to be both. "Cordelia," the ex-watcher said as he came out from behind the hotel desk. He walked to stand before her, put his hands on her shoulders. "Don't you think it would be safer- for Doyle- if he stayed *here*. Obviously the new Oracle needs to be protected." His voice dropped in volume, increased in intensity as he whispered, "For God's sake, Cordelia, please see what is happening here. Angel needs Doyle here right now, more than I think you and I could possibly know. Don't make him- or Doyle, for that matter- feel guilty about this."     

Light dawned on Cordelia. Of *course* Angel would need Doyle around for awhile. He still blamed himself for what had happened on the *Quintessa*; Oracle or not, he would feel the need to protect him. Not to mention the fact that Doyle was probably the best friend Angel had ever had, could actually *understand* the vampire. And considering everything that had happened in the last six months or so, they probably *did* have a lot to talk about. Wesley was right; Angel did need Doyle. And he could have him. . .for now.  

"You're right," Cordelia said brightly, nodding at Wesley. She turned to Angel, then Doyle. "He's right. You should stay here."    

"Thanks, Cordelia" Angel said with some relief. He hadn't wanted to get into some kind of contest with his seer; it wouldn't have been fair to Doyle. However, had she pressed, Angel had had no intention of conceding to her. This early in Doyle's return, it was important that he be kept as safe as possible; as Oracle, he was too important and too great a target not to be protected at all costs. And, though he wouldn't have admitted it out loud, Angel needed Doyle with him on a personal level as well; there were things in his life he wanted and needed to discuss with his friend.      

Doyle was relieved too. As much as he loved Cordelia, she was moving way too fast for him. He hadn't even really begun to assimilate the fact that he was back, let alone anything else. Although he knew that Wesley had done what he did mostly out of concern for Angel, he nevertheless thanked the ex-watcher as he started by him on his way back to the check-in counter. "Thanks, man," Doyle uttered under his breath.     

Wesley stopped and spoke in a voice equally as soft, "Well, I'm not certain that I did it for you." He watched as Doyle nodded knowingly, looked away, and Wesley instantly regretted his words. He might not know exactly how he felt about the young man who stood before him, but he had to admit that he couldn't even *begin* to fathom what Doyle was going through. He reached out, put a hand on the half-demon's shoulder. Doyle looked at him questioningly. "I'm sorry, Doyle. You didn't deserve that. You're welcome, of course. Don't expect it to last, though." He nodded at Cordelia. "You're just going to have to get used to the fact that the girl wants you. . .in every sense of that word."     

Doyle nodded. "I know. I...know. And it's not that I don't want her. It's just. . .well, she barely tolerated me before. I just wasn't prepared for the change in her feelings toward me."     

"Who is?" Wesley wanted to know, then became quiet as Cordelia approached them.      

She looked at Doyle beseechingly. "Don't be mad at me, Doyle. I didn't mean to be selfish. I've really been working hard on that part of me, you know."     

"I know you have. I'm not angry, Princess. But you're gonna hafta give me some time, okay?" It was Doyle's turn to plead a little. "I've got a lot comin' at me all at once here."     

"I know you do. I'll be good, I promise. I promise to *try*, anyway. It's enough just to have you back. And I know that Angel does need you. You really do need to talk to him about some stuff. The man has *issues*." She turned to Angel. "So what about that suite? Oracle man here does deserve the best you've got."     

Angel was relieved to have the matter resolved. "Well, we'll give him the grand tour, and he can take his pick. We could start on the. . ." He was interrupted by the ringing of his cell phone.      

"Trouble," Doyle murmured as the vampire pulled the phone from his pocket, flipped it open and put it to his ear. Both Wesley and Cordelia looked at the new Oracle expectantly, but he said nothing more.    

"Yeah," Angel said into the phone. "Yeah, Gunn?" He watched Doyle tense at the mention of the vampire hunter's name. He would deal with that presently. "No, nothing that can't wait. What's up?. . .Yeah. . .okay." He walked swiftly to the check-in desk, grabbed a pen and some paper. "What's the address?" He rapidly wrote down what the other man was saying. "Yeah. Do what you can, but don't get yourself killed. We're on our way." He hung up, turned to his team.     

"What's going on?" Wesley asked as he approached the desk.     

"New group of vampires have staked a claim at a parking garage," Angel replied, handing Wesley the address. "They've trapped some people inside. . .getting ready to have a late Thanksgiving feast, I guess. Gunn's there alone."     

Wesley glanced at the piece of paper in his hand. "Not the most reputable section of town, now is it?" he asked, as he began opening cabinets, getting out gear.      

"Are they ever?" Cordelia asked as she went to help him.   

Doyle watched them work; he suddenly felt like a fifth wheel, felt even more like one when Angel walked to stand before him and said, "Maybe you'd better stay here."    

Doyle was speechless for a second or two. Wesley and Cordelia actually stopped working to stare at the vampire in surprise. Doyle then found his voice, "Are you. . .kiddin' me, man? Angel. . ."     

"Doyle," Angel broke in, deep pain in his eyes. "If anything were to happen to you. . .I don't know what I'd do."     

Doyle nodded his understanding. "I can appreciate that, man, really I can. I don't want anythin' to happen to *any* of us. But, Angel, if this is gonna work; if I'm gonna be of any use to you at all, you gotta let me help. You can't be handlin' me with kid gloves or treatin' me like I'll break! You can't, man!"     

"And what makes you think that he would be safe here?" Wesley asked reasonably, although deep down he rather wished that the half-demon *would* stay behind. However, he correctly recognized the feeling as petulant and selfish. . .and risky for Doyle. "If you leave him here alone, Angel, who knows who might walk through that door? You can't- we can't- protect him if he's not with us."
     
Angel and Doyle stood looking into each other's eyes. Doyle could feel the struggle going on inside of Angel, knew the vampire felt damned if he did, damned if he didn't. Doyle knew the feeling well. "I'm not gonna fight you, Angel," he said softly. "I didn't come back to cause grief. I'll do whatever you tell me."
     
Angel nodded as he made up his mind. "Wesley, Cordelia, take the car. It's daylight, so I'll go under ground." He put a hand on Doyle's shoulder. "You'll come with me. Wesley's right. . .I'm not letting you out of my sight." He turned to Wesley and Cordelia as he picked up his own bag of gear. "We'll meet you there."
     
Wesley nodded, went back to getting the hardware they needed. Cordelia's eyes sought out Doyle's. There was fear in her gaze as she said, "Be careful. . .please." To get Doyle back, only to lose him again, was. . .unthinkable.
     
"We will," Angel told her. To Doyle he said, "Come on, let's go."
     
Doyle nodded, smiled reassuringly at Cordelia, then followed Angel to the entrance of the cellar. Angel opened the door, and they were gone.
     
Wesley had finished gathering up all the gear they could carry. He handed Cordelia one of the backpacks. "Come on, Cordelia. Let's go."
     
Cordelia took the bag from him, followed him as they started toward the hotel's front door. She looked at the cellar door over her shoulder as she said, "I hope we're not making a mistake. If anything happens to him. . ."
     
Wesley didn't reply until they had reached the car. He waited until Cordelia had settled herself into the seat beside him, then said, "We all take that risk, Cordelia, but, I agree, with Doyle there *is* a difference. There are so many unknown variables here. All we can do is take it one step at a time."
     
Cordelia's thoughts suddenly went to Gunn and the unusual vision she'd had of him. "And Gunn? How do you think *he's* going to take it?"
     
Wesley shook his head as he started the car, pulled it away from the curb. "I have no idea."

*-*-*-*

Doyle had to lapse into demon form just to keep up with Angel. Oracle he might be, but he hadn't felt any overwhelming sense that he could 'blink' them from place to place if he wanted to. He was nervous, not so much because of the impending battle with the vampires- he'd done that before. It was the imminent encounter with Gunn that had him stressed. For reasons he didn't completely understand, he dreaded meeting the newest member of Angel's team. Maybe it was because he knew he wouldn't be readily accepted, and the *Powers* had a thing about that. Doyle could sense Gunn's anger, his rage, his cynicism, without ever having been near him. He recognized that Wesley wasn't going to be a pushover either; it was going to take time and effort to win him over, but at least the Englishman could keep an open mind. He believed in the *Powers*, he believed that Doyle was their Oracle. With Gunn, that belief would come hard, if it ever came at all. And that could- and probably would- spell trouble.

"We're here," Angel said suddenly, interrupting his troubled thoughts. He looked up at the vampire to find him standing next to a metal ladder that had to lead to the parking garage above. "You okay, Doyle?"
     
Doyle shook his head; his demon visage disappeared, leaving his human features behind. "Yeah, man. Why not?"
     
Angel gave Doyle a tolerant look. "Well, I can think of several reasons why you might *not* be okay: You're starting over here; your life's a whole new deal now. We're about to risk death; you haven't had to do *that* in awhile. You're the new Oracle to the *Powers that Be* and you don't know how the hell that plays into anything and everything. You've got Wesley scrutinizing your every move; you've got Cordelia doing the same thing. . .for different reasons, of course. You've got me trying to put you safely under lock and key, *and* you're about to meet Gunn. Did I miss anything?"
     
Doyle raised his eyebrows in his typical Doyle way. "Maybe one or two small things, yeah."
     
Angel had to smile. God, he'd missed this. He'd missed Doyle's grace under pressure, his ability to find humor in any given situation, his penchant for lightening things up. Sometimes it was too much, and that's when Angel had always known that he was covering something, but mostly, well, he'd just missed it. He'd missed a lot of things. He put a hand on the half-demon's shoulder. "It'll be all right, Doyle."
     
Doyle gave him a slightly anxious grin in return. "I doubt it, man, but thanks." He glanced up the ladder. "Don't we have people to save, evil to stop, then?"
     
"Yeah." Angel squeezed his shoulder, then released him. He stepped up onto the ladder, started up. "Stay with me, Doyle."
     
