In all the fantasies I'd had of him, I had imagined myself exploring, touching, claiming every part of his body. I had imagined long hours of tasting all the different kinds of joy that we could share.
But all that it took was his touch, simply that, to turn me to fire in an instant.
If I had burned to dust, I would barely have cared, as long as it was with him.
Nothing else mattered.
CORDELIA
A couple of hours after I left, knowing that I wasn't going to be able to sleep anyway, I figured it was time to go back and let the boss out of the chains.
He'd had time enough to stew over the whole thing, I suppose. Not that I was going to let him forget it, of course! Like the elephant, Cordelia never forgets.
So I went back, ready to be begged a few times before I would finally let him go.
When I arrived at the office, the elevator had gone down. I pushed the button to bring it back up, and then something occurred to me.
Wesley and I had left the building, not by the sewers like some people or not-people tend to do, but from the office. That means the elevator should still be on the office floor, where we left it. With Angel still in chains on his bed, who had moved the elevator downstairs?
Had someone come in since we left? Maybe Rebecca Lowell, coming back to stake Angel?
Before I got into the elevator, I went to one of my secret stashes in the office. It might not do any good, but just in case, I wanted to be ready.
After all, I'd just faced Angelus. What was there left to scare me now?
Well, being the one to kill Rebecca Lowell was one way to get instant fame, I suppose. "Aspiring actress murders former television star." The tabloids would love it, and it ought to be worth a movie of the week, at least.
I don't think Wolfram and Hart would defend me, though.
Too bad.
So I grabbed both a stake and a knife from my little hidey-hole, trying to cover the vampire/not-vampire options, and knowing that I would probably be making a fool of myself. After all, even if Rebecca did come back, she probably didn't even know how to use a stake.
I got into the elevator, and went down to the apartment.
I can walk quietly when I want to, even though I usually don't, but the elevator itself made plenty of noise, more than enough to announce my arrival. Still, there were no voices, no sounds of an argument, no crashes from a fight, nothing like that.
I made it as far as the bedroom door, with a stake in one hand and a knife in the other, and then stopped.
Suddenly it was flashback time, because I'd played this scene before. Oz had been with me, and we'd walked in to see Xander and Willow, and....
And even that had made more sense than this, except....
Except that it made a weird kind of sense, after all.
Doyle and Angel. Angel and Doyle.
It explains a lot, you know?
I could feel the weight of the stake and the knife, and I could feel the weight of a lot of other things, too, all turning around in my mind at once.
At least they were sleeping, or it looked like they were sleeping. I don't think I could have coped if I'd actually seen them, like, in the middle and everything.
Suddenly things made sense, in a really weird way.
Why else would any man be fool enough to turn me down? I mean, I work hard enough at how I look. I ought to know that no straight guy could possibly say no to me. He had to have been gay all along, he just didn't know it yet, that's all. It made all of the pieces fit together.
It wasn't me. I realized that with the most amazing feeling of relief.
It wasn't really about me, after all. It was about Angel.
I just stood there for awhile, holding what I was holding, and trying to figure out what I was going to do about it.
After awhile, I was able to decide.
I put the stake and the knife down on the nearest table, and very quietly, moved into the room.
Yeah, they were both sleeping. Angel, well, he'd had quite a night. Turning evil and all, takes a lot out of you, I guess.
Doyle looked like death not much warmed over, except for the smile that was still on his face, even while he was asleep. The smile was good to see. But he was so thin. He'd always been a skinny little weasel, hadn't he? But not like this, not like he'd forgotten about eating for a long time.
The part of me that wanted to be angry had given up. I couldn't look at him, at how sick he looked, and still stay angry. It just didn't work.
Maybe it was a good thing he'd stayed away for so long, because if it had been just a couple of months ago, I might have been using the stake and the knife right now.
Instead, I found myself standing next to the bed, glad that the sheets tangled around their bodies covered what I didn't need to see.
I reached out, tentatively, to touch Doyle, and Angel's eyes opened. His hand flew up from under the sheet and caught my wrist.
Then he just lay there for a moment, staring at me, like he was trying to figure out whether I was going to hurt Doyle or not.
I couldn't blame him for that. I hadn't been too sure about it myself, until a few minutes ago.
