Chapter Five

"I must say, I'm a bit confused. How did we wind up here?"

Doyle looked around at the bare white room where he and Wesley now stood, trying to piece things together. "I'm not quite sure, man." He shrugged, looking down at his hands, which were still mostly transparent. That was good. Because the more "real" he became, the closer Cordelia was getting to losing everything.

"Maybe when you agreed to help me, it was enough to bring you back from the brink, so t'speak." His eyes moved to study the former Watcher more closely. "Though judgin' from the fact tha' I can still see through you as if you were made o' glass, I'd say you're not quite back to your normal self."

Wesley looked down at his body, quite surprised to note that Doyle was right. He was indeed still transparent, much like Doyle was. Then he tore his thoughts away from that uncomfortable subject and focused on figuring out where they were.

They stood together in a small hospital room with blank, white walls. There wasn't much furniture to speak of, save the bed in the middle of the room and the small chair sitting next to it. Sitting in that chair was Angel.

"Angel!" Wesley cried, a feeling of relief flooding through him. He had been worried that he'd never see his friend again after that explosion at the office. But the vampire didn't even look up at Wesley's words. He didn't even seem to notice that anyone else was in the room.

"Angel?" Wesley tried again, more uncertain this time.

"He can't hear you, man."

Doyle's voice cut through the silence of the room, causing Wesley to jump. Looking back at his companion, Wesley demanded, "Why not?"

Doyle didn't answer. He just gestured toward the bed, and the man lying on it - the man wearing Wesley's face.

"What the devil...?" As Wesley stared at his own body lying unconscious on that bed, he was unable to form words.

"See, you're not dead yet, but you're not part o' the livin' world either."

Before Doyle could explain further, Angel stood up and walked out of the room slowly, giving his friend's still form one last glance before he shut the door behind him.

"Where is Angel going?" Wesley asked, latching on to anything that would distract him from the sight of his own battered and bruised body.

Doyle stared at the door that Angel had passed through for a long time before answering Wesley's question. "He's goin' to see Cordelia. She's here in the hospital."

"Well, shouldn't we follow him, then?"

Doyle nodded, though he didn't want to have to see his 'Delia in so much pain again. Every time he saw her like that, so pale and so fragile looking, it tore him up inside. And he wanted more than anything to be able to touch her face, to be able to offer her some sort of comfort. But he couldn't.

Wesley didn't notice Doyle's tortured expression, or if he did, he didn't comment on it. Instead he asked, "How exactly are we supposed to follow him? We don't even know which room they are keeping Cordelia in."

"Yes." Doyle sighed. "We do."

Doyle closed his eyes and envisioned Cordelia's room. And suddenly, before Wesley even realized what was happening, they were there. They'd even managed to beat Angel.

"My goodness, I had no idea that one was able to teleport from one location to another like that after... um... death."

Doyle walked over to Cordelia's side, reaching out to touch her cheek with his fingers. They just passed right through her as if he was made of nothing but air. Doyle smiled ruefully. Had he really expected something else?

Looking up at Wesley with a pain-filled gaze, Doyle whispered, "It might come in handy at times, but I'd give it all up for another chance with her."

He looked back down at Cordelia's face. Her eyes moved rapidly back and forth under her eyelids. He knew what she was seeing. He knew what kind of pain she was in. And it was all his fault.

The door to the hospital room opened and closed with a soft click. Angel walked to Cordelia's side and Doyle moved back to give him room, even though it wasn't really necessary. The vampire could easily occupy the same space as Doyle did. But Doyle didn't like to be reminded of just how dead he really was. Besides, having your best friend walk through you like you weren't even there was disconcerting at best.

Doyle watched as Angel sat down in the chair next to Cordelia's bed and took hold of her hand. How he envied him that simple contact, flesh on flesh, something that Doyle would never have again.

"You told me before that we had to stop Cordelia from trading away her life for yours," Wesley said suddenly, breaking the silence that filled the room. "But just how exactly do you propose we do that?"

