What You Do Afterwards: Season Two

Post Not Fade Away, Higher Power Cordy changed her fate and found a way to rewrite time so she never ended up on the Higher Planes. Now, Cordelia exists in a universe where Doyle is still alive and has the visions, and she is just a normal girl (but with killer shoes).
Angel's family is growing bigger, but the evil is growing stronger. Wolfram and Hart are on the warpath and the dark forces are aligned against them in more ways than one. Somehow, the team need to find a way to hold together and meet all the challenges their altered destiny has to throw at them.
An episode by episode 'Doyle lives' Season 2 rewrite.
Complete

Chapter 1: Judgement: Part One

Chapter Text

"Bottom Line is, even if you see 'em coming, you're not ready for the big moments. No one asks for their life to change, not really. But it does. So what are we, helpless? Puppets? No. The big moments are gonna come. you can't help that. It's what you do afterwards that counts. That's when you find out who you are."

- Whistler, Becoming pt 1

The green skinned demon stood up, it's red eyes seemed to glow. It's two horns gave it an air reminiscent of Satan himself. Perhaps this was a demon that you shouldn't cross. He looked out at the crowd in front of him - time to do some damage. He raised his microphone to his mouth and began to sing: 'At first I was afraid, I was petrified…'

'Don't worry honey, we can sort this!' Cordelia said, soothingly, to the worried man stood in front of her.

'My big meeting's in half an hour and I've got tabasco sauce down my front!' her boyfriend told her, holding his soiled shirt out towards her, disbelieving that there could be any possible solution.

'I've got 'Stain Be Gone'!' she told him, waving the bottle in his face. 'Here, you just pour it on, rub it in and ...poof!'

They stopped for a moment, a runner handed Cordelia a brand new shirt. 'Take it from 'and ...poof!' the director told her. She pretended to rub the cleaning fluid into the new shirt. 'And...Poof! The stain is gone.'

'That's great! I'll be able to make my meeting after all,' her boyfriend grinned. He buttoned up his shirt and turned to the camera to show off his pristine, white top; someone off screen read out the voice over lines, whilst Cordelia and her onscreen boyfriend smiled down the lens. 'And...cut,' yelled the director. The two actors dropped their smiles and Cordelia wandered off the set, away from the heat of the lights. The pager in her pocket began to beep and she checked it. '911'. It was from Angel. 'Hey are we done here?' she asked the director. 'I gotta go… duty calls...'

Doyle glanced around the table at the various demons that were sitting there. None of them were giving anything away, but then neither was he. The kittens that were acting as chips sat in the basket in the middle of the table, mewling. It was time to show his hand… he threw it down, triumphantly: Aces high, royal flush - no one was beating that. The tiny tabbies were his. The bigger demons, who had just lost out, began to complain. 'You cheated, half breed,' a big, scaly looking fella growled at him.

'I cheated?' Doyle protested in outrage. 'You've got x-ray vision!'

'I'm not using it.'

'Well, you would say that.'

'Are you calling me a liar?' The scaly demon kicked his chair backwards and stood up, glowering down at the small Irishman from his great height. Doyle's pager went off, he broke eye contact to check it. '911'. It was from Angel. 'Well, I'd love to stay and discuss this with y' further, bud, but my vampire boss needs me. You know my boss, yeah?' Scales sat back down… he knew of Angel, alright. 'Can I come back and collect the kitties later?' Doyle asked the dealer. 'I've got an emergency.' He did a quick head count of the small felines. 'But I know there's eight of them, yeah, no short changing me.' And he left the dark poker den and strolled out into the sunlight.

Wesley was at the British theme pub, having a game of darts with two other men. He was winning, of course, and his success had attracted the attention of a pretty, young, blonde woman who was watching him, admiringly. 'Sorry lads,' he apologised as he threw his last dart, finalising his win, 'I'll give you a rematch.' His pager beeped and he stopped to check it. '911'. It was from Angel. 'But it'll have to be another time.' He picked up the wad of cash he had just won, from the table, and gave the attractive blonde woman one last smile. As he looked into her eyes, he threw his dart towards the board without looking, expecting it to hit the bullseye. It hit one of his opponents in his neck; the man began to choke. 'Right, well, I'll be off.' He scurried out of the bar and drove away.

The Angelmobile pulled up outside of a large gym, and the four team members poured out of it, weapons in hand. As they marched inside, an attendant looked up: 'Can I help you?' he asked, but team Angel never broke stride and continued to advance inside the gym. The attendant ran after them. 'I'm sorry, this club is for members and their guests, only.'

'Yeah well, I'm thinking of joining,' Angel told him. He led his employees into the weight room, the gym worker complaining behind them all the way.

'Is this really the right place?' Cordelia wanted to know.

'It does seem a tad public for a praetorian sacrifice', Wesley agreed.

'The quadrants match,' the vampire told them, 'it's a Carnyss demon. They love muscles... and mirrors.'

'Well this place certainly fits that bill.' Doyle looked around at all the sweating, glistening, muscular men that were pumping iron around the room. He tried not to feel inadequate, reminding himself that exercise only ever made him miserable.

The four of them came to a stop in front of a bank of shining mirrors. 'Hey guys, I'm not fooling around. I will call the pol…' the attendant trailed off when he noticed that, although four people stood in front of him, only three of them were reflected back in the mirror. The big one, with the swirly coat and the caveman brow, cast no reflection.

