Disclaimers: I don't own them. Wish I did have Angel. But I own this plot! (Like would this ever happen on the shows?) Rating: PG-14 should be safe. Shouldn't get worse. Timeline: After the Angel episode "Sanctuary" with a different ending. Anything after that in BtVS will be altered. Anything after that in Angel will be ignored. You'll see… Distribution: You want it? Just ask and I'll say yes. Plus my site, http://www.geocities.com/cynandmeg/fanfic/buffy
Authors Note: I'm an avid Buffy/Angel 'shipper. So hang on through the angst and woe and you just might find a surprise at the end. Oh, and this was in response to my own challenge about a different ending to "Sanctuary."

Part One

"I'm worried about Buffy," Willow said softly. She was sitting on Giles' couch, her hands on her knees, looking at Giles intently. There was no one else there but the two of them at the moment – a fact that Willow was quite glad for.

Giles did not look up from what he was doing at first. Instead he continued to go through his books as he spoke. "Buffy is quite able to take care of herself, as she's proven many times," he said calmly. He glanced at Willow then and something in her face must have shown the depth of her concern. "What exactly has you worried?"

Willow sighed and sank back into the couch. "I don't know…it's hard to explain…"

Giles sat down across from her. "Try," he said calmly.

"Well…today…you know we have final exams and all coming up," she began to explain. "Some of the classes…have tests right before the final, too. You know, so you can sort of see how you're doing? Especially the classes that have a test on every unit. Well, I saw the tests Buffy took recently. She *bombed* them, Giles."

"Yes, well," Giles said, not meeting her gaze for a moment. "Buffy has never been a great student."

Willow shook her head. "She was doing better! And she actually liked some of these classes. I asked her about the tests and all and she just didn't seem to care."

"As troubling as that is, it's hardly cause for concern," Giles said.

"That's not all, Giles. She's just…weird lately. She smiles a lot, but…it feels false. I can't explain it. It's like nothing matters to her anymore. I don't know if it's effecting her slaying at all, but… It feels like she's not showing any real emotion anymore. Except…"

"Except what, Willow?" Giles urged her to continue.

"I've heard her cry in her sleep."

Giles looked at her sharply then, his attention finally caught. "How long has this been going on?"

Willow said nothing for a moment as she thought. "A week about, I guess. Ever since…since she came back from L.A."

"You think something happened when she…saw Angel?"

"I don't know!" Willow cried. "I mean, if something did…she'd tell us, right?"

"Yes, yes, of course," Giles agreed readily. It didn't sound very confident, though.

"But…if something…and she didn't tell us…" Willow stuttered.

Giles nodded thoughtfully. "I hope your fears are ungrounded," he said. "Still, I could call Angel and ask him if it would put your fears to rest."

Willow smiled very slightly. "Yeah, I think it would. Could…could you do that?"

The only reply Giles gave was a slight smile, then he walked over to his phone. Flipping briefly through the small pad of phone numbers sitting next to it he dialed quickly. He only had to wait a moment before the line connected.

"Hello?" a tired sounding female voice answered half-heartedly.

"Cordelia?" Giles asked in surprise. It almost hadn't sounded like her at all. It certainly wasn't her usual phone receptionist voice. "It's Giles."

"Oh," she said with no enthusiasm at all. Not that he was expecting much, but maybe some…life in her voice. "I…uh…wasn't expecting you to call."

Why in the world *would* she have been expecting him to call? "Yes, well…" He paused for a second. "Are you all right?" he asked gently.

There was a lengthy pause on the other end. "I've been better," Cordelia eventually replied.

"I'm…sorry to hear that." An awkward silence hung over the line. "Listen, I…uh…need to speak to Angel."

This pause was even longer. For a moment Giles was afraid she wasn't going to answer when she asked in a strange choked voice, "Did you…just say what I think you did?"

"Cordelia?" Giles said in confusion.

"Giles…Angel…Angel's dead."

-----------------------

Part Two

---------------------------------

When Giles had spoken, Cordelia had felt as if her stomach had just dropped to her shoes. "Buffy didn't tell you?" she asked, knowing she sounded pitiful and not caring in the least.

He seemed to have trouble finding his voice on the other end. "Buffy knew?" he sputtered. "What happened?"

Cordelia sighed and sat down hard in the office chair. "Well, you already know that Faith was here. That Angel wanted to help her if he could," she said. A part of her was bitter at how Angel's good nature had backfired on him. All he had wanted to do was save another soul, even if he couldn't save his own. Why did it have to get him killed? "It all happened really fast. One moment he seems to be getting through to Faith, and then Buffy's here all 'kill her now,' some Watcher goons show up with guns and stuff to take her and kill us in the process, and the LAPD is outside. Well, we were okay with the Watchers, and Buffy joined in to help us – it's not like she could do anything else – but the police… Angel got arrested."

