"Okay? Princess, that was so far beyond okay, I'm surprised the top of my head didn't explode."

"I'm glad the top of your head didn't explode. I only bought these sheets a couple of months ago."

Doyle chuckled. "Still going to need to wash them though."

"True." She slid over a little bit and snuggled down into his side, sighing happily. The knowledge that they had stuff to get done was nagging at her, but for a couple more minutes she just wanted to lie here with Doyle. Then they'd deal.

"I could get used to waking up like this."

"Me, too. Only I'm not sure we'd ever get out of bed and get anything done."

"We'd have to get up eventually." Doyle dropped a kiss on her shoulder.

"Speaking of which..." She sighed again, heavily this time, and sat up. "We should probably get ourselves together and think about going in to the office. I feel kind of guilty leaving Wesley to deal with all of this by himself." Not that she hadn't needed the sleep, obviously, and it wasn't like Wesley couldn't get a handle on the researchy stuff without her.

"Yeah." Doyle lost his smile as he sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

Cordelia grabbed her robe off the chair and slipped it on. "D'you want to use the shower?" she asked.

He looked down at himself. "Guess I need to, huh?"

"Guess we both do." She came over and kissed him firmly. "But I think we'd better take turns or there's no way we're going to get out of here before noon."

"You may be right," he replied, a bit of his earlier good humor sparkling in his eyes, which quickly faded again. "And we've wasted enough time."

She shook her head at him, frustrated. Sometimes she just wanted to give him a good smack, knock some sense into him. But then, he was so convinced that the world had it out for him that doing that would probably just prove his point. "Not nearly enough," she said. "We'll just have to make sure we waste some more, later. Go on. Clean towels are on the rack, and my shampoo is in there if you don't mind smelling kind of flowery."

"I didn't mean--" He got up and moved to her, putting his hands on her shoulders. "Making love was definitely not a waste of time. I never would consider doing anything with you a waste of time. But... Angel..."

"I know," she said gently. "But we needed the sleep, and Wesley would have called if he'd found anything important. Don't you go feeling all guilty about a couple of hours, okay?"

"A couple of hours could be years where Angel is."

Okay, so maybe she'd forgotten about that little detail. But they still couldn't do anything until Wesley found out about the book. All the same, her heart did a funny twisting thing in her chest at the thought of Angel suffering somewhere, and she knew it showed on her face.

Doyle's expression softened and he leaned in and kissed her. "We'll find him, Princess."

"I know," she said again. She glanced down at him. "But not when we're naked. So go."

That brought back Doyle's grin. "No water conservation with the showers this morning, huh?"

"No. I'm gonna go see if there's anything to eat in this house while you take a shower, and then, assuming I can find any coffee, you are going to wrestle with the coffee machine while I take a shower."

"We could always grab something on the way to the office."

"Are you actually trying to be practical, or are you just trying to get me into the shower with you?"

Doyle blinked. "Both?"

"Okay, then." She couldn't have stopped herself from smiling even if she'd wanted to. "I mean, it really is important to save water, here in California. You could say it's our duty to shower together."

"Yeah." He grinned. "You wash my back, I'll wash yours."

In the end it took them twenty minutes and every drop of hot water in the tank. Cordelia was shivering when they got out and had to put on a sweater over her blouse. "Next time," she said, her teeth chattering as she toweled her hair dry, "we need to be quicker. It doesn't say much for our argument about needing to shower together to save water if we're in there until we're all pruny." She held a hand out so that Doyle could see her wrinkled fingers.

Doyle grinned and took her hand, dropping a kiss on her fingers. "Duly noted."

"Do you still drink coffee? I mean..." She frowned, her brow furrowed. "Sorry."

His smile faded, but didn't entirely disappear. "It's okay," he told her, reaching up and smoothing the lines on her forehead. "I still drink coffee. I... don't think they had coffee... where I was before. But if they had, I would've been drinking it."

Cordelia tried to apologize again. "It's just... it's weird. I still can't believe..." She shook her head. "God. Broken record much? Okay, firm resolution not to say that again. You're here, here is good, moving on."

He kissed her, a brief reassuring touch of his lips against hers. "And moving on, right now, consists of heading to the office and stopping for coffee and doughnuts on the way."

"Right. Just let me get my bag and my shoes and we're out of here."

"I take it there was more?" Wesley was scribbling down the words that Doyle had just spoken, and he glanced up at him as though to urge him to continue.

Doyle nodded. "Angel... was worried about me. And it told him, 'Coming back to life is not an easy thing. He will wake in time.' Angel was still worried," And Doyle paused for a second as he remembered the need for reassurance that had been in his friend's voice. "It told him, 'He may be... changed by the ordeal he has gone through, but he will recover. Time grows short. We must go.'"

Wesley nodded, still writing. "And was that all?"