'Huh..no reflection,' Angel said, 'I'll fix that.' He swung his axe at the mirror and the shards of glass crumbled down, revealing a red robed human and a demon hidden behind it. The demon was holding a sword high, ready to plunge it downwards into the bodies of two bound and gagged human sacrifices. Angel vamped out: 'stop that.'

The human charged at him, but the vampire easily tossed him aside, throwing him towards Wesley. Angel then launched at the Carnyss demon, using his axe to deflect the swings of the sword. Doyle ducked between the two sparring couples and made his way to the side of the sacrifices. 'No need to worry, we'll get you outta here,' he told them, getting out a switchblade and flicking it open. He began to cut through their ropes.

The red robed human threw a punch at Wesley, which he ducked. As he came back up, his assailant was leading in with his other arm. The watcher ducked again. Then he hit the human with a right cross and, as his opponent doubled up, kneed him in the stomach. The human dropped to the floor. Cordelia dropped a round weight onto his head, knocking him out. Just as the two of them dispatched their own adversary, Angel managed to grab the sword from the Carnyss and stabbed him through the gut. Doyle had cut the bonds of the two sacrifices, and they were pulling the gags from off their mouths. 'You'll be OK, now,' the Irishman was saying to them, 'just stay away from guys with horns in future, yeah?'

The two sacrifices staggered out, into the weight room, and the small family of demon hunters followed after them. The gym attendant just stared in open mouthed horror '...that guy had horns…' he gasped.

'Steroids,' Angel told him, 'not good for you.'

The team were back at the office, but only Wesley was working: sitting behind Cordelia's desk, massive, ancient textbook in hand; he was in research heaven. There was a big whiteboard displayed over near the coffee maker. It was split into four columns: 'cases', 'leads', 'progress' and 'status' and various demons were listed, many of whom had 'status: killed, case closed' written in the final column. The team had been busy over the summer, they just weren't right now.

Doyle was lying out on the green sofa, his shoes off, reading the paper. Cordelia was sat next to him and his feet were resting in her lap. She was ostensibly reading a magazine. The two of them still weren't together. He still owed her all the 'Stain Be Gone' money she had lent him to pay off his creditors, earlier in the year; but there was a closeness between them that had only intensified since Voca had driven Doyle mad with the visions, on his birthday, and anyone who saw them together could plainly see how they both felt. Cordelia sighed, and put down her magazine. Doyle didn't look up. She ran a finger along the sole of his left foot, making him jump. 'You want somethin', darlin'?'

'No...I'm just bored ...what's your paper say?' The half demon began to read his paper out loud to her.

Angel was stood in the doorway of the two offices, fiddling with his 'No 1 boss' mug. It irked him that he had had to buy it for himself, sometimes he felt like his employees just didn't appreciate him enough.

'I'm beginning to think it was a sloth demon,' Wesley announced to the room. The three others all stopped what they were doing and looked up. 'Sloth demons don't sacrifice adolescents, Wesley,' Cordelia told him, 'it was the Carnyss, you I.D'd it.'

'No I don't mean the one we killed last night, I mean the one we…'

'That was a nice gym,' Angel interrupted, turning his mug over in his hands as he thought about it.

'...Incinerated a month ago,' Wesley continued, as if there had been no interruption. 'I think that's what Wolfram and Hart raised in that box whilst Angel was fighting Voca.'

'The thing about a gym…' Angel continued, talking to the room at large, 'is that you're never alone. You've got people around. That encourages you to work out, right? Doyle?'

'Don't look at me man, gyms are just not my style. There's something about them ...I can't put my finger on it.'

'Besides,' Cordelia pointed out, 'you don't have to work out, you're eternal… though chicken little, here, might benefit from membership.' She reached out and squished Doyle's underdeveloped bicep.

'Hey!' he protested.

'I might not always be,' Angel replied, 'eternal, I mean.' But Cordelia just shook her head; trying to shut down the gym conversation, she turned back to Wesley. 'I'm telling you, it was the Vartite monster. It took two days to kill that thing - and Doyle hasn't been walking right ever since!'

'Things got crushed,' Doyle chipped in, 'very bad things...I'm not sure I can have children now.'

'It's got Wolfram and Hart all over it,' Cordelia finished, patting Doyle's leg, comfortingly, as he reflected sorrowfully on his injuries.

But Angel wasn't deterred from his gym musings. 'You got your steam. You got your sauna. You got fresh towels. I mean, how bad could it be?'

'You shower with a lot of men,' Cordelia told him, bluntly.

'Oh, that would be the thing I couldn't place!' Doyle said. 'That's why I don't like gyms ...I don't do public nudity.'

'Especially not after the Vartite monster finished with you.'

'Hey! I'm good as new, now.'

'Then why do you still limp?' she asked.

'It's psychosomatic.' Their lighthearted sparring was brought to a close when Doyle suddenly went rigid and and scrunched up his face. 'Vision!' the other three members of the team all said in unison, but Doyle only sneezed, turning green and shooting blue spikes out of his face as he did. 'Jus' a sneeze,' he told them, shaking off his demon face, and the team resettled back down, as it seemed that there would be no immediate work for them to tackle after all.

'I'll always be a loner,' Angel said, still brooding over the gym.

