Angel watched the scene as though he were outside of his body. Charlotte... her hands on his smooth chest, moving down to his flat stomach. His own hands aided hers in undoing the top button of his black pants. The tips of her fingers explored the space between the waistband of his boxer shorts and his skin. He watched himself run his palms up her long arms and across her delicate collarbones. Her skin was almost milky-blue in the moon's light that played over their bodies. He reached behind her and unfastened the loose bun that held her hair, allowing cascades of black curls to fall over her shoulders. He stroked the strands all the way down, his fingers brushing over the rosy tips of her breasts. She closed her eyes and whispered his name.
Suddenly, he was back in his body, kissing her with a passion and fury he hadn't allowed himself to feel for a long time. He held her face between his hands, loving her lips as she anxiously fumbled with his trouser's zipper. The pants fell and he kicked his way out of them. Charlotte's hands were warm against his perpetually cool skin. In one fluid motion, he swept her off her feet, the kiss never losing its initial intensity. Angel lay her down on the bed, covering her small body with his. Slowly, he inched her long black skirt up, past her calves and then, her knees. She whimpered slightly as his fingers made contact with her inner thigh.
"Angel", she breathed, moving her lips from his. She arched her back, offering all of herself to him. Angel dropped a trail of tiny kisses down her neck, into the little conclave at the base of her throat and across her chest to the slope of one breast. His lips moved over the soft mound of flesh, searching...tasting. Charlotte's fingertips traced the tattoo on his upper back; her nails lightly scratching when his tongue found the raised center of her breast. Angel slowly kissed his way back up to her lips, parting them with his tongue, gently pulling her full bottom lip between his teeth. With little force, Charlotte reversed their postions, straddling his waist as she kissed him, her skirt bunched up around her upper thighs. The night air around them was no longer cool...it was warm, alive...heated by their desire. Charlotte made her own trail of kisses down Angel's hairless chest, continuing over the toned ridges of his stomach. She stopped at the waistband of his shorts when there was a sudden, loud knock on the bedroom door.
"Angel!", a voice that was unmistakably Doyle's called out. "Need to talk to you, man. It's important."
Angel paused to catch his breath before answering. "Can this wait?" The corners of Charlotte's lips turned up.
Cordelia's voice replied. "It's really, really, really important. Matter of life and death important." She was quiet for a moment. "Um...Doyle had a vision!"
Angel sat up. "Hold on a second." He looked at Charlotte. "I'm sorry. I have to go see what's going on."
Charlotte nodded, understandingly, but unable to hide her disappointment. "Another time?"
He kissed her. "Any time." There was another knock on the door. "Coming!", he called back. Getting up off the bed, he pulled his pants back on. Charlotte reached for her top. When they were back in some semblence of order, Angel pulled the door open. Doyle and Cordelia stood in front him him, looking extremely anxious. "What's happening?"
Doyle peeked his head around Angel to see Charlotte putting her shoes on. "It's....sort of a....private matter."
Charlotte overheard and took the hint. "I'll see you soon, Angel", she said, kissing his cheek. "Goodnight."
Angel watched her retrieve her handbag and take the elevator out of the apartment. When she was gone from sight, he returned his attention to his friends. "What did you see in the vision?"
Cordelia brushed past him and entered the bedroom. The rumpled bedcovers and Charlotte's hairpiece on the floor did not escape her notice. "We got here just in time", she told Doyle. "And you thought I wasn't giving him enough credit."
"What are you talking about?", Angel asked, as Doyle joined Cordelia in the bedroom. "Can we talk about this vision?"
Doyle shook his head at Angel, his expression a mixture of disappointment and anger. "I can't believe it, man. I can't believe you'd risk your soul like this."
"Doyle...there's things you don't know about that...things I didn't know until tonight...", Angel began.
"Come on! It may have been awhile, but I know what was going to happen if we hadn't come in. You were a couple of inches away from....you know!!"