As quietly as I could, I whispered, "Is he real?"
Angel nodded, searching my face. He seemed to find an answer there, and he released my hand.
I reached out and brushed my fingers against Doyle's sleeping face. It was damp, with curls of hair clinging there, but it was warm. It felt human.
And I knew for sure then that I couldn't hurt him, even after what he'd done to me, no matter what the reason, or what this thing with Angel meant.
No matter what.
DOYLE
It had all been way too fast, but it felt like I'd hit a wall hard, and I dropped right off to sleep, feeling Angel's arms around me. There was still time enough to do it right, another time. Maybe quite a few more times, but first, sleep.
I was slow to come out of it, and when I felt somebody touch my face, it took me a bit to realize that the fingers were warm.
Not Angel.
I opened my eyes, and then felt a stab of panic at what I saw.
Cordelia.
Oh God, she was going to kill me.
When the fear hits, it's like somebody kicking you in the middle of the chest. From the first time you can't get your breath, as soon as you get scared, it just keeps getting worse. I tried to sit up, tried to move away from her, and found that I could barely move at all.
Angel moved with me, keeping his arms protectively around me. "It's all right, Doyle," he soothed. "Take it easy. I'm right here."
"Hey, I'm not going to do anything to you, okay? I put the knife down, like, five minutes ago. I'm used to living in Bizarro-land now, so not much can surprise me any more, not even naked vampires in bed doing things that I don't want to think about, and - Doyle? Doyle?" Her face and voice were fading. "Are you going to be all right? Stupid question. I mean, right now?"
I couldn't answer for a minute. The panic attack was starting to ease off a bit, as Angel held me and I started to realize that Cordelia wasn't going to hit me, but the breathing part still wasn't cooperating too well. Finally, closing my eyes so that I could no longer see Cordelia's worried expression, leaning back into Angel's embrace and feeling how solid, how strong he was behind me, I was able to get it back under control.
When I could speak, I whispered, "Give me a minute."
"Well, yeah. Whatever. Angel?"
"Like he says, just give him a minute." Angel's hand moved slowly down my back, helping me to calm down.
"Sure. Right. Scooch over, and keep covered up, okay? Because I so don't want to see what's under that sheet."
Against my back, I could feel Angel's soft chuckle. "Got it." Still holding me, he moved his legs around, moving me very gently as he did, and I felt the shifting weight as Cordelia sat down on the bed.
"Doyle, can you hear me?" she asked anxiously.
"Loud and clear," I managed to say.
"Well, you don't have to be scared of me, okay? Because, yes, the thought of doing something horrible to you did cross my mind for a minute, but I'm already past it, got that? My friends all think Angel's gay anyway, and now at least you have a decent excuse for why you walked out on me, so that's a good thing, and I can forgive you, and ... can you look at me?"
Reluctantly, I opened my eyes.
"I'm glad you're back," Cordelia said softly. "So, you went out to find yourself and came back gay. Whatever floats your boat. You think maybe you can manage not to freak out and quit breathing or anything just because I touch you? Because I do owe you a hug, you know."
As soon as I nodded slightly, she was on me, with Angel still holding me from behind. I could feel her being careful not to squeeze me too hard, or lean on me, but it was tough to keep my breathing even, just the same.
But I owed her some response, at least for not trying to beat me to death when she found me with Angel, and my arms went around her anyway.
This close, even without demon senses, I could smell her hair and her skin, and I could feel her trembling as she touched me. I could feel the strain of her effort to be gentle, like I was going to break into pieces any minute.
Yesterday I would have guessed that Cordelia would just as soon spit on my grave as look at me. Guess I knew better now.
Well, I haven't actually stopped responding to women, or at least responding to Cordelia, but .... going from total panic to something entirely different in the space of a minute was more than my body could handle at the moment. But I hugged her with all the strength that I could find, and when her lips moved to my forehead, I tried not to squirm at the realization that there was only a crumpled sheet between Cordelia and a very naked me.
She kissed my forehead gently, and then, mercifully, she moved away. I grabbed for the sheet, trying not to be too conspicuous as I pulled it up a bit higher.
She noticed, of course, and laughed. So did Angel.
I felt the tension and the fear draining out of me at last. I was back where I belonged, and for now, it was all right.
