"Are you all right?"

Angel blinked and saw - Kate Lockley. Good God. He hadn't thought of her in forever.

She wore a trenchcoat over her jeans; probably she was still with the police force. How far back had he gone?

"Angel? You don't look so good."

"I'm fine," he said, blinking hard. "How have you been?"

"Since five minutes ago? Just great."

He could feel her skeptical stare on him as he pushed himself up from the chair - which was in the police station, her office, late at night. The disorientation he'd struggled with during all of his background leaps seemed even stronger now; had he finally gone too far, too fast?

Angel breathed in, trying to place himself in time through the clues around him. Kate had moved away from Los Angeles not long after she left the force; he'd gotten a couple of awkwardly worded postcards from San Francisco, where at last report she was working as a PI and enjoying herself a lot more. She'd left town a month after his epiphany, so - it was before that. But he'd known her for more than a year and a half at that point. Could this be just after he'd moved to Los Angeles? Surely he hadn't gone quite that far. But how could he tell?

Then he breathed in again, realizing that the smells were just slightly off - his clothing hadn't been laundered in too long. His shoes were muddy, the way he let them get back in the days when nobody was around to care about how he looked. And normally, his clothes carried just a slight whiff of the people he spent all this time with, be that Fred or Gunn or Cordy or Wes. He couldn't detect any of them on him now.

Fred - God, she'd still be in Pylea. But the others -

This is after I fired them, he realized. After I fired them, but before my epiphany.

Okay, not the greatest time period to be in. But at least he knew where to start working again.

"Did you not hear what I said?" Kate tilted her head to one side, her cornsilk hair falling over one cheek. "I think the zombie cops might've gotten to you."

Zombie cops. Angel started doing calculations in his head. When had he fought the zombie cops again? "They didn't get to me. I'm just tired. What did you say?"

"Wesley Wyndham-Price - he's a friend of yours, right?"

"Yes, he is." Why would Kate be asking him about Wesley? Then Angel remembered: Zombie cops. The shooting, Oh, no. 

"I'm afraid he's been -"

Her voice trailed off behind him as Angel ran out of the police station.

"-hurt."

**

It took him no time to get to the hospital. Angel still knew the one to go to, still remembered the floor Wesley would be on.

He lingered outside the room for a while, hearing through the wall their muted conversation. Wesley wasn't speaking much, and his voice was weak when he did. But Gunn's laughter and Cordelia's gentle murmuring told the rest of the story. Wesley would recover. He would grow strong again. And then they would restart their own agency. Something investigations. They didn't know what.

Angel didn't interrupt them. He waited, as long as it took, for Cordelia to come out of the hospital room. She held a couple of soda cans, obviously destined for the trash, and the circles beneath her eyes were dark. Her hair was odd, or so it seemed to Angel; he hadn't seen much of her with that haircut, the shag sort of thing. Not that her hair was all that important, of course; Angel recognized nervous distraction, even in himself.

She only saw him after a few seconds. Cordelia was tired too.

"What do you want?" she demanded. Her voice was hard.

"To see if Wesley's okay."

"He is. No thanks to you."

This was not entirely accurate - Angel remembered destroying the zombies, even if there was no way for Cordelia and the others to know that - but he couldn't defend himself, not if he was going to make any headway, and not if he was going to be truly honest. "There's something I want to say to you."

"And what would that be?" She crossed her arms, clearly livid. Angel remembered how this conversation had gone before, and he remembered her anger well. But he hadn't ever seen the vulnerability that was in her eyes too - had he really been so blind? "This should be good."

"I hope so," Angel said quietly. "Cordelia, I was wrong about everything. I was wrong to fire you, wrong not to listen to you about Darla, and wrong to think that I didn't need you. Because I do. I need you back."

She blinked, clearly caught off guard. "It's too late," Cordelia said, but her response was automatic; Angel could tell her heart wasn't in it.

"It's never too late," he said, believing it not only because of the golden device in his pocket, but because he'd lived the truth.

"What, you want us to come work for you again? Well, you can think again, because -"

"That's not what I'm asking for." Angel had humbled himself before; he would be happy to do it again. Groveling on his knees would be a pleasure, if he could just be with Cordelia again. And Wesley. All of them. "I'll come work for you. Or - if that's too much or too soon - all I want is to know you again. Just to earn the chance to be your friend once more. You give me humanity, Cordelia. You make me whole."

