Second Chances
Chapter 3

Cordelia had finished repairing her makeup and was heading back to the waiting room when she heard a crash, and heard Abby cry out.

Immediately, the baby began to wail.

Damn, she should never have left Abby and the baby alone! With Wolfram and Hart still out there.... she raced back, realizing as she went that she needed a weapon. In the old office, she had all her little caches of weapons put aside in safe and handy places, but she hadn't had the time to do that here.

Glancing around for something that she could grab quickly, she found only a pair of scissors and a pencil, and seized them just before she burst into the front room, ready for.... whatever.

She saw nothing but Abby, looking distressed, and the baby, crying on the couch.

Invisible attackers? Both Abby and the baby appeared unharmed.

"Abby! What is it?" she gasped as she skidded to a halt.

"He fainted," Abby blurted out, kneeling down on the floor, and then looking up at Cordelia. "Didn't your mother ever tell you not to run with a pair of scissors?"

Cordelia looked at the floor and saw a figure sprawled there, seemingly unconscious. Irritably she said, "Didn't your mother ever tell you not to open the door for strange demons? No, probably not."

Little Kathy continued to howl disconsolately as Cordelia approached cautiously, eyeing the fallen intruder. Abby straightened and hurried to the couch to comfort her indignant daughter.

"It's all right," Abby murmured, gathering up the baby and holding her close to soothe her, as Cordelia took her place on the floor next to their visitor, the pair of scissors and the pencil still clutched protectively in one hand.

"Demon!" she hissed as she got a better look. "You are so going to regret scaring my friend!" Then Cordelia hesitated. "Wait a minute, Abby. I've seen this kind of demon before."

"He seemed harmless enough," Abby said absently, concentrating on the baby. "There, there, sweetie, it's all right. Cordelia knows all about these things, she'll take care of it, easy now, easy."

"I think it's one of the Listers," Cordelia said slowly, putting the scissors and the pencil down.

At that, Abby looked up. "The ones Francis saved?"

"Yeah. Or one like them, anyway." It would be a waste if she stabbed one of the people... one of the demons, that .... she wrenched her thoughts back to the present. "Did he just come in here and fall on the floor?"

"Well, he started talking but he seemed all confused and weak, and then he fell down. Hush, sweetheart, please don't cry." Abby went on murmuring to the baby.

The demon lying on the floor looked like he was in bad shape. She couldn't be sure what his skin was supposed to look like, but she doubted that his lips were supposed to be that dry and cracked. They all had sunken eyes, she remembered, but how sunken were they supposed to be? And what color was a healthy Lister, anyway? She couldn't remember. It had been over a year ago, and it was dark when she saw them, and she had mostly blocked out a lot of what happened that night, anyway.

"He kept talking like he knew me," Abby said. "Shhh, sweetie, shhh...."

"Well, I don't know much demon first aid. Pulling bullets out of vampires, now, that I can handle. Plenty of experience there." Tentatively, Cordelia reached out for the fallen demon's hand. "I wonder what his pulse is supposed to be?"

As her fingers brushed against his wrist, his eyes suddenly opened and he grabbed her hand with surprising strength. Blearily, the dark eyes half-hidden below ridged brows stared at her for a moment.

"Cordelia?" a harsh whisper asked, and then his eyes closed again and his hand went limp in hers.

"He knows my name," Cordelia said, wondering.

"I think he knew mine too, or did I tell him? I'm not sure. It's okay, sweetie-pie, calm down for mommy, please. Please, cupcake."

"Cupcake?" Cordelia rolled her eyes.

"Lindsey calls her that sometimes," Abby muttered, flushing slightly with embarrassment.

"That girl's gonna have a complex when she gets older. I'm not sure what to do about lizard-skin here, but plain water probably won't hurt him. He looks like he could use some."

Cordelia stood up and went to get a cup of water. Abby's confidence was good to hear, but the truth was, she didn't know anything about the care and feeding of Lister demons. This one could be dying or just going through some Lister hibernation or something, she had no idea.

Returning with the water, she found Abby still absorbed in quieting the baby, and the Lister still on the floor where she had left him. Well, maybe she could rouse him enough for him to drink a little water.

Or maybe not. He looked fairly well wrecked.

Grimacing a little with distaste, she braced herself to put an arm behind his shoulders, to try to prop him up a bit. His skin looked like it would be all cold and scaly and nasty to touch.

It wasn't. It was dry and very warm. In fact, for a human at least, his skin felt feverish to her. Of course, she had no idea what a Lister's normal body temperature would be, either.