"I'm right behind you, man," Doyle stated as he followed his friend. "Right behind you."

*-*-*-*

Gunn was waiting for them as they emerged from the depths below the parking garage. He immediately strode over to Angel, his movements purposeful, confident, even graceful...in a tough sort of way. He was someone who would definitely take crap from no one. His eyes flicked over Doyle as he asked Angel, "What kept you, man?"
     
"We got here as fast as we could. Sun's up. I had to stay. . .in the shade."
     
Gunn nodded his understanding, then looked at Doyle. "Who's this?"
     
Angel could feel Doyle stiffen. He couldn't recall how much- if anything- Gunn had been told about Doyle, but given the half-demon's qualms about this meeting, he didn't want to chance anything, it was neither the time nor the place. "This is.. . Allen." It wasn't really a lie, Angel reasoned to himself as he felt Doyle look at him. Allen *was* Doyle's name, just not his *full* name. "He's a friend of mine."
     
Doyle was just grateful for the reprieve. He had enough to handle right now without having to explain himself to Gunn just yet. That would come soon enough.
     
Gunn didn't question further. "We can use all the help we can get. Where are Cordelia and Wesley?"
     
"On their way. What's the situation?"
     
"Best I can tell, there's about ten vampires holding about twenty people hostage. A few of them are kids, Angel." Gunn watched Angel flinch at that news. "Yeah. And it's been sounding like they're spreading a little terror around. . .before they dig in."
     
"Gettin' their post holiday jollies then, yeah?" Doyle asked grimly.

"Or their pre-holiday ones, dependin' on how you look at it, I guess."
     
Gunn gave Doyle an appreciative glance. "Exactly." He turned to Angel. "So, what's the plan?"
     
"Where are they?"
     
"Two levels up."
     
"Well," Angel said, sliding neatly into his vampire countenance. "Guess I'm about to crash a party. You two stay here, and..."
     
"Stay here?" Gunn's look said 'no way'.
     
". . .And wait for Wesley and Cordelia," Angel finished. "Somebody's got to be here to tell them what's going on. Besides, the last time I checked, I was the only vampire among us. I'll get up there, get a take on things. You guys come on up after they get there. I'll let you know when to. . .join me."
     
Gunn saw the logic then, relaxed. "Okay, man."
     
Doyle, however, was giving the vampire a look that could wither thriving plants. Being left alone with Gunn was *not* his idea of a good time. "Angel. . ."
     
Angel mounted the ladder, looked back at Doyle. "It'll be all right. . .Allen." His gaze traveled to Gunn, he held the other man's eyes with his own. "Watch out for him, would you?" he requested seriously. "Believe me when I tell you, Gunn, he's precious to me."
     
Gunn's eyes widened considerably at Angel's admission, but he only nodded. "I'll take care of him," he promised.
     
"Thanks," Angel told him, ignoring Doyle's look, which could now kill. He quickly climbed the ladder, and was soon out of sight.
     
Gunn grinned, turned to look at Doyle curiously. "Precious, huh?" He leaned up against the wall, studying the half-demon intently. "You know, I don't think I've ever heard Angel use that word before. . .about anything."
     
Doyle took a deep a breath. He silently promised himself that Angel was never going to forget this, in fact, might just live to regret it. "It's a long story," he told the vampire hunter.
     
"It always is," Gunn acknowledged. He looked up at the sudden sound of approaching footsteps. With cat like reflexes, he quickly positioned his body in front of Doyle and assumed a fighting stance. He didn't understand the reason behind Angel's request to protect this guy named Allen, but he figured if Angel said he was precious, then he was. . .period.
     
Watching him, Doyle had no doubt that Gunn would follow Angel's instructions even if it killed him. It was too bad it was under false pretenses, for Doyle was equally as sure that, once he knew the truth, Gunn wouldn't give him the time of day. He was grateful, however, that, for the moment at least, he had Gunn's attention and protection. He hadn't let himself think about it much, but he was aware that his new status as Oracle could put him- and others- into both vulnerable and dangerous situations.
     
Both men relaxed as they saw it was Wesley and Cordelia running toward them.
     
"Doy. . ."Cordelia began as she and Wesley joined them, stopped when Doyle discreetly motioned for her not to say his name. "You made it," she finished, giving Doyle a confused look.
     
"You guys know Allen?" Gunn wanted to know.
     
Wesley and Cordelia exchanged glances. Then Wesley turned to Gunn.

"We're acquainted with. . .Allen, yes." He then changed the subject to the crisis at hand, "What's happening?"
     
Gunn quickly filled them in. "Angel's already up there. He said to give him a few minutes, but we need to get moving." He nodded at his truck, which was parked several feet away. "I'm gonna go get a couple things and then we'll go."
     
He walked toward his vehicle with that same purposeful stride. Wesley and Cordelia turned to Doyle.
     
"*Allen*?" Cordelia asked, raising her eyebrows as high as they would go.
     
"It *is* my name, Cordy." Doyle's tone was slightly defensive.
     
"To your *mother* maybe," Cordelia quipped. "Even your ex-wife doesn't call you *Allen*."
     
"Cordelia. . ."
     
"Why *did* he call you Allen, Doyle?" Wesley interrupted hastily. The last thing they needed right now was one of those infamous Cordelia/Doyle spats he'd heard something about.
     
Doyle seemed to agree. "That's how Angel introduced me. He knew I was uptight about this meetin', didn't want any problems. I guess he wasn't sure about how much Gunn had or hadn't heard about me, and he didn't want to risk anythin'."
     
"Indeed," Wesley murmured. "Wise of him." He glanced over at Gunn, who was still leaning inside his truck, gathering equipment. Wesley turned back to Doyle. "What about this situation, Doyle? Do you. . .sense anything?"
     
Doyle was startled by the question. He'd been so consumed with his own feelings of nervousness and apprehension, he'd actually blocked his new clairvoyant abilities. He closed his eyes, cleared his mind, let the images, the impressions come. "Angel's up there. He's gettin' ready to break up the party. He's really angry, man. He's. . ." Doyle suddenly stopped with a sharp intake of breath, winced as if in pain.
     
"Are you all right, Doyle?" Cordelia wanted to know, her brow now furrowed with concern.
     
"What is it, Doyle?" Wesley asked.
     
Doyle opened his eyes, stumbled forward as if someone had pushed him off balance. Wesley grabbed his arm, steadied him. "Doyle?"
     
"Fear," Doyle said, his shaky voice a barely audible whisper. "No, man, more than that. . .terror. All those people up there. . .I can feel it. . . their terror. . .their. . ." He looked up at Wesley; there were tears in his eyes. "They're convinced they're going to die. They're *so* afraid. . ." Breathing heavily now, Doyle looked away from Wesley, out into space, a far away, dazed look coming into his eyes. "I've never felt anythin' like this. It's like it's tryin' to. . .suck me in. . ."
     
His eyes became totally unfocused, his gaze more unclear, more distant. Wesley was immediately and thoroughly concerned. He tightened his grip on Doyle's arm, shook him a little as he said in a sharp voice, "Doyle, no! You must not let that occur! You cannot let it overwhelm you! You can *not*!"
     
"I. . .don't. . .know. . .if. . .I. . .can. . .stop. . .it," Doyle said, through suddenly chattering teeth. His entire body was shaking as wave after wave of human fear and panic slammed through his conscious self, apparently trying to take his mind along for the ride. "I'm. . .not. . .in. . .
control. . . of. . .this. . ." He cried out, closed his eyes, would have fallen, had Wesley not had a hold on him.
     
Cordelia's look was one of pure, unadulterated panic. "Wesley! *Do* something!"
     
Wesley wasn't sure *what* to do. This was beyond his realm of experience. He could only suggest what made sense to him. "Doyle, you need to focus on something else! Try to think of something else!"
     
"Like. . .what. . .man?" Although he felt as if he was being torn apart, Doyle managed to hang on, to listen to Wesley's voice.
     
"I don't know." Wesley looked at Cordelia, who looked straight back at him, her eyes wide with fright.
     
"Help. . .me," Doyle whispered desperately. "I can't. . ."
     
The words came tumbling out of Wesley's mouth, "Cordelia, what if we hit him very hard on the head and knock him unconscious? That might break. . ."
     
"*What*?" Doyle wrenched his mind away from the torrent of emotions crashing through it. He looked up at Wesley, his eyes still not completely focused; his attention, however, *was*. "You're *not* gonna hit me, man."
     
Wesley breathed a sigh of relief. "No, Doyle, I'm not. Although, I believe I would have, had I needed to. However, it worked, didn't it? It got your mind to focus on something else."
     
Doyle let out a shaky breath. "Yeah, it did. Thanks, man. I thought I was gone."
     
Cordelia had her hands on his shoulders; they were both shaking. "You looked like you were." She gave Wesley a withering glance. "You just *had* to ask him if he sensed anything, didn't you?"
     
"Cordelia, I had no idea. . ." Wesley began, looking devastated. It certainly had not been his intention to cause Doyle any harm.
     
"No, it's all right," Doyle interrupted. "It's all part of why I'm here, Princess. I'm here to help. It's what my gifts are for. . .to help."
     
"Yes, that's true, but. . .it's a very *powerful* thing, Doyle, to. . .be able to sense the thoughts, the feelings, the emotions of another being." Wesley paused, glanced over at Gunn as the vampire hunter closed the trucks door, started toward them. "And as you said. . .you're not in control of that power. Not yet. I believe it *will *come in time, but we have to tread softly, gently, carefully."
     
Doyle was recovering rapidly. A word Wesley had used had not escaped him. He looked up at the ex-watcher, a slight twinkle in his eyes. "*We*, Wesley?"
     
Wesley was immediately flustered, released Doyle's arm, stepped back a couple of paces. "Well, you *are* here, Doyle. It just makes sense to. . ."
     
