Where Memories Lead:
Taking Chances
by Gem

Part One

"They lied to you, man. It’s not the same curse. You're not the same."

The words died away into a whisper as Angel was jolted into the waking world once more. He sat up with a start, wiping the sweat from his brow as he tried to clear the unbidden images from his head. Since Doyle’s death last month, he’d had many dreams, but recently they all seemed to revolve around his friend’s final words. What he thought he had heard couldn’t be true Doyle wouldn’t have kept something like that from him. And yet...he used his dying breath to say it. Why would he lie at that moment, when all was on the line with no second chances?

Angel knew he would have no peace until he discovered the truth for himself.

Cordelia Chase slowly sorted the mail at her desk, not really paying attention to what was written on any of the envelopes, until she came across one addressed to Francis Doyle. The tears she thought she’d dispensed with for the day began again, just as she heard the lift from Angel’s apartment start to ascend. Hastily she wiped her eyes and tried to look busy. She knew Doyle’s death had hit Angel hard as well, especially since it came on the heels of the whole Buffy in LA debacle. As much as she tried to deny it, Angel had become her best friend since she moved to LA. She wanted to make things a little easier on him right now, not more difficult.

"Good, you’re here. Cordelia, can I...can we talk about Doyle? I hate to bring this up now, but those last few words he said...did you hear what I heard?"

Angel knew Cordelia was grieving as much as he, probably more so. Her relationship with Doyle had been mostly promise, with no seeming hurry to make more of it. They thought they had all the time in the world, until it ran out. Now she was left with so many regrets about wasted chances, and Angel felt selfish asking her to relive her moment of loss so that he might not waste one. But if he was right...the whole world opened up for both him and someone who meant more to him than his own life.

Cordelia sighed as she pushed away the unread mail and looked up at Angel. "We’ve been over this, Angel. He said the curse was different, but he didn’t go all Giles about it. I mean he was dying, he didn’t have much breath for details. Or don’t you remember what that’s like?"

She regretted her words immediately, but there was no way to erase the flash of hurt she saw reflected in Angel’s eyes.

"Cordelia, I’m sorry," he said a moment later. "I shouldn’t have brought it up it was insensitive of me. I just want to understand..."

"For the gazillionth time, call Giles. Maybe he can explain it. Or Willow she’s the one who actually cursed you."

"You were there, though," he insisted. "What happened? Was there anything unusual, or..."

"Like I attend cursings every day! And excuse me, but unlike some people in the room, this is still my first century on earth. I wasn’t there for your first blast of gypsy mojo, so how would I know if Willow put her own spin on it?" Cordelia grabbed a stack of papers and started filing them, a sure sign of the depth of her distress.

"Does she still have Jenny’s disk, or the printout? Maybe I could see something you might have missed." Angel began to pace, trying to work out a plan to discover the truth while involving as few people as possible. The fewer who knew, the less chance of her finding out.

"Hello! Also old news," Cordelia said impatiently as she slammed the cabinet drawer closed, files still protruding from it. "She went off book. One minute she’s Willow speaking English, and the next she’s channeling in Romanian. The published version of that curse isn’t going to be a lot of help to you without her. I’m sure she wouldn’t tell Buffy if you asked her not to."

Angel glanced sharply at his assistant, whose brains were sometimes overlooked in favor of her more obvious attributes. "What makes you think..."

"Oh puh-leeze! Like there is anything you do that doesn’t involve her in some way or another. I bet you even chose this building because you thought she’d like it, not that she’ll ever live here because you’re too stubborn to admit you’re perfect for her, but...Oz!"

"Oz what?" Angel had been about to object to her all too accurate assessment of his motives when her non sequitur took him by surprise.

"Oz can help with the curse. He’s got like a photographic memory, only it’s for sound. He can remember all sorts of stupid stuff he’s heard for just ages. Devon said it really helped the band, except when he’d remember exactly how many times they screwed up a song, and how badly. This one time..."

"Cor," he interrupted her, as she often did to him, "how can I reach him? Willow told me he dropped out of school and left town."

