~*~*~

part 1

"She used me! She shagged me and then she couldn't deal!" Spike shook his head and walked around the crypt. "I can't believe I let myself fall for an arrogant arse like her."

He got what few belongings he cared to take with him and threw them in a suitcase. There wasn't much, nothing he'd really kept since he'd basically become the Slayer's lapdog. He shook his head, looking around the crypt.

If she ever came looking for him, she could have whatever she wanted. It didn't mean anything to him because she didn't mean anything to him.

She really didn't.

The garlic draped around her bedroom had told him that. He could smell it more than twenty yards away from her home. He could see the shadows it cast on the drapes...drawn, of course. She'd probably found some garlic juice and put them on a candle, just to make sure he never got near her room, the scent was that strong.

Garlic had never bothered him, ever. Not even after he became a vampire. But just knowing she'd put it up to ward him off struck him in the heart just as though he'd been staked. But he didn't crumble to ash. His body was there, moving around, and only know did he wish it wasn't so.

It wasn't even a bittersweet ending. It was just an end.

He took another swig of vodka. he hadn't meant to buy so much alcohol, but right now the clear liquid was his comfort food. He needed it. Just as much as he'd needed the small blonde Slayer.

"Fuck it all," he muttered, holding the bottle and draining it. And then he opened another bottle, pressed it to his lips and drained that as well. He
repeated the process again and again and again...

And then, nothing.

***

"Go to Los Angeles, Willow," Buffy said, taking the last of the garlic down from her room. "Wesley said they can keep an eye on you up there, better
than I can here. And he'll be able to help you with your withdrawals."

Willow nodded. She looked dull, as though some essence she'd worn proudly had been tarnished. Even though she washed her hair, the red was muted and the hair itself was stringy and limp. Her eyes were no longer bright and she had dark circles under her eyes.

"Buffy, I'm..."

"Please, Will, don't tell me you're sorry. Please don't," she said. Buffy sighed. "I'm not sending you to LA to get rid of you. You need help, and it's not available down here. Angel...he managed to get Faith on the road to redemption, so maybe he can help you not be so dependent on magic. He's
willing to try."

Willow wanted to voice the thoughts in her head: "Which is more than you are." "I'm still so sorry this happened." "Is Dawnie going to say  good-bye?" "Will you accept me back?"

But she stayed silent, watching Buffy take the garlic to the trash. Only one thing could have happened to make her put that up. She and Spike must have had sex, or something along those lines. Something about it had scared her off.

Something...

***

He woke up.

Doyle had never thought he'd ever wake up in a body again. He never thought he'd have a body again. But there he was, lying on the floor of the factory, looking around.

It was empty, and the concrete was cold. The machines the Scourge had been using were gone, and the entire warehouse was devoid of any sign of life; not even the rodents were staying there. And Doyle knew he had to find some life, had to find out what had happened.

***

Willow had the Greyhound ticket in her hand, her bags packed and beside her. It was just getting to be dusk now, and she had already said her good-byes to everyone. Even Tara had said good-bye and given Willow a hug, whispering in her ear that she'd be there when Willow was okay.

That thought didn't even cheer Willow up. There was one last person she wanted to talk to, and maybe get an answer or two.

She knocked on the crypt door, listened to the sound reverberate. No answer. She knocked again and waited. A groan came from inside, a sound of pain and hurt. She pushed open the crypt door and walked inside.

Broken alcohol bottles littered the floor. The stench of days old alcohol hit Willow hard, making her stomach turn. She looked around and saw him.

Spike had a stake in the area of his heart. There was blood pooling under him and Spike was only now regaining consciousness. His head also slightly
resembles a cracked melon.

"Spike!" Willow said. "Don't move."

Spike didn't respond with words, but he stopped moving. There wasn't any wet blood coming out of his wounds, at least from what Willow could see as she got closer, but the stake was dangerously close now to his heart.

"Who did this?"

"Dunno," a slurred voice said.

Willow shook her head and, very carefully, extracted the stake from his heart. "Oh my God, Spike," she said. She looked around, and a decision was
made. "Spike...we're going to Los Angeles."

***

Doyle had walked for a long time. He'd gone to their old offices, only to find rubble. He had no idea where the others were now.

But he did now the date. He knew it had been over a year since his death. He had everything he'd had on him when he died, including money. And he did now something else. He had only twenty-four hours to be on this earth. It was more like twenty-one, now, but it was still a lot.

He had decided to go see his ex-wife, see how things had been going for her. He held his Greyhound ticket in hand, on his way to San Francisco. It was only because he was hungry that he ran into the two visitors from Sunnydale.

He had bent to retrieve his Snickers bar from the vending machine and looked up to see a redhead helping a staggering blonde to a bench outside. He knew that blonde. He was the vampire who'd tortured Angel, all for a ring.

"You!" He yelled towards Willow. "Do you know what he is?"

Willow looked at the man with the funny Irish accent. "Do you?"

"He's a vampire."

"Knew that already." Willow looked at Spike again. "Look...how do you know him, anyway?"

"He did something to my former employer. Had him tortured."

Willow's eyes widened. "Angel?"

"How do you know him?"

"He killed my fish," Willow said absently, then shook her head. "Look, I need to get him to Angel. He's the only one who can get him out of this."

"And why would you be wanting to save the vampire?"

"Because..." Willow thought for a moment. "Because he's not as bad as he was."

Doyle looked at her. "The name's Doyle."

Willow stared. "You're supposed to be dead!"

He shrugged. "Twenty-four hour reprieve. Look, I have no idea where Angel is."