'What are we? Figments o' your imagination?' his best friend demanded, before scrunching up his face again. Everyone looked at him expectantly. 'Sneeze,' he said, sneezing and turning green once more, 'followed by vision'. His body seized up and his head slammed into the arm of the couch as he was hit by the images sent from The Powers That Be. Cordelia rubbed the side of his leg, soothingly, as he twitched and fitted on the sofa, his feet spasming where they still lay in her lap. Not that that would make the head splitting migraine cleaving his skull in two any better, but at least he knew she was there for him.

Slowly, he came back round from the vision pain and pulled himself back upright. Cordelia wriggled out from under his legs and went to fetch him some water and aspirin. As she moved, he sat up properly and rubbed his temples, groaning. 'These things are not gettin' any easier,' he said. 'Do y' think the powers are ever gonna let me off the hook?'

'What did you see?' his boss asked him. Cordy sat back down and handed Doyle the water and aspirin, he took them gratefully. 'Thanks, it was a demon, big, ugly thing. Like a massive, furry, grey monster. Nasty lookin'. It had these horns ...I didn't recognise it.'

Wesley got up and started writing on the whiteboard 'N.D.U.O,' he said 'nasty demon, unknown origin.'

'Well, there's plenty of that in this town,' Angel commented, 'he'll fit right in.'

Over at Wolfram and Hart, Lilah was on her cell phone, as she walked down the hall towards her office. 'You have every right to review the contract,' she said to the person on the other end of the line. 'I encourage it. We'll talk on Monday. Of course… if you don't sign we'll sue your ass off and kill your children.' She laughed at the stunned silence she got in response 'Only joking, Donald! ...No one wants a lawsuit.' She clicked her cell shut and opened the door to her office. The room was dark inside. Classical music was playing softly. The room was not empty.

Darla hummed along to the music, her eyes closed. She opened them when she heard the door shut, and looked at the tall lawyer who had just entered. 'Chopin,' she told Lilah, 'the prelude, in C minor. So much better than the waltzes.'

'How are you today, Darla?' Lilah asked her, her voice taking on a much more gentle, soothing tone than the one she had used out in the hall on the phone. 'Are you feeling any better? It's a beautiful day outside.' But Darla ignored her and just swayed along to the music. 'He had consumption,' she closed her eyes again, 'and died way too soon.' She moved over towards the window and pulled the blinds apart to look out across the city. 'He's here,' she said, in a dreamy sort of voice.

'Chopin?' Lilah was confused, but Darla just shook her head, smiling: 'Angel.'

'Can you feel him?'

'I always could.' She took her fingers away and the blinds snapped back together. 'He killed me,' she said, turning once more to look at Lilah. 'I remember now.' She laughed. 'My boy killed me for her,' her voice had a bitter edge to it now, 'with a soul in his heart.'

'He's taken from both of us,' Lilah told her, raising her prosthetic left hand to show what Angel had taken from her, 'So whenever you feel ready, we'll start thinking about giving a little back.'

'Mmm, Angel' Darla seemed to moan as she said his name. 'It's been a long time. I'd love to see that boy.'

Chapter 2: Judgement: Part Two

Chapter Text

'Like this?' Cordelia showed her sketch to Doyle.

But the half demon shook his head. 'No, the eyes are a little further apart.' He pointed to the drawing, showing where the eyes should be positioned and Cordelia dutifully turned her pencil around to the eraser end and rubbed out, redrawing it the way Doyle had described. 'They look right through you,' he told his boss, as Cordelia deftly made new lines on the page. 'I don't think he's afraid o' much.'

Cordy finished sketching and showed the updated version to her friend, when he agree that, yes, this was the demon he had seen, she showed it to Angel. The vampire scanned the picture and then held it out to Wesley. 'Wes, I'm thinking northern Pakistan, maybe Hindu Kush.'

The watcher nodded, 'right, right ...or perhaps the Tien Shenin in Kazakhstan. Which means I need Suleman's compendium...' He broke off and shuffled through his pile of ancient texts, looking for the one he wanted. Compendium located, he began to leaf through until he found something that matched Cordelia's drawing. He showed the image to Doyle. 'This your man?'

'Yep, that's him alright, I told y' he was a nasty lookin' brute of a thing.'

'It's called a Prio Motu,' Wesley told him. 'It's a killer.'

'Tch! Y'think?' Cordelia snorted. 'Why else would the boywonder get a vision? Batman needs to get to the killing!'

Angel took the book off Wesley, scanning the information page, whilst Doyle looked offended at being compared to Robin. The vampire started to talk before he could vocalise his complaints, however. 'It's an ancient Ofga beast. Originally bred to maim and kill.'

'Oh goody, a pit bull,' Cordelia said.

'I would never wear green hot pants!' Doyle finally protested

'Sshhh, nobody's talking to you right now.' She turned back to Angel. 'So what are you going to do?'

Angel had picked up a pen and was writing the demon up on the whiteboard. 'Well, now we know what we're dealing with ...we need to find it. Doyle?'

'Yeah, OK. I'll talk to my guys, I got reason to go and see them anyway.'

'Good, call us the minute you know anything.'

'Will do,' and the half demon slid off the couch, for the first time since he'd arrived in the office that morning, and headed out of the door and back to the poker den.