"Christmas, remember? You gave me some book about Bette Davis I'll never read and I gave you that tie you hate."

Angel stared intently at the mail on Cordelia's desk. "I don't hate it," he said defensively. "I just haven't had a reason to wear it yet. And I thought you said you liked the book. She was a great actress, you know."

"Bette Davis? What about Demi Moore, pre-head shaving of course. She makes buckets of money, so she must be good." Cordelia rolled her eyes at the total cluelessness of men. "Whatever. Anyway, I’m sure he went home. Let me call Devon, he’ll know."

A half-hour and several long-distance bills later, she reported success.

"Oz is staying with his aunt and uncle for the holidays, since his parents are kind of mad at him for dropping out of college when it took him an extra year to get in. I called his Aunt Maureen and they’ll be expecting you and Anya tonight."

"Why Anya? Who is Anya?" Angel was more than a little confused by Cordelia’s swift arrangements. He wasn’t quite sure he was ready to change his life so drastically and so quickly.

"Vengeance demon? Reformed one, anyway. Xander’s newest attempt to replace me. You met her when she brought Vampire Willow over from the other dimension. Ring any bells yet?"

"Oh, that one. Yeah, actually I saw her the last time I was in...why do I need her?"

"Do you speak ancient Romanian? I know I don’t."

"And she does?"

"She’s eleven hundred years old," Cordelia said flatly. "She probably invented it."

"And she’ll help? Without telling...anyone?"

Cordelia felt her heart contract when she saw the fear in his eyes. He tried so hard to help people, to make everyone else’s life better, but he was afraid to help himself because he felt unworthy. Suddenly he might have a chance at happiness, and all he could think about was how it might hurt Buffy if it didn’t work. All the secrecy was to protect her, not him Cordelia had no doubt of that.

"She’s basically out for herself, but I’m sure I can explain how helping you and Buffy get back together will help her relationship with Xander. Besides, right now she probably sees you as another man who deserted his girlfriend. You are much safer if you clue her in."

Anya was able to help them, but to say she was willing would be stretching the point.

"I have a life, you know," she had wailed into the phone earlier that day. "More to the point, I have a date. I can't just drop everything at a moment's notice. I have to exfoliate!"

"Welcome to my world," Cordelia sighed in reply. "Angel can’t drive during the daylight, the full moon is tomorrow night and Oz is staying with the furry side of the family for the holidays. If you don’t see him tonight, you’ll probably interrupt some family bonding time over killing chickens tomorrow. I tell you, the hardest part of my job is scheduling."

For his part, Angel quickly came to regret Cordelia's choice of assistants. When he met Anya outside her dorm, he was greeted with "You're way too good looking. Why wasn't I ever called out on a heartbreaker like you? Oh, right, most of your dates didn't survive the dumping." Conversation went downhill from there.

She criticized his motives ("Is this really all for Buffy, or do you have some other poor deluded female stashed in the coffin back in LA?"), his character ("So, fear of commitment can outlast death? Good to know") and even his driving ("I was born before they discovered America, let alone the suburbs, but even I know 'STOP' is just a suggestion"). It was her last comment, however, that cut the

deepest."You must be awfully good in bed for Buffy to forgive you so much. Imagine what she'd forgive Xander if she knew him like I do!"

It was the longest ten minutes of Angel's life.

He could have wept with relief when they reached Aunt Maureen's door and Oz was there to greet them. They were quickly ushered to the basement so they could talk in private.

"I’ll be glad to help if I can," Oz offered as he opened up the mini-fridge, "but I may not pronounce stuff too well. Is that going to matter? I know sometimes leaning on the wrong chord can totally change the mood of a song." He gestured to the contents of the refrigerator in a silent offer of refreshment. Angel shook his head to refuse.

"I should be able to compensate for your inadequacies," Anya replied crisply. "No, not that one! The diet." She had a strong urge to relive her glory days by torturing these two runaway Romeos, but she kept her eye fixed on the prize: Xander, all to herself.