Doyle glanced over at his companion briefly before fixing his gaze back on the two people he cared about more than even his own life. "I'm not sure yet," he said slowly. "So far, I didn't really have a plan. I was just gonna play it by ear."

"Play it by ear? That's your plan?" Wesley moaned, burying his face in his hands. "We're doomed."

Doyle didn't bother responding to Wesley. Instead, he focused on the vampire who sat across the room from them. Angel's shoulders were slumped in defeat and his eyes were void of any emotion except despair. It hurt Doyle to see his friend in so much pain. He would do anything to take that pain away.

"So have you been doing this kind of thing for very long?"

Doyle shot Wesley a confused look. "Doin' what?"

Wesley shrugged, as if his meaning was quite obvious. "Watching them."

A pause.

Doyle raised an eyebrow, waiting for Wesley to just spit it out.

"...I mean...er...watching us."

Doyle smirked. "Don't worry, man. I haven't been spyin' on you in the shower or any other such nonsense."

Wesley sighed in relief. "Well, that's good to hear."

Doyle looked back at Angel, his eyes filled with pain. "But, yeah. I have been keepin' tabs on you three. An' just when I thought you were finally gettin' things back together again, it all fell apart."

"How so?"

"What do you mean, 'how so'? If things were so friggin' wonderful, you would be standin' over there next to Angel instead of skulkin' here in the corner wit' me."

Wesley nodded, looking somewhat sheepishly down at his shoes. It was still rather disconcerting to find that he could see the tiles of the floor through them. "Yes, well, that is obvious enough, but I was just wondering... I mean, from the way you put it, it sounded as if things had been 'falling apart' for quite some time now."

Doyle looked Wesley right in the eyes, not flinching, and replied, "They have."

Wesley immediately disagreed, looking quite offended. "I think you're giving yourself just a little too much importance, Doyle. Yes, things haven't been perfect. But we were managing somehow without you."

Doyle sighed. "Yeah, sure. And when you told Angel he wasn't long for this world, he really seemed to give a damn, eh? This isn't just about me. An' it's not about you either, though sometimes you wish it was." He gestured at where Angel sat holding Cordelia's hands in his. "It's about them. It always has been. They're what's important, man! Can't you see tha'?"

Wesley frowned, a wrinkle appearing between his eyebrows. "I'm not sure I understand what you're driving at."

Doyle threw his hands in the air, trying to keep from screaming with frustration. "He can't possibly be tha' dense!" Doyle muttered, too low for Wesley to hear him. Louder, he said, "Let's try this again. I am not what's important here. You are not what's important here. They are what's important. Angel an' Cordelia. We're just here to be sure they come out of this okay. An' in order to do tha', we have to stop 'Delia from makin' the biggest mistake of her life .. an' the last.... an' we have to find a way to tell Angel tha' he'll need the scroll to save her."

"But that's where I'm a bit confused. Exactly what is happening to Cordelia? And why do we need the Scrolls of Aberjian in order to save her?"

Doyle sat down on the floor, pulling his legs underneath him. It still amazed him that he didn't sink through the floor like he did all the furniture, but he wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth. "Well, it's like this. 'Delia thinks she can save me by goin' through the gates of Hell an' findin' the Water of Life..."

"The Water of Life?" Wesley interrupted. "But I thought, I mean...The Water of Life is just a myth...isn't it?"

"No, it's real enough. But to get to the Water, she's got to pass the tests. She's got to pass through seven gates an' make the ultimate sacrifice."

Wesley gulped. "The ultimate sacrifice? That does not sound like a very good thing."

Doyle nodded, looking down at his hands. "You're right, man, it's not a good thing. An' we can't let her do it, either. Not for me. I'm already a dead man."

"All right, I think I must have missed a vital piece of information somewhere during your explanation," Wesley said after a moment of thought. "So could you please tell me just why this is such a terrible thing? What if Cordelia succeeds? She might be able to save both your lives." Giving Doyle a long look, Wesley added, "She misses you, Doyle. More than anything. And, even though he never speaks of it... I know that Angel misses you, too. He would want you to have another chance at life. They both would."

