Authors notes on chapter two: In my attempt to try and perfect my formatting I'm trying something different with this one. Little **** are now used to break up the sections within chapters.

Note to Crow fans: Kate's description is decidedly lacking, but it's supposed to be. Trust me.

To Reviewers: I think FF.net finally got rid of the Fido bug! Please review and keep speculating! It helps my writers block!

Chapter 2: To Put the Wrong Things Right...

The drive home didn't go as smoothly as Kate would have wanted. Memories kept jumping into her mind. Not from her nightmare, but from a past long forgotten.

A man dressed in black. His face painted white with bleak streaks. One through each eye and one running the length of his mouth. He took from her the packet of drugs she'd held in her hands. She watched as it leapt into flames. "You have magic just like me." He said with the hint of an accent she couldn't quite place.

The same man on a motorcycle. "Where are you going?" Kate remembered asking. "To a better place." Was all he said before riding off.

Suddenly, she remembered she was still on the road. She pulled over and got out of the car to better see where her unconscious mind had taken her.

What was she doing at the docks? She looked around. Well, there were worse places she could be. As sailors from a nearby ship started hooting at her she thought, But not many...

She was about to leave when a shadow on the dock caught her eye. Whatever it was looked like a person on their hands and knees.

Kate hesitated. Every instinct she had as a cop told her this could be trouble, but every instinct she had as a women told her she needed to help this person. She slowly approached the dock. As she did, she became aware in the light of the setting sun that whoever it was, was a man.

"Sir? Sir!" She called in her best authoritative cop voice. "Are you all right?"

He looked up at her.

Kate gasped. She'd been taken aback, not by the obvious tracks of silent tears on his face, not by the haunted look in his eyes, but by something much more frightening...

****

"Sir, you can't go in there! It's a restricted area!" Cordelia shouted.

Angel just stared at her deadpan.

"Well?" Cordelia put her hands on her hips.

"It was..." Angel knew he had to word this just right. "...good?"

Cordelia rolled her eyes. "You know what? Just forget it." She picked up her purse and headed for the door. "I get better compliments from Dennis!" The door slammed behind her, cutting off any response Angel might have made.

Angel wasn't planning on making any. He'd come to the conclusion nothing he could say would sound right to that women. Wesley couldn't seem to say the right thing either. Sometimes, Angel thought, it seems like no one can please her.

****

Cordelia slammed the door to her apartment. That Angel! I mean, how insensitive can you get? Didn't he see I needed some encouragement? But he didn't. No one ever had except...

She looked around quickly. "Dennis?" she whispered. She waited a moment, but saw no response. Quickly she ran to her room and reached under her bed. With one last look about to see that no invisible roommates where trying to get her attention, (where was Dennis?) she pulled out a well worn VHS. Running her hand over the label marked 'Commercial' she remembered the day she shot it. This wasn't the first time she'd been thankful for her stroke of inspiration. If she hadn't asked him to tape it, she'd have nothing left of him. Because he never had the decency to have a favorite coffee mug!

Slowly, she walked back into the living room. She was weary of having anyone see her in such a vulnerable moment. Even a ghost who couldn't talk.

"Dennis?" She called a bit louder. Maybe he's asleep. Did ghosts even need sleep?

Finally satisfied that she was alone, she crossed the room and popped the tape into the VCR. She crossed the room again to curl up on the couch.

"If you need help, then look no ferther. Angel investigations is the best! Our rats are low..."

****

Cordelia had long ago fallen asleep, still curled up on the couch. The tape had run itself out and now the TV was filled with static.

Invisible hands pulled a blanket around Cordelia's shoulders. Silently, the TV clicked off.

****

Kate opened the door to her apartment, When she entered alone she called behind her without turning around. "You should probably come in. It can't be worse then staying out there." All the while her mind was trying to wrap itself around what had happened, what was happening, what would happen and her unlikely part in it all.

Hesitantly, Doyle stepped into the room. His mind was more or less just trying to wake up from what could very well be both a dream and a nightmare. He was fairly sure he wasn't dead, talking to the living person being his first clue. Still, nothing felt the same, felt real. It was as if he were swimming through glue. He felt as if he should have gone somewhere else, that there was someone he needed to see.

Kate, the women in front of him, had found him. She'd said she knew what was going on. She was going to explain everything to him.

Any minute now...

"You should sit down." Kate said in a pale imitation of her usual 'Cop-in-control' voice. Doyle remembered Kate from somewhere, somewhere on the tip of his mind. He also remembered she wasn't always miss congeniality.

"I'd prefer to stand, if it's all the same to you." He didn't know why he was arguing with her, but he also didn't know why he should trust her. He wondered when 'Cagney and Lacy' Kate had become so knowledgeable about the supernatural.

He also wondered why he thought of her as 'Cagney and Lacy' Kate.

"It would be easier for me." She said softly.

Doyle looked up at her and for the first time noticed how pale and shaken Kate looked. He sincerely doubted the Kate he remembered would recognize the one in front of him. Slowly, he moved to the couch and sat down.

Kate sat down in the chair directly across from him. After a moment she got up and began to pace. For a while Doyle wondered if she was going to say anything. Then suddenly she blurted out, "What's the last thing you remember?"

"I..." He hadn't realized until that moment how little he remembered. He'd died, he was almost sure of that, but what else? The tiny beginnings of panic crawled over his skin as he realized that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't remember what had happened to him. He couldn't remember anything.

"It's all right, it's all right." Kate could see the agitation in Doyle's face. "It'll all come back." I hope, "It'll just take some time." She tried to sound certain. Kate once again decided to take a seat. She silently contemplated the man in front of her. He was dressed in a red polyester shirt that could very well be mistaken for a stop sign. All in all he looked a good deal like death warmed over. Which I guess he is. Didn't he used to wear a jacket? She was almost sure he used to wear a lather jacket... Stop it Kate, you're stalling. Running her hands through her short blond hair she looked up and shot him an unconvincing smile. "There are probably hundreds of people who could explain this better."

"But, unless I'm missing somthin', they aren't here. You are, and I need to know. Am I..." He trailed off, not sure himself where he was going with that statement.

"Dead?" Kate finished for him. "You were, I'm not sure we have a word for what you are now. You've been brought back."

"But by who? And why?" Doyle demanded.

Kate shook her head. "I didn't start that right." She took a deep breath and started over. "Long ago, people used to believe that crows carried the soul to the land of the dead. But if a soul was so burdened by sadness that it effected even the crow, then they could bring that soul back. However you died, it was a great wrong. You're hear to fix that."

"I just wish I could remember what that was." Doyle barely whispered.

"And I wish I could help, but I can't." That wasn't exactly true. While she didn't know the details, Kate had a vague idea of what had happened, and the clear understanding it had been very painful. Until she pieced it together though, it would probably be better for him to go it on his own. For the most part.

"So I do what I came to back to do... and?" Doyle raised an eyebrow.

"You die again. Well, not again. You're not alive now. You just...rest."

"Oh." Doyle figured that was the best explanation he would get out of her.

"Look," snapped Kate. "It doesn't make a lot of sense to me either, but I'm trying!" She calmed down and continued. "You've got until the 31st, the day of the dead. Do what you came back to do and your soul will be at peace."

"Simple as that, huh?" Doyle attempted to smile. Though barely a shadow of his old expression, it wasn't entirely unpleasant.

Kate nodded. "That simple."