At least he wasn't slimy.

As she touched him, he stirred again and moaned softly. Good, that meant he might get conscious enough to drink some water without drowning. She propped him up the best she could, and he winced as she touched his neck, letting out a grunt of pain.

"Sorry," she muttered, "but you're going to have to wake up enough to tell me what you need. Come on."

As she settled him partly upright and leaning against her shoulder, with the cup of water in her hand, she realized that he felt like a human to her. He smelled like a human too, although a rather dirty one.

"Wake up. Here's some water, but you need to wake up a little to drink it. Come on," she repeated, holding the cup of water to his lips. Finally he seemed to rouse enough to notice the water, and he straightened slightly against her.

"Uhhh." As soon as he appeared to be coherent enough to be aware of the water, she tipped the cup against his lips, and he gulped it down eagerly. It was gone in a moment, and he turned slightly toward her, looking hopeful.

"You want some more?"

"Please," he managed.

The baby quieted, and Abby came over. "I'll refill that for you," she volunteered, still holding the baby with one arm as she reached for the cup.

"You've got Kathy."

"She's a lot lighter than he is." Abby took the cup from Cordelia's hand and headed for the water cooler.

The demon stared at Cordelia, and she began to feel a little uncomfortable with the way that his body was leaning against hers. "Do I.... know you?"

"Well, you called me by name a few minutes ago so I'd guess, yes," Cordelia snapped back. He flinched a bit at the harshness in her voice, and she tried to soften her tone as she went on. "You came here looking for Angel?"

"I think so. Yeah. It's hard to keep things straight."

Returning with the water, Abby handed the cup to Cordelia. The demon drank thirstily, giving Abby a grateful smile.

"I think he needed that," Abby said, returning to the couch with the baby.

"I think I did," he agreed, his voice still rough but not quite as dusty as before. "Thank you both."

"Do you feel well enough to sit up by yourself yet?"

"I don't know."

"Well, try. Pillow duty isn't part of the job." With a gentleness that contradicted the apparent anger in her voice, Cordelia helped him to sit upright, steadied him a bit, then let her hands fall away.

"I guess I can sit up," he agreed. "I'm not quite ready to try standing yet, though."

"One step at a time. You're looking for Angel?"

"Yes. Yes, I do remember that." He glanced at her, and then over at Abby, with a somewhat lost expression. "I think I know you, but do I? I'm just not sure."

"Did somebody hit you on the head or something?"

"Yeah."

"Well, that would explain some of it, I guess. Had anything to eat lately?"

"Uhh.... well, I can't actually remember the last time I ate," he admitted.

"Well, that we might be able to fix, depending. We have stuff in the refrigerator here for humans and vampires, but this is an investigative agency, not a demon delicatessen. We don't carry a full line of insects or body parts or other icky demon delicacies. What do you eat anyway?"

He stared blankly at her, then smiled faintly. "What do I eat? The same things you do."

"I doubt that," she huffed.

His smile brightened. "Don't worry, you don't have to go out to buy demon-chow at the feed store, princess."

"What did you call me?"

"Princess."

"Why did you call me that?"

"Uh, I don't know. It just felt right."

They stared at each other for a moment. "What is your name, anyway?" Cordelia asked abruptly.

"Artie. Artie Abromawitz," he answered with confidence at first, and then stopped. "At least, I think that's my name. I'm not even sure about that, right now."

He stared at her, and suddenly seemed to lose focus, his face going slack as he tried to remember.

"Do ya ever wonder, darlin'...." Doyle began, and then stopped, nervously adjusting the tip of one wing.

"Wonder what, Francis?" Abby prompted.

They were looking out over a school playground, watching over the children as they tumbled in laughing play. One youngster almost fell from the top of the slide, and Abby lifted a hand slightly, gently pushing him back into place.

"About yer own, y'know?" He gestured toward the children. "About what would have happened."

"All the time," Abby admitted. "I do think about it. But, there's nothing I can do."

"So you just adjust, is that it?"

"More or less." Her eyes lingered on his face. "You're not adjusting very well though, are you?"

"I don't think I'm really cut out fer this, Abby. I appreciate all yer confidence in me, but...."

"But what? You're carrying on the same mission that you had in life, Francis. You're helping the helpless." She smiled gently at him. "You're good at it. And it's not as if going back again is really a choice."

"You said when you came t'fetch me that you were afraid I might be stuck forever."