"I appreciate any help I can get," Angel interjected, glancing sharply at Anya as she popped open her soda can. "I can’t tell you what it would mean to me if...well, it would change a lot for me."

"Not just for you," Oz said softly. His own break-up with Willow had been difficult, and he had learned to appreciate how much it must have cost Angel to walk away all those months ago.

"I don’t know about that. I just know I need to know the truth, whatever it is."

"Enough!" Anya leapt to her feet and glared at her tormentors. "Can we cease this inane emoting? I have a date tonight and I still haven’t decided what shoes to wear."

The two men glanced warily at her, and came to the mutual, if unspoken, decision that to hear is to obey when dealing with a vengeance demon (even a reformed one).

"Okay. Well, she started out in English." Oz began to pace, trying to recreate the scene in his head. "I think it began..."

"Hold it!" Anya cried out. "In the interests of safety, I think you better write all the stuff you remember in English and just say the parts that were in Romanian. We don’t know what effect, if any, there might be from pronouncing the curse when you-know-who still has you-know-what." She tried to give an oblique nod of her head towards Angel, but subtlety was a human skill she wasn't having much luck acquiring.

"I’m right here, Anya," Angel said in exasperation. "And you don’t have to dance around the subject. You’re right, we have to be very careful. The last thing I want is to lose my soul again that’s what this is all about."

"Okay, then. Let’s get started." She ripped a few sheets of paper off her pad and handed them to Oz, then sat down on the couch with her pen at the ready.

Cordelia could scarcely believe her eyes when Buffy Summers walked into Angel's office that night. It had only been a little over a month since she'd last seen the Slayer, but somehow Buffy seemed much older now. Cordelia understood Angel's reasons for solitude and silence the past few weeks, but since Buffy supposedly did not remember their tragically brief reunion, Cordelia couldn't fathom Buffy's somber mood.

"Where is he?" Buffy asked tersely as she stood in the center of the room. She resisted the urge to look at her surroundings, to try to place her Angel among all these unfamiliar objects. She was here to get some answers, not make peace with the situation.

"So, Buffy, how was your Christmas? Any big plans for New Year's Eve?" Cordelia decided small talk was the safest way to keep the obviously angry Slayer at bay, or at least disarmed. Make that unarmed.

"Where is he?"

"Gee, my Christmas was a little lonely, thanks for asking." Cordelia replied sarcastically. "And New Year's Eve? That depends on the two men in my life: the ghost I'm living with and the vampire I work for."

Buffy felt guilty, but not enough to lose her focus. "I'm sorry your Christmas sucked, Cordy. Mine was no picnic either. Now where is said vampire? I really need some answers, and I have a feeling Cryptic Guy is the only one who knows them." Buffy advanced slightly on Cordelia, not actually intent on harm, but somehow giving that impression none the less. It certainly caused Cordelia to speedily retreat behind her nice big desk.

"He's not here. Yet. But hey, dawn's just a few hours a way, so I'm sure he'll be back by then." She suddenly remembered Oz's well deserved reputation as a man of few words, and Anya's attention span for all things not Xander. "Or not, maybe. Care for some girl-talk till he shows?"

"I'm really not in the mood to chit chat. Can you tell me where he is so I can go after him?"

"No, actually, I can't. I promised. But I can get you a cup of coffee." Cordelia took another look at her tightly wound friend. "A decaf coffee. Won't that be nice?"

Buffy sighed. She was so not in the mood to deal with Cordelia Chase today of all days. There did not appear to be any way of avoiding it, however. "Decaf would be best. Can you at least tell me why you can't tell me where he's gone?"

Cordelia considered the question as she poured the coffee. She knew Angel wanted to keep his mission a secret from Buffy, but eventually, if the news were good, he would have to tell her. Frankly, Cordelia didn't see how the news could be anything but good, since they were definitely due for a change in luck. Perhaps she could speed the lovers along this time, and save them the regrets she now faced over lost opportunities.

"He doesn't want you to know," she replied at last, handing Buffy the mug.