Cordelia interrupted. "Okay, let's just take things real slow." She looked at Angel, accusingly. "I can't believe you were going to have sex with Charlotte! Didn't your little adventure with Buffy teach you anything?!"
"Okay, that's enough", Angel said, putting up his hands in protest. "Look, apparently because Charlotte is immortal....happiness with her won't cost me my soul." Cordelia and Doyle looked at him blankly. "There wasn't any vision...was there?"
Doyle put his hands on his hips. "Cordelia..."
"Excuse me?", Cordelia protested.
"Cordelia and I, we did a little research on Charlotte. Just for the heck of it", he corrected himself. "And we found out some stuff about her that you've got to know."
Angel sat down on the bed. "What kind of stuff?"
"She's takes people's souls, Angel", Cordelia burst out. "She's killed, like, hundreds of people and sucked their souls right away. Left them all dried up and icky."
The vampire raised one eyebrow. "Oh really? And what is the source of all this information?"
"A friend of mine in Ireland traced the body trail back to Galway. It's true, Angel. She feeds on souls." Doyle looked at Angel's half naked form. "And from the looks of it, she almost had a really good meal tonight."
Angel stood up. "This is ridiculous. Charlotte is immortal, she's not a demon. And even if it were true, all those 'hundreds' of people were probably human. I'm not, so I doubt I'd be in any danger."
"Would you bet your soul on it?", Doyle asked. "Look, I know all you see when you look at her is the upper class eighteenth century innocent you fell in love with, but before you wind up soul-less, stop and really listen to what we're saying."
There was a pause. "Tell me what you know."
Cordelia and Doyle exchanged a look. "Well...that's pretty much all we know. Lots of bodies, starting to pile up in 1753", Doyle said, sheepishly. "But there's a lot more research we can do with your help. Will you do it?"
"I will help....but this is your crusade. As soon as we find the information to clear Charlotte's name, we will never speak of this again." Angel face was stone cold. "Understood?"
* * *
*
Cordelia piled her hair onto the top of her head and held it in place with one hand. "You know, I wish we still access to Giles' big collection of Watcher diaries. Those things were so boring, but they always managed to be useful", she sighed.
Angel looked up from the computer he had been situated at for the past two hours. "Who says we don't still have access?" He picked up the phone.
"What are you doing?", Cordelia asked, letting her hair fall. "It's three in the morning. People get angry if you wake them up, Angel."
"Not if they're still awake." Angel dialed a number. "Giles", he said, when the phone was answered.
"Angel? Hello...um...what can I do for you?", Rupert Giles, former Watcher, replied. He sounded more than puzzled to hear from the vampire.
"I know it's late, but I need some information that I don't have access to here. Could you help?"
The sound of Giles shuffling some books could be heard. "What do you need to know about?"
Angel wiped a bit of dust from the computer screen, taking a mental note to supervise Cordelia's cleaning from now on . "I need to find out anything about a Charlotte of Leicester. She's an immortal...about as old as I am."
"What specifically am I looking for?", Giles asked.
The vampire took a breath. "Anything about her in connection with...supposedly hundreds of dead bodies." He gave Doyle a hard look.
"I'll get on it right away. It sounds much more interesting than the chaos demon I should be researching."
"I appreciate it. Oh, and...don't mention this to Buffy." Angel heard Giles agree before hanging up the phone. "He'll find something soon. In the meantime, I had better call Charlotte."
Doyle put his hand over the phone. "Why don't we just wait until your friend calls you back?"
"We just want to be careful, Angel", Cordelia explained. "I mean, if either of us were dating a soul-sucking temptor or temptress, you'd try to keep us from them."
Angel abruptly stood up. "We have no solid proof that Charlotte had anything to do with those murders. I wasn't there myself, but I seem to remember the American Consituition saying something about innocent until proven guilty."
"Yeah, unless someone's just obviously guilty", Cordelia pointed out, using her special brand of logic. "So, would you give us a break? We're doing what we think is best for you."