Abby nodded. "You could have chosen to stay behind as a ghost, like your Phantom Dennis, or you could have been reborn without any memory of who you were, but that would have been a shame, don't you think? You have so much to offer, Francis. This way, you can still help people."

"I don't know, darlin'. I keep wonderin', what if I hadn't done what I did? What if I hadn't stopped Angel, what then?"

Abby could only shrug. "You said it yourself, Francis. We'll never know."

He stared at her for a moment, then laughed softly. "I can never quite get used t'that."

"What?"

"You knowin' all those things, hearin' things I said back when I didn't know anybody else could hear. You watchin' me while I was still alive, the same way we're watchin' those kids now."

"The Powers That Be already knew what you were going to do."

"What about free will, then? They make such a great big freakin' production about free will. How could They know all along I was goin' to do that, when I didn't know myself?"

Abby frowned thoughtfully. "I don't pretend to understand it, really. The closest I can figure it is that They see all of the possible roads, all the way things might have happened, and They push us toward the path They think is best."

"So maybe it wasn't free will after all, then." Doyle was staring toward the playground, but not seeing the children. Instead, in his mind he was seeing the Listers on the ship, and Cordelia, and Angel.

"Maybe," he went on slowly, "They pushed me to do what They wanted me to do, because They figured my life wasn't worth so much as others."

"Francis!" Abby was scandalized. "Every life is precious to Them, you know that."

"Well, maybe some are more precious than others."

Suddenly a shadow fell across them both, and Abby looked up, startled. She couldn't see anything, but when she glanced back toward Doyle, he was gone.

"You try our patience, Francis Doyle."

Doyle blinked in confusion. He was ... somewhere else. He wasn't sure exactly where. He could hear a voice, but he couldn't see anyone.

"Who are you?"

"Do not ask foolish questions. Do not attempt to shake the faith of a fellow Child of the Light. If you pursue this course, we will have no choice but to end your assignment here."

"And then what?" Doyle flared. "Oblivion?"

"Your soul is immortal, foolish one, but your memories are not. There are many other paths that you can take. We will only indulge your childish tantrums for so long."

"Many other paths? How many other paths were there for me while I was alive? You planned the whole thing, didn't you?"

"It is not for you to know."

"Why not?"

"It is better that some things remain hidden, even from the Children of the Light."

"Why? What would have happened if I hadn't stopped Angel? Was it ever my choice, or were you just pulling my strings all along?"

"Every choice is freely made. That is the essence of humanity. You already know that."

"I want to know the rest. I want to know what would have happened, the other way, if you hadn't pushed me on."

"We never said we pushed you. You fail to give yourself credit for your own actions. You made your own decision."

"Yeah, maybe, but you helped. Why?"

"Has it ever occurred to you that you may not want to know the answer to that question?"

"I want to know."

"Then do not complain to us about the pain of knowing." Abruptly, a portal opened and Doyle could see....

What might have been.

"I think my name is Artie," he said slowly. "But I think I had another name, too."

"You said Abromawitz, just a moment ago," Cordelia prompted, but the faraway look on his face remained.

"There's more. There's something else. I have to remember." He grimaced in frustration. "I need to remember."

To her surprise, he suddenly reached out and grasped both of her hands in his. Before she could pull away, she felt a tingle of heat in her hands, running up her arms, and her mind was abruptly invaded by a flash of light. She stiffened in anticipation of a vision.

But this was something else. She felt no pain, only confusion and a little dizziness.

As he held her hands, images tumbled into her mind, a confused jumble.

She could see herself, laughing, in a ridiculous-looking green felt cap and a red outfit, at some kind of Christmas party, and there with her, in a matching, equally absurd outfit, was ....

Doyle, with a drink in his hand.

The image of herself gently took the glass from his hand, and set it down. Then she watched herself turn around, to speak to someone else, and saw Doyle furtively retrieve his drink.

There was another flash, and she was hearing her own voice.

"I started dating a guy once in high school, and he got killed. Sunnydale was like that, you know? I never really got to know if we would have been good together or not. But ...."

"Yes, princess?" She could hear the tenderness in the soft voice answering her, and then she was able to see Doyle's face, sitting beside her and holding both of her hands, and watching her quietly, attentively.

"Would you mind, if we have a boy ... Would you mind if we called him Kevin?"

Abruptly Cordelia pulled her hands away, gasping. She stumbled in her haste to pull away, scrambling to her feet.

"What the hell was that? What did you just do to me?"

He stared at her as she backed away from him. "I don't know," he whispered. "I don't know."

Second Chances, Chapter 4

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