Runaway Bride

"I will NOT marry you!"

Cordelia Chase screamed the words at the man pursuing her through the hall

of the apartment she shared with her best friend/boss, Angel. "I don’t care WHAT you have to say, I’m NOT marrying you!"

The man stopped in his tracks.

Cordelia froze too, sneaking a look back at him. She could almost imagine she could see steam billowing from the top of his head. Maybe she had finally pushed him too far.

The man clenched his fists, no doubt imagining her slender neck between his

hands, and spoke through tightly gritted teeth. His voice, when it came

out, had a disarmingly pleasant Irish lilt, despite the snarl obvious in

his tone. "You are six month pregnant with MY child," he growled. "We should have been married months ago!"

"Why?"

"Because it’s proper!"

"Proper? You’re a demon, not a Catholic! The Pope won’t care! I’m not marrying you!"

"Why the hell not?" he demanded.

She was dumfounded for a moment, and cast around wildly for a plausible excuse. "You’re...you’re a demon! I can’t marry a demon!"

"Ah, but you can fuck a demon, now can’t you?" Bitterness welled deep within him. Her eyes narrowed in rage. "I can fuck whomever or whatever I want! And I never told you this baby was yours. It’s not yours. So there." The taunt in her voice was clear.

In hindsight, that was probably not the wisest thing to say to him. Normally, Thomas Doyle was a calm, collected man. Er, demon. Except when he got anywhere near Cordelia Chase. Then he became a ravening beast. He surged forward, pinning her to the wall by her shoulders. "You wouldna dare," he snarled. His ire was apparent; his brogue was so thick he was nearly unintelligible. "You wouldna dare be unfaithful t’ me."

"It’s not like we were involved or anything." Her gaze was insolent. His eyebrows nearly hit his hairline. "No’ involved! For chrissakes, woman, thass my babe growin’ within ye!" She was impossible. No matter how nicely he had asked her, she still refused him. He was going to—

"ENOUGH!"

Both heads turned towards the sound of the new voice bellowing at them. "It’s gotten so that a man can’t sleep in his own damned house!" Angel yelled, striding towards them. "You have had this argument every damn day since you found out about the baby, and I am tired of it!"

Cordelia opened her mouth to speak, but Angel silenced her with a glare.

"You are purposely inciting him, Delia, for no reason other than you can. It’s not right."

"I’m not marrying him."

"Yes, you are."

Cordelia’s jaw dropped. "What did you just say?"

"He just told you that you had to marry me," Doyle supplied helpfully, thankful that, for once, Angel was on his side.

"You’re not my father, Angel." Her father was currently residing in jail, and even if he had known, he wouldn’t have cared at all.

"No," the vampire said. "But I’m the closest thing to family you have, and I am going to see you do what’s best for you and for your child." "And you think he’s it?" Scorn dripped from the words.

"I KNOW he’s it. He loves you, and he’s the father of the child. It’s pretty much cut and dried, Cordelia." At the mention of the ‘L’ word, her face tightened and tears shimmered in her eyes. "I refuse to marry him, and nothing you can say or do will make me." She shrugged out of Doyle’s confining hold, and ran down the hall to the safety of her bedroom.

The men watched her retreating back helplessly.

*****

The next morning, when she was late in getting up for work, Angel went to check on her.

She was gone.

His heart fell to his feet.

Turning quickly on his heel, he ran for a phone.

Fifteen minutes later, a clearly agitated Doyle paced in Angel’s living room. "What do you mean, she’s gone?"

"I mean, she’s gone. As in, she’s no longer here."

"How could you let her get away?"

"I wasn’t aware that I was her jailer. She’s an adult, Doyle. I can’t be locking her in her room every time she does something crazy."

"And why not?"

Angel stared at him. "Doyle, listen to what you’re saying."

"I know full well what I’m saying. What if our positions were reversed and your precious Buffy was the nutter in question? You’d want me to sit on her."

Ignoring the sharp spasm of pain that slammed through him at the thought of Buffy round with his child, Angel shook his head. "First, there is no keeping Buffy where she doesn’t want to be kept. She’d take you out, and you know it. Second, we’re not talking about Buffy. We’re talking about Cordelia. A hormone driven, highly irrational pregnant woman." "Oh God," Doyle whispered, covering his eyes with his hands. "She could be anywhere. What if she’s hurt? What if we never find her? Angel, how can I live without her?"