Doyle held up his hand to stop him. "I know, Wesley. It was just a slip of the tongue, right?" He reached up, patted one of Cordelia's hands, and walked away from both of them. He needed a little alone time to get himself together.
     
Cordelia shook her head at Wesley. "You really are pathetic sometimes, you know that? Are you *so* wigged out about him being back that you can't even show him a little friendliness? A little compassion? Are you *that* worried about your place with Angel? Are you *that* intimidated by him? Well, if you are. . .get over it! Cause' I'm sick of it already!"
     
Wesley shook his head. Gunn had almost reached them. "Cordelia, you make it sound like I'm. . ."
     
"Jealous and insecure?" Cordelia asked archly.
     
There was no time for Wesley to answer her. Gunn had reached them, gear in hand, his eyebrows raised questioningly. "What's going on?" He looked over at Doyle, who was leaning up against the wall, his eyes closed. "Is he all right?"
     
Wesley nodded. "He'll be all right."
     
"You sure? He looks awfully pale. If he's not up to this..."
     
"I don't think you could stop him from coming, Gunn."
     
"Okay. Well, let's get up there. Angel'll be wondering what the hell happened to us." Gunn walked to where Doyle stood next to the ladder. Wesley and Cordelia followed.  Gunn put a hand on Doyle's shoulder; the half-demon looked up at him. "You okay, Allen?"
     
Doyle nodded. "Yeah, man. Fine."
     
Gunn nodded back. He stepped up onto the ladder, looked at Doyle. "You follow me." He tossed an amused glance at Wesley and Cordelia. "Angel asked me to watch out for him. He says he's. . .precious." He started up the ladder. Doyle cast Wesley a somewhat apologetic look, then followed him.
     
"Does he now?" Wesley murmured as Cordelia mounted the ladder.
     
Cordelia turned back to look at him, an almost impish smile on her lips. "Jealous and insecure, Wesley. Jealous and insecure." She then climbed up the ladder behind Doyle.
     
"Yes," Wesley said softly as he followed her. "I'm afraid you're right."

*-*-*-*

Angel took in the grim scene before him. Gunn's 'as best as he could tell' was dead on. Twenty terrified people, including five children, were huddled together in a corner of the third level of the parking garage. Surrounding them with evil, taunting, lustful grins on their faces, were ten vampires; their fangs were laid bare, saliva dripping from them in their owners bloody anticipation.

Angel felt a ripple of revulsion run through him. He knew it made no sense; he *was* a vampire after all- albeit with a soul- and had once been the worst of the worst, but he was still continually repulsed by his constituents acts of carnage and mass murder. He knew they couldn't help it; they were soulless, of course, and once a turning had occurred, the resultant vampire had no choice but to become an evil, bloodsucking monster. This was something Angel knew all too well; it was what he was trying to atone for, what he sacrificed for, what he might possibly die for.     

His thoughts about vampires brought Darla to his mind. She was again- Angel shivered inwardly- like those before him: soulless, evil and, no doubt, out of control. He had not seen her since her second turning had occurred. He knew he was afraid to seek her, afraid to see her, for he *knew*how it would end. He knew how it *must* end. She had been his obsession, and that, too, had to end. He knew that Doyle's return would help him with that obsession; he knew that Doyle might well be the only one who *could* help him, the only one who could guide him back to safe ground.      

Doyle. He hoped the half-demon was doing all right, and that he wasn't *too* angry with him for leaving him alone with Gunn. He understood Doyle's need and desire to be in on the game, but that didn't mean that Angel was going to let him walk into situations blind; he would be checking them out first. Whether they had wanted to or not, the *Powers That Be* had entrusted their new Oracle to him, and Angel took that responsibility very seriously. Of course, and more importantly, Doyle was his friend and, for that reason alone, Angel would gladly and willingly give up his life; he would do it, in fact, without a second thought. Just as Doyle had done for him.     

A sudden scream brought his attention back to where it needed to be. The lead vampire, a punk blond creature who bore an eerie resemblance to Spike, suddenly lunged at his group of captives, his hands brushing- but intentionally not grabbing- a young girl's hair. It was her scream that had brought Angel around. She now stood sobbing and shivering in her boyfriend's arms, tears streaming down her cheeks, her face a mask of terror.      

Spike's clone laughed at her fear; he, like all vampires, fed almost as much on fear as he did on blood. Vampires savored terror the same way humans enjoyed a fine wine or a good meal; it was their appetizer. . .and their dessert.      

"Did I scare you, 'honey'?" 'Blondie' wanted to know as he continued to laugh. No Cockney accent though; it was more of a light Southern drawl. He rolled his eyes at his ugly companions; they laughed too. It was laughter laced with evil and delight, and so full of spite, it set Angel's teeth on edge.     

It apparently grated on the sobbing girl's boyfriend as well. He was a tall, well built, athletic young man, who obviously didn't take well to being threatened or muscled around. He gently guided his girlfriend to stand behind him, then turned to the Spike look alike. Angel was instantly alert. He hadn't wanted to make a move until the right time, or at least not until the others had arrived. He had never been afraid of confrontations, but being outnumbered ten to one gave him pause. He was there to *save* lives, not to lose them.     

He was afraid that Mr. Muscle just might force his hand. Vampires didn't really like being stood up to; it robbed them of that 'terror high' that they craved so much. But maybe the boyfriend didn't know that. It certainly seemed as if he didn't as he thrust out his chin and said in a defiant voice, "Look, I don't know who- or what- you are, but this has gone far enough. If you've wanted to scare us, well, bravo, you've done it. I hope that makes you feel like big, bad. . .whatever you are. But me. . .I'm done here."     

The blonde vampire immediately stopped laughing. His power over his cohorts was evident as they ceased too, became still and silent. 'Blondie' eyed the boyfriend for a few seconds. Then his mouth slowly spread out into a viscous, malignant smile. "You're right," he told Mr. Athletic as he bared his fangs. "You *are* done." He looked at the other nineteen people huddled up against the wall; they radiated terror like a burst radiator generated steam. It permeated the room. "You're *all* done."      

Angel watched as the boyfriend turned pale, watched as another man, frightened, but determined, spoke, "Please stop this. There are children here. . ."     

Angel winced as 'Blondie' instantly pounced on that statement. "Ah, yes. . .children." He looked directly at the man who had spoken. "Did you know that children have the sweetest blood of all?" Without warning he swooped into the group and grabbed a little boy who was about six years of age. The mother screamed hysterically and tried to throw herself at the vampire, only to be caught and held by one of 'Blondie's' minions, who grinned malevolently at her.     

"No!" the mother sobbed. "Please. . .no. . .no. . ."

The child was sobbing too and screaming for his mother. The Spike lookalike gently stroked the terrified child's neck. "So. . .so sweet," he murmured as he began to bend his head toward the boy.     

The time had come, back up or no back up. Angel just hoped his colleagues showed up soon.    

"Just my type," he said loudly, coming out of his hiding place behind a parked car and sauntering up to where 'Blondie' stood with his captive. With lightning fast hands, he pulled the squalling child out of the other vampire's grip and held him gently in his arms.      

'Blondie's' head came up as if a string had jerked it there. His eyes locked with Angel's; they were wide with shock and disbelief. His followers remained still and silent; they looked as dumbfounded as their leader. Muscleguy had threatened, but apparently *no one* actually stood up to 'Blondie'.     

"Just who the hell are you?" the vampire leader demanded. "And what the hell do you think you're doing?"   

Angel gave him an innocent look. "Just joining the party, man." He nodded at the other prisoners who were watching him with a mixture of confusion and fear. "Looks like you've got plenty to go around." He looked down at the child in his arms. The little boy looked back at him, tears in his eyes. But there was no fear. It was as if the boy could sense Angel's 'difference.' He was glad that no one else could.     

"Well, there isn't," 'Blondie' growled at him. "This is a private party. So beat it."     

"Well, that's not very friendly," Angel told him. "We vampires got to stick together, you know? Didn't your sire teach you any manners?"     

"Must have slipped his mind," the blond vampire shot back. "He taught me plenty of other things though." He held out his hands. "Now, give me what's mine and get out of here."     

Angel held the child out of reach. "You're sure not being very nice," he said, stalling for time. The others had to be coming soon. Life sure was interesting.  For a long time after his soul had been restored, after Darla had left him, he had walked alone, worked alone. Buffy and her gang had been his first *real* foray into attempting to build relationships, but they, not including the slayer, of course, had never actually *been* his friends. It had taken coming to LA to find real friends. . .people loyal and true. . .people he depended on; and, before these people, Angel had never really depended on anyone during his whole, sometimes incredibly miserable, extra-long life. "Who was your sire, anyway? I can see I need to have a talk with him."    

The blond vampire struck a disgusted pose; it looked vaguely familiar. "You know, man, I'm suddenly so very, very, bored with all this. I think it's time. . ." he said, and that's when Angel *knew*.     

"Spike!" he exclaimed, totally taking the other vampire off guard. "Your sire *is* Spike! No wonder you don't have any manners. You're just like him." He smiled smugly at him. "Do they call you Spike Jr.?"     

The vampire leader's eyes glittered dangerously. "They call me Saul, since that's my name." He once again held out his hands for the child. "I don't know who you are, or how you know Spike, but I want you to give me what's mine and leave."     

"Oh, Spike and I go way back," Angel responded, totally ignoring Saul's demands. "Way back. And if you knew me the way he does, you'd know I don't do anything I don't want to do."     

"Well, you're about to start."

"You think so, do you?" They were almost face to face, with Angel continuing to hold the child out of Saul's reach. "You know one of the biggest problems with Spike? He never knew when to keep his mouth shut. Looks like he passed that gift along to you."     

"He passed some other gifts along as well," Saul gloated. "Would you like to see them?"     

"Do you really think you can take me?"     

"I know I can."     