The dealer had saved his kittens for him, and Doyle picked up the box, tickling one of the tiny creatures on the head as he did so. 'Thanks, man, listen… my boss is looking for a big demon, ugly looking fella, called a Prio Motu. You heard of one hanging around these parts?'

'You're after the Ofga beast?' the dealer asked him. 'You got a death wish?'

'You've heard o' him?'

'Yeah, I've heard of him ...word's out amongst the demon community - there's a price on this guy's head. But they're bad news, Prio Motus. No one's realistically gonna try and take this guy out, not for all the kittens in Korea.'

'Well, we've not got a choice about it. I've had a vision,' Doyle told him. 'Know where he'll be?'

'Sorry, man, I'm staying well away from a demon like that ...and so should you. There's nothing I can tell ya.'

'Well, thanks anyway, man.' Doyle hefted the box of kittens under his arm and walked towards the door.

'Hey! What's a half breed gonna do with all those kittens anyway? You're not gonna eat them. You could sell them back to me!' The dealer yelled after him. But Doyle just waved goodbye and left the poker den without responding.

Outside, he rang the office and relayed what little information he had learned back to Angel. Then he took the box of kittens to the nearest pet shop. It was his job to help the helpless, even if the helpless happened to be a crate full of baby cats.

When he arrived back at the office, he found his three coworkers sat around Cordelia's desk, trying to search the net for any news reports of attacks that might help them narrow their search. 'It's bred to maim and kill,' Angel was saying, 'this thing should leave a pretty wide trail for us to follow.'

'But there's nothing,' Cordelia replied. 'No sign of him ...we really need Doyle for this, he's the netboy…' she trailed off as she saw him standing in the doorway. 'Oh there you are...where have you been? We needed you.'

'I just had an errand to run after I spoke to my guy.'

'We're in the middle of a case.'

'It was urgent.'

'Well you're here now.' She scooched over so that he could get in behind the computer. 'We need police reports, coroner's reports ...anything that sounds like it's been ripped apart by a northern Pakistani pit bull monster.' Doyle sat down in front of the screen and took over searching, but after several fruitless minutes he had to concede that the Prio Motu must be very good at covering his tracks, there was nothing that could give them a beat on whereabouts he might be hiding. 'There's nothing here; this is a killer who knows what he's doin'.'

'Have you considered speaking to Merl?' Wesley asked the half demon.

'Merl?' Their vampire boss looked up in confusion.

'Yes, I've been getting acquainted with some of Doyle's contacts, now that Doyle is no longer dodging them all - I thought it might be better for the company if more than one of us was able to reach out to the demon underworld, after what happened with Voca, and Doyle becoming incapacitated... Merl is a parasite demon.'

'He's the real definition of demon under life,' Doyle chipped in. 'Real skeazy sorta fella, but Wes is right, knowing the whereabouts of dangerous demons is right down his alley - keepin' tabs on 'em is the only way he can stop himself from getting killed.'

'He's something of a snitch,' the watcher clarified, 'he has a lot of enemies. But I know where we can find him, somewhere where he'll feel safe to talk. I've been meaning to take you there for a while, now.'

'Oh, man,' groaned Doyle. 'You don't mean where I think you mean? I've been avoiding that place for a long time now - pretty much since the day I heard of it, actually.' he shuddered.

'Why?' Cordelia asked, her nose wrinkled as she tried to imagine a place so low even Doyle feared to tread there. 'Is it trouble?'

'No, Princess, it's the exact opposite o' trouble. It's about as far from trouble as you can get.'

'Then why are you avoiding it?'

The British man and the Irishman glanced at each other. 'It's a little outside of the box,' Wesley told her, 'but I'm sure you'll love it.'

'OK,' said Cordelia, she got to her feet - more than ready for action, 'maybe it's time to pay you guys' stoolie a visit. Make with the chin music,' she balled her fist and mimed punching, 'until he canaries'. The three men just stared at her. An amused, loving smile was playing on Doyle's lips. The other two just looked like they thought she was mad. 'OK...I might have been watching a noir festival on Bravo,' she admitted. She did so love getting into her gumshoe character.

'Let's go,' Angel said, grabbing his coat.

The team walked down the steps into the bar, passing through a metal detector as they did. A slimy demon with no mouth entered, just ahead of them, and as they walked into the crowded room they saw that there were demons and humans seated at the tables, watching the stage. No one was killing anyone. A green lizard looking demon, who reminded Doyle of Cribb - one of the demons he'd been imprisoned with at the gladiator ring - was murdering 'I'm so excited', up on the stage, however.

'Your stool pigeon feels safe in a karaoke bar?' Cordelia asked in amazement. Angel just stood, staring up at the singing demon in thunderstruck horror.

'In this one he does,' Wesley answered her. 'It's a demon sanctuary.'

'No demon violence allowed,' Doyle said, 'and that's mystically enforced, not an honour system.'

'But you've never been here before?' Cordelia asked.

'No way! I didn't even know Wes had started hanging out here, didn't see him as the karaoke type.'

Up on the stage, a green skinned, red eyed demon, with little red horns at his hairline, joined the lizard and began to sing along. He had a good voice. And wore a very loud suit. As the song came to an end, the new demon started to address the crowd; he was very charismatic, a natural performer. 'Well move over Pointer Sisters! That was cookin'! I'm about to lose control and I think I like it! Well I'm gonna have a word with Liz here, don't go anywhere! Coming right up: Mordar the Bentback will be calling the tune, with a personal favourite of mine. Make him feel welcome.' The green skinned schmoozer and the lizard left the stage and a furry, crouch backed demon, resembling a yak, came on and began to croon.

