You know, if Doyle were to show up again, I'd hug him until he couldn't breathe.
Then I'd smack him one.
I understand why he did what he did, both in saving the Lister demons and in laying one on me. I didn't understand at first, and I certainly didn't want it at first, but I do now. Someone needed to be there to help Angel by guiding him in the right direction, and at the time, that was me. Pretty much by default. I've come to accept that. Hell, I became half-demon to with all the pretty, glowy moments to go along with it to keep the visions.
But that still doesn't mean I don't want to smack him. Mainly for leaving us behind. I really missed him. Still do. I loved Gunn and Lorne, don't get me wrong, but neither of them were Doyle. He was one of a kind.
In a way, after Doyle was gone, it really was just me and Angel. Which was why it hurt so much when he tried to shut us out while Darla played her head games with him. Thank God he came to his senses. Things could have been so much worse. Believe me, I know.
We managed to muddle our way through the next few years, fighting against Wolfram and Hart and their band of ambulance chasers. Do demons even use ambulances? Probably not, but Lilah and Lindsey certainly are those types. Anything to get ahead.
Then we caught wind of what was going on in Sunnydale, from Lilah Morgan of all people, so we headed up to help out. Wasn't good when the First showed up as Doyle, trying to convince me he was there to take back the visions. But we managed to win the battle, and now I'm with everyone else in England.
England. At one time, I would have killed to have an acting job here in the West End. Now, I'm here, seer for a Council dedicated to stopping evil. Suddenly, it's not me and Angel anymore.
Funny how things change. I wish Doyle were here.