Chances Are
by Melissa Flores
Email: mistyjox@hotmail.com
Doyle comes to Cordelia to save a dying Angel, and the original members of the Scooby Gang are thrown into a darker Los Angeles in search for Angel's life, and redemption in themselves.

Cordelia. We don't mention her, but I can see it in his eyes that he thinks about her, even when he's telling me he loves me.

I thought I could make him happy, I swore I would. These past ten years, had my own dreams, dreams that I could make him happy, now that he was free to love me. I wanted to see that loving expression, the carefree one I got before he opened the door and I came back into his life.  It's not there anymore.

It makes me jealous, makes me wonder if it's me, it I bring out the sadness in him. What was so special about her that she could make him happy and I can't?

I had wanted a normal life, ever since I was chosen, I envied that from her, I had wanted her normal life so badly, until I got it.

We traded places then, me the wife of an aspiring doctor, her, here, in Los Angeles, day to day, with Angel.

God, sometimes I hate  her, I hate her so much. What was so special about her? This was Cordelia! She complained when she broke a nail, she used to annoy the hell out of everyone, and she just grew on them, like some fungus!  And Angel, my beautiful Angel, who had once told me he'd always be with me, he'd always loved me, chose her over me, over coming back and starting over with me.

Yes, I'm bitter. But I'm great at the denial thing. During the night, when we're working side by side, I'll ignore that look in Doyle's eyes, the fierce beating in my heart that I'm not good enough, I ignore it all, until I believe in myself again, until I think that just maybe, I'm the Buffy of before.

But when I'm lying here, listening to him toss and turn, dreaming about her, I feel my doubts creep up, my anger consume me, and my helplessness driving me to tears.  I look at myself, at what I've become, and I cringe.

When did I become the bitch?  That was always Cordelia, it was never me, it was never supposed to be me, I didn't deserve it, I don't.

This doubt that I don't deserve Angel needs to leave, because I do deserve him, I know it, and I know he loves me.

But, God, Cordelia.  Why does he still dream about you?"
 

--

The smell of sulfur had always made her gasp.

The trio that had once consisted of three brunettes had now a blonde in their midst instead, and the Slayer wrinkled her nose against the scent, the familiar anticipation of the fight slowly coming alive in her blood as they crouched in the edge of the cave. The blackness engulfed them sufficiently as they watched the ritual that would culminate in the death of two young children.

"Well?"

Angel, her lover, shrugged at her soft whisper.

"Can you handle those three?" he whispered back, and Buffy felt herself grimace slightly in irritation that he even had to ask. Of course she could. She as the Slayer, wasn't she? The fact that she had only recently come out of retirement not withstanding.

Instead of commenting, Buffy only nodded softly, sliding off her coat, turning to the the half demon on her right.

"Doyle?"

"I got those two," he said evenly, in that impersonal, toneless voice he always used with her. As always, she chose to ignore it.

"You ready?"

Angel nodded, never looking at her as he squeezed her shoulder and moved away from their shelter.  Buffy watched him leave, and took a breath, counting silently.

On the third beat, she jumped up, surprising the group of Druids that had congregated around the sacrifice.

"Hey guys!" A trademark Buffy smile slid onto her face as she vaulted over the rock, landing in a fighting posture that felt very famliar. God it was great to be back again. Faces flickered up at surprise, and the crack of broken bones filled the air as the Slayer swung her leg and slammed her heel into one druid's jaw.

Angel engaged his immediately, his face distorted to that of a demon as he growled, punching at his with a rage that seemed to overwhelming as he knocked out the weaker one and proceeded to move toward the leader of the congregation.

A fierce backhand sent the man reeling, and with a bloodlust he had never been quite able to conquer, Angel growled, jumping after him, throwing the hood back.

The druid's face was revealed, a horrid scar tore at his face, rounding his cheek and over his neck.  His eyes glittered with rage, his blood flooding from his cut.  His eyes focused on Angel, and his mouth widened into that of an evil smile.

"Angelus," he breathed. "You think I know you not?" The laugh that followed was cut short as he doubled over in pain, taking a precious moment to breathe as Angel grabbed him by the neck.

The dark vampire flipped the face back, exposing the neck, only to discover the druid lost in chanting.  Confused, Angel paused, until the dark eyes of the druid opened and Angel felt a searing bolt flush through him, making him lose his grip, stumble back.

Oh, God.  Pain and agony filled him, flashing spots of blinding pain, and he gasped as he fell to the ground.

The druid rose, clutching at his stomach. "Take your curse, Angelus," he spit.  "You blasphemy. May you suffer and die."

Glancing at the fighting around him, he moved quickly and painfully from the cave. Buffy and Doyle did not see him.

Doyle dispatched his easily, sustaining only a cut on one arm. Buffy was done with hers seconds later.  Turning to her lover, her heart froze.

"ANGEL!" She ran to his form, the thrashing body jerking almost grotesquely.  His game face flickered on and off, and his face  the picture of haunted agony.

"Oh, God, Angel." Buffy gathered his thrashing form to her. His hand thrashed, hitting her straight in the face and causing her to fall back. She rose immediately holding on to his painful form. Fear filled her as she looked at her lover's form.

"DOYLE!" she cried out, tears falling from her cheeks. "DOYLE!"

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