Lindsey screamed in agony and disbelief. As he fell to the floor, writhing in pain, Angel picked up the scroll that had fallen from his severed hand.

"Don't believe everything you're foretold," Angel said, and walked out with the scroll.
...
Abruptly, without warning, Doyle was free.

As Cordelia sagged in her chains, the prism around him flared with a fiery light and then suddenly faded into nothingness. He leaped toward Drusilla, catching her by surprise and knocking her down.

He shifted into demon form long enough to wrestle the Water of Life out of her hand. To his astonishment, she did not resist.

As he clutched it desperately, she rolled away from him, and laughed.

"Well played, little demon. But remember, there's only enough in there for one."

"That's all I need," he answered grimly, shifting back into human form, and moved toward Cordelia.
...
"Wesley!"

Angel hurried into Wesley's hospital room, scroll in hand. Wesley looked up, and the grim expression on his face suddenly melted into a relieved smile.

"The scroll!"

"We don't have much time." Angel tossed the scroll at Wesley. "I'll go get a wheelchair and get you to Cordelia's room. Start right away, but be careful - the edge is a little burned."

"I'd say. What happened?"

"I'll tell you the whole story later, after we get Cordelia back. Let's just say that a certain young attorney has learned something tonight about the dead hand of the law."

...
In his hand, the Water of Life glowed like a tiny star.

Drusilla had vanished from the room. He was alone with Cordelia.

Quickly, but as gently as he could, he unlocked the cuffs that held her wrists chained to the wall. He wasn't even surprised by the fact that the key was now hanging on the wall beside her, just barely out of her reach. He was fairly sure it hadn't been there before, but it no longer mattered.

She was unconscious now, and limp in his arms. Cradling her, while holding the Water of Life carefully in the palm of his hand, he sank to the floor, cushioning her body with his own.

God, she was beautiful, even like this.

He touched her face and frowned, feeling the weakness of the spark of life within her. She was fading, almost gone.

He brought the vial of the Water of Life to her lips, then stopped, realizing that she was incapable of drinking anything at this point. Maybe he could apply the Water of Life directly on her skin. That should work.

He unstoppered the bottle, and froze, as the fumes from it hit him. His own skin crawled and then suddenly seemed to be on fire, as though just breathing the perfume from that bottle were enough to change him.

"No," he whispered, and frantically began to splash the small amount of liquid from the bottle on Cordelia's face. As he did, his own fingers came into contact with it, and they tingled fiercely. He felt something like a wave of light washing over his body.

"No, not me, not me," he muttered. "It's for her!"

He wouldn't return to life without her. He wouldn't. He ignored the wonderful sensation of warmth that was spreading through his body. That sudden rush, that glow, was not for him. It belonged to her.

He turned the bottle upside down over Cordelia's face, shaking it, trying to make sure that every last drop hit her. She stirred slightly, and moaned, and he sighed with relief .... and then gasped.

It wasn't working. Her body was flickering in his arms. She was starting to become transparent, while he was becoming more solid every moment.

"No!"

Not knowing what else to do, he held her body against his own, trying desperately to transfer the force of life from himself to her. The problem was, he had no idea how.

Somewhere, he could hear Drusilla laughing.

"Come on, princess, come on," he urged, hugging Cordelia to him. "Take this from me, now. I want you to live, please.... please.... Do this one more thing for me."

He bent down and fiercely kissed her unresponsive lips. "Wake up, sweetheart. Please."

She was still flickering, but she sighed softly, and seemed to rouse a little. He kissed her again, hard, and this time there was a faint response.

As he concentrated, the pale blue-violet light began to gather again between them, and he recognized it with joy. Everything he was, everything he had ever been, he would give to her. With all that he could find within him, he tried to pour that energy back into her body, to fill the emptiness with that growing light.

...
At Cordelia's bedside, Wesley recited from the scroll.

"Thou shalt take refuge in the holy words of Anatole as handed down to him by the elders. And thou shalt be restored whole. Three times shalt thou say these words: Unbind. Unbind. Unbind."
...

Cordelia's eyes fluttered open for a moment, and she stared at Doyle. "Do ... I ... know you?" she whispered uncertainly.

"It doesn't matter, princess." The man holding her smiled, although tears were streaming from his eyes. "I know you."

"Princess? She said .... she said I was a queen."

Then, as Cordelia stared in confusion at him, there was a flash of light, and she vanished from his arms.

Doyle was left alone, in the darkness.
...

In her hospital room, Cordelia opened her eyes, and looked uncertainly at the man beside her.

"Hey," he said tenderly.

"Angel?"

"Welcome back."
...

The darkness around Doyle dissolved slowly, fading into a pale, diffuse light. He looked up, blinking.

"Are you ready now?" a gentle voice asked. This time, it was not Drusilla.

He wiped the tears from his eyes and straightened. He had to bite his lip for a moment before he could speak.

"Yeah," he said quietly. "Yeah. I'm ready."

And then, as he rose, there was no darkness at all.

The End