Angel shook his head. "That was another of Spike's faults: overconfidence, cockiness. And do you know what happens when vampires get too cocky, Saul?"     

"They get dead," Gunn's voice said suddenly from behind them. All eyes went to the four newcomers who stood near the vehicle Angel had been hiding behind. They were all well armed and ready for action.     

Angel smiled Gunn's way. "He said it well." He was happy to see them, these humans who were willing to back up a vampire who was warrior to the *Powers That Be*. For, in doing so, they risked their lives everyday. His eyes slid from Gunn to Wesley and then to Cordelia. They were the most familiar sights, and looked ready and willing as always. His gaze then shifted to Doyle; his accentuated brow furrowed slightly with concern. The half-demon looked overly relieved to see him, but what worried Angel most was how drawn and pale he was. No one really knew how being an earthdwelling Oracle was going to effect Doyle, but the odds were that living among the chaos that was daily life in LA, could and would take some kind of toll. When Angel thought of all the people who lived in this city, when he thought of all the pain and suffering and overwrought emotions that Doyle was now subjected to. . .well, Angel didn't see how it *couldn't* effect him.      

Angel had it right. Doyle *was* relieved to see the vampire. He was relieved just to have made it up the ladder to the third level. Every rung had been a battle as he'd fought with the overwhelming emotions bombarding his mind. ..fear and anger and panic and outright terror that had kept pouring into his consciousness, then trickling down into his soul. He'd managed to keep going by following Wesley's advice, but it had been a struggle; it was difficult to think of other things when you had someone else's agony inside your head. He knew that for him to *ever* be effective, he was going to *have* to master all this. Somehow, someway, he had to. . .or he wouldn't survive.     

He saw Angel looking his way, major concern on his face and in his eyes. This was another reason he had to get a handle on his 'oracleness'; he couldn't have Angel over-worrying about him, couldn't have him losing focus, couldn't him have risking everything because of his concern for one person. He smiled reassuringly at his friend, nodded his head as if to say, 'I'm all right. Let's do what we have to do.'     

Angel nodded back. He turned to Saul. "Don't you think he said it well, Saul?"     

Saul shook his head disgustedly. "You hang out with *humans*? That alone makes me want to kill you! What kind of a vampire *are* you?"    

"One who doesn't get too cocky...most of the time," Angel told him, pulling a stake from his pocket. He thrust it at Saul who, with amazing agility, evaded it, turned immediately to face Angel again. Angel gently put the child he held down; the boy immediately ran to his mother, who had been released when her vampire captor realized there was going to be a fight. The two of them joined the other eighteen people who were still hunkered down against the garage wall.      

Gunn, Wesley, Cordelia and Doyle walked up to stand beside Angel, whose eyes were once again locked with Saul's. The other nine vampires lined up with Saul, and the fifteen beings stood there, sizing each other up.      

All Angel knew was that these four people were the four people he trusted most in the world. . .and that two to one odds were much better than ten to one. He smiled at Saul. "I'll give Spike my condolences."   

"You think so?" Saul's eyes narrowed considerably.    

"I *know *so." With those words, the battle began.   

Blows were struck, stakes were wielded. Some hit home, others didn't.

The vampires were better fighters than might have been anticipated, and very skilled in avoiding the deadly stakes. Saul, in particular, excelled at this, and ended up fighting, at one time or another, with every member of Angel's team.  

Cordelia was the one who broke away from the fight long enough to expedite the liberation of the twenty hostages, who still stood lined up against the wall, gaping at the wild, violent scene before them. It never ceased to amaze her that people who were obviously being given their way out, their means of escape, couldn't figure out what to do. They usually did what these people were doing now, standing there with ridiculous looks on their faces, totally ignoring their chance for freedom, for life.     

She stood before them, waved her arms until she thought she had their full attention. "Hello?" she said in a loud voice. "You can get out of here now! Why don't you do that?" They all stood staring incoherently at her; they were probably all in shock, but she didn't have time for that now. "Get the hell out!!!!" she yelled at them, and this time they heard her. Like a stampeding herd of animals, they all ran to the nearest exit, their footsteps loud at first as they descended the stairs, then fading as they ran further away. Cordelia turned to find a vampire attempting to sneak up on her. She quickly brandished her stake, turned him into ashes, then blew on the stake as one would blow on the end of a smoking gun. "Damn, I'm getting good at this." She then threw herself back into the fray.      

Meanwhile, Wesley and Gunn were holding their own against the group of vampires. Gunn, of course, pretty much did this for a living, and was better at it. He stayed with Wesley, backing him up as needed; ironically, the two actually made a pretty good team.     

Angel was doing double duty, fighting on the one hand, looking out for Doyle on the other. He plunged a stake into the vampire he'd been fighting, then found himself watching as Doyle tussled with another evil one. He didn't plan to interfere unless it was necessary, but he had to watch and make sure that Doyle didn't. . .a scream from behind him made him turn to see Gunn, stake in hand, finish off the vampire who had sneaked up behind him.     

"What the hell are you doing, man?" Gunn wanted to know, ferociousness in his tone. "Angel, do you know how close you just came to being *dust*? Look, I know you're concerned about *him*," he nodded at Doyle, who had effectively staked the vampire he had been fighting when he saw what had almost happened to Angel, and was now heading their way, "but you're not paying attention! What good are you gonna be, man, to him, or anybody else, if you get yourself killed?"      

"He's right, Angel," Doyle said upon reaching them. "He. . ."    

With a mild growl, Angel threw Gunn a look that was part gratitude, part ire. Gunn shook his head, went back into the contest as Angel grabbed Doyle's arm, pulled him out away from the fight, and pushed him into a shallow alcove created by one of the stairwell doorways. He gently shoved Doyle up against the door, then turned away, back toward the fight. "Stay here," he muttered as he started back toward the fray.      

It was Doyle's turn to grab Angel's arm, pull him back into the alcove. "No, Angel! Gunn's right. This isn't gonna work, man, not this way! I cannot be a liability to you! I cannot be a distraction! Or, at least, you can't treat me like I'm one! If all I'm gonna do is get you killed, Angel, then maybe I need to go back where I came from! I. . ."     

"Don't say that. . .Doyle. . .just don't say that." Angel's voice was full of duress. "At least, don't say it out loud. You never know when the *Powers* just might take you up on it."     

Doyle nodded at the truth of that statement. "Okay, you're right, man. I'm sorry. I won't say it, but it doesn't make it any less true. It *cannot* be this way, Angel. It can't."     

Angel let out what might have been a dejected sigh. He knew the half-demon was right in theory, but it still *felt* wrong; what good would his life really be without Doyle in it? He was at a crossroads and he knew it. He also knew that Doyle might be the *only* one who could help him choose the right path. "Give me a break here, would you Doyle? I've had you back what. . .seven hours, eight at best? Please forgive me for wanting to keep you around a little longer than that."     

Doyle gave a slight chuckle. "I hear ya, man, I do. I want to stay too, believe me." His demeanor changed, became deadly serious. "But not at the cost of your life, Angel. Not at the cost of *anyone's* life! That's not why I came back, man. And as hard as it was to get here, and as difficult as it would be to leave, my staying is not worth the price of your life. It's simply not."     

Angel was standing about two feet shy of Doyle; he was turned partially away from the half-demon so that most of his face was obscured from Doyle's view. With a sound that could only be called a roar of pain, Angel swiftly and aggressively swung to face the half-demon. His hands closed firmly on both sides of Doyle's head as he brought his vampire countenance to within inches of Doyle's face. The eyes that bored into Doyle's were full of pure agony and. . .rage.      

Had Doyle not already been up against the door, he would have taken several alarmed steps backward. Never in his previous life had Angel *ever* been aggressive with him, let alone violent, but here, at this moment, Doyle was not certain *what* was about to happen. He found he couldn't read the vampire at all, and this was *not* the Angel he knew. Though he never would have believed it could happen, Doyle realized that, for the first time, he was afraid. . .of Angel.     

Angel stared unwaveringly, unblinkingly into the new Oracle's eyes; Doyle found that he couldn't break eye contact as the vampire spoke to him in a soft, almost deadly voice that was ravaged by pain, "You're not getting this, Doyle. I. . .can't. . .watch. . .you. . .die. Do you understand? I can't watch you die again. I can't. And I. . ." Angel's voice broke, and Doyle felt a slight easing of his feeling of fear. "I can't *let* you die again. Are you hearing me, Doyle? *I can't let you die*."     

His gaze remained steady, his hands continued to hold Doyle's face in a firm grip, but Doyle was no longer afraid. Now that he understood what Angel was thinking and feeling, now that he knew that Angel's agony and rage were not directed *at* him, he *couldn't* be afraid.     

Nevertheless, he had to swallow--hard--before he could speak, and then his voice was soft, almost inaudible. "Angel, I. . ."     

"Gentleman! Are we having tea?" It was Wesley's voice, urgent and querulous, that broke the spell, brought both Angel and Doyle back to the real world, back to where a battle was still going on.      

Angel almost violently pulled away from Doyle; the half-demon stumbled, might actually have fallen, had the vampire not grabbed his arm to steady him. He grimaced as he noticed the red imprints of his hands on Doyle's otherwise pale cheeks. The new Oracle was looking at him with a mixture of concern, confusion and a little left over fear. Angel forced his attention away from his friend, looked at the disheveled Wesley.     

"So sorry to interrupt," Wesley went on in a stressed voice, "but we're not quite done out here. . ." His statement was clarified as a vampire rushed at him. Wesley ducked, yelled Gunn's name, and was then back out into the continuing conflict.    

Angel started to join him, hesitated, turned, and glanced at Doyle. "I'm sorry, Doyle." He then threw himself headlong into the fight.    