Tears were welling in her eyes now, but she stepped backwards from him, wobbling on her platform shoes. "Don't. Just - don't. You say all this stuff that I wish you would say, but -- but I can't trust you."

Maybe he should have let her go. He had time for this reconciliation to occur more slowly, as it had the first time around; the others were reasonably safe for the time being, and Wesley would take a while to recuperate, so what was the point of rushing things?

But Angel had been forced to know that Cordelia was dead three times in the past four days. He couldn't let her walk away from him now, not without a fight.

"I'll do anything," he said. "Anything, Cordy. Name it. I'll sing for Lorne-"

"What, now you're threatening me?"

"-I meant, to test my sincerity." Would Lorne be able to see the leaps through time? Angel thought he probably would, and wondered how much of it he might share. "I'll clean your house. I'll buy you clothes. I'll do anything you want, please, just believe me."

She rubbed the back of her hand against her cheeks, angrily wiping away tears. "If you know all this now, why didn't you know it a few weeks ago? Why did you send us away? Why didn't you listen?"

"Because I was a fool." That wasn't the truth, though - not the whole truth, anyway. And Angel could tell that nothing but truth would convince her now. "Cordelia, when I saw Darla, and I saw that she was alive again - it was like something in me that had been dead for too long rose up."

"Yeah, I know what rose up." Cordelia snorted. "Men."

"That's not what I -- listen, okay? The question that I live with, every day, is whether or not redemption is even possible for something like me. When I saw that Darla was alive again, human again, I knew that she had that chance. Even if I didn't, she did. And if someone who had done just as much evil as I had done could begin again, then it was possible for me too."

Cordelia studied his face carefully. "You thought - if she could be redeemed, then you could too?"

"Yeah. And I fought for it - like I was fighting for myself." He remembered the too-brief hour he and Darla had spent in her cheap motel room after the Trial he had undergone for her; she had been willing to die then, a human being once more. If only he had recognized that hour for what it was: Her soul's redemption, complete. "It doesn't excuse what I did. But I wanted you to understand why."

"I don't understand," Cordelia insisted. "We tried to tell you - we kept trying to tell you -"

"I didn't listen. I wouldn't. I will pay the price for that as long as I have to, and I'll never stop being sorry." Angel risked taking a step closer to her. "But please don't shut me out of your life forever. Take as long as you want. Demand whatever you want. Just say there's a chance. Please, Cordy."

She started crying even harder, truly sobbing now, and Angel fully expected to be pushed away. But instead, she choked out, "I hate this, you know? I hate caring about you. It's not good for me."

"No, it's not." Angel knew Cordelia couldn't have known how painfully true her words were. But the many deaths she'd known because of her role as his Seer, his friend and his love were all fresh in his heart, and he felt his throat tightening. "I'll even leave you, if that's what you want, but not until you tell me -"

Tell him what?

Cordelia grabbed his hand so tightly he felt as though bones might break. He didn't care. It felt better than anything in the world. "You have to do better. You have to promise," she sobbed. "Promise, Angel-"

"I promise, I promise, I -"

Her arms slid around his neck, and Angel hugged her close. For a dizzying moment he longed to kiss her, then remembered that this Cordelia wouldn't necessarily welcome that. And God knew he'd thrown enough at her already. He'd asked so much of her - and, once again, Cordelia hadn't let him down. "I'm so sorry," he whispered into her shoulder. "I'll make it up to you. I'll spend forever making it up to you."

"You big dork," she said, and it was the most loving thing Angel had heard in a long time.

**

She let him apologize to Gunn next, while she explained the situation to Wesley. Gunn, predictably, didn't throw his arms around Angel's neck or weep; in fact, he seemed altogether unimpressed with the situation. "We were doing just fine without you. I want to be perfectly clear on that," Gunn said, but he added, "Still, I guess if you got your act together, we could do even better with you."

"The act is together," Angel promised. "You'll see."

Later, Cordelia led him to Wesley's bedside. Angel had seen Wesley in other hospital beds, for even worse reasons than this; it didn't ever get any easier. "Cordelia's relayed your - regrets," he said. "I admit, I'm surprised."

"You deserve your own apology," Angel said. Swallowing his pride seemed to get easier with practice.

"An apology isn't what I want. I need something far more demanding from you, not words, but time." Wesley's head sank back into the pillow, as though saying just those words had exhausted him. "I want to see you live this resolution of yours, instead of merely saying it."