"But how-?" Giles began to interrupt, then stopped. "I'm sorry. Go on."

"There's this lady, Kate. She's a cop that we'd worked with once or twice," Cordelia explained. Her voice no longer showed any emotion at all. She was just tired. "That is, until she found out the Angel's…was a vampire. We didn't see her after that. But when Angel was arrested…the *bitch!*" Only that word held emotion, and it was hatred, pure and simple. "She knew exactly what she was doing. She put Angel in a cell with a window…so that he could see the sunrise."

"Good lord," Giles muttered.

Cordelia barely heard him. "We tried to get him out. We pleaded, we begged, we charmed, we even tried to fight to get him out. Buffy ended up being carried out by a group of burly policemen when she wouldn't let them take Angel. There was nothing we could do, though. And when it was all over…they wouldn't even let us collect his ashes. They say he escaped. But…Kate knows better, and so do Wesley and I."

There was another long moment of silence over the phone line. "And Buffy knew all of this?" he said.

Cordelia nodded even though he couldn't see her. "I assume so. The last I saw of her was when the policemen carried her out. Several of them came back with bad bruises – she put up quite a fight. When Wesley and I got back to the office, though, all of her stuff was gone." She paused for a moment. "I'm guessing she didn't tell you any of this."

"No," Giles confirmed softly. "No she didn't. Actually, I was calling because her behavior of late has us worried. This…explains it, I suppose." There was another long silence. "Is there anything I can do for you? To help?" Giles asked finally.

"No. Nothing," Cordelia replied wearily. "I…I'd better be going. Office to inventory and pack up and all."

"I'm sorry," Giles said in closing.

"Thanks," Cordelia replied, not at all sure whether she meant it or not, and hung up the phone. Her gaze did not move from it for a long time.

When she looked up finally, Wesley was watching her from the doorway to Angel's office. "Who was that?" he asked softly. It seemed strange to talk too loud in the office.

"Giles," Cordelia replied briefly. "Buffy hadn't told anyone…"

Wesley nodded very slightly before sitting next to her. "I found these in Angel's desk," he said calmly, handing her several pieces of paper.

Cordelia looked at them in silence. The first one was a photograph of Buffy, one the Cordelia had seen before. Under that, however, were sketches; Buffy smiling, Buffy sad, Buffy thoughtful…every picture was of Buffy. "What did he ever see in her?" Cordelia said darkly. "I mean, she came here all 'I'm Buffy, I must be right.' She's stuck up and full of herself and selfish…"

"And she loves…loved him," Wesley replied. "He loved her. It's that simple."

"He deserved someone better," Cordelia muttered.

"Did you have someone in mind?" Wesley said with a hint of amusement.

Cordelia glared at him. "She didn't even tell her friends that he'd died. Like it meant nothing!"

"You have no idea what's going on in her head, Cordelia," Wesley said patiently. "It's her life."

"It's Angel's death," Cordelia bit back. Wesley started at her tone, and she sank into her chair. "I'm sorry. What are we going to do? All his things, this place…god, our jobs."

"We'll think of something," was Wesley's gentle reply. "I'm surprised he never said anything about what he wanted done…in case. I've been going through his office a bit. Some of his things – weapons, books, artwork and the like – are priceless."

"Priceless?" Cordelia said vaguely, then felt slightly guilty for thinking about money. Only slightly, though. She did, after all, have her own welfare to think of. What with her suddenly unemployed status and all.

Suddenly the front door slammed open and a young man in a hooded sweat shirt came bolting into the office. They couldn't see his face, but he was breathing hard as if from a long run. Cordelia stood, rolling her eyes slightly, prepared to dismiss him. "Hey…"

The kid looked up at her and took off his hood, revealing strange, greenish tinted skin of a scaly texture. No matter how many demons she saw, it still surprised Cordelia, and her words froze in her throat. Plus, he looked a little familiar. Good demon, right? One Angel had helped, before…

"Oh good, you're here," the demon kid said, still breathing hard but recovered just enough to speak.

Wesley found his voice again before Cordelia. "If you're looking for Angel…" he began.

The kid shook his head. "I'm…looking for you. You're Angel's friends, right?"

"Well, we were," Cordelia said softly.

The boy looked at her curiously, then seemed to shake her statement off. "It's about Angel…"

"Angel's dead," Cordelia said bluntly, finding her voice again at the same time as Wesley said, "What about Angel?"

