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Disclaimer: The characters of Angel, Cordelia, and Doyle belong to Joss Whedon. Helen, however, belongs to me unless proven otherwise.
Prelude
From The Journal of Cordelia Chase:
December 20, 1999
It's been a few weeks, but I can still see those moments, clear as day. Can remember that Doyle (a half demon), Angel (an ensouled vampire), and I (an ordinary mortal woman) were standing huddled together on the platform of a cargo ship, a large family of peaceful demons watching us from the stockroom below. While we remained focused on a large suspended light-bomb that was ready to detonate and kill us all.
I can still hear Angel's voice echoing in my mind that he had to get close to the bomb to deactivate it, even though he knew that his exposure to the light was sure to burn him alive. Both Doyle and I argued this fact, but we could see that Angel's mind was made up; he was ready to sacrifice himself for us. I remember that Doyle seemed to accept this, as he said, "You never know how selfless you are until you've been tested... I get that now."
Doyle's next action caught both of us off guard, as a mean right hook from him sent Angel flying off the balcony and landing roughly on the floor below. Next, pressed for time, Doyle turned and abruptly kissed me without saying a word. When he pulled away, I could only stare at him in silent disbelief, somehow knowing deep down inside that this was his way of saying goodbye. A fact compounded when he morphed into his demon guise and said, "It's too bad we'll never know... if this is a face you could learn to love."
When Doyle turned to face the bomb, prepared to leap from the platform
over to it, I wanted so badly to stop him, but didn't have the strength nor
the courage. Only Angel could do that; even now, I could distantly hear him
ascending once more, screaming for Doyle to stop. But in the end, we were
both too late. Doyle got the bomb deactivated, but died as a result of the
heroic act. And the worst part is, nothing was left of him; he was simply
burned into oblivion...