"You'll see it," Angel promised. "Also, I want to talk to you guys about a vampire hunter called Holtz at our next opportunity. Very manipulative. We should go over this, seriously."

"Ohhh-kay," Cordelia said. "I think Wesley isn't the only one who's a little too tired to make sense. Wes, why don't we let you get some sleep, all right? Charles is going to stay here with you, and Virginia's coming by first thing in the morning."

"Charles must have drawn - the short straw," Wesley murmured, but the painkiller in his system was already winning out over consciousness.

"Come on," Cordelia whispered, taking Angel's arm and steering him out the door. "We should go."

"Where?" Angel said. "Do you want to go to the Hyperion?"

"No. I mean, maybe. Not now." She kept holding on to his arm as they walked through the hospital hallways, a nice sensation that gave Angel hopes for the future. Had his feelings for her already begun to change at this point? Had hers? They were both too good at the art of denial for him to pinpoint the beginning of their romance with any accuracy.

"Caritas, maybe," Angel suggested. "No singing, I promise. But we could get a drink. Catch Lorne up on the latest."

"So that guy's name is Lorne? With the horns?" She considered that. "Well, I guess it fits. But no, I don't feel like going out. It's been a long night, you know?"

"Definitely." Angel hadn't actually slept for any length of time since - how could he say it? Three days ago? Since just after he'd shut off Cordelia's ventilator? 2003? "I could use some rest."

Cordelia said, "So let's go to my place. I mean, you can drop me off at my place."

"Okay." He felt a smile spreading across his face. "I'll have to be sure to say hello to Phantom Dennis. It's been a while."

"Guess it has." Cordelia's gaze met his, but only for a moment, as though she still didn't trust him enough to look him straight in the eye. "I'm not done being mad at you. You know that, right?"

"I know that." After losing Cordelia so terribly, even being on the receiving end of her anger was a pleasure.

"But I'm glad we can finally start moving past this. And that you're never going to worry about Darla again."

Darla -

Then it hit him.

He hadn't slept with Darla. Now he wouldn't sleep with Darla. But if they never had sex again, that meant that Connor -

--his son -

--would never be born.

"No."

"What did you say, Angel?" Cordelia looked up at him quizzically. They were standing just at the hospital door, the EXIT sign's glow turning her hair a rich red.

Angel shook off his disorientation; he knew what he had to do now, and the sooner he got it over with, the better. "Let me drive you home. Then I'm going to go back to the hotel, clean some stuff up, get it ready for you guys - if you want to come back, that is."

"Like we could ever afford that much floor space anywhere else in L.A." Cordelia studied his face for a moment. "Is that everything?"

"Everything."

Lying to Cordelia wasn't any easier when he had a good reason.

**

His fist slammed into the apartment door once, twice, three times. Before the fourth, it swing open to reveal Lindsey McDonald, every bit as smug as Angel remembered. "Well, well, well. Looks like I've got a visitor."

"That's not all you've got," Angel said, charging at him -

--only to bounce off the invisible barrier across Lindsay's door.

He fell solidly to the floor, Lindsey's laughter in his ears. "What the hell was that? Did you just forget the invitation rule? After three centuries? Angel, I must say, that's pretty pathetic."

That's right, Angel thought. I don't have an invitation yet. "I know Darla's in there," Angel said, climbing back on his feet and trying not to look as embarrassed as he felt. "You're hiding her from everyone, even the partners. But you can't hide her from me."

Lindsey's smile was a little less smug, now. "You're obsessed. You're out of your mind."

"I was. But not anymore. And I know Darla's in there."

"That's my boy," Darla whispered, appearing behind Lindsey. For his part, Lindsey looked appalled that she'd revealed herself, but he said nothing. She wore only a satiny red bathrobe, neck open almost to the waist, leg exposed up to the thigh. "I should have known you'd find me."

Her throaty voice held no more allure for Angel, but he took it as a good sign. She still wanted him. Of course. Good. They could get this over with faster. "Come out here."

"She's not going anywhere with you," Lindsay said, oblivious to the fact that he had no more to offer the conversation. Darla's black eyes were all for Angel now, and in the heat of her gaze he remembered the power she'd held over him.