Doyle shook his head, 'man, this place is as mental as I always thought it was gonna be.' Mordar hit a high note. 'Actually ...maybe it's even worse than I thought.'

A small, ugly, skinny demon with greyish green skin was sitting at the bar. Wesley slid onto the stool next to him. 'Hello, Merl'

'Cat got your tongue, Merl?' Cordelia asked, channelling her Bravo noir marathon, as she slid onto the stool at his other side.

'I haven't got a tongue,' Merl told her.

'Oh.'

Angel leaned down onto the bar, towering over the informant. Merl glanced at him, to either side, and then behind, where Doyle was standing. He realised he was trapped. 'Hey, keep that bloodsucker away from me!' he demanded.

'He can't hurt you in here,' Wesley pointed out to him.

But that little to assuage Merl's discomfort. 'I know his rep. He kills his own kind. Beating on demons wherever he finds them.'

'Especially when they waste my time,' Angel told him, menacingly.

Wesley slid an envelope of money across the bar, 'we're looking for a Prio Motu', he said.

Merl was not happy to comply. 'Woah woah woah!' he protested. 'You've obviously never been up close. Prios are stone cold killers. They have these teeth that'll… you need to sweeten this, a whole lot, and keep my name …' Wesley placed more money on top of the envelope and the little demon took it, glancing around as he did. 'Firstly - there's a price on this guy's head, you might not be the only creature out there looking for him. But this Prio, he doesn't like it above ground. So he'll be travelling in one of those subway tunnels on the Redondo line.' Angel turned to leave, but Merl hadn't finished. 'Prios are nasty. Not some big mosquito like you, turns to dust whenever you stake it. Best of luck though.'

As the vampire stepped away from the bar, headed for the exit, he ran straight into the green skinned demon in the loud suit. 'Love the coat,' the demon said. 'It's all about the coat. Welcome to Caritas. Do you know what that means?'

'It's Latin for Mercy,' Angel told him.

'Smart and cute! How about gracing us with a number?'

Behind the vampire, Doyle spluttered. This was why you never went to karaoke bars. 'I don't sing', Angel told the demon.

'Neither does Mordar the Bentback. That cat's a foghorn on legs.'

'Who is this guy?' Cordelia whispered to Wesley.

'He's the Host of Caritas, a psychic who can read your aura whilst you sing.'

'Oh come on Angel!' Cordelia wheedled to her boss. 'I wanna hear you sing.'

'No.'

'It would be for a good cause,' Wesley pointed out. 'We might learn something.'

'Hey, who's the boss here?' Angel demanded. The Host and the three living members of team Angel all stared at him. Only Doyle didn't seem to be pushing him into the worst humiliation imaginable. Sometimes, Angel was unbelievably thankful for his half demon friend, humans were just so ...human. 'There are three things I don't do,' he told them as they continued to stare, 'tan, date ...and sing in public.' He turned on his heel, flouncing away, letting his coat swish behind him as he did.

The Host turned to the other three. 'Well, Mr. Melodramatic let his feelings be known. How fabulous would I look in that coat?'

Angel walked through the tunnels of the Redondo line. A sudden noise made him slip into the shadows, but it was only a woman walking past. She was heavily pregnant, and held her bump as she moved. He stepped out of the shadows and she gasped, startled by his sudden presence. 'It's OK,' he reassured her, when he saw the look of fear which crossed her face. 'I won't hurt you'.

Maybe he wouldn't - but there were things out there that would.

Seemingly out of nowhere and with a furious growl, the Prio Motu charged around the corner and headed straight for Angel, its fists and fangs ready for the attack. The vampire was able to push the pregnant woman to one side, just before the demon began raining down wild punches. He was strong, and fought well. The two of them were evenly matched and, even though Angel was able to land some good blows, he was also taking a serious beating.

Eventually, he was thrown to the floor over the Prio's shoulder and as he got up, managed to get the demon in a choke hold. After a couple of seconds of violent struggle, Angel snapped the demon's neck. The loud crack echoed around the tunnels, and the Prio dropped to the floor. The pregnant lady cried out. 'It's OK!' Angel assured her, 'it's dead.'

'What have you done?' The pregnant lady, got down on the floor and stroked the dead demon's face, her voice came out as a ragged, distressed gasp. 'You've killed him. Oh my God.'

Angel just stood there, confused, a feeling of awful dread and uncertainty rising up inside of him.

'What have you done?' the lady asked again, sobbing. She shut the demon's staring eyes.

'I thought …' Angel, tried to explain, 'I thought he was gonna hurt you.'

'He was my protector!' She tried to get to her feet, her pregnancy making it difficult, making her uncoordinated. Angel reached out to help her, but she snatched her hand away. 'Stay away from me!'

'I'm sorry,' he said, 'I was sent here to ...well, I'm not exactly sure ...but.'

'You were sent here, by who?'

'By The Powers That - look it's a long story. But I help people, it's my job.'

'You help people, you're joking right?' She began to walk away, still crying, clutching her belly protectively. Angel followed her. 'What was he protecting you from?'

'From things you couldn't handle.'

'Like what?'

