Okay everyone. Chapter 4. This is moving very well I think. To a couple of concerned reviewers, of which I have far too few, by the way, no, Cordy and Doyle are not going to be all over each other throughout the story. The early sex was important to show the damage, but they're not going to be jumping into bed at every given opportunity. A lot of it is about resistance, and doing what's right. So, rest assured, sex is not the driving force in this. And also, about Angel wanting Cordy back at work the next day, he was trying to get things back to normal. I'm sorry that wasn't made obvious, but that was what I intended.

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Cordelia went to bed early, was asleep by nine o'clock. She was planning on going to work for a few hours the next day, not to actually work, but to see everyone and talk to Angel some more. She had a feeling that she had hurt his feelings with all that she had said.

She knew that he wasn't going to expect her to work anyway. He was worried, she could see it in his eyes when he looked at her. He wanted things back to normal, too. Not nearly as badly as she did though. She wanted to be able to feel things, to get butterflies, to fall in love, to be angry, to be aggravated.

And she needed things to get back to normal. To save her life. To help Doyle. Which, she knew, would help her in the long run. She needed to be needed. And she was. He needed her. To help him learn to live again.

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Cordelia was waken at midnight by a sharp yell at one in the morning. She bolted from bed, flying on blind instinct. She bolted across the apartment, into the spare bedroom. Doyle was asleep, thrashing as if in the clutches of some horrible monster. She crawled onto the bed, seized his shoulders.

"Doyle! Doyle! Wake up!"

Cordelia shook him, squealing when his eyes shot open and he flew into a sitting position, dragging her into his lap. She clutched at his arms to keep her balance, pulling him close so she could comfort him, murmuring soothing nonsensical words as he held onto her. Yes, this was what she needed. For someone to need her help. To need her to take care of them, even in a way as small as that.

She stroked his hair, his face, rocking back and forth while he escaped the clutches of his nightmare. When he had calmed, loosened his grip on her, she sat back, looked at him with concern evident on her face and in her eyes. "What was it?"

Doyle shook his head. "I saw you die."

"Me die? I'm not going to die." Cordelia soothed, "I'm right here and I'm going to stay here."

Doyle pulled her close, needing to hold more than he needed to be held. "I've gotten prophetic dreams before, darlin'. They work the same as visions. Maybe something's after you."

Cordelia curled in closer, her small arms still tightly around him, her hands rubbing his back. "It's all right Doyle. The only thing I'm in danger from is myself."

"No, it's something bigger, something more dangerous."

"Like what, Doyle? What can possibly be after me?"

Doyle shook his head as if to clear it. "Something not so happy I'm back. I'm sure me coming back set off all kinds of warning bells in the demonic world."

"Probably, but what does that have to do with anything?"

"Cordelia, who in the world would want me to stay dead more than anyone else?" he questioned, raking his hands through his hair. "I thought I could help, but all I've managed to do is make it worse."

"What are you talking about? Doyle, you aren't making any sense."

"The Scourge, 'Delia. The Scourge is after you."

"We defeated the Scourge a long time ago." Cordelia switched back into the role of comforter. "There's nothing coming after me. The Scourge is long gone."

"That's what you think. They're coming back, 'Delia, and they aren't happy I'm alive. They're even less happy that you brought me back."

"I didn't bring you back, though. The PTB sent you back."

It had actually been the Oracles, but he wasn't going to argue with her. "Because you needed me. Because you still grieved for me and needed me to help you get through this. Do you have any idea how good it would have been for all of them if you would have died like you were supposed to? No Seer to worry about. No half demon side kick of Angel's. No one he really cared about. It would have made their decade. But you survived, by the skin of your teeth, no doubt, but you made it. And then you started slowly wasting away, and just as they get real hopeful, I come back to help. They want us both dead, darlin', and they'll be willing to do anything and everything to insure that we die as planned."

Cordelia couldn't help but admit that his reasoning made sense. For all her bravado and certainly, inside she was in a turmoil. Wondering if it wouldn't have been better for her to have just let go and gone when the end had been so close. Wondering if she should have wished for Doyle's return. Put him through all the pain and suffering when it just seemed like it was going to be for nothing. They would both die by the hand of the Scourge this time, and they would go together. That was the only bright spot in the whole thing.

Doyle sense what was going on inside her head, took her firmly by the chin. "This is not your fault." He told her gently, sternly nonetheless. "None of this is your fault. We'll get through this, and we'll get through it together. Understand?"

Cordelia nodded, though she wasn't convinced. "What do we do?"

"Nothing tonight. We're going to get some sleep." He tugged her down with him, wrapped his arms around her slight form. "And you're going to stay right here where I can keep an eye on you."

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Sorry this was so short guys. I've got a lot going on. Just got through graduation, and I've got finals this week for the college courses I've been taking so I've been studying like crazy.