The pain in Doyle’s voice made Angel place a gentle hand on the other man’s shoulder. "Don’t worry. I know where she is. There’s only one place she could have gone."

"Where?"

"Back to Sunnydale. I bet she’s with Buffy right now."

*****

Buffy Summers eyed the crying woman lumped in the middle of her bed. She turned to Willow, who had just walked into the room with a cup of tea. Willow shrugged her shoulders, and stepped forward with the hot drink. "Cordy," the redhead called out softly, "Cordy, here’s some tea. It’s good for you and the baby. Come now, drink it."

Cordelia sat up, her tear stained face red and puffy. "I don’t want it."

Buffy crawled onto the bed next to her, wrapping her in a strong embrace.

"Come on, Cordy. Drink. You need to replace the fluids in your system." Miserably, Cordelia looked at her two friends, both their faces identical masks of concern. Silently, she reached for the cup, made a face at the stench of the tea, and drank it down.

Willow clucked approvingly.

"Now do you think you can tell us what’s wrong," Buffy asked, resting her head on top of Cordelia’s.

"Doyle wants to marry me," she wailed.

Willow looked at Buffy. "Isn’t that a good thing, Cordy?"

"No!" she sobbed.

"Ooookay. Care to tell us why?"

"Because he’s only doing it because of the baby!"

The other women winced in sympathy.

"Oh, Cordy, are you sure? He seems to like you a lot," Buffy pointed out. "You really put him through a lot, and he never gave up. That must mean he loves you."

"He doesn’t love me!" Cordelia sobbed, drawing herself into a ball of anguish. The light bulb went on over Buffy’s head. "And you love him, and it’s like dying to know that he doesn’t love you back."

Cordelia nodded through her tears.

Buffy and Willow shared another helpless look, then the redhead joined the other women on the bed, and between them, they managed to rock Cordelia to sleep.

*****

The sun had only been down in the night sky for little more than an hour when a loud knock sounded at Buffy’s front door. Willow had left earlier to meet Oz for dinner, so Buffy was left to guard over Cordelia.

The Slayer walked calmly over to the door, sure of who was on the other side. She had always been able to feel Angel’s presence, since he slid from the shadows into her life. And Doyle had to be with him. Despite what Cordelia said, Buffy knew that the demon felt more for the brunette then he was letting on.

Buffy opened the door.

Doyle shoved past her. "Where is she? She has to be here, Angel said she was here."

Angel paused at the door, an apologetic look on his face. "Buffy, I’m sorry to barge in on you like this..." "No, it’s okay. Come in." She stared longingly at her ex-lover for a moment, greedily drinking in the sight of him. It had been so long since she had seen him, and she ached for him from the bottom of her soul. Doyle’s crazed pacing snapped her out of the Angel-induced trance. "She’s upstairs, Doyle."

When he made a move for the stairs, Buffy caught his arm. "Wait. She’s sleeping."

He paled. "Is she okay? If something happened to her, I...I’ll kill her."

Oh no, Buffy thought, no love here.

"Let her sleep, Doyle," Angel interjected. "As long as we know where she is, no harm can come to her."

Doyle shook his head. "I have to see her." With that, he went upstairs...leaving Buffy and Angel alone with each other.

*****

Doyle crept upstairs, intent on making as little noise as possible. He had no desire to wake his lover up. He entered the room, and his heart tore in half. She was curled on Buffy’s bed, her breath hitching a little, indicating that she had cried herself to sleep.

He had caused those tears, and he hated himself fiercely for that. Unable to help himself, he climbed onto the bed and wrapped himself around her, feeling his tense muscles relax as he came into contact with her slender form. He burrowed his face into her hair, and was gratified when she murmured his name and snuggled closer. At least in sleep, she realized they belonged together.

For more than an hour, he did nothing but hold her.

*****

Angel was standing in her living room.

Buffy didn’t know what to do. Part of her wanted to go make sure Doyle wasn’t hurting Cordelia any further, but the rest of her wanted to stay here and stare at Angel. He looked so good, she noticed, so dark, and strong, and... Suddenly, it was too much for her and she winced in pain. She had to get out of there. She headed for the kitchen.

"Do you want anything?" she called over her shoulder. "I keep...I keep blood on hand for Spike..."

Angel followed her, his big hands settling on her shoulders. Her whole body went rigid at the touch. He felt it and backed off.