'Like the tribunal ...he was my protector. I had one friend in the whole world and you killed him. Stay away from me.' She shook Angel off and walked away. The vampire watched her go, a feeling of crushing guilt overwhelming him as he stood there.

'He was good?' Wesley sounded aghast at the news he was hearing. Angel was stood in the office with his back to the three of them. 'Yeah,' he said, heavily.

'And you …' Cordelia made a cracking sound, jerking her neck to one side, sensitive as ever.

'Yeah,' Angel repeated.

The two humans exchanged glances. 'Well that isn't good,' Cordelia said, Angel sighed and looked downwards. 'Which you already knew...of course,' she finished.

Over on the couch, Doyle had his eyes cast down, staring into his lap, feeling remorseful. 'I'm sorry, man,' he said. 'I should've known, I shouldn't'a…' he trailed off. The vampire turned to look at him briefly, before looking away again.

'It was a demon,' Angel said, 'I just assumed...'

'Well of course you did. Doyle said he was a nasty demon,' Wesley tried to reassure his boss. Doyle hung his head even further.

'It looked nasty!' Cordelia pointed out 'It wasn't Doyle that said it was a killer, that was you Wesley!'

'That's what Prio Motus are!' the watcher protested. 'They hunt. They kill. What? We're supposed to think that this demon just changed his modus operandi overnight? Become some noble protector of…' he ran out of words as he glanced at the vampire. 'Oh...God,' he said.

'I guess I didn't feel any fear when I saw him,' Doyle said slowly, thinking about it. 'But the visions are so painful ...I don't always get everything. The pictures are clear enough but the feeling behind 'em gets all mixed up with the vision pain. Y'think The Powers That Be would've thought o' that. It's like they think punishing me with the pain is more important than me being able to do my job properly.' He shook his head.

He knew redemption wasn't supposed to be easy, but right now it felt like he'd taken one step forward and three steps back. He'd let an innocent ...a warrior for their cause ...get needlessly killed because he hadn't paid enough attention. And that guilt was now Angel's burden to bear, as well. 'I shouldda known. I shouldda felt it ...or at least realised when I couldn't find any victims on the net…'

Cordelia sat down beside him, and put a hand on his shoulder, her expression was soft. 'This isn't your fault, Doyle', she told him. Then she looked up at Angel, 'and this isn't yours either.'

'I killed an innocent being,' the vampire said. 'He was a soldier, like me. Whatever his mission is, it's mine now.' He started to put his coat back on.

Doyle finally looked up, watching him. 'I guess you were supposed to help him, all along. D'ya want me to come with?' He wanted to actively do something to put his mistake right.

But his friend shook his head. 'No. It'll be quicker if I go alone, I need to sort this.'

'Right, well you said he was helping a pregnant woman?' Cordelia asked.

Angel nodded. 'From something called the tribunal, I want you three to look it up, find out what it is.'

'We will,' Wesley assured him. The vampire nodded and headed out of the door. 'Angel!', he stopped in the doorway but he didn't turn to face the British man. 'You didn't know.'

'No,' he replied. 'But I'm thinking someone did.'

Chapter 3: Judgement: Part Three

Chapter Text

Merl was thrown against a chain link fence, he grunted as he hit it, feeling the wire cut into his skin. 'You're not on protected ground tonight, Merl!' Angel said furiously, grabbing the skinny demon by his shirt front and almost lifting him off the ground. 'Why'd you lie about the Prio?'

'I told you where to find him!'

'You told me he was a killer,' Angel slammed the smaller demon back into the fence. 'The price was never out on the Prio's head was it?' he asked, thinking of the information Doyle had given him, and how it had tallied with what Merl had said. 'The price is on the woman?' He slammed Merl again, Merl nodded his agreement with Angel's words. 'Or the baby?' Angel leaned in close, menacing.

'Yeah, OK ..it's the baby!' Merl confessed. 'A daughter. She's supposed to be some powerful, benevolent … something or other. I don't know exactly. But the dark ones want her out of the picture - so it's two for one on the mom. The brokers are offering hard cash ...but no one could get close with that Prio around. You did everyone a real favour.' He was slammed into the fence for the fourth time. 'Ow, man!'

'Where is she?' Angel snarled.

Merl held his hands up in protest. 'You think if I knew that I'd be standing here getting strangled by you?'

'Put the word out, nobody touches the woman.'

'It's too late for that. You any idea how many beasts are after her by now?'

'Where'd the Prio live?'

'I don't know.' He was slammed again. 'Exactly ...I don't know exactly. Around Boyle Heights. Underground. Near the power and water.' He was thrown against the fence for a final time, and then Angel stormed off into the night.

A guy in a sharp suit crossed the road and made the way to his car, a Mercedes CLK320, his pride and joy. It was just a shame that he had to come to this part of town and park it here, this neighbourhood was really crappy. As he pointed the keys, ready to unlock it - four youths rounded the corner. They were tall and shadowy, with hoods pulled over their faces, and were carrying baseball bats. The man took one look at them and fled. 'Just take the car!' he yelled over his shoulder as he ran. The four men began to run after him, he picked up his pace…

The man collided headlong with a vampire. The vampire grabbed him and pulled him in close, ready to bite. One of the four youths pulled him away and hit the demon.