Their boss nodded, reluctantly. "We'll find out soon enough."
Doyle and Cordelia exchanged a glance. Even if Giles gathered all the proof in the world, would Angel believe it?
* * *
Forty-five minutes later, the phone next to the computer rang out. Angel lifted his head from its uncomfortable sleeping position on his arm and picked up the reciever. "Hello", he mumbled.
"Angel, it's Giles. I think I've found what you're looking for."
Angel sat up straight and blinked to focus his eyes. "What did you find?"
He heard Giles flip a few pages. "The bodies began to surface in Ireland in the 1750's. The first was a footman of a prominent English family."
Angel swallowed heavily. "Go on", he whispered.
"The bodies were found completely dry, inside and out. As technology came more and more into play over the years, investigators found that blood was still present in the bodies, just...well, dried up." Giles paused. "Everyone seems to agree that the victims were drained of some sort of life force."
"They..they were all human, right?"
Giles hesitated. "This was harder to find out, but no. They weren't all human. A couple of demons, all men though. The diary of a Watcher in 1905 details an encounter with the individual commonly thought to be associated with all the victims. His Slayer fought her, but she got away."
"It was a...she then?" Angel bit his tongue to keep from screaming.
"Yes, a young girl, vague references to the name you were looking for: Charlotte. She's obviously immortal, with what appears to be either a very nasty habit or an insaitable appetite. The body count ranges somewhere around three hundred, but with the absence of a reliable news source two hundred years ago, we can assume that it's much higher than that."
Angel shook his head. "It can't be...."
"There's more. One of these bodies was found three weeks ago right here in Sunnydale. Buffy's patrols haven't turned up anything. May I ask if you're after this...Charlotte?", Giles asked.
"I am now", Angel replied, his voice hard. "Thank you, Giles."
"Anytime." The British man hung up his phone.
Angel couldn't bring himself to pull the reciever away from his ear. His mind raced, yet he couldn't form a single coherent thought. The thing he could see clearly was Charlotte.....*what scares you about this?*.....*what was it?*......*what did she do to you, Angel?*....she had wanted to know about the curse, very badly. And then, once he had told her, she said she already knew about it, but it wasn't a problem. "And I believed her", he said aloud. He glanced over at Cordelia, curled up on the couch and Doyle, softly snoring in a chair. "I trusted her over them."
Cordelia stirred suddenly. "Are you still up?", she asked him, sleep-heavily. "It's like, four in the morning."
"I know. I dozed off for awhile." He paused. "Giles called."
She sat up. "What did he say?" Angel was still for a moment before grabbing a coffee mug and hurtling it against the wall with all of his strength. Doyle awoke with a start as the mug shattered. "Never mind...I think I can guess", Cordelia continued.
"Bad news?", Doyle asked.
Angel stood up and paced the room, ignoring the shards of ceramic that littered the floor. "It's all true. Everything you said...she did it all."
Doyle looked down at the floor. "I'm sorry, man. I kinda hoped my friend would be wrong about her."
"What are we going to do?", Cordelia asked.
He paced for another second before replying. "What do we do to all killers we encounter?"
His assistants exchanged another look. "She's immortal, Angel. As in, can't be killed", Cordelia reminded him.
"There are ways to....take care of immortals", Angel said. His gaze was fixed, unblinking on the bed in his room.
Doyle approached him. "Would you really be able to do it?"
"She's planning to take my soul, Doyle. I don't have any other choice."
"Well then, the only way I know to kill an immortal is to...well, to cut off their head", Doyle shared this bit of information as he kicked a big piece of coffee mug out of his way.
Cordelia made a face. "Someone's been watching too many *Highlander* reruns."
"Maybe, but it's true", Doyle sat next to her on the couch.
Angel shook his head. "No. I won't behead her."
"Angel...it's the easiest way to...." Angel cut him off.
"I won't do it. We find another way or she walks free."
Doyle stared at him for a moment before relenting. "I'll get right on it."