Doyle leaned back against the door, closed his eyes, found himself breathing heavily. It would take him a moment to compose himself. He ran a shaky hand over his face. In fact, it might take *a lot* of moments. . .over *a lot* of time. This starting over stuff sure wasn't easy. Doyle took one last deep breath, and then rejoined the fight.    

There were five evil vampires left, making the ratio one to one. Wesley and Gunn were battling with two vampires near the car Angel had hidden behind, Angel was dealing with another one near the center of the garage, and Cordelia was fighting with one several feet away from Doyle. This left Saul, who watched as his fellow bloodsucker-and another child of Spike's- managed to disarm her; the stake she had held went flying through the air to land several feet away from her, leaving the beautiful, dark haired girl pretty much defenseless. Saul grinned as his 'brother', whose name was Simon, advanced on her. Spike had taught them both well. He hoped that Simon would turn the girl instead of killing her. . .having her around *could* be interesting. . .     

Doyle had seen it all. He acted quickly, pulled a stake from a pack on the floor. "Cordelia!" he yelled, pitching the pointed stick of wood to her.     

Cordelia had to admit that she'd been worried for an instant or two. Neither choice, being killed by a vampire, nor being turned into one, exactly appealed to her. Doyle's aim was right on target. Cordelia caught the stake, turned, and deftly, expertly rammed it into Simon's chest. The brother of Saul screamed once, then exploded into ashes. Cordelia turned to Doyle with a look of thanks, her eyes alight with victory.      

Doyle returned her look with a smile and a thumbs up sign, was totally oblivious to the fact that an enraged, anguished Saul was rushing him like a tackle out to murderously sack the quarterback.      

Cordelia screamed as the blond vampire viscously plowed into Doyle, ramming him hard into the wall behind him. Doyle's head hit the concrete with a sickening crack that almost knocked him unconscious. With a cry of pain, the half-demon fell hard to the floor. The vampire went down with him, making sure that Doyle landed on his back. He then straddled the half-demon, pinning him to the floor.      

"That was my brother," Saul told the dazed Doyle, who didn't answer. His eyes were closed, his face contorted in a grimace of pain. Angered by Doyle's lack of response, Saul shook him. . .hard. "Did you *hear* me, damn it? That was my *brother* you just got dusted! My brother!'     

Doyle moaned in agony. His head felt as if it were going to split in two and Saul's shaking him made it that much worse. With extreme effort, he managed to open his eyes; darkness lurked at the periphery of his vision as he looked blearily up into the inflamed green eyes of the vampire that held him.     

"Good." Saul was pleased at this sign of awareness. He looked deep into Doyle's blue eyes, could clearly see the half-demon Oracle's pain, his confusion, his fear. "I never like it when my prey is unconscious. It takes all the. . ." Saul stopped suddenly. The look in his eyes changed from satisfaction to puzzlement. "What the hell. . ?" He took Doyle's face in his hands as Angel had done- he was rougher, of course- and looked even deeper into Doyle's eyes. Doyle actually cried out, for it felt as if the vampire was trying to rip out both his heart and soul.      

Suddenly, with a cry of his own, Saul pulled back from Doyle, and removed his hands from the half-demon's head. While Doyle reeled from his brutal mind invasion, Saul seemed to need a moment of recovery himself. Still straddling Doyle, he sat with his eyes closed, taking in and assimilating everything he had seen and felt in Doyle's tortured mind and soul.      

Then, without warning, Saul's eyes snapped open. He leaned over Doyle again, forced the half-demon to once more face his gaze. The look of puzzlement was gone, was now replaced by a look of euphoric triumph. He shook Doyle one more time to make sure he was still with him. Doyle moaned again; the peripheral darkness spread a little further through his vision as he looked up into his captor's mesmerizing eyes.     

Saul leaned closer to Doyle as he whispered, "Do you know who you are, I wonder? Do you know that you *are* the one?" The look of triumph turned to one of self-satisfaction. "Yes, *you are the one*. Who would have *ever* thought that *I* would be the one chosen to kill the likes of you." He glanced up briefly to look around him, then back to the dazed, confused, and now terrified, Doyle. "Too bad I don't have time to savor it. . .I bet *your* blood is the sweetest of all."

As Doyle watched, the look in Saul's eyes changed one last time, became breathtakingly cold; it chilled Doyle to the bone. As the vampire's mouth began its descent toward Doyle's neck, the half-demon could hear sounds in the background: Cordelia screaming, Wesley, Gunn and Angel shouting, but they sounded so distant, so far away. . .too far away to help him, he was sure. He had a brief, sudden memory of Angel saying, 'I can't watch you die again, Doyle. I can't *let* you die.' He'd never thought that the vampire would have to cope with it this soon.  He didn't want to die. . .he'd just gotten back. "No. . .please. . ." The words were inaudible, even to himself. "No. . ."     

All thought, all speech stopped as he felt the vampire's fangs graze his neck. The darkness swallowed his vision whole. . .and then there was nothing.

*-*-*-*

 Cordelia's scream echoed and reechoed through the third level of the hollow, almost empty parking garage. Angel, Wesley and Gunn were still engaged in fighting, so Cordelia felt it was up to her to save the unconscious and helpless Doyle. Saul was bent over the half-demon in such a way that she couldn't tell exactly where he was in the biting, feeding process, but she knew his agenda well: Doyle would be dead within minutes. She took a deep breath, raised the stake that Doyle had thrown her just moments before and ran toward the blond vampire, intent on ramming the sharp stick of wood through his heart as hard as she could.     

Saul didn't move as she approached him; he continued to hover over Doyle, his back to her. Then, just as she was preparing to run him through, he suddenly raised his hand up over his head and hurled what could only be called a bolt of pure energy directly at her. It literally blew her up off of the ground and threw her several feet away; she landed with a painful thud, watched in horror as Saul returned his full attention to Doyle.     

"No!" Cordelia screamed. "Angel! Wesley! Gunn! DO something!"    

Wesley and Gunn had seen what had happened; both men immediately increased the intensity of their fighting to free themselves up to try and help Doyle. Angel's battle had taken him to the other side of the parking garage; his opponent was particularly adept at both eluding and fighting with the stake. Thus, he was totally diverting Angel's attention, causing the dark vampire to be temporarily unaware of the half-demon's situation.   

Gunn knew that time was of the essence. He quickly maneuvered himself into a position that forced the vampire he was fighting to stand almost back to back to the vampire Wesley was battling. His eyes met Wesley's over both vampires' shoulders and he slowly nodded his head. Wesley nodded back, and Gunn then gave his vampire his full attention. "Want to see a trick?" he asked his, soon to be dead, foe.     

"Yes," Wesley told his vampire, who looked confused. "It's actually rather amusing. You see, I stand here talking to you like this. . .then
suddenly. . ."   

Quick as lightning, the two men traded places with each other by running around their opposing vampires, putting them off balance. It was then quite easy to stake them both. "You end up dead," Gunn finished Wesley's statement as their enemies' ashes fell. "Let's go!"   

The ex-watcher and the vampire hunter turned together and ran toward Saul and his hapless victim, stakes raised and ready to strike. They got no closer than Cordelia had; Saul once again raised his arm and sent both men hurtling back the way they had come. They landed close to Cordelia; the three stared at each other for an instant, unsure of what to do.     

"Who the hell *is* he?" Gunn demanded as he got quickly to his feet.      

"I don't know," Cordelia cried, turning her face away from the horrifying scene before them. Saul was definitely drawing blood. "Get Angel! Hurry!"     

"That's where I'm headed." Gunn was running as he spoke.      

He reached Angel within seconds, put himself between the vampire with a soul and his tenacious opponent. He spoke to Angel over his shoulder as he kept pace with the enemy vampire he now faced. "Angel, I'll take this one. Your boy's in trouble." He nodded his head in Saul's direction. "We can't get near him. . .you're a vampire too, so maybe you *can*." He watched as Angel turned in the direction of his nod. If a vampire could become paler, Angel managed it; he was suddenly the color of paper, his eyes wide with horror and disbelief. He made Gunn nervous. "Angel. . .go!"  He watched as Angel took off running toward Saul and Doyle, then looked back at the vampire that Angel had been fighting, grinned insolently at him. "Looks like it's you and me, pal." Their fighting then commenced. . .     

Angel ran as if his life depended on it, which he absolutely felt like it did. He couldn't believe the scene before him was actually taking place, couldn't believe that Doyle's newfound life was being bled from him before his very eyes. One word escaped his lips as he ran, over and over, softly at first, then growing louder with every utterance. "No. . .no. . .no. . .no. . .NO!" He raised his stake as he came upon the blond vampire and his victim. . .his victim that was Doyle. "SAUL!"

It appeared that Gunn was right. With a low, guttural growl, blood dripping from his bared fangs, Saul tore himself away from Doyle, turned and went to meet Angel's fury driven rush with an onslaught of equal intensity. Angel managed to force the blond vampire away from Doyle, giving Wesley and Cordelia room to go to the new Oracle's aid. Then all his thoughts and energy were taken up in what he felt was sure to be a struggle for his life.     

Cordelia and Wesley rushed by the battling vampires to Doyle's side. The half-demon was moaning softly as blood flowed from the nasty gash Saul had torn in the side of his neck. Wesley pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and held firm, but gentle, pressure to the wound. It was impossible to tell just how much blood Doyle had lost, but he was breathing and his heart was still beating, both of which Wesley took as positive signs. He was less sure about the blow to the head the half-demon had sustained; it had looked devastating. Wesley looked up into Cordelia's terror filled eyes, tried to smile reassuringly. Every ounce of feeling that she had for Doyle showed clearly on her face, and Wesley knew that if she lost him now, recovery would be nearly impossible. Unfortunately, at this moment, there was absolutely nothing he could do about it.

Angel and Saul went after each other like the two gladiators they were. Their seeming fight to the death led them past where Gunn still battled the other surviving vampire; as far as Gunn was concerned, however, that survival wouldn't be lasting much longer. He watched worriedly as Angel and Saul's struggle took them across the parking garage, through one of the exits and out of sight.