Gunn pulled his hood down, span the baseball bat round to the sharpened end, and plunged it into the heart of the vampire. It exploded into dust. Suit guy just stared, pointing at where the vampire had stood. 'You should probably go home now,' Gunn told him. The man continued to stare, and Gunn moved his eyes towards the Mercedes, indicating which way suit guy should go. Taking the hint, finally, the man ran away back to his car. 'You're Welcome,' the young street fighter yelled down the street after him.

'People nowadays...no manners.'

Gunn spun around. Angel was stood there. 'Angel - look at you dog! You haven't aged a bit!'

'You keeping well?'

'Picture of health and harmony.'

'I've got a situation.'

'So much for the small talk.' The young man turned to his three friends, giving them orders about where to hunt next and telling them that he would meet them back at home. Home had actually taken a step up from the old days of abandoned buildings. They now had a place off eighth where their landlord waived the rent in lieu of their demon killing services. It was just a shame Alonna hadn't lived to see them make it off the streets. The young man looked at his vampire ally, he tried not to think too hard about how those two words didn't really fit together, it made his head hurt. 'What's up?' he asked.

'You ever heard of a Prio Motu?'

'Is that like a '62 Chevy with the big cam?' Angel just gave him a look. Gunn shrugged. 'OK, I could've just said no.'

'It's a warrior demon. He was living down here but ...he died. I want to find out where he was living. It'd be underground somewhere, near the D.W.P.'

'Well I know all the pockets,' Gunn told him. He noticed Angel's anxious demeanour. 'And I'm getting the sense that you wanna do this now?'

'It's kind of urgent,' the vampire agreed.

Doyle was sitting at Cordelia's computer, trawling the Demons Demons Demons Database for any mention of the tribunal. Wesley and Cordy were sat over on the sofa, each had a pile of ancient tomes and were working their way through, seeing if there was any reference to any sort of tribunal in them.

The Database was drawing a blank and Doyle sighed, dispiritedly. He wanted to be the one that found the tribunal, he wanted to do something to help this now unprotected pregnant lady, and make up for sending Angel out to murder her protector. But it wasn't meant to be. 'D'ya think Angel's mad at me?' he asked the other two.

'Why would he be mad at you?' Wesley asked, not even looking up.

Doyle scuffed his feet along the floor before he answered. 'Because I shouldda known why I was sending him out to find the Prio. Because we got bad information from my contacts, lots o' reasons.'

Wesley stopped his research to look at the half demon. 'You feel guilty,' he stated. Doyle shrugged. 'So does Angel', Wesley continued. 'It was a tragic mistake, but half the time we're fighting blind here. We do what we can.'

'But we're not supposed to be blind! That's what my visions are for, but they're so vague half the time that …'

'I always said your visions were a bit lame,' Cordelia said, tracking her finger down the page of her book as she spoke. 'Remember that time they just sent us to a bar, with no other clues? And it turned out we were searching for a sex changing, body swapping, tear-out-your-innards demon? Thanks for the heads up, guys! I've always said it, you should get one of those self destructing video tapes that comes with a dossier.' She turned the page over 'Aha! Tribunal.' She showed the book to Wesley. 'I found the word, now you do the hard part.' The watcher took the book off her and began to scan for information, nodding along as he did. He then reached out for another book, in order to clarify something. As he worked, Cordelia left the sofa and went to sit on the empty chair next to Doyle. She put her arm on his shoulder and rested her chin on it. 'This isn't your fault,' she whispered to him, like she had before, 'you're doing the best you can.'

'What if my best isn't good enough?'

'It always has been, before. We'll sort this, Doyle, you'll see.'

Angel and Gunn had found the tunnels that Merl had told the vampire about and were walking through them, cautiously, alert for any danger. 'This Prio Motu,' Gunn said 'What was he up to?'

'He was protecting a pregnant woman.'

'He was on our side?...Did you find the scumbag that killed him?'

'I'm the scumbag that killed him,' Angel admitted.

'Oh.' They walked on for a bit, in silence, until Gunn noticed a vent on the wall. 'That was never here before,' he told the vampire. The young man held his hand out. 'And I don't feel any air coming out. Do you?' He felt around the side of the air vent and grinned with triumph when he found a latch. The air vent swung forward, it was a secret door. 'After you,' Gunn told the older man.

Inside, the room was neat and spotless, but didn't have much in the way of possessions. It was Spartan, a real warriors home. Angel picked up a book, it was a book of ancient Buddhist writings - the demon must have had an epiphany, found religion and meaning in the writings of the east. 'Kamal' Angel said, looking at the frontispiece.

Gunn turned to look at him, 'what's that?'

The vampire replaced the book exactly where he had found it, 'it was his name.' He walked around the room, opening a box and then closing it again.

'We meant to be looking for something?' Gunn wanted to know. Angel pulled out a hidden drawer, and took out a brass, circular disc. 'Like that?'

'I hate to ask…' the vampire asked 'but …'

'The night's still young, what you need?'

Angel handed Gunn the disc and took out one of his business cards. 'Take this to my people at that address. Tell them to look into it - it might have something to do with something called the tribunal.'

'Will do. What you gonna do? Sit here and soak up the guilt?'

'Something like that.'

Gunn nodded and left. Angel looked around the apartment. He saw a statue of Buddha, a burned out candle stood in front of it. He took out the box of candles he found and lit a new one. Then he sat on the bed and brooded for a good, long while.