"Buffy, it was a bad idea for me to come here. It’s been almost two years..."

The lump in her throat caused her to whisper her words. "One year, ten months, sixteen days, and about four hours."He stared at the back of her head. "I’m going to leave. Doyle can take Cordelia back in her car."

Buffy covered her mouth with her hand, afraid of what was going to come from her mouth. She wanted to scream at him, to beg him to stay. She was going crazy without him. They were too raw, her wounds, and seeing him like this only made it worse. She heard him turn and walk away, and then she was spinning around on her heel.

"How many times do you think I can survive watching you walk away from me?"

The words flew out of her mouth before she could stop them.

Her words stopped him in his tracks. "Buffy, I..."

"You don’t date anyone, Angel. I don’t date anyone. I still love you. I can’t move on. I don’t want to move on."

Agony ripped through him. Everything he had ever wanted, ever dreamed of, ever ached for, was in front of him, but he could not, would not, allow himself to take it.

"You have to," he grated out, and reached for the doorknob. He heard a choking gasp behind him, and whirled around.She was trembling uncontrollably, left hand covering her mouth, forcibly holding in the sobs that were trying to break free. Her other hand was stretched pleadingly towards him. Her eyes were awash with moisture, hazel pools of abject misery. She moved her left hand to her throat, and spoke quietly, as though a louder tone would unleash something she was trying desperately to keep contained.

"I’ve never begged anyone for anything in my life. But I’m begging you now. Don’t walk away from me again, Angel. Don’t. Please. I can’t do it again. I’m not that strong." The tears flowed freely down her face as she pleaded with him.

The sight of her begging before him, abasing herself before him, horrified him as nothing else ever would. He lurched away from the door and reached for her. "Buffy, stop!"

She yanked away from him, stumbling, landing on her hands and knees on the floor. "I won’t stop. I can’t stop. I’m fighting for my life." Her sobs were wrenching, sounding as though they were being torn from her very soul.

He had to be strong, he had to be strong, he had to be strong. He chanted the words to himself as he fought against the nearly overpowering urge to sweep her up in his arms and make love to her until neither of them could do anything but feel. But the sight of the tears flooding down her beautiful face did him in. With an agonized groan, he lunged for her, taking them both to the ground. "Don’t ever do that again," he demanded brokenly, as he planted desperate kisses all over her face.

"Don’t ever make me," she wept. "Stay with me."

"I love you," he murmured against her lips. "I know I shouldn’t, but God help me, I can’t stop. I’ll never stop."

*****

Cordelia hadn’t felt this good in a long time. The baby, for once, wasn’t trying to kick a field goal, she was warm, and she was wrapped in Doyle’s arms. Life was good.

Then a nagging thought interrupted her happiness. Doyle’s arms? Cordelia’s eyes snapped open, taking in her surroundings. He had to have followed her to Buffy’s. Damn him. Quicker than she thought she could move, she leapt off the bed and dove for the door. She had to get out of there and find someplace safe from him.

The abrupt movement jarred Doyle out of the first truly peaceful sleep he’d had in months. His eyes opened to the sight of his beloved running full tilt for the door. With a shout, he jumped up and followed her.

Cordelia hit the top of the stairs running, and she held onto the bannister as she fled towards the door. On the way down, she was momentarily halted by the sight of Buffy and Angel curled up together on the floor, but she didn’t have time to be happy for them. She had to get away from the wildman currently chasing her. At the sound of feet pounding down the stairs, Buffy and Angel leapt up. Cordelia sped past them, making a beeline for the front door. But pregnancy had slowed her down a bit, and Doyle was powered by extreme desperation, so he managed to snag her arm before she reached the threshold. "Will you STOP!" Doyle bellowed, his patience at an end. "You’re behaving like a child, Delia."

Rage flowed into her face at the insult, and without thinking, she drew back her free hand and slapped him across the face. "Don’t touch me."His head jerked back with the impact, but he still held on to her. "It’s a little fucking late for that."

"Leave me the hell alone, Doyle. I’m not going to marry a man that doesn’t want me, just because I’m pregnant. I’m not desperate."

Doyle squinted his eyes. The utter and complete confusion he felt was written across his face. "A man that doesn’t want you?"Her lips tightened, and she nodded. "I won’t be a burden, Doyle. Not to you, or anyone."

"A burden," he echoed dumbly.