"Yeah. Angel... said his goodbyes," his voice faltered as he remembered exactly what Angel had said and the tone of voice he'd said it in, "and then they were gone."

"Interesting." Wesley finished copying down what Doyle had recited and then read over it carefully. "And I must say, that doesn't sound to me as if you had a difficult time recalling it."

Doyle shrugged. "I guess you tend to remember what happens when you're coming back to life."

"So it would seem."

Cordelia had gotten up to read over Wesley's shoulder, abandoning the book on her chair. "What do you think that means?" she asked, pointing to the words. "'He may be changed?'"

"Yeah, that's a rather important thing to be asking," Doyle threw in. "Not that I feel any different... now at least. Was a little out of it for a while at the start."

Wesley shrugged. "It's possible you wouldn't be able to tell for some time. In any case, it also said that you would recover, which would lead one to believe that any change would be temporary at worst." He turned to Cordelia and said, rather pointedly, "Did you find anything, then?"

"Okay, geez, going back to look." She picked the book back up and thumbed to the next page. "I don't know..." she said slowly. "These are all -- they all look like something. The thing I saw, it was just a shadow."

"The Powers wouldn't have sent a vision of this book if it wasn't important," Doyle said, moving so he could look over her shoulder at the book.

"I didn't say I was giving up." Cordelia sounded frustrated. "I just... how the heck am I supposed to tell?"

"Relax," he said, putting his hands on her shoulders, feeling the tension in her body. "You can't force it."

"Okay, yeah," she said as she turned some more pages. "There's gotta be something in here somewhere, right?" She paused for a moment as if she were trying to think. "It looked big," she said hesitantly. "And maybe... it looked a little... lumpy."

"Lumpy?" Doyle echoed, trying to pull more from her.

"Umm... well, yeah. Like, it didn't have any shoulders." She shook her head, wishing she'd seen it more clearly.

"Could you see the color?"

Cordelia closed her eyes again. "No, it was all dark." She sighed and flipped over another page in the book, then paused. "Maybe... kind of like this." She held the book toward Wesley.

Wesley took it and frowned. "A ksh'yyk demon. It fits with what we know."

"So cut to the chase, Wesley. Why would it want Angel?"

"They're collectors. And gamblers. Very powerful; there's probably not much chance of facing one in a physical fight and winning."

Cordelia snorted. "I said cut to the chase, not depress the hell out of us. Right, we can't kill them. We're sure as heck not gonna join them. What does that leave?"

Doyle however, had latched onto one word of Wesley's description, one that was already suggesting a plan. "It leaves making them an offer they can't refuse. They're gamblers? Then we play the game -- double or nothing."

Cordy turned to look up at Doyle, her eyes meeting his. "An offer they can't refuse," she repeated, and he realized that they were both echoing words they'd spoken the day before in the Oracle's chamber.

She turned to Wesley. "How do we do it?"

Wesley was frowning at them both. "The only thing that would be... high enough stakes to win Angel back would an equally rare soul."

"Like what? I mean... who?"

"Like me," Doyle said.

Cordelia turned around again. He could see the emotion in her eyes, and it belied the bitterness in her tone when she spoke. "What makes you think you're so special? Just because they brought you back from the dead, now you're all super-valuable-guy?"

"Cordelia..." Wesley said reprovingly.

"I'm the 'promised one.'" Doyle felt a little silly saying that; he didn't feel like anything special but he knew the title gave him the standing he needed. "And yeah, being back from Heaven, and Powers' touched would add to my value."

"'Promised one?' That and three bucks will get you a cappuccino. And Angel traded himself for you in the first place," Cordelia pointed out. "So why would they want to trade back? That doesn't make any sense." She paused for a long moment. "Unless... is that what double or nothing means? You... we... try to do something, and if it doesn't work out they get to keep both of you?"

"It's the only way, Princess," Doyle said, reaching for her hands.

"It's an unfair way," she countered, and her fingers felt cold against his. "But we have to do something. I don't know why I would be surprised that the odds were stacked against us."

"They're always stacked against us." He squeezed her hands and tried to give her a reassuring smile. "We've got a good track record in beating them."

"Um, Doyle? You died. So if that's supposed to make me feel better, it falls kind of flat."

"Was kinda hoping you wouldn't bring that time up," Doyle joked weakly. There wasn't much else he could say to that; it was true, after all.

"Like I was going to forget about it?" Cordelia turned back to Wesley. "Okay, Wes, here's your chance to make the big contribution. How do we find this thing?"

Wesley, who had been watching them, started slightly and turned his attention back to the book. "There's a summoning spell here... it looks relatively easy to perform." He looked up again. "That isn't going to be the difficult part."

"I'm almost afraid to ask, but... what does that mean?"

"Once summoned, the ksh'yyk won't leave until a deal has been struck." Wesley looked soberly at first at Cordelia, then Doyle. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

"We have to," Cordelia said, and it sounded like she was aware that this wasn't really an answer to his question.