And he remembered the woman she'd been at the end, illuminated by their son's soul, giving up her existence to save Connor -

--her red lips twisted in a smile that was as wicked as it was seductive. "I don't have to go anywhere," Darla purred. "You let me live here, remember, Lindsey? That means I have the power to invite anyone in." Her finger crooked toward Angel. "Come here, lover."

Angel barreled through the doorway, now free to plunge through and tackle Lindsey to the ground. Lindsey's fist smacked into his jaw - a weak, useless, human maneuver. In response, Angel slammed Lindsey's head against the floor, hard. The man's eyes rolled in his head, and he passed out cold.

"Do you want to drink first?" Darla whispered, brushing her fingertips along his shoulder. "Or shall I?"

"No drinking," Angel commanded. He got to his feet and kicked the door shut behind them. "I'm tying him up and putting him in the closet. And then-"

"Then what, my darling boy?" Her eyes sparkled with anticipation.

"I want you." It was true, if not in the way Darla thought. His body felt utterly uninspired at the moment, but Angel knew he could do it. To have his son again, it would be worth it.

Darla's smile was uncertain. "You're so strange," she said. "I would've thought - well. Maybe, without your friends, you're lonely."

"They're working with me again," Angel said. He wouldn't deny them, not even to her, not even now. "We've been putting this off since the first second we saw each other again. You know it and I know it. Let's do this, Darla."

"And get it over with?" Her displeasure was clear - but in another moment she relaxed. "You'll loosen up after we've banged that nasty soul out of you."

Angel set to work binding Lindsey's hands and feet; if Lindsey awoke in the closet, he would have both a nasty headache and an earful. Too bad for him. Remembering Lindsey's enduring nastiness, Angel gave him an extra-hard shove with his foot before he slammed the closet door shut.

Then he stalked into Lindsey's bedroom - maybe it was right, even just, that this would happen in Lindsey's bed instead of his own - shedding his coat as he went. When he stepped inside, Darla was already splayed out on the bed, already naked to his gaze.

Her body was so perfect - white and cold and hard, like a marble statue. In the dim light, the scars from the burning he'd given her barely showed at all. Memory served him well, reminding him of a thousand nights of lovemaking they'd shared; it gave his body the thrill he needed to begin.

"That's my boy," she whispered, licking her lips as he began pulling off his shirts. "Come to me."

And then he was on her, kissing her hard, palming her breasts with almost brutal strength. Darla cried out, half in pain, half in pleasure, as he pinned her arms down and forced her thighs open with his own. To hell with foreplay - she didn't need it, he didn't want it, and he just wanted to fuck her, to fuck her and make their child and be done with her, forever and ever.

Angel rammed himself inside her, ignoring her cries of delight, ignoring the coldness that surrounded him, so unlike a living woman's heat.  He shut his eyes, trying not to see or to hear, not to do anything but feel, so that he could get it over with faster.

Darla pretended to fight him; she was laughing, so he knew she didn't mean it, but she wanted to see savagery from him once more. Angel gave it to her, slamming her against the headboard, holding her down, biting into her neck and shoulder and gulping in her blood. They knocked the lamp off Lindsey's bedside table; he could see the phone's receiver dangling loose. The sheets tore beneath his fingers as he braced himself far above, thrusting into her harder, again and again, seeking only oblivion, and the life of his son.

**

He slept longer afterward than he would've liked.

By the time he awoke, Darla was already up and impatient; when he proved to still have his soul, she was no more thrilled than he had been the first time. Angel, unconcerned with her moods and not blessed with the epiphany that had made the morning after bearable before, stuck to simple instructions.

"If you're ever - afraid -"

"Afraid?" Darla spat at him. "Who do you think I am? Did you gain a soul at the expense of your wits?"

"If you're ever confronted with something - unique, something you don't understand, come to me." Angel found his coat where he'd dropped it on the living room floor. From within the closet, he could hear a faint rustling; Lindsey had survived the night, then. He'd have to figure out what to do with that guy later. "I mean it, Darla. No matter how strange it is, or how confusing you think it will be, I'll be there for you."

"That's incredibly heartwarming," Darla said. "I'll contact the people at Hallmark. They might want you to issue a line of cards."

"Stranger things have happened."

As he went to the door, Darla said, quietly, "You used me."

"And you used me." Angel hesitated and looked back at her; what of the emotion there was real? He still remembered her, drawing him up from his grave; there was a place in his heart that only she would ever know. "This time I had a good reason. That's the only excuse I've got."