*-*-*-*

The two vampires were locked in vicious combat; their momentum carried them through the doorway and drove them both hard into the wall of the stairway landing. Saul used the resulting concussion to break away from the vampire with a soul. He turned and ran up the stairs, Angel following close behind him.      

They ended up on the sixth and final level of the parking garage. Although it was covered to keep the weather out, sunlight did shine through several areas of the ceiling and through some side openings.      

Saul suddenly stopped in the middle of the floor, turned to Angel,  who halted several feet away from him. Silence as the two regarded each other for several minutes. Then Angel started toward his newly sworn enemy, only to be stopped, taken aback by Saul's total change in demeanor, by his amused laughter that went along with that sudden change.     

"What do you find that's so damn funny?" Angel wanted to know.     

"*You*, Angel," Saul drawled. "Or should I say. . .*Angelus*. I *have* heard about you. You know from whom. I find *you* funny. A vampire with a soul! What a bore. . .forced to be good and guilty, hanging out with all these mortals and saving their lives. Like their lives are worth anything."     

"They are to me."     

Saul's eyes lit up with malicious glee. "Yeah, I can tell. Especially that demon half-breed I almost just killed, right?" He watched with delight as Angel's eyes narrowed at his use of the words 'half-breed'. "Ooh. Big bad Soulman doesn't like it when I insult his friend. We're gonna have to do something about that soul of yours, Angel. It keeps you from being any fun, and it just *might* keep me from doing what I need to do."     

Angel shook his head, took a menacing step toward the other vampire. "You're not going to do anything, Saul, because I'm going to kill you, right here, right now."     

It was Saul's turn to shake his head; he did so with a mocking chuckle. "I don't think I *can* be killed, not by humans anyway. *You* might even have a hard time, Angel. I'm gonna have to watch out for you and that soul of yours. But I'm not sure my death is allowed. At least, not as long as your friend Doyle is alive."     

Angel felt the cold trickle of realization flow through him. "Stay away from him, Saul."     

"Can't do it, Angel," Saul said, shrugging a little. "It's destiny, I'm afraid. . .in the long run, only one of us can survive. . .and it's sure as hell not gonna be Doyle." He waved his hand, and a heavy black, fire retardant cloak appeared in it from nowhere. The blond vampire threw the heavy garment over his shoulders and put the hood up over his head. He grinned at Angel. "See you around. . .Soulman."     

Angel took another step forward. "Saul..." He then watched in total consternation as Saul turned away from him, ran to one of the side, sunlight drenched openings in the wall. Without hesitation, he leapt through it. . .and was gone.     

Angel stood still and silent, looking at the hole in the wall that Saul had just jumped through. Who was he? What was this power he possessed? And why. . .?    

"Angel?"     

Startled, Angel turned rapidly to find Wesley standing just behind him. "Wesley, what are you doing up here?"     

"Gunn finished with the last vampire," Wesley explained. "He and Cordelia are with Doyle; he's still unconscious. We thought that one of us should come up to see what was going on, to find out if perhaps we could help." He looked around the area surrounding Angel. He saw no ashes. "What *did* happen, Angel?  Did you kill him?"     

Angel shook his head. "No. He's not. . .a regular vampire, Wesley."

"No," Wesley acquiesced. "That was quite apparent downstairs."     

"He's got. . .powers. . ."    

"Yes," Wesley agreed again.     

"He made a holocaust cloak appear. . .just like that," Angel went on, snapping his fingers on the word 'that'. "He went out through there." He nodded at the opening Saul had passed through.     

"Into the sunlight," Wesley murmured.     

"Well, he had the cloak. Wesley. . ." Angel suddenly, urgently turned to the ex-watcher. "It's Doyle. He told me that he can't be easily killed as long as Doyle's alive."    

"Meaning that we haven't seen the last of him; that he still intends to harm Doyle?"     

"He said it was destiny, that only one of them could survive."     

Wesley let out a breath. "And of course, he intends it to be Doyle who doesn't survive."     

Angel nodded. "He knows who he is, Wesley. He knows who and what Doyle is, and, yeah, he means to kill him." Angel's eyes took on a steely look. "But he won't. I won't let him." He suddenly turned and started for the exit to the stairway. "Come on. We need to get Doyle out of here."     

Wesley hesitated, then followed the vampire. He hadn't yet told Angel about Doyle's head injury. Despite his reservations and doubts about Doyle's 'rebirth', he sincerely hoped that Saul hadn't already fulfilled his 'destiny'. He honestly wasn't sure if Angel or Cordelia could survive it.

*-*-*-*

Gunn stood up as Angel and Wesley entered the third level and ran up to where he and Cordelia were waiting with Doyle. Cordelia was kneeling on the concrete floor, Doyle's head cradled in her lap. She was murmuring to him softly and gently stroking his face. He was still breathing, but he hadn't stirred at all, seemed oblivious to her presence. She looked up at Angel and Wesley's approach, a desperate look in her eyes.      

Gunn spoke first, answering Angel's unasked question, "He hasn't moved, man, hasn't even tried to come out of it." He jerked his head in the direction of the doorway Angel and Wesley had just passed through. "What's the deal with Saul, Angel?"     

"Did you get him, Angel?" Cordelia asked in a soft, choked voice. She had a feeling she knew the answer.     

Angel shook his head, and Cordelia closed her eyes in despair. "No. It's not going to be that simple."     

Gunn nodded. "Doesn't surprise me, man. I've never seen a vampire who could do what he did."     

"Me either," Angel told him quietly. "And, between us, we've known quite a few." He knelt down beside Doyle, put a gentle hand on the half-demon's neck, right above Saul's ugly puncture wound. He could feel the Oracle's pulse; it was weak, rapid, but there. He was grateful for small favors. "I'll explain everything later . .what I know anyway. Right now we need to get him out of here."

"Agreed," Wesley said quietly. "It doesn't feel safe here."    

Angel nodded, then leaned over and gently, carefully lifted Doyle into his arms. He stood up slowly, holding the half-demon lightly in his arms. He took a step forward toward the nearest exit. "We'll. . ."     

He stopped, both physically and verbally, as Doyle suddenly moaned, stirred a little in his arms. Four pairs of eyes looked down at the new Oracle as his eyes flickered, then opened slightly; they looked directly into Angel's.     

"Hey," Angel whispered. Cordelia reached up and took Doyle's hand in hers.     

Doyle managed a weak smile for both of them. His voice was just as faint, "Guess this means I'm not dead, then, yeah?"    

Cordelia squeezed his hand. "No, you're not dead, Do. . ." She cast a quick glance at Gunn. "Allan."     

Angel smiled back at him. "I told you I wouldn't let that happen. And I won't."     

"Yeah." Doyle nodded his head slightly, winced with the pain moving caused. "I seem to remember hearin' somethin' like that." He flinched again as sharp pain again stabbed through his head. "God, my head hurts, Angel. . .it really hurts." He closed his eyes in reaction to another spasm of pain, then slid quietly back into unconsciousness.     

Silence for a minute. Then Wesley spoke up, "Angel. . ."   

Angel tore his gaze away from Doyle to look at the ex-watcher. "Yeah?"     

Wesley hesitated a moment, then plunged forward. "When Saul first attacked him, he shoved him- hard- into the wall. When that happened, Do. . .Allan, sustained a blow to the head."     

"And?"      

Wesley was a little nonplussed. "Well, it looked to me to be a fairly severe blow to the head."    

Angel looked away. . .not wanting to see the truth in Wesley's eyes. "What are you saying, Wesley?"     

Wesley opened his mouth, then shut it. He knew Angel understood exactly what he was saying. He started one more time. "Well, I. . ."     

Gunn then broke in, "He's saying that your boy took a pretty good hit. . .and that maybe you'd better prepare yourselves."     

"Yes," Wesley was forced to agree. "I'd say that adequately states the facts as they are. Add to that the fact that we don't know how much blood he lost, and, well. . .Gunn's right. . .preparing yourselves might be a good idea."     

"No," Cordelia murmured. "Please no."     

Angel shook his head. "Let's just get him out of here. Wesley, go put the top up and cover the windows. I want to jar him as little as possible. We'll take the car."     

"Of course." Wesley immediately left through the nearest exit.      

"Let's go." Angel began to move slowly in the direction Wesley had taken. Cordelia, still holding Doyle's hand, went with him. Gunn followed.

*-*-*-*

They managed to get out of the parking garage and back to the hotel without incident. They were all quiet during the trip; Wesley drove, with Cordelia sitting beside him on the passenger seat, her hand reaching over the front seat so she could continue to hold Doyle's hand. Angel sat in the back with Doyle, the covered windows protecting him from the intense sunlight. The half-demon remained unconscious, his head resting on a pillow that lay on Angel's lap. He supported Doyle's head and neck to try to prevent any further injury. Gunn followed the black convertible in his pick-up truck. As he drove, he kept his eyes open and alert for any signs that Saul might be on their trail. He didn't know exactly what was going on, but he'd been around enough vampires to be able to somewhat read their agendas. And this guy's agenda, for whatever reason, was Angel's friend, Allan.     

They reached the hotel. Angel carried Doyle up the stairs and into a room next door to his own. He gently lay the half-demon down on the bed and covered him with a light blanket. He then turned to the other three people in the room, his eyes and voice full of quiet desperation. "Now what?"     

"I wish I knew," Wesley told him, his eyes on the new Oracle. "If we knew the full extent of his injuries, we might be able to. . .I don't know, Angel."     

"Why don't you fill Cordelia and me in on this bloodsucker, Saul?" Gunn requested. "It might help if we had some idea what this creep's deal is."    