* * *
The phone next to Charlotte's motel room bed jangled, waking her from a dreamless state. Sleep was a luxury she afforded herself when she could; it wasn't needed for survival, but it was still a nice thing to indulge in. Charlotte picked up the phone, knowing right away who it was.
"I didn't order a wake up call", she said, sassily.
"Progress is being made, we can assume?", the caller ignored her statement, going straight to the business at hand.
Charlotte sat up. "It could have been last night, but we were interrupted."
"We need this done soon. Do not let another opportunity go by."
She closed her eyes momentarily. "You know I'll do it. I don't have a choice, do I?"
"You don't, no. We have clients relying on us. Take care of the problem without delay, and your debt is repaid. We'll be in touch." The caller hung up.
"Have a nice day", she told the silence on the other end, before hanging up as well. She glanced at her watch lying on the nightstand. Seven in the morning. Too bright out to go hunting, she decided. Besides, she had vowed to not feed while in LA. It had been a risk to feed in Sunnydale, but hunger was a powerful force. That had been three weeks ago, and she was already starting to feel the familiar throbbing in her head, reminding her that her immortality came with a price. The need to feed off the lifeforce of others would always be there, but soon...soon she would be able to control it. Soon, she would have everything she ever wanted. "I just have to take care of this one little thing", she told herself. Charlotte put on her silver ring. "Very soon now."
* * *
"Anything?", Angel asked Doyle. He paced the length of the office, careful to avoid the stronger rays of afternoon light that flooded into the room.
Doyle rubbed his eyes. "Nothing yet, man. But I'll find something. I promise." He returned his attention to his work.
Cordelia poured her third cup of coffee. "Personally, I think there has been far too much research going on during this particular escapade. You need to just get out there and kick some butt." Seeing Angel's hurt expression, she corrected herself. "But then, I'm often too hasty."
"This isn't a normal situation, Cordelia", Angel said, leaning against the doorframe. "I can almost fool myself into believing that it is, but then all I see is Charlotte, seventeen years old, lost in the streets of Galway." He paused. "How can this be her? She has a soul; how can she do these things?"
Cordelia lifted her shoulders, sadly. "Why ask why? You know, ever since Buffy kicked her way into Sunnydale, I've seen some scream-worthy creatures who have done some very puke-worthy things. But they've done them for one of several reasons." She took a sip of coffee. "One, they want to make something happen. Two, they're hungry. Three, they're greedy." Another sip. "Or four, they're just completely insane, sick and delusional."
"Thank you for that", Angel said, dryly.
Doyle snapped his fingers suddenly. "I've got it!" The others gathered around him. "It's a potion that, in a nutshell, will kill any kind of immortal. The ingredients don't look too hard to get."
Angel read the computer screen. "It'll have to be ingested, then. Any suggestions on how to get her to take a poison?"
"Wine her and dine her over here", Cordelia suggested. "Then, you know, thrill her and kill her. Actually, skip the 'thrill her' part. You did enough of that last night."
Doyle looked up at the vampire. "It's a solid plan."
"Agreed. I'll call and invite her over for dinner tonight." He lifted the phone with much effort and dialed slowly. "Charlotte", he said after a moment.
"Angel", she said, warmly. "I was getting ready to call you."
"I have a proposition", he told her.
"Sounds exciting."
He swallowed. "Why don't you...come over here for dinner tonight? I'll cook you anything you'd like."
She laughed. "How can I turn down an offer like that? What time should I get there?"
"Around eight. It'll just be the two of us. We can....finish what we started last night." He closed his eyes.
"I'll be there. As for the anything I'd like part, whatever you cook will be fine." He could picture her sweet smile. "See you then." She hung up with a soft click.
Angel hung up as well. "If you'll excuse me, I have to go shopping." He reached for the printed page that held the poison's ingredients and, teeth clentched, he set off for his apartment, and the sewer passages that allowed him to move around the city during the day.
Cordelia shook her head after he was gone. "Prepare yourself for mucho angst around this office for awhile. This is like Buffy times twelve."