"I do. Flag me a taxi, will you?"

Doyle shook his head. "You flag the taxi. I'll haul the vamp." He stared at Spike. "Are you sure he's not as bad?"

Willow nodded. "I'm very sure."

Doyle lifted Spike up and put an arm around his waist. "I'm trusting you, lass."
 

part 2

Willow took another look at the Hyperion, but was brought back around by Spike moaning again. He looked so much paler than usual. She hoped Angel could help them.

"Get the door, would you?" Doyle asked. He was nervous, shaking almost as much as the blood drained vampire he was holding as upright as he could.

Willow nodded, running up to the door and pounding on it. "Angel! Cordelia! Wesley!"

The door was flung open and Gunn stood in the doorway. "Trying to wake the dead, Willow?"

"Trying to save the undead." She pointed back to Doyle & Spike. "Help get this vampire inside."

Gunn looked at her, but before he could comment, Angel was behind him, looking at Spike and Doyle. "Doyle?"

"Aye. Help me get your childe inside," he said, looking up in time to See Cordelia get to the doorway. "Hey, Princess."

Angel lifted Spike into his arms easily, saying Spike was welcome inside before barging through the doorway. Willow and Gunn, noting the look on
Cordelia's face, dashed in after the two vampires.

"Doyle," she whispered, a stupefied look on her face. "Doyle...you're dead."

"Got a twenty-four hour reprieve, for some reason." He smiled at her. "I missed you, Princess."

Fred appeared behind Cordelia. "Who's he?"

"He's Doyle," Cordelia said offhandedly, running towards him and into his arms. "How long have you got left?"

"About twenty or so hours," he said, giving her a hug and inhaling the scent of her hair. "I want to spend it with you. If I hadn't met Willow or Spike,
I never would have found you."

Cordelia said nothing, simply crying and hugging Doyle tightly.

***

"Willow? What on earth is going on?" Wesley asked, moving away from the computer. "I haven't seen Angel run that fast in ages."

"He has Spike."

"What is Spike doing here?"

She sat down on one of the couches. "It's a long story. I found him almost staked in his crypt. He had a stake right by his heart." She shook her head. "Buffy won't talk about him or to him, and I couldn't think of anywhere else to bring him. I had to roll him over to get the stake out, and he was soaked in blood."

"Who's the guy with the funny accent?" Gunn asked.

"He's Doyle," Fred said, moving from the doorway to the couch. "Cordelia said so."

"But Doyle's dead," Wesley said, rubbing his temples.

"No, he's not," Fred said. "He's outside."

"Fred, he died over a year ago. "

She shook her head. "But he's outside."

Gunn looked at Wesley's face and stood up. "C'mon, Fred. Let's get something to eat."

"Tacos? Chunks of cheese and Ritz crackers?" Fred said, her face lighting up.

"Something like that," Gunn said, throwing a look to Wesley. He nodded, putting his head down in his hands.

"This has gotten much more complicated, I fear, than just you here to help with your magic withdrawals."

Willow nodded. "I can make Spike my responsibility," she said quietly.

"Let's see if we can save him, first."

***

"Drink, damn it!"

Angel held his now slit wrist of Spike's mouth, but Spike just turned his head.

"Stake me."

"You and I are probably the last surviving members of the Order of Aurelis. I am not letting you die without a fight!" Angel lifted Spike's head up.
"Drink."

"No."

"You're going to be wracked by pain, Spike. You're going to eventually shrivel up if you don't drink." Angel said, dropping his head back down.

Spike closed his eyes. "Don't care."

"This has to do with Buffy, doesn't it?"

Spike opened his eyes as quickly as he'd shut them. "What?"

"Willow was telling us how you mourned for her when she died. You wouldn't have done that unless you loved her. Buffy herself told me you'd told her you loved her, after her mother died."

"Then why do you want to save me?"

"You're...family," Angel said quietly.

Spike stared at his grandsire for a beat, then nodded. Angel put his bleeding wrist to Spike's mouth, and Spike drank.

"Did Buffy do this to you?"

Spike didn't answer. he kept drinking.

Angel sighed, wondering how things between Doyle and Cordelia were going.

Doyle. He'd never expected to see him again. And yet he was here, in Angel's home. It was...strange. He knew things like this happened, that dead people in limbo could get a day long reprieve to set affairs in order, but why would he need that?

What caused him to return from the dead?

***

The hug had progressed into a caress, then into a feeling of each other's faces and shoulders. Then the kiss.

It's what Cordelia had been missing for so long, that jolt of passion. She'd been missing Doyle.

She pulled back. "It's...cold out here."

Doyle nodded. "What happened to your place?"

"I still have it. I stay here, sometimes, when we're working late." She took his hand. "There's so much to catch up on, there's so much to talk about--"

"And so little time to do it," Doyle said sadly. What cosmic joke was this to bring him back for just a day when he wanted a lifetime? He took his
spare hand and cupped her cheek. "Tell me everything. Just...let me look at you while you talk. I want to remember this day for eternity."

Cordelia blushed. "We'll make the most of this time. I promise."

"I know we will." He lowered his hand that cupped her cheek. "Shall we go inside?"

Cordelia thought for a moment, then shook her head. "No. We can go to my place. It's too hectic in there. And I don't want to have to share you right now."

He nodded. "All right then, Princess. To your home we go." They started to walk away from the Hotel. "Is that phantom still there?"

"Dennis? He's behaving himself," she said, beginning to tell him all he'd missed since he died, grasping his hand tightly in hers.

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