"Allan's suddenly his deal," Angel told them, wondered briefly if he should just tell Gunn the whole story. Surely, under the circumstances, whatever fears Doyle had about the vampire hunter wouldn't- couldn't- manifest themselves. He once again decided not to chance it; Doyle had been too vehement, too positive that there were going to be problems and that was something Angel did not need right now. He remained hopeful that Doyle would be wrong, that there would never be any problems with Gunn, but this was neither the time nor the place to find out.      

He then filled them in on everything he knew- save Doyle being the Oracle to the Powers That Be- from Spike being Saul's sire, to Saul saying it was pretty much his destiny to kill the half-demon. The only thing he fudged on was pretending to not know why the blond vampire would have it in for 'Allan'.     

"Perhaps Spike could shed some light," Wesley mused. "Angel, as uncomfortable and repulsive as it would be, perhaps you should. . ."     

He was interrupted by Gunn's cell phone ringing. Gunn gave apologetic looks all around as he answered it. "Yeah?" he asked in a somewhat irritated voice; his tone softened when he heard who it was. "Yeah, hi. . .I don't know. . .what time is it?" He looked up at his business associates, decided to take the call outside. "Excuse me," he said as he left the room, closing the door behind him.   

Angel turned to Wesley and Cordelia. "Ideas?"    

Cordelia was staring at the unconscious, slightly restless Doyle. "So, we're stuck with this Saul guy, huh? Just what we need, another deliverer of evil and destruction. Like Wolfram and Hart aren't enough. And it's certainly what*he* needs, isn't it?" She turned away as tears filled her eyes.     

Wesley reached out, put a comforting hand on her shoulder. However, his eyes were on Angel as he spoke, "I still think that we should get in touch with Spike. He *is* this Saul's sire. Perhaps he can. . ."     

"Yeah, Wesley, I understand your point and I'll consider it, but what good does it do if Doyle dies here, tonight? We need to figure out how to help him, *now*." Angel walked away from the Englishman, his brow furrowed with concern.      

"There's got to be something in those books of yours, Wesley," Cordelia said pleadingly. "Some sort of spell or something that can help him."    

Wesley looked doubtful. "I can look of course, but healing spells are not my forte, Cordelia. Perhaps Giles or Willow would be. . ."     

"What the hell?"      

They had failed to notice Gunn re-enter the room; they all turned to see him standing in the doorway, mouth open, eyes wide, staring at Doyle. He slowly nodded his head in the Oracle's direction, then said in a whispered voice, "Look."     

Angel, Cordelia and Wesley turned toward the bed. The expressions on their faces turned into carbon copies of Gunn's as they saw what he saw. As it had been earlier at the old office, Doyle's body was totally aglow, the same soft, shimmery, silvery light enveloped him from his head to his feet. Although his entire body was involved, the brightest, most intense light was concentrated on his head; in that area, the light pulsated and almost audibly throbbed. Doyle's eyes remained closed, but his breathing became rapid and slightly irregular, his body moved in some sort of response to the light that emanated from him.     

"My God," Wesley breathed.  

"Is it hurting him, do you think?" Cordelia asked in an awed voice too low to be heard by Gunn.    

"I don't believe so," Wesley answered in an equal tone of voice. "I believe it may be helping him. . .healing him."     

Angel said nothing. He just hoped that Wesley was right.    

Still staring at the luminous half-demon, Gunn moved to stand beside Angel. "What the hell is it?"    

Angel was startled. He'd been totally immersed in what was happening with Doyle and the shimmering light. He found he had no plausible explanation for the vampire hunter.      

Wesley saw Angel's discomfiture, went to his rescue with the first thought that came into his head. "It's a...healing aura. It's something I've been looking into lately. It. . .can't hurt him. . .I'm hoping it will help."     

Gunn nodded absently. "No doubt, man."   

Silence then, as they all watched the 'healing aura' do its work. Then, as suddenly as it had obviously come, the light left Doyle; it shimmered strongly one last time at the back of his head, before its glow faded, then evaporated until it was gone. Doyle let out a deep, shaky breath; his body stopped trembling as the light dissipated. He then lay still and quiet, his breathing became calm and regular.     

Angel hesitated a minute, then slowly, cautiously approached the bed, the others following just behind him. They all stood at Doyle's bedside, looking into the half-demon's face, waiting for something, *anything*, that would tell them what was now happening.     

Moments later, their wish was granted. Doyle gave a soft, low moan; his eyelids flickered slightly several times, before they, finally, opened.  Four pairs of anxious eyes met his bleary gaze. He smiled a little, said something that was too soft, too weak for the group to hear; even Angel with his heightened senses could not pick it up.     

The vampire leaned down closer to the half-demon's mouth. "What did you say?"     

Doyle swallowed, then repeated what he had said. This time, his voice carried to his listeners' ears. "I said. . .I guess I'm still here, yeah?"     

Angel smiled, straightened, nodded. "Yeah...still here. How do you feel?"  

"Sore. . .a little weak. . ." Doyle thought about it a minute, then said, "Hungry."     

Laughter broke what tension there had been.      

"That's usually a good sign," Wesley commented.     

"Oh. . .Do. . .Allan," Cordelia cried, sitting down on the bed and gently hugging him. She was getting tired of not being able to call him Doyle, though. Whatever problems Gunn might have, he'd better get over them quick.    

Doyle hugged her back. "I'm gonna be okay, Princess. I'm gonna be okay."

Gunn stood watching this happy scene for a minute or two, then turned to Angel. "Listen, Angel. I hate to cut and run. . .especially when I'm the one who sorta got you into this mess, and I'll stay if you want me to, but. . ." He looked around to see if anyone was paying attention. No one was, but he lowered his voice anyway, "I've got someplace I really need to be. But, like I said, I'll stay if you want me to. . ."     

Angel shook his head. "No. If you have someplace to be, you should go. You didn't get anybody into any mess, though." He frowned. "Is there trouble? Do you need help?"     

Gunn actually looked alarmed. "No! No trouble. It's..." He stopped at Angel's inquisitive look, let out a deep breath, then continued, "It just
feels kinda weird, telling *you* this. It's a support group. . .for people who've lost family to. . .vampires. I know," he said in answer to an unasked question, "they have support groups for *everything*, don't they? But it really *does* help people."     

"I'm sure it does," Angel murmured. He had to admit though, he was surprised by Gunn's admission; he'd never thought of Gunn as much of a 'support group' type of person. He was more of a take care of himself kind of guy.      

Gunn seemed to sense Angel's thoughts. "Not that *I* need the support. I go more to give support. . there are a couple of new people I've been helping out. Me?" he grinned slightly. "What we just got done doing is *my* kind of support. Talk about your group therapy sessions. I'm just sorry we didn't get that Saul guy. Anyway," he looked up at Angel, and the vampire had to wonder just how much Gunn was fooling himself about the type of 'support' he needed, "do you want me to stay?"     

Angel was fairly certain he had already answered that question. "No, you should go."     

Gunn nodded. "Okay, but call me if you need me."     

"I would." Angel then watched as Gunn nodded again, then turned and walked out the door. Angel was both sorry and relieved to see him go. On the one hand, he valued Gunn's friendship and his expertise as a fighter; his staying could have been helpful in case of more trouble. On the other hand, there were still things that Gunn didn't know, and, until he did, it was impossible to speak completely freely when he was around. Angel hoped to have that situation remedied soon, but, of course, that would be up to Doyle.     

Angel turned away from the door, walked to stand beside the bed. Cordelia was still sitting beside the half-demon, holding onto his hand as if she would never let go. The look she was bestowing on him was full of affection, concern, and even some awe. What they had just witnessed was, once again, solid proof that Doyle really *was* the new Oracle.     

Doyle looked up as the vampire stood beside him. He nodded in the direction Gunn had taken. "He okay, man?"   

Angel nodded, suddenly wondered if Doyle didn't know all about it. "Just had someplace he had to be."    

Doyle didn't reply, just nodded back. "Well," he said, after a somewhat lengthy silence; he knew the others wanted to talk about what had occurred at the parking garage, but were reluctant to be the ones to bring it up, "quite an adventure we had today, then, yeah?"     

The statement broke the ice. "How much do you remember about what happened, Doyle?" Wesley wanted to know.     

"Pretty much everythin'," Doyle responded. "Gettin' there, meetin' Gunn." He looked at Angel. "He's gonna be a tough nut to crack, Angel. I know you don't want to hear that, but he is." Angel nodded slightly, and he went on, "I remember fightin' the vampires. . .watchin' the one makin' his move on you, Princess." He squeezed her hand; she squeezed back. "I didn't see Saul comin' at me. . .he was just there. . .all of a sudden, plowin' into me. I remember hittin' the wall, goin' down. He said somethin' about my killin' his brother. He shook me. . .and I opened my eyes. . .looked right into his. It was. . .I don't know if I can describe it. It was like he could see everythin' inside me. . .like he was tearin' into my soul. It was like he *knew* me. And he was strong. . .so strong." Doyle paused, let out a deep sigh. "Stronger than me, anyway."     

"Did he say anything else to you, Doyle?" Wesley asked. Angel leaned forward in anticipation.     

Doyle nodded. "Yeah. Things were startin' to get kinda fuzzy, but yeah. He asked me if I knew who I was. Told me that I was the 'one'. He said somethin' about who would have thought that he would be the one to kill me. . ." Doyle paused, took a deep breath. "Then. . .somethin' about my blood bein' the sweetest of all. . .and then I. . ."another pause, "felt his fangs on my neck. . .I figured I was gonna die." Cordelia made a distressed sound; Doyle stopped speaking for a second, pulled her closer to him. Then he went on, "Then I passed out." He looked up at Angel. "You got him off me?" Angel nodded, a very readable expression in his eyes. "But he's not dead, right?"     

Angel shook his head. "No," he whispered.   

"Then I guess I'm in trouble, yeah?"     