"Well, duh. Why else...wait, me specifically?" Buffy was confused. How would Angel even know she was looking for...oh, right, this was Angel they were talking about. He probably knew she was coming to LA before she did. There were, however, a few things she was willing to bet he knew nothing about. Yet.

"Yup. Just you."

"Unbelievable! He can walk out on me before I even arrive now!" She slammed the mug down on Cordelia's desk, sloshing coffee on a small pile of checks. Her confusion had turned to anger with a speed that left her breathless. Angel had broken her heart once too often to try the calm, cool and collected route.

"Hey, that's not fair!" Now it was Cordelia's turn to get mad. "You hit the high road way more than he's walked on you. And he only did it for your sake. And if you're going to spill stuff, do it on the bills, not our income."

Buffy began to pace while Cordelia dried off the checks. "Sure, it's always for my own good. Like it was best for me to dump me right before the prom, and then leave without even saying goodbye. And how about sneaking back into town to spy on me at Thanksgiving? That was a big help."

Cordelia put herself directly in Buffy's path, forcing her to come to a grinding halt. She went nose to nose with the Slayer, drawing on years of experience as Sunnydale High's closest thing to royalty. Queen C was back in business.

"You have no idea how hard it was for him to go back and not see you, no idea at all. And then when you came after him...he gave up everything to save you. And he has to live with the memories all alone, while you go on playing with your little college boys. So just lay off the righteous indignation you didn't earn it."

"What are you talking about?" Confusion was on the menu again, much to Buffy's dismay. Anger was much safer, and more familiar. "What did he give up? I was here for five minutes. We talked, he killed a demon, I left. End of story."

It was time for a decision. Cordelia could make up a story and let the matter drop, or she could lay the foundation for an eventual reconciliation. The Cordelia of Sunnydale years would have taken door number one, no question about it. But recent events had driven home a message about seizing the moment instead of waiting for all the planets to align. For once Cordelia felt the need to share the wealth.

"No, that was the rewrite." Cordelia waved her hand at the couch by the door. "Sit down, Buffy. I need to fill you in on a very weird day neither of us actually remembers."

"Oh, this ought to be good." With nothing else to do until Angel showed, Buffy sat down. Cordelia sat next to her at first, but after a moment she got up and began to wander around the room. If she hadn't looked so angry just a moment ago, Buffy would have thought she was trying to block a scene for a future audition.

"Okay, well, you know Black Friday, the day you came here," Cordelia began slowly.

"Trust you to date things by mall schedules," Buffy said sarcastically. "Or was that a reference to my effect on some people?"

Cordelia glared at her, and Buffy subsided. "Anyway," Cordelia continued through gritted teeth, "what you and I remember is the Reader's Digest version of the day, because we only know the do-over. Angel persuaded some Oracle people to start the day over, because he was afraid you'd get hurt some day. Well, die actually, because he was human and couldn't protect you."

"Whoa, back up the train." Now Buffy was really confused. "Angel human? Since when?"

"Well, not this time." Cordelia couldn't believe how dense Buffy was being. "He was human, thanks to the blood of the Morah demon mixing with his own. But when he tried to fight the demon, and got his butt kicked, he freaked. The demon said more were on the way, and the Oracles said you would die. Naturally, he decided only he could save you, and then only with the help of his vamp super powers. So he asked them to make him a vampire again, and they did it by erasing the day. But they had to let him remember everything that happened so he'd know how to kill the demon and stop it from happening again. Now do you get it?"

"What exactly does he remember that I don't?" Buffy couldn't believe how calm her voice sounded. It was almost like every part of her wasn't actually screaming in pain. Angel human, and sacrificing it for her sake, and she couldn't even help him by sharing the memories.

"Well, I don't know the gory details, and I don't want to, thank you very much, but you two got back together. Big time. Or should I say multiple times?" Cordelia couldn't help the last jab, but it was lost on her audience. Buffy seemed completely withdrawn from reality, as she searched her mind for one hint of a memory of these events.