"He'll make it through", Doyle assured her. "You know...." He stopped suddenly, struck by a vision. He frantically clutched at his head.
"What do you see?", Cordelia jumped to her feet. Doyle writhed in agony before her. "What is it?"
As quickly as it came, the vision was over. Doyle's breathing calmed. "We have to get to the Holiday Inn."
Cordelia was confused. "Why?"
"I don't know. We'll see when we get there."
* * *
When Angel returned to his apartment, with an armload of groceries, he was relieved to see no trace of Cordelia or Doyle. This dinner would be much easier to prepare without them around as a constant reminder of why he was preparing it in the first place. He set to work, peeling, slicing, sauteeing, baking. His talent in the kitchen often surprised him, as he had no idea where it came from. Before he was a vampire, servants cooked his meals and afterwards, food held no appeal to him. It still didn't, he thought, looking down at the chocolate cake batter he was stirring. The sweet concoction almost turned his stomach and he found it hard to believe that, at one time, chocolate had been his favorite treat.
Angel reached for the poison recipe. Before he knew it, he had added all of the deadly ingredients to the cake batter. He poured the thick mixture into a cake pan and slid it into the oven. Angel stared at the cake for all the long minutes it took to bake. When it was ready, he pulled it out. It looked so harmless, and it was...to everyone except Charlotte. Angel swallowed back a lump in his throat as he iced the cake. His hand idly formed peaks and waves in the frosting with the knife, long after the surface was entirely covered. The sound of the elevator making its descent to his apartment brought him back to reality. Quickly, he scooped up and disposed of every trace of the poison. All that was left was the cake itself.
Charlotte stepped from the elevator, looking more beautiful than Angel could ever remember her having looked. She walked over to him, not hesitating to kiss him, long and deep. His arms hung at his sides, and his lips barely responded. Charlotte, seemingly unaware, pulled away. "Whatever you cooked smells wonderful", she told him, setting her handbag on the kitchen table, next to the cake. She noticed the dessert. "How did you know that I love chocolate cake?"
He smiled weakly. "Luck o' the Irish."
"Well, I don't know about you, but I'd love to start out with dessert", she smiled, impishly.
Angel opened his mouth to refuse her request, but then, thought better of it. Here was an opportunity to make it all end...quickly. "Let's", he replied. "Dessert first, it is."
* * *
Cordelia looked up at the bright Holiday Inn sign. "This had better be it. There can not possibly be another Holiday Inn in this town!"
Doyle looked down at a page torn from Angel's phonebook. "According to this, we've gone to every Holiday Inn but this one."
"And you haven't seen what you saw in your vision at any of the others", Cordelia recapped. "Remind me again what that was?"
Doyle's brow crinkled. "I saw a palm tree."
"Wow, a palm tree in L.A. How odd." Cordelia rolled her eyes. "You'd think that the powers that be would give you more to go on."
Doyle threw her a look as they began to make their way around the hotel. "I'll know it when I see it", he told her. Then, he stopped. "And there it is."
Cordelia looked at the only palm tree in sight. "How do you know that's it?"
"It has an wierd bump...just like in the vision." Doyle moved closer to it. "The question is, why am I getting visions of this palm tree?"
"It doesn't appear to be in any trouble", Cordelia noted.
Doyle tilted his head, still staring at the tree. "Cordy...does that wierd bump seem to be pointing to something?"
"Something like what?"
"Something like that door", Doyle pointed to room 115. He looked back at Cordelia. "Do you have a credit card?"
She pulled one out of her purse. "It's maxed out."
Doyle set to work on the door's lock. "That really doesn't matter." In a moment, the door opened. "Let's break and enter", he motioned Cordelia inside the room.
Cordelia flipped on the room's light. "It's Holiday Inn-ish, Doyle." She thought of something. "Hey, this isn't just a really lame way to get me into an empty motel room, is it?"
"Amazingly enough, no", Doyle replied, his attention focused on the floor.