"You'd better practice making excuses," she murmured, and something about that sounded altogether too confident for Angel, But he didn't look back as he went out the door.

He made his way back to the Hyperion through the sewers, having a few rats as he went. The combination of having sex with Darla and this mode of transportation made him long for a shower, and he promised himself a long, hot one as soon as he got back to the hotel.

But as soon as he walked into the lobby, he realized he wasn't alone.

"Hello?" Angel called. "Who's there?"

As he walked to the center of the lobby, he saw Cordelia sitting behind the counter. There were tear tracks on her cheeks, but she wasn't crying, at least not any more. She was still and silent as he crossed the floor toward her.

"Cordy?"

"The hotel is filthy," she said.

He looked around, remembering the truth of her words even as he saw it. During the weeks he'd been on his own, he hadn't bothered cleaning up much. The banister was dusty, the floor dingy. "Yeah, I guess it is."

"You said you were coming back to clean up." Cordelia still wasn't looking directly at him. "You didn't clean up."

"I didn't think you'd be here so early," Angel said. He hadn't expected to see her here at all, not for a few days. But already, the fact that he'd have to explain where he was - that he'd have to lie again - had begun to weigh upon him, oppressive as her silence.

After too long a pause, Cordelia said, "No, I don't guess you did."

Angel waited for her to ask where he'd been, but she didn't. Standing there in front of her, with Darla's scent still on him, he felt ashamed despite himself. Maybe it had been necessary to give life to Connor once more - but it still felt wrong, even more now that he understood how he felt for Cordelia.

"Is Wesley all right?" he said at last. Memory told him that Wesley should be on the mend, but he couldn't understand why she'd come by.

"He was still in stable condition when I called this morning," Cordelia said. "I called, and I was going to go straight to the hospital. But when I woke up, I was just so - happy. Because you were back. And I couldn't wait to be with you again. I drove right over."

"I'm sorry I wasn't here."

Cordelia finally looked at him, the pain in her eyes overwhelming. "I am too, Angel. Especially considering where you actually were."

Angel stared at Cordelia, unwilling to believe. How could she know? Did she have a vision?

Then she reached over and snapped the MESSAGE button on the answering machine. The recording captured the moans of a couple making love - of him and Darla.

The phone had been off the receiver. Darla had done this on purpose, because he'd told her his friends were back with him - he'd told her that, and why the hell had he told her that, and oh, shit, Cordelia had listened to the entire thing -

"Cordy - I can explain."

"You don't have to, Angel. I'm a big girl." She pushed herself away from the counter. "You didn't show up all homicidal, so apparently you've still got your soul. Guess that's cause for celebration, huh?"

"Please - Cordelia -"

"Stop it!" Her hand closed over a bag that she'd apparently brought with her, but it tumbled to the floor; she was trembling too hard to hold on to it. Instead of picking it up again, Cordelia began running for the door, blinded with tears. "It's my fault for thinking that you'd changed. For believing in you."

"You don't understand." No, please no, he was so close, so incredibly close -

"If Darla's what you want, have her." She paused at the door, her hair wild, her eyes red. "But don't you ever - ever - come near any of us again. Or, I swear to God, I will stake you myself."

The door slammed shut behind her, and Angel was once again alone.

From the answering machine, the sound of his lovemaking with Darla continued to play for a moment longer until Angel shut it off. He still didn't regret what he'd done; if he had to do it for Connor to be born, then, well, he'd had to do it.

But why had he been so stupid about it? Why tell Darla about his friends, and give her both the knowledge she needed to hurt him and the motive to try? Why hadn't he just told Cordelia about the time-shifting device?

If he could explain it to her now -

No. It would be far too difficult to explain. Months or years from now, perhaps, his friends would listen to him again. But until then, Angel would be on his own.

Could he possibly hope to find Fred in Pylea by himself? What would happen when Holtz returned? Angel knew he hadn't been able to protect baby Connor on his own; without Gunn and Wes and Cordelia, Holtz would have finished Darla off in the last days of her pregnancy, no matter how hard Angel tried to stop it.

Slumping into the nearest chair, Angel pulled the device out and stared at its golden surface. "I never meant to go back this far," he said. "I didn't think I'd have to."

Expecting an answer was useless. Gritting his teeth, Angel held it up to his face and slowly, ever so slightly, turned the dials again.

**

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