"We have to get Angel back," Doyle added quietly. "This is the only way."

Wesley sighed. "All right. But before we do the summoning we better come up with exact wording of the deal -- we don't want to leave any loopholes for the ksh'yyk to be utilize."

"Okay. What kind of deal are we talking about? I mean, you guys were both talking about gambling... I take it this is more complicated than cards or dice?"

"You don't want to leave it up to something that has such an element of chance to it," Wesley advised seriously.

"You mean we get to pick?" She sounded surprised.

"You make an offer. If it's interesting enough, the ksh'yyk will accept. That's the way to ensure the best odds for winning," Wesley explained.

"So we make the best offer we can think of, that we might be able to pull off. I don't suppose they're interested in stuff like cheerleading abilities?" Cordelia glanced at Doyle with a hint of a smile.

"Probably not the first thing on the list, no," Doyle replied, returning the smile, glad that she wasn't arguing with him on this.

"What would be? First on the list, I mean?"

Doyle looked at Wesley. "Something...mythic?" he suggested.

"Indeed," Wesley agreed, looking up from the page he'd been reading. "Journeys, quests, those sorts of things."

Cordelia got up and walked over to the window, looked out, and then turned back to face them. "We say, 'Send us on a quest?'"

"Something a little less open-ended," Wesley said, "but essentially yes."

"'Send us on a quest to find Angel?'" she suggested.

"To find Angel and get back out," Doyle admended. He paused and looked at her. "'Us?'"

"You, me," Cordelia gestured between them. "Us."

He stared at her, recognizing the stubborn expression she was wearing. "I was planning on going alone," he said carefully.

"That's because you're an idiot." She didn't look apologetic for saying so.

"It's going to be dangerous. Cordy --"

She jumped in before he could continue. "And what do you think it's going to be if you and Angel are both gone and it's just me and Wesley? This isn't a walk in the park, you know. I'm still going to have the visions, whether you guys are here to help or not. I need you."

Even amidst the seriousness of the conversation, those last three words made Doyle's heart beat faster. He realized that all Cordy would ever have to do to win an argument with him was to say that: 'I need you' and he'd cave immediately.

Like he was about to.

"I just wanted to keep you safe," he said softly, as he crossed over to where she was standing.

"You can't do that. Not by leaving me here." Cordelia looked down at the floor, and then raised her eyes to meet his. "It's not that easy."

"When is anything ever easy?" Doyle asked with a sigh.

She looked more determined than ever. "We're going to do this," she said. "You and me."

Doyle knew there was no point in arguing; he was never going to win. So he stepped closer, letting his hands slide around her waist, pulling her against him. "You and me," he agreed softly.

Behind them, Wesley cleared his throat discreetly.

"Right," said Cordelia, giving Doyle a look that he hoped he was interpreting correctly as 'later.' "So are we ready to do this thing? Do we need spell ingredients or a... crystal ball or anything?"

"There are some ingredients I need to pick up," Wesley said, standing up and grabbing his jacket. "And it has to be cast after dark. So we have a few hours yet."

"What do we do until then?" She looked tense, like she wanted to do something then and there, not wait all day until night fell.

"Rest, prepare." Wesley hesitated at the open door. "Go back to what you were just doing, perhaps? I'll be back in a few hours." Then he was gone.

"Oh, god," Cordelia said, and buried her face in the curve between Doyle's neck and shoulder. "I guess any chance of keeping this low-profile for a while has been blown, huh?"

Doyle slid his arms around her waist again. "Is that a problem?" he asked carefully.

"No," she quickly reassured him, lifting her head. "Not a problem. I just... I don't know. I hadn't thought about it, I guess."

"We haven't really had time to think, have we?" He knew time to think wasn't going to change his own feelings, but it was always possible that Cordy...

But like she could read his mind, Cordelia was already putting her own arm around his waist. "We don't need to think about this."

"You sure?"

"Yes. That's where the not-thinking comes in. Doesn't it..." she hesitated. "Doesn't it feel right to you?"

"Nothing's ever felt more right to me in my life. Lives." Doyle laughed, the sound a bit brittle. "Either of them."

She still looked uncertain. "Then why do you sound so..."

He sighed and looked down, unable to meet her eyes. "Because I've never managed to keep anything that's felt good and right before," he admitted, the words hard to say.

"This could be different." She paused and then went on. "It can be. Are you telling me that you think we can go on some quest to get Angel out of a hell dimension, but you don't think we can do this us-thing?"

"Well, when you put it that way..." Doyle joked weakly.

"You listen to me. I know what I'm talking about."

He smiled, warmed by the determination he saw in her eyes. "I'd be an idiot to argue with you, wouldn't I?"