Doyle shook his head, jumping to his feet and starting to pace back and forth. "No, no, no! You don't get it at all, man! This isn't some fairy tale! There's no happily-ever-after option! If 'Delia goes though wit' this, only one o' us will even have a chance at comin' out of it all alive. And it won't be her."

"What do you mean?"

"What I mean is tha' Cordelia's playing against a stacked deck an' she doesn't even know it!"

Wesley frowned. "Go on."

"Drusilla knows good an' well that 'Delia can't win this game. An' she's countin' on it. Because this whole thing, it's one big circle. The very thing that Cordelia is tryin' to get for me is the one thing she needs to save herself. So if she fails to get it, we both die. An' if she succeeds in getting' it, an' then she gives it away t'save me, she'll still die. That is, unless somebody else can find some way to switch it back, so that it goes to her, instead of me. So, she can't bring me back and stay alive, both. The game is rigged against her, man. It's a no-win situation and she doesn't even know it."

Doyle gazed longingly at Cordelia's still form. "Oh Princess," he whispered. "Why are you doin' this for me? I'm not worth it."

Wesley looked away, not wanting to see the pain in Doyle's eyes. Even though it was illogical, he felt partially guilty because of what had happened to Doyle. He sometimes felt like an intruder in Angel and Cordelia's lives, trying to push his way into a space that had never belonged to him in the first place, and he knew it was because of Doyle.

After a minute, Wesley remembered his other question and looked back at Doyle. "But you still haven't explained why the scroll is so important. What does it have to do with any of this?"

Doyle looked back up at Wesley. "If there's one thing I've learned durin' the past few months, it's tha' everythin' in here where we are is connected to somethin' out there, somethin' real. We may be walkin' around in a dream world, but tha' doesn't mean tha' there isn't a rhyme an' reason to it all. It's all connected. An' the second I saw the scroll, I knew what it was."

"How did you know?"

"When I was ...alive, I could smell magic. If I looked at something that was magic, I'd know right off what it was. Seems I still can, maybe even more than before."

Wesley leaned forward curiously. The Watcher in him was fascinated by everything Doyle was telling him, but the rest of him screamed caution. "Well, then what is it?"

"It's the one thing tha' can save 'Delia. It's the real world's version of the Water of Life."

Wesley shook his head stubbornly, "But it...she..." he sputtered, trying to make sense of it.

"Look, I know it sounds completely whacked, but it's the truth, man! Cordelia's been marked. She's been claimed by Death already, y'see - she just doesn't know it yet. The only thing that can wipe out that mark is the Water of Life, here, and the scroll, there."

Seeing the look of confusion on Wesley's face, Doyle continued impatiently: "Look, it's like this. Part of the game they're playin' is, Cordelia was forced to come here, to escape from the neverendin' parade of visions tha' are stompin' through her mind. An' to leave this place, and to be able to get back to her body and to break out o' the visions, she needs to get the Water of Life."

Wesley nodded slowly, "All right, she needs the Water of Life, but why?"

"She needs it because the Water of Life represents the scroll. They're like one an' the same, just on different planes of existence. They're both the opposite to that mark that was put on her. It's like, an antidote to poison, y'get what I mean? They're her way out. So if she uses one of 'em where she is..."

"...then the other needs to be used in the real world!" Wesley concluded, snapping his fingers.

"Yeah," Doyle said heavily. "Otherwise all that happens outta this whole thing is that she and I switch places, and I'm not gonna let that happen. I can't let that happen."

"Of course! It all makes perfect sense." Wesley straightened up a bit, his mind eagerly grasping at this new idea. "I must say, I would love to study all of this in greater detail..."

Giving the Brit a hard look, Doyle quickly interrupted his train of thought. "Story time's over now, bud. It's time for action."

"But what action?"

"First of all, we've gotta get you back where you can do some good."

Wesley nodded and began to pace the length of the room, forcibly moving his thoughts away from the academic thrill of this new information, toward developing a plan. A look of fierce determination came over his face and he asked, "Angel must be told about the scroll, correct?"

At Doyle's affirming nod, he continued, "So then, how can I wake myself up?"