"Why are you looking at the floor?", Cordelia asked, impatiently. Doyle walked over to the bed and picked up a shoe, half-hidden by the bedspread. Cordelia immediately recognized it. "That's Charlotte's shoe."
Doyle nodded. "We're in Charlotte's motel room. We were brought here for a reason." He looked around. "But what is it? We already know her secret."
Cordelia took her own look around the room. Her gaze stopped on a thick folder wedged between the TV and a lamp. She picked up and sat down on the bed to investigate its contents, while Doyle searched the rest of the room. After only a moment of reading, she called his name.
"What?", he asked, appearing from the bathroom.
"I think I know why we were brought here", Cordelia said. She thrust a piece of paper into Doyle's hand.
He began to read. "To restore a vampire's soul, use the Orb of Thessulah. If one can not be found....", he trailed off. "This is gypsy ritual that gave Angel his soul back a hundred years ago."
Cordelia nodded. "And it's the one Willow used to make him good again. But why does Charlotte have it? She wants to eat his soul, not restore it."
"It doesn't make any sense", Doyle agreed. "If she...eats his soul, how could she restore it again?"
"What if she doesn't want to feed on Angel?", Cordelia said, brow furred in thought.
Doyle looked at her. "What?"
"I don't know. I'm just tossing out ideas. I'm probably way off", she said, sounding for the first time that Doyle knew of, almost humble.
"Maybe not", he said, looking through the rest of the folder. One piece of paper in particular caught his eye. In bold font, the letter-head read "Wolfram and Hart, Attorneys at Law". Doyle cleared his throat and read aloud. "'April 12, 1998. Dear Miss Leicester, We have been employed for several years now by the descendents of an amateur witch from Galway, Ireland whom we believe you are indebited to for services rendered almost two hundred and fifty years ago. The woman's family has given us the sole rights to the debt and we are to see that it is repaid, in whatever way we see fit. We will be in touch, when the time and place is right. Yours truly, Walter Wolfram.'" Doyle looked at Cordelia.
"She's working for those bad lawyer guys?", Cordelia exclaimed. "That bitch!"
Doyle shook his head. "I don't think it's by choice, Cordy. Listen to this. 'September 15, 1999. Dear Miss Leicester, The time and place are right for your debt to be repaid. It has come to our attention that we have a mutual acquaintance, a souled vampire called Angelus. You are looking for him and we know where he is. Your duty, Miss Leicester is to neutralize Angelus. Given your unique nutritional needs, we feel that you are best suited to do this. When you arrive in Los Angeles, you will recieve further instructions. Yours truly, Walter Wolfram.'"
Cordelia began to put the pieces together. "Charlotte had a debt to this witch woman. The lawyer guys are making her repay it by....taking Angel's soul. 'Cause that's what she does, in order to survive."
"Charlotte really has been looking for Angel all this time. She doesn't want to take his soul, but she doesn't have a choice." He looked back at the ritual. "Once she takes his soul and repays her debt, she's going to restore it." Doyle smiled, but then, he thought of something. "The dinner!!"
* * *
Angel watched Charlotte delicately pierce the last bite of her slice of cake. She lifted the fork to mouth, chewed and swallowed. That was it. It was just a matter of time now. Charlotte blotted her lips with her napkin and smiled at Angel.
"You're a very good cook", she told him.
He ran his fork through the icing on his untouched piece. "Surprising, isn't it?"
Charlotte stood up and came around to his side of the table until she was standing behind him. She put her arms around his neck and kissed his cheek. "You're a surprising sort of man." Her lips moved down to his neck.
Angel stood, forcing her to back off slightly. "I'll get the dishes." He gathered up their plates and walked to the sink. Charlotte looked puzzled, but brushed off the incident. She sat back at the table, waiting for him to finish in the kitchen. Angel gave her plate a few absent-minded wipes with a sponge, but his attention was focused mostly on Charlotte. He wondered how it took for the poison to take effect.
