It was the middle of the night--no, it was later, pre-dawn--but Angel was as keyed up as he ever had been during a crisis, and he had already despaired of convincing Giles that there was no real way to trick Wolfram and Hart into revealing the way to their prisoner.

The subtle pulls at Angel's other not-caring persona had ceased sometime during the time he spent in Caritas with Doyle. He hadn't even noticed it until Buffy had burst through the doors of the lobby a scant second after he and Doyle had entered, demanding to know if he was evil.

Cordelia hadn't been any better. "I'm not working for a homicidal maniac now, am I? Willow didn't—" she'd said.

It had made Angel feel a little better that she'd looked so relieved when he'd told her the truth. He cared firmly now. More than ever, in fact; the constant fear he felt that he'd lose that sense that other people mattered had faded as he watched Doyle wrestle and win.

Still, Gunn had one idea involving violence; Wesley had another involving prophecy; Giles wanted to quiz Doyle about the long-term impact of the Promised One in the apocalypses coming to both Los Angeles and Sunnydale; and Fred and Buffy had completely shut themselves down in opposite corners of the lobby, which frightened Angel more than if Buffy had stood on his desk and barked orders at everyone.

He needed a break.

Angel opened his office door.

Cordelia and Doyle were in the center, just finishing a passionate kiss. Vampires weren't supposed to be able to blush, but Angel thought he felt his face grow a touch warmer anyway, and he took a step backward and reached for the door handle.

They broke apart.

Doyle grabbed his head and fell forward. Cordelia caught him. He gasped a few times, then stood up.

Cordelia hit him in the shoulder. "You took the visions back!"

"Yeah," he gasped. "Don't you wanna know what I saw?"

"In a minute." She tried to kiss him again, but Doyle gently pushed her back. He took a flask from Tara, drained it, and turned back to Cordelia.

"What, princess?"

"You're impossible."

"Yeah, and now I get to keep the visions for good, so I'll take that as a compliment. Thank you, Tara."

Angel decided this wasn't a trespassing moment anymore. Doyle had said that he had figured out how to take his mission back, after all, and he probably knew something about Willow. "Doyle, what did you see?" Angel said.

"Willow. She--she's strong, Angel. But--well, you knew this, Tara--there's so much darkness in her; I can feel that as strongly as I see what I see--but the darkness is just a power she's scared to give up, it's not her. They're trying to corrupt the power. They had been telling her to remove Angel's soul. When she didn't fall for that, they started trying to change time so that she never restored Angel's soul four years ago in Sunnydale. That's what I saw, one of those lawyers--Lilah, isn't it?--asking her again how much better her life would have been if she had never become a witch."

"The l--little girl at the top of the elevator tried to get us to change time," said Tara.

"I guess you all said no, since we're still here and Angel's still himself."

Tara looked horrified. She fixed Doyle with a level stare, then ran back out into the lobby.

"Wow, man."

Angel helped Doyle sit down at his desk. "That was brave," he said softly.

"Where's Cordelia?"