"I can't believe this," Buffy said softly, tears filling her eyes. "How could he do this? To face me, remembering everything. God, I must have hurt him so much when I just walked out. And I felt so proud of myself for holding it all together, when he..." She pulled her legs up on the couch and huddled in a little ball, resting her head on her knees as she rocked slightly.

Cordelia swiftly sat down next to her and put a gentle arm around her friend's shoulder. "Buffy, you had no way of knowing. I wouldn't have known either, but Angel really needed to talk, so he told Doyle. And Doyle felt so bad he needed to share it with me."

Buffy lifted her head and hastily wiped her eyes as she smiled at Cordelia. "Thanks for telling me, Cordy. You have no idea how much this clears up for me. But now I really need to talk to Angel."

"I'm sorry, I really am. But we just have to wait. Meanwhile, you can ask me all the things about Angel you didn’t get to ask the last time. Or maybe you did, but who remembers? So tell me, does Xander still talk a lot about me?"

"I can’t believe he lied to me."

Anya was bored. That was the third time Angel had uttered the same phrase. He paced and emoted in a state of utter denial, while she and Oz just sat there and watched. Meanwhile, she had a date in an hour and she still hadn’t decided on which shoes to wear. On top of all that, her sofa had gone flat.

"Okay, I’m out of here." She stood up and grabbed her purse. "You will give me a ride home now, and you will stop this babbling and go home yourself. We all have lives to lead and it’s time to get on with them."

"Hey, at least you know now." Oz, as always, tried to be philosophical. "You can figure out where to go from here."

"But he lied." Angel realized he was being childish, but he couldn’t seem to help himself. "I trusted him with things I couldn’t tell anyone else. Well, anyone but Buffy. He was my friend."

"Get over it," Anya said sternly. "If he was your friend, then he did what he thought was best for you. Sometimes that can suck. So can wearing the wrong shoes on a big date, so take me home!"

It was Angel’s turn to sigh. Eighteen-year-old girls could be as demanding, if not more so, than vengeance demons. Combine the two, and vampires beware.

"Cordelia, I honestly appreciate your concern, but I don't think you should stick around once Angel shows up. We need to be alone." Buffy was tired of having to plead for quality time with her ex, but Cordy didn't seem to be getting the message.

"The concern is for him, Summers. The last time you came to visit you left him in little pieces on the floor. I'll admit it wasn't entirely your fault, but that doesn't help him now any, does it? And Doyle's not here to help me glue him back together again this time."

"I'm really sorry about your friend Doyle, but I can't do this with you here, Cord."

Cordelia leaned across the sofa to glare at her. "Do you promise not to tear him up into little Angel bits this time? I mean it, Buffy. If you're not here for good it will destroy him to see you again so soon."

Buffy looked away. There was a lot she needed to tell Angel, a lot she couldn't tell Cordelia. Where it would lead was anyone's guess.

"I came here for answers," she said at last. "Some of them you already gave me, but the rest are up to him. And when I tell him why I need to know what I need to know...I can't guarantee how he'll react."

"But you're not here on a search and destroy mission?'

"Strictly lost and found," Buffy assured her.

"Then I'll leave you alone," Cordelia promised, sketching an X across her chest. "I'll even make fresh coffee for you," she offered in a burst of good will.

"No, please!" Buffy exclaimed before she could stop herself. "I wouldn't want you to go to any trouble," she hastily amended.

Cordelia narrowed her eyes and was preparing to retort when she heard a familiar step outside the door. She turned expectantly to greet the new arrival.

Angel had recovered some of his equanimity on the drive back to LA. Anya’s take on his situation was a little unfeeling, but deserved. This was his life, and now he had to deal with it. It was possible Doyle never told him because he was supposed to remain human, and it wouldn't have mattered. But Doyle was dead, and there was no way of knowing for sure the reasons for what he did in life. Angel would just have to look back on their friendship and trust that his intentions were good.

With that thought firmly fixed in his mind, he strode into the office ready to fill Cordelia in on his findings.