Her eyes filled up with hot tears, and she turned her head to the side to hide them from him. He saw anyway, and stepped forward, pulling her stiff, unwilling form into his arms. "Let me get this straight. You think I don’t want you?" "You only want me because you feel obligated because of the baby." The words were accompanied by a huge sniff.

Suddenly, Doyle didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry himself. All the torture of the last few months because she didn’t know how he felt. Or how much he felt. Despite himself, a huge grin formed on his mouth. She saw it, and pulled away. "Now you’re laughing at me!" she accused, hurt apparent in her eyes. He reached for her again, pulling her in tight when she began to beat at his chest. "No, I’m not laughing at you."

Doyle cupped her cheeks in his palms, thumbs wiping away the tears that stained her skin. "I want to marry you, Cordelia Chase, because I love you more than I have words to express."

Her eyes were huge and dark in her face. "You...you love me?" she whispered. He smiled his most charming crooked smile. "I’ve loved you since the first time you slapped my face."

"That was years ago."

"I’m a patient man."

She was shocked down to her toes. "You’re not lying to me? Because...because I couldn’t handle it if you were." Her muscles were tense with burgeoning panic.

"I’ll never lie to you, darlin’."

Her eyes closed as tears swept down her cheeks. He leaned in, sipping them from her skin. "Don’t cry, Delia. I don’t want to ever make you cry again." Abruptly, she threw herself further into his embrace, burrowing her face into his neck as the sobs racked her body. His arms tightened around her instantly, and he looked up, alarmed.

Angel and Buffy were standing there, smiling at them. Buffy had tears tracking down her own cheeks, and her fingers were entangled with those of the man who, despite all odds, she would always love.

"She’s happy," Buffy mouthed at Doyle. "She’s going to marry you. I promise." With a wink, the Slayer dragged Angel off by his hand, leaving the other couple in private.

"Darlin’, what’s wrong?" he asked her as he ran his fingers through her dark hair.

"You love me," she sobbed.

"Aye, that I do. But that shouldn’t make you cry like your heart is breaking." She tightened her grip on him, then tilted her head back so she could look at him. "I love you so much, and when I thought that you didn’t want me...it hurt so badly I thought I would die from it."

"Delia, you love me?" he asked in a hushed whisper.

She giggled slightly. "Of course I love you. I don’t sleep with just any demon that makes eyes at me."

"So all this nonsense about you carrying on with other men..."

"...Was just to piss you off."

"Well, you succeeded," he rasped. "You nearly drove me out of my mind. I was ready to go and kill every man that you had ever mentioned." She rested her head on his chest.

"I’m sorry. I was just crazed. I...I—"

"Hush, my love. It’s not important now. The only thing that’s important is you and me. Now, I’ve asked you this question about a thousand times, but I’ve not liked the answer thus far. So I’m asking you again: will you marry me?"

She smiled her famous zillion megawatt smile at him, and said, "I will."

*****

The wedding was a hit, even by Hellmouth standards.

Giles gave Cordelia away, and Angel stood at her side as Man of Honor. Whistler, summoned for the ocassion, was Doyle’s Best Man. Since the bride didn’t practice any religion, and the groom was half-demon, the couple was married by the head of Willow’s coven, a delightful woman named Maggie. When it came time for the rings to be exchanged, Angel and Whistler produced emerald studded silver claddaghs, which suited both the bride and groom admirably. And when Doyle reached the end of his vows, he slid to his knees and pressed a fervent kiss to the hard mound of his child. There wasn’t a dry eye left in the whole room.

*****

Two months later, in a home birth attended by her closest friends, Cordelia delivered her son into the world. He was named Gabriel, for an old friend of his father’s. He had his mother’s dark eyes, and his father’s nearly unholy charm, even from birth.

That night, in a scene straight out of a fairy tale, Gabriel Chase Doyle was given gifts from all of his extended family. From his Aunt Buffy, he gained the courage of a warrior to fight all battles, no matter what the odds; from his Uncle Angel, he received the strength to accept whatever Fate would mete out for him; from his Uncle Oz, he was gifted with the unending patience of the wolf; from his Aunt Willow, he gained kindness and respect for all things. His Uncle Xander gave him the gift of loyalty for those that had earned it; from his grandfather Rupert, he received the twin gifts of perseverance and determination.

From his parents, Gabriel gained unconditional love.

And for a brief moment, nothing bad happened in the world.