He didn't have to wait very long. Charlotte put a hand to her chest. "Is it hot in here?", she asked. Angel could see her face becoming paler; beads of perspiration appeared on her forehead. She stood up, but it proved to be no help. Her knees seemed to give way and she grabbed onto the table for support. "Angel?", she whispered, pleadingly. He slowly walked over to her, and despite his promise to himself to watch her die without helping her, he gently lifted her up and carried her to the couch.
"What's...what's going on?", Charlotte asked. Angel found that he couldn't look her directly in the eye. "I don't...feel very well."
"I'm sure....I'm sure it'll pass", Angel forced himself to say.
But Charlotte wasn't easily duped. She looked at him for moment. "Angel....what was in that cake?" Before he could answer her, a sharp, biting pain in her stomach caused her to cry out.
Angel bit his lip, tasting the unsatisfying flavor of his own blood. "It'll be over soon", he said. "I promise."
"Why, Angel?" Charlotte's eyes were large and tear-filled. "Why are you doing this?"
But Angel had no answer.
* * *
Doyle cursed and looked at his watch. "Why do we have to take the bus? We could have been there by now!"
Cordelia pointed her shoes. "Hello? I've got heels here."
"Cordelia, Angel is about to feed a poison to an innocent woman that he happens to love. Can you please try to focus your sympathy off of yourself?"
His words seemed to puncture Cordelia's insult-proof wall. "Yeah...well...you know. Charlotte's not completely innocent. She did kill all of those people."
"I think she had to. Somehow, she can only exsist as an immortal by taking all those people's souls", Doyel theorized.
Cordelia rolled her eyes, her defenses recovered. "Oh, well. That makes it all okay, then."
Just then, the bus finally appeared down the block. When it got to them, Doyle rushed aboard, followed by Cordelia. "Let's just hope we get there in time", Doyle said, harshly.
* * *
Angel watched Charlotte cough, a thin line of blood running from the corner of her mouth. He felt no temptation; this was not the time or the place. Charlotte forced her eyes open and looked at him. "Why have you done this?", she asked him again, her voice choked.
He hung his head. "I know, Charlotte. I know everything." He looked at her, accusingly. "Why were you going to do it?"
"I never wanted to hurt you, Angel." Tears fell from the corners of her eyes. "I had it all planned out....you weren't going to be hurt."
Angel shook his head. "I can't believe that, Charlotte."
"I love you, Angel. And...I'm sorry. I'm so sorry", she whispered. Slowly, her body went limp and her eyes closed for the last time in two hundred and fifty years.
"I loved you too, Charlotte."
Suddenly, the elevator to Angel's apartment rose and a moment later, descended again. Cordelia and Doyle rushed from it when the doors had opened. The sight that greeted them stopped them short. Charlotte, peaceful and pale, lying on the leather couch. Angel, holding her hand, blankly staring down at her still body. After a moment, their boss noticed them and looked up. His eyes were red-rimmed. "She's gone", he said, unnecessarily.
Cordelia opened her mouth, to tell Angel all about Doyle's vision, but the Irish man put his hand on her arm to stop her. "I'm sorry, man", he told the vampire.
Angel stood up, but not before he removed his mother's ring from Charlotte's finger. "Nothing to be sorry for. It's all part of the job." He briskly walked to the trapdoor that led to the sewers and disappeared through the hole in the floor.
Cordelia pinched Doyle. "Why didn't you let me tell him? He should know that she wasn't trying to hurt him!"
"No, he shouldn't", Doyle replied, ignoring her pinch. "He really shouldn't know." Doyle walked to the trapdoor and listened until he couldn't hear Angel's footsteps anymore.
"But...", Cordelia began, before Doyle cut her off.
"What good would it do for him to know? Right now, he believes he did the right thing." He ran a hand through his hair. "The man already has enough guilt for ten humans, Cordy." Doyle looked down at Charlotte's body. "What you don't know, can't kill you."
The End
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