"You're already an idiot either way." Cordelia's answering smile was warm and gentle, and he could tell that her insult was more automatic than heartfelt. "But you're never going to win an argument with me, so yeah. Don't even try."

"Yeah, you'd like that. Me agreeing with everything you say."

"Only on the important stuff... which would be pretty much everything." Her hand tightened in the fabric of his shirt at the small of his back. "What is this quest thing gonna be like, Doyle? I need to know what to expect."

"Your guess is as good as mine, Princess," Doyle admitted, sliding one hand up to rub her back comfortingly. "It could be...anything. But it's probably going to be bad."

"Bad how? Like, flaming arrows and drippy demons bad? Having to walk through a blizzard bad? Give me something here, anything."

"Could be flaming arrows, could be a blizzard. Could be... something we couldn't even imagine. I'm sorry, Cordy, I really don't know." He paused, meeting her eyes. "You don't have to go --"

"Not arguing about this," she said warningly. She gave him a little squeeze and went after her coffee, which he imagined was probably cold by now. She drank some anyway and then crossed her arms and eyed him carefully. "You're going to need different shoes. Boots, maybe. Something more protective. And ditto some kind of coat. Assuming... I mean, we get to take our clothes with us, right?"

He smiled, thinking of how distracted he'd be if there weren't any clothes. "We'll make it one of the conditions we stipulate."

"Oh. Well, good. So anyway, let's go. If this is going to be my last chance to shop, maybe forever, I'm gonna enjoy it."

"Shopping," Doyle repeated blankly.

"Boots. And a leather coat. And anything else you can think of that might come in handy, because chances are good if it's not about lipstick or moisturizer, I'm not gonna come up with the idea all on my own. Come on, Doyle. Rack your brains here and help me."

"You want to take me shopping."

"No, I need to take you shopping. Those shoes are not going to hold up to anything challenging, and I don't think you're going to be much good to me if you end up barefoot." Cordelia stepped closer and snapped her fingers in front of his face. "Hello? Doyle? Are you still in there?"

"Yeah," he replied, feeling a smile stretch his face. "I'm just not used to..... Before you would've just told me what to get and sent me off."

"Before I wouldn't have begged you to take off your clothes, either." Doyle thought he could detect a hint of a blush on her cheeks. "Boots?" she asked, tentatively.

"Boots," he replied, impulsively lifting her hand to his mouth and dropping a kiss in her palm.

"Oh good," she said, and it was definitely a blush. "I know a couple of places we can try. It shouldn't take too long, since we're mostly going for practicality over style. Wow. I can't believe I just said that."

"You've always said I had no style."

"But that's easy to change. At least you're brave -- it's much harder to fix something like that."

Doyle lowered his head and shrugged. "If I'm brave, it's only because I learned from watching you and Angel."

"That's the biggest load of crap I ever heard. You were brave way before we came along -- you just didn't know it." Cordelia grabbed onto him with both hands and pulled him close. "Kiss me," she said, "and then we're off to experience the world of high fashion. Well... medium fashion for the low budget."

Kissing Cordy was not a hard order to obey and Doyle leaned in, laying a hand against her cheek and kissing her long and lingeringly.

"Okay, then," Cordelia finally said when the kiss had ended. "Let me take you shopping?"

Doyle grinned at her. "You can take me anywhere."

"Even to Hell," she said, and suddenly her voice and expression were both serious. "That's gotta be a real bummer after the whole Heaven thing, huh?"

"I'm not planning on taking up residence there," he teased, then let the humor drop away when Cordy remained serious. "I...don't remember much about heaven. Just that it was..."

"Maybe it's better that you don't remember."

"Maybe you're right."

"I'm sorry," she said, "that this happened. That you had to leave there." She lifted her chin and looked at him squarely. "But I'm not sorry you're back. If that makes me a terrible person, I can live with that."

"I could never be sorry that I'm with you," Doyle told her, still utterly serious. "And heaven will still be there whenever..."

"Whenever, a long, long time from now." Cordelia spoke with more certainty than he could remember hearing in her voice.

"Yeah. When we're old and decrepit."

She shoved him very lightly with the palm of her hand. "Hey! Speak for yourself. I, for one, am never going to be old and decrepit."

"Don't say that," Doyle ordered, sudden fear welling up inside him. "You are too going to be old and decrepit some day. Because that means you'll live a long, long time. And even at your oldest and your most decrepit, I'll still think you're beautiful."

Her expression softened and it made her look even younger than she already did. Doyle thought that he could see the glimmer of tears in her eyes. "I didn't mean it like that. I guess I can handle being old and decrepit, if I don't have to do it alone."

"If I have anything to say about it, you won't be."

She leaned in and kissed him, sweetly. "Boots," she said. "Jacket. If you're good, I'll even buy you lunch."

"Yes, dear," Doyle quipped as he pulled away and headed for the door, taking his life into his hands.