The kid looked back and forth between them sharply. "He's not dead," he said, sounding slightly confused. "I was sent… He's…with my people. But he's in bad shape. It's weird. You need to come quickly."

Cordelia and Wesley looked at each other in confusion. The words not dead seemed to hang in the air between them. How…?

"Quickly!" the boy said again, and ran from the office.

There was nothing they could do but follow.

-----------------------------------

Part Three

The kid – Viho by name – had been so caught up in his task of retrieving Cordelia and Wesley that he'd been about to run all the way home. Wesley started up Angel's car, though, and got the kid before we went very far. With Viho sitting in the front passenger seat, Wesley driving, and Cordelia sitting pensively in the back, they got to the demons' home in record time. And without breaking any traffic laws, yet. Or, at least, not getting caught for any.

It wasn't exactly a bad part of town that Viho's extended family was living in, but it wasn't a good part of town, either. The older apartment building was tired looking, rust stains marking the exterior walls and the once colorful outside faded and dull. There were drying clothes hanging out of upstairs windows. It was quiet, though, for an apparently full apartment building in the daytime. Cordelia could only guess that whoever these demons were, they weren't into drawing attention.

Wesley pulled the black convertible up front. It had barely stopped when Viho jumped out, followed shortly by Cordelia. She followed him into the building, and the apparent peace was shattered. The vestibule was quiet, but occupied. Cordelia fought very hard not to stare at so many demon faces in once place. Strange colors, horns, scales, a bit of slime…she pitied the landlord of this place. She also definitely felt like the alien in here.

The boy turned around once they were inside only to wait for Wesley to catch up with them, then turned around saying, "He's upstairs. Third floor. Come on!" Then he rushed ahead of them again.

Cordelia ran as well as she could up the stairs behind the young demon, but he had a couple of advantages on her – a demon's strength, a child's energy, and sensible shoes – and quickly widened the gap between them. She didn't have any trouble following him, though, for once he reached the third floor he began calling out ahead of them. "Mom! Dad!" So Cordelia simply had to follow the sound of his voice to find his family…and, if what he'd said was true, Angel as well.

Both her and Wesley were out of breath by the time they reached the door in question, where Viho practically bounced in the hallway. He was speaking quickly to a woman – his mother, presumably – standing just inside the door. Neither of them could hear what the boy said, but they could see the woman's obvious relief.

"Thank goodness," the demoness said when they reached the doorway as well. "I've been at my wit's end." She ushered them both in the door and closed it firmly behind them.

Cordelia vaguely heard Wesley exchange pleasantries and introductions with the woman, but her attention was quickly elsewhere. Her attention had been caught by a scene barely glimpsed in the bedroom. She made her way almost in slow motion to the doorway, for once speechless.

A younger human (or human looking, at least) knelt beside the bed. On the floor beside her was a bag, plus rolls of bandages and a smile pile of bloody gauze. What really caught Cordelia's eye, though, was on the bed. Curled up on his side, heavily bandaged with his back to the door, familiar tattoo just showing over the layers of tape, was Angel.

Cordelia moved into the room without even being aware she was doing so, and the young woman turned at her approach. "Are you a friend?" she asked, her voice thick with an unfamiliar accent.

"Yes," Cordelia replied, in a detached way amazed at how calm her voice was. "I'm a friend. I work for him."

The woman nodded, and looked relieved. "I've done what I can for him, but his injuries are worse than I've dealt with before," she said. At Cordelia's odd look she continued. "I work as a medic for this building. The people who live hear have a tendency to get into some bad scrapes…but this is bad. He should be in a hospital. Plus…I've never treated a human before."

Cordelia shook her head, not really paying attention. Just an hour ago she'd been mourning Angel's death. Now… "He can't go to the hospital," she said. "And he's not human. He's a vampire."

It was the medic's turn to look shocked. "If he was a vampire, he wouldn't need my treatment," she explained.

This was all too unreal. Cordelia felt like…she'd just stepped into an episode of The Twilight Zone. Or was having a very strange dream. Either way, this whole situation could not be real. Angel was dead; he'd burned to death in a jail cell. He wasn't here in this house of horrors, injured and alive. That being alive in the breathing sense just proved matters. Almost without thinking Cordelia put out her hand to touch Angel lightly on his unbandaged shoulder. Even unconscious he flinched from her touch. Still, she felt his unusual warmth before he pulled away.