"You were right about going to Sunnydale," he said as he walked in the door. "Oz and Anya were a big...Buffy." He stumbled slightly, both in word and in fact. "What are you doing here? Are you okay?" He quickly looked her over, seeing exhaustion, but no obvious injuries.

Buffy had to smile. It was so Angel, worrying about her from the word go. "I’m okay now, but we need to talk. I need some answers, in a major way."

"About what?" Angel tried desperately to think of what he might have done to hurt his beloved this time, but nothing more recent than Thanksgiving sprang to mind. She had already chastised him for that. Twice.

"Just talk to the woman." Cordelia put a hand on each of their backs and propelled them towards the lift. "She has stuff to tell you, you have stuff to tell her..." She looked sharply at Angel. "You do have stuff to tell her, right?"

He smiled gently, recognizing the concern in her voice. "Yes, I do." He looked down at Buffy's blonde head, so near to his shoulder. He could almost feel her pressing her chin into his shoulder as she clung frantically to him in their last moments together, promising over and over to never forget. The pain of that memory struck like a low blow to the stomach. How could he even consider trying to restore what once was lost, when his last attempt had caused her such agony?

"Oh no, I see 'something face' coming over you," Buffy said warningly as she looked deep into his dark eyes. "That always means you're going to retreat. Well, not this time." She grabbed his arm and towed him to the lift. Once inside, she hastily let him go, unable to bear their limited ability to touch.

For all her determination to get him alone, she seemed strangely unwilling to face him once they reached his apartment. Instead, she wandered around picking things up and putting them down, all with a faintly puzzled look on her face. Angel watched her silently, trying desperately to suppress his memories of her earlier visit.

Finally, she came to rest next to the kitchen table. "Were you ever going to tell me about the day we spent together here?"

There was no malice in her voice, just the bewildered sound of a lost child. Angel forced his attention away from the table, and the memories it aroused, but he couldn’t meet her eyes.

"Cordelia told you." It wasn't a question.

"Yes, she did. Would you have?"

"I...I don't know. Maybe, if things were different. If there were some way...a way we could be together. Otherwise, why make you live with it too?"

She slowly approached him. "Because maybe it concerns me too. Because maybe I would want to remember something as important as you being human for a day. Because maybe I have a right to those memories." She stood in front of him, close enough to hold him in her arms, if she dared. If she thought she could ever let him go again. Knowing the answer to that, she made no move to touch him.

"When they told me you wouldn't remember, a part of me was grateful." He looked into her eyes at last, desperate to make her understand. "I wanted to share the memories with you, but not the pain. I've already caused you too much pain for one lifetime."

"I want to remember," she insisted. "I have a right."

"Buffy, I can tell you what happened, but I can't make you remember," he protested. He dared to lay his hands lightly on her shoulders, fighting the urge to pull her into his arms. "I don't know how to give you what you want."

"Take me to the Oracles."

He was stunned. She looked completely serious, but what she was asking..."Buffy, that's impossible."

"Why? You talked to them, why not me? What, don't they talk to women? I've got news for you pal, it's almost the twenty-first century they can't get away with that kind of attitude anymore."

"It's not that, but...what good will it do? They can't erase time again, it's been too long." He spoke with the quiet sadness of someone who'd had the same thought many times himself.

She looked away, unable to bear the pain in his beautiful brown eyes a moment longer. "I know. But they can give me my memories back. I need them to do that, Angel. I can't explain why, not yet. But I have to know."

He didn't want to expose her to the Oracles and their detached view of her daily struggles. He didn't want her to live with the memories they could restore to her, with all the attendant agony. He wanted to protect her he always wanted to protect her.

She seemed to read his thoughts, and fixed him sternly in her gaze. "Angel," she said firmly, "you can't keep doing this. I love that you want to look out for me, but sometimes I need you to just trust me instead. Believe I can take the truth."

He sighed, taking her hand in his own. "Come on. We'll need to stop at an all-night pawnshop on the way to buy a gift."

Part Two

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