Angel hesitated. Wesley recognized this as being an Angel/Doyle moment. He figured there were going to be a lot of those moments from here on out. A lot of moments where Angel turned to Doyle and no one else. Wesley sighed inwardly. God help him, he*was* jealous and insecure. As glad as a part of him was for Angel and Cordelia that Doyle had not died today, he also had to admit that he wished that the half-demon had not returned, for Oracle or not, things would never be the same.      

"Cordelia," he said softly, and she looked up him, startled. "The man said he's hungry, and yet, we haven't fed him. Let's go get himsomething to eat."    

Cordelia looked amused, shook her head at the Englishman. "You are *so* not subtle, Wesley. Why can't you just say, 'Angel and Doyle need to talk. Let's go away and let them'?"     

"Would that work?" Wesley asked archly.   

Cordelia gave him a disgusted look. Wesley looked defeated. "All right, Cordelia. Angel and Doyle need to talk. Let's..."    

"Oh, brother! Let's go, Wesley!" Cordelia leaned over, kissed Doyle gently on the lips."I'll be back." She then stood up, grabbed Wesley's arm, hustled him toward the door. "Hey, I know! I can give him some of my chicken soup. . .that's always good for illness or injury!"     

"That sounds like an excellent idea, Cordelia," Wesley told her as they walked out of the room and closed the door.    

Doyle looked up at Angel; there was some concern in his eyes. "She. . .cooks, Angel?"    

Angel nodded. "Yeah. I know it's hard to believe, but yeah. After the office blew up, we worked out of her place for awhile. . .and, yeah, she learned how to cook. . .some things. I'm no. . .food critic. . .of course, but, Wesley says the chicken soup is pretty good."
     
"Okay." Doyle nodded, waited for Angel to speak, got nothing. "They, uh, left us alone so we could talk, so. . .let's talk." He paused, still got nothing. "So, I know I'm in trouble, but what's the real deal with this Saul guy?"
     
Angel walked to the bed, sat down next to the half-demon, looked directly into his eyes, as he said gently, "*You're* the deal, Doyle. He's made *you* his mission in life."     

"You mean he's made *killin* me his mission in life." Doyle's gaze didn't waver, but there was fear in his eyes.      

Angel nodded reluctantly. "Yeah. He believes there's some sort of destiny to it all."    

"I don't get it, man. Where did he come from? Did I trigger somethin' somehow?"    

"I don't think so, Doyle. He's been around. Spike is his sire. Now, I don't know how that figures into anything, but it gives me a place to start."   

Doyle shook his head. "I don't know, man. Seems like a lot of trouble and danger to me. . .for everyone. I know you don't want me sayin' this, Angel, but maybe it would be better if I just. . ."     

"You're right, Doyle. I *don't* want you saying it," Angel cut in, a ruthless edge to his voice. "What? You think that if you leave, he's just
gonna go away? What if you're leaving makes him stronger?"     

Doyle rubbed the back of his head, fingered the wound on his neck, contemplated what Angel had said. "I don't know, man. He seems pretty strong right now."     

Angel nodded. "No doubt. He is. But so are you." Angel thought of the silvery, white light that had engulfed Doyle just moments before. The half-demon was obviously unaware of what had transpired. "You're the *Oracle*, Doyle. I've *got* to believe you have powers we haven't even imagined."     

"And which I know nothin' about or how to use."     

"Yet," Angel told him. "I'm going to tell you what I think about all this, Doyle. There's good, there's evil. You're good, Saul's evil."    

"And what? Good defeats evil? That's a tad bit simplistic, don't you think, man?"     

"Well, I'm not finished," Angel told him in a mollifying tone. Doyle gave him an apologetic look. "So, Saul said it was destiny. But he also said that, in the long run, the two of you couldn't co-exist, meaning that one of you will be. . .destroyed. And, of course, he says that *he'll* be the one to survive. But, who says it has to be that way? Who says it's *meant* to be that way?" Angel stood up, walked away from the bed, then turned to look at Doyle. "Yeah, as simplistic as it may be, I've come to *believe* in 'good'. As a vampire, even one with a soul, it's tough sometimes, but I *do* believe in what's good. But, even more than that, Doyle, I believe in you. And I believe that, whether the *Powers* like it or not, you're back for a reason, and you *are* needed here." He paused, looked away. "Sometimes, Doyle, there's a fine line between good and evil. Sometimes that line gets a little blurry. That's when we really need the 'good'."     

Doyle still found he couldn't read the vampire very well, but he didn't need to to know that Angel was now talking about himself. "Okay, man. We'll go with it. But, remember, you asked for it."     

Angel looked back up at the half-demon, smiled, would have replied had the door not opened to admit Cordelia and Wesley. Cordelia bore a tray that held a steaming bowl of soup; Wesley held a large book, a candle and a clear bag full of a yellowish powder.      

"Here you go," Cordelia said, laying the tray on Doyle's lap. "It's my specialty, and you haven't eaten in what, a year?" She took the spoon from off of the tray, handed it to him. "So, you better chow down."     

"Thanks." Doyle took the spoon, looked down at the soup, hesitated. It smelled good, but. . .     

Wesley was busy flipping pages in his book, lighting the candle, opening the bag of powder, but he was watching Doyle out of the corner of his eye. "It really is quite tasty, Doyle. You should try it."    

Doyle, who pretty much knew everything Wesley thought and felt about him, was understandingly suspicious of Wesley's motives about anything, but he didn't want to hurt Cordelia's feelings. He slowly put the spoon into the soup, filled it, then brought it to his lips. He took the first sip tentatively, then sipped with more aggression as he realized that it really was good. He looked up at Cordelia. "This is fantastic!"     

"Well, you don't have to sound *that* surprised!" she complained, but looked pleased as she sat down beside him on the bed, watched as he ate in earnest; he was starving.      

Angel smiled with amusement, and then turned to watch as Wesley scattered the yellow powder around the walls of the room, then walked around the room, reading softly from his book. "What are you doing, Wesley?"    

Wesley didn't reply immediately. Cordelia and Doyle both looked up from the soup to join Angel in watching his travels around the hotel room. Suddenly, he shut the book with a snap, and blew out the candle. He then turned and addressed Angel's question. "It's an invitation spell. No vampire- including Saul, I hope- can enter this room without an invitation from you, Doyle. Which means you need to invite Angel in, or he won't be able to re-enter once he leaves. It occurred to me that this is a hotel and a place of business. . .so technically any vampire could enter without being invited. We don't need Saul being able to do that. I will safeguard the whole building, but that will take some time. I thought it a good idea to start here. . .it gives you a safe haven in case. . .well, just in case."     

Again Doyle knew that Wesley had done this more out of concern for Angel and Cordelia than for him, but he was grateful nonetheless. "Thanks, Wesley. And, Angel. . .you're invited."     

Angel nodded at Doyle. "Thanks. Good idea, Wesley."    

"Yes, well." Wesley tried not to seem pleased by Angel's praise. "And you're welcome, Doyle." He gathered his things together, started toward the door. "I've got some errands to run. . .and I'm sure Doyle could use some rest. I'll return in a little while, Angel." Angel nodded as Wesley crossed the threshold and was gone.     

Cordelia rolled her eyes. "Hello? Isn't he just *so* obvious? He thinks you need rest. . ." She turned to Doyle who, with his soup finished, did indeed look tired. "And you do. But why can't he just say. . .Angel, Cordelia, get out. He should get some sleep. He can't just come right out and say things. . .it's always hint. . .hint. Makes me crazy." She got up, took the tray from Doyle, leaned over and gently kissed him on the cheek. "He's right, though. You've had a busy day, what with getting resurrected and almost killed all within about twelve hours. Get some sleep. Come on, Angel." She then swept out of the room, tray in hand, a satisfied smile on her lips; he'd liked the soup.     

Angel shook his head. Hurricane Cordelia; she could shake things up like no one else he knew. He turned and looked at Doyle. Tired wasn't the word; he looked exhausted. "They're both right. You should get some rest." He nodded his head toward the door that connected this room with his. "I'll be right next door if you need me."     

Doyle nodded, and Angel started out of the room. "Angel?"    

Angel turned, his eyebrows raised questioningly. "Yeah?"   

"You were right when you said that my life is whole new deal, that I'm startin' over." Doyle reached over to the bedside table, picked up the picture of him and Cordelia that they had rescued from the old office. He glanced down at the photo, smiled a little, then looked up at Angel. His expression turned serious. "But it's not just me, man. It's not just *my* life that's a new deal. We're all startin' over here."     

Angel nodded, shrugged a little. "Yeah?"     

"It's just . .it's me, Angel. I'm the one who's done it. For better or worse, I'm the one who's changed things. Whatever happens, good or bad, I'm the one. . ."     

"Whatever happens, Doyle, whatever comes. . .we'll deal with it," Angel broke in, not wanting to hear Doyle place blame on himself. "And, yeah, we, all of us, we *are* starting over. . .but we're starting over *together*, Doyle. Twenty-four hours ago, I wouldn't have believed I'd ever be able to say that, but here we are. We're starting over together. . .and that's all that matters. It means more to me than I can say. And you know it means the same to Cordelia. Whatever happens, Doyle, we want you here; we *need* you here."     

"And I need to be here."     

Angel shrugged again. "Well, then."     

"Thanks, Angel."     

"Get some sleep. I'm right next door." Angel left the room, closing the door behind him.     

Doyle sighed, sank into the pillows. He was exhausted; he was sore; he was weak; he was scared; he was uncertain about a lot of things, but it all felt good. It felt good because he was *alive*. After a year of feeling dead, even in 'bliss', he was alive. Angel was right; they were starting over together, and that was all that mattered. It wasn't going to be easy, but it was all that mattered. He supposed he should be more worried about some things: Saul, Gunn, Wesley, Cordelia, being the Oracle, the *Powers That Be*, but he found he just didn't have the energy. He guessed- he knew- he'd worry tomorrow. He closed his eyes and went to sleep.