"He was found like this last night," Viho's mother was explaining to Wesley in the bedroom doorway. "A man living nearby says he was dumped from a nice, black car and left for dead." She saw that Cordelia was listening too and came the rest of the way into the room to speak to both of them. "I don't know if you remember my husband. He can pass for human, and someone was going to reveal his nature to his employer. Get him fired if he didn't…" Wesley nodded briefly that he remembered. "Angel helped him. We couldn't pay you much, or not as much as keeping that job is worth to this family. We just wanted to return the favor. I'm afraid we couldn't do much for him, though."

"What's his condition?" Wesley asked both the woman and the medic.

It was the woman who answered first. "He's been in and out ever since we picked him up off the street. He hasn't said anything the couple of times he's been awake."

"Except to make things difficult for me," the medic muttered.

"That's Angel for you," Cordelia said with a hint of humor. It was all pointless if you couldn't keep your sense of humor, right?

The medic continued with her more professional opinion of his condition. "Mostly he's got some bad bumps and bruises, some scrapes…he may have a cracked rib or two, but I can't tell. He was beaten pretty thoroughly. What worries me, though, is the large, ritualistic cut on his chest."

"Ritualistic?" Wesley asked urgently.

"Someone carved what looks like a bird into his chest. He'd lost a good deal of blood from that by the time I saw him. I'm worried about infection, but if he manages to avoid that…. It's definitely going to scar."

"I see," Wesley said. He looked at both of the women. "Thank you both very much for your care. We are willing to pay you whatever amount of money…"

"No need," the demoness said hastily. "Consider this a balancing of accounts."

Wesley nodded. "Then I suppose we will take him off your hands come nightfall."

"Wesley, wait," Cordelia said urgently. "You haven't heard the rest of the news about his condition."

"I'm sorry?"

"The 'he's breathing and has a heartbeat' part."

Wesley got this very odd look on his face like he'd chocked on something. To his credit, he recovered well. "Then…I suppose we'll be taking him with us as soon as it's okay to move him."

The medic nodded. "Whenever he wakes up, I suppose. You know him. You can probably care for him better than I can."

Cordelia wasn't so sure of that, but she sat next to Angel on the bed anyway. She laid a hand on his shoulder again. This time she did not pull away when he flinched, but instead held firm and said sternly, "Angel!"

He stirred slowly, finally rolling onto his back and blinking his eyes open. They held fear and pain, but no recognition.

"Time to get up," she said softly. "Wesley and I are taking you home."

"Home?" Angel asked in a voice that was barely a whisper.

Cordelia was silent for a moment. *What did they do to you? And who were they?* She sighed. "Yeah, Angel. Home."

-----------------------------

Part Four

-------------------------------------------------------

Giles sat in his living room, pensively sipping on a mug of tea. It had grown cold, but he didn't notice. He was engrossed in the texts in front of him; old, smelly tales of demons and warriors. Tales of the past, it seemed, were often clues to the future. Clues to the future were exactly what Giles needed most at the moment.

The latest crisis had been averted, Adam defeated at last and the Initiative was in ruins. Perhaps they would be lucky and this would be a quiet summer, but somehow Giles doubted it. Buffy was in no form to deal with even a minor crisis at the moment. Oh, she might seem alright to one who didn't know her that well, and she had made it fine through the battle with Adam, but there was something very wrong. Giles feared what would happen if she went up against something unexpected in her current state.

Perhaps it was Buffy's barely passed studies that worried her mother, but Giles was more worried about the strange apathy that had overcome her. Her friendships had already been suffering – now it was as if there was a great chasm across which Buffy could not be reached. All of her friends had noticed the increased distance. Her relationship with Riley had crumbled as a result. He had left her at the beginning of the summer saying that she had stopped caring.

Her response? She hadn't seemed to care.

The most telling sign, though, and the moment when Giles had become truly frightened for her, was when he and Willow had confronted her about Angel's death. No matter how things had stood between them recently, Angel had been Buffy's first love. Giles still remembered his first love, and though their relationship had only been a fleeting thing, he knew he would she a few tears if he ever learned of her death. The relationship between Buffy and Angel had been anything but fleeting; two years, even off and on, is a long time in any relationship. At the very least, he expected her to mourn Angel's loss.

He didn't expect the empty gaze he'd seen when he and Willow had faced her. He didn't expect the careless shrug. "He was already dead and gone," she said simply. "Now that's just *more* true." Then she had changed the subject.

At the time, he didn't have the luxury to press the issue. Demons were over-running the town and Adam – part human, part demon, part machine, all monster – had them at a horrible disadvantage. He had to be dealt with before Giles could really take the time to deal with Buffy's changed demeanor.

Now that battle was over, though. In contrast things in Sunnydale were almost eerily calm. One could almost believe it was a normal town. It wasn't, though. Even at its quietest there were plenty of ways for a careless Slayer to find her death.

So Giles sought comfort in the tomes of prophecy and demon lore. If he could not figure out what was wrong with Buffy, if he could not find a way to help the girl who was the closest he'd ever have to a daughter, then at least he could help her be prepared. He could try and find out what was coming before it arrived.

He'd been at this for a while before he leaned back wearily in his chair, rubbing the bridge of his nose. He wasn't having any luck. There were no regularly scheduled rituals or even possible demonic rituals coming that he could find. "Damn it!" he muttered, banging his fist on the table in frustration.

The slight vibration caused the precariously stacked books and papers to slide, tumbling right off the table. Letting out a weary sigh, Giles crawled on his hands and knees to collect them. This certainly wasn't helping…

One of the books had fallen open, and as he reached it a passage on its worn pages caught his eye. It had only taken one word for Giles to notice it: "angel." The ex-Watcher, caught in the prophecies – for that's what they were, sat back on his heels to read.

"When a dark angel falls in the light, the Chosen One sheds no tears but dies inside.
Hidden away, the Phoenix rises from the ashes and into the light once again.
The veil of death is before his eyes; the Phoenix will not fight.
The Chosen One is come to the Phoenix; the light of her heart banishes the
shadows of death.
Love clears the paths of time."

There was a long passage, too faded for him to read, and then: "The Phoenix and the Guardian are one."

Giles stared at it for a while…he knew it was important. It seemed to scream at him, but he did not quite understand. "The Chosen One sheds no tears…" it whispered. Words jumped out at him, begging to be heard. "Dark angel" and "rises from the ashes."

"The Chosen One" was always – or almost always – the Slayer. Of that much he was certain. The other, the Phoenix, he'd never heard found any reference to before but was apparently male. Not a Slayer then; someone else.

…rises from the ashes…

Ashes.

A vampire's ashes….?

A dark angel falls in the light…

/This can not be a coincidence. There's no coincidence on the Hellmouth./

Acting on a hunch, Giles picked up the phone and dialed. A tired, familiar female voice answered. "Angel Investigations. We…"

"Cordelia, it's Giles," he interrupted.

A loud sigh on the other end. "Thank god you called! You'll never believe what happened. Or…maybe you will, but…. Things are really weird here…"

"It's Angel, isn't it?" Giles said quickly, stopping her rambling. "He's alive…?"

Cordelia gasped in surprise. "What…How did you know?"

Giles sighed, partially in relief. "I found a prophecy. I wasn't sure, actually, if Angel was the one it was referring to, but… How is he?"

It was Cordelia's turn to sigh again. "Very, very weird. I'm ready to strangle him. It is *no* fun dealing with Amnesia Boy."

"I'm sorry?"

"He doesn't remember anything or anyone, Giles. He barely even speaks…and it's not like he talked much before, but this is just freaky."

"'The veil of death,'" Giles muttered.

"Huh?"

"It's…part of the prophecy I found," he explained. "I think I may have the solution. But…"

"Giles!" Cordelia said urgently. "What is it!"

"Buffy."

"Confused…" Cordelia replied.

"It's in the prophecy. 'The Chosen One is come to the Phoenix; the light of her heart banishes the shadows of death. Love clears the paths of time,'" Giles quoted.

"Phoenix?" Cordelia asked.

"It's a mythological bird," he explained. "It's immortal, of a sort. Every certain amount of time – 500 years, 1000 years, the numbers vary in different accounts – it burns itself to death in its nest. It then rises again as a young phoenix, reborn from its own ashes."

"So you think that Angel is this 'Phoenix.'"

"I do."

"And you think that Buffy can bring his memory back?"

"I do."

Cordelia made a sound Giles couldn't quite interpret. Disgust, perhaps, or anger. "And it just went *so* well the last time Buffy was here," she replied sarcastically. "Her visit is part of what got us into this mess!"

"I don't know that she… But besides that, if this prophecy is correct, and I'm reading it right, she'll find her way to him anyway," Giles said smoothly. "Aside from that…is there anything I can do to help?"

"No," Cordelia said, her brief anger gone leaving her sounding tired. "Thanks though. If you're right…get Buffy here. I don't know if I can take much more of this."

Giles nodded even though she couldn't see him. "I'll do my best," he replied. "Until this all plays itself out…good luck."

They hung up the phone together, and Giles looked at it for a moment in silence. It was he that was going to need luck. He'd need all the luck he could get to get Buffy to the city she wouldn't even talk about.

Giles picked up the phone and dialed once again. "Willow? It's Giles… I need your help. Meet me at Buffy's house as soon as you can…. It's about Angel…."

--------------------------------

Go to Part 5