He was interrupted by the air vent opening again, and the pregnant woman coming into the room. 'You!' she said. 'You shouldn't be here, you don't have the right.'

'I have to be here. Kamal's mission is mine now.'

She let out a short bark of disbelieving laughter. 'You sound just like him. You noble protectors with your missions and ancient laws and medieval codes of honour. I just want to be left alone. I just want to protect my daughter.'

'That's what I want too,' Angel assured her.

'Right, because she's some seer, or healer or Joan of Arc. Well, you know what she is to me? My daughter. Not someone's holy mission.'

'No - it's not that exactly,' Angel told her awkwardly. 'It's kind of my job.' A sudden thought hit him and he rooted in his pocket. 'See, I have business cards, and an office and a team. We help the hopeless. I was sent to help you. Let me put this right.'

The woman took the card and looked at it. 'What is this, a lobster?' she asked, frowning at the image on the card.

'It's an Angel,' Angel told her, 'that's my name. Angel Investigations is my company. We help people like you all the time.'

She nodded her head, finally agreeing to let him help. 'OK, we need to find the coat of arms, Kamal said if I gave it to the tribunal, then maybe they would call this whole thing off.'

Angel nodded. 'This coat of arms wouldn't be a circular, brass talisman about yay big, would it?' He demonstrated the size with his hands.

The woman nodded excitedly, her face lighting up. 'You've found it?'

'Yes,' Angel shuffled his feet a little awkwardly.

'Let me see it.'

'I don't have it on me right now.' Her hopeful expression dropped, she looked exasperated now. 'But I can get it,' he reassured her.

But she just shook her head. 'No, do me a favour and stop helping me.' She turned and made as if to leave the room.

Angel chased after her. 'I can't do that,' he told her, 'I have to protect you.'

'Stay away from me.'

As she exited out into the tunnels a large demon pounced, taking a swipe at her. She screamed. Angel pulled the demon off her. 'Can I kill this one?'

'Yes!'

'You're sure?'

'Just kill it!' Angel broke the demon's neck. But a distant growling told them that this was not the only monster hunting in the tunnel. 'Let's get out of here!' Angel said. The pair of them ran.

Wesley and Cordelia were drinking coffee and waiting for Angel, when Gunn stepped through the door. 'This Angel's office?' he asked.

Wesley frowned, he recognised this man from the hospital, he had seen him out in the waiting room back when Doyle had been being attacked by his own visions. 'Do you know Angel?' the watcher asked.

'Sure do, he sent me down here, to give y'all something. Name's Gunn.'

'Right!' said Cordelia, understanding dawning, 'you've heard Angel talk about Gunn,' she said to Wesley, 'he's a really great guy with a really fly street tag.'

'What's he fly?'

'It's how they know him on the street, Dorko. Gun. Lets them know he means business.'

'It's my name,' Gunn corrected her. 'Charles Gunn. Two N's.'

'Oh good lord will someone make me shut up.'

'Ah but is it a strong, masculine name that feels good in your mouth, darlin'?' Doyle asked as he walked into the office from downstairs, where he'd been putting books away .. and brooding alone. He put his arm around her, and squeezed her, playfully, as she turned on him in annoyance: 'We said we were going to forget that!'

Doyle only laughed and held out his hand to shake Gunn's. 'Hey, man, good to see you again.'

'You too, glad to see you got out of the hospital.'

'Wait!' Cordelia asked, 'you two already know each other?'

The two men nodded. 'We broke into Wolfram and Hart together.'

'Man, that was a trip! Good times.'

'What is it that Angel asked you to give us?' Wesley interrupted their walk down memory lane.

'Yeah, well I was hoping for some demon fighting tonight, but I ended up on delivery boy duty. Angel asked me to give you this.' He held out the coat of arms and Wesley took it from him, examining it closely. 'He said it might be linked to something called the tribunal' Gunn added.

'It could be an emblem, or some kind of amulet,' Wesley frowned.

Gunn walked further into the office and examined their whiteboard. 'These all your cases? Looks like a well oiled machine.'

'Yeah we set 'em up and knock 'em down,' Cordelia told him. 'Or at least we did until Angel knocked down the wrong …' Doyle looked at her, reproach in his eyes. She patted him on the arm: 'Not your fault, sweetie…'

Angel and the woman ran through the sewers. He found a grate and took her upwards, they came out in a basement. 'Where are we?' She wanted to know, but Angel just took her by the elbow and led her up the stairs. 'This way.'

They came out in the deserted lobby of an abandoned hotel. The room was huge, with a grand staircase leading upwards, and a high ornate ceiling. It had an air of crumbling, decaying decadence. The furniture was covered over in dust sheets and the atmosphere was thick, and still, and heavy. The woman watched as Angel looked around, 'You've been here before,' she said, but he didn't answer. She shuddered, 'ughh, it feels creepy.'

There was something there, in the sweet, rotten smell of the room, in the dense and suffocating air. Something was whispering. As the dust motes danced in the air, visible in the light that the street lamps outside threw inwards, it was easy to believe that it was the dust that whispered, like a malevolent spirit. She wanted to leave, But Angel was still staring.

'Let's go,' she pulled on his sleeve and he seemed to break out of his reverie.

'What's the tribunal?' he asked.

'It's some kind of otherworldly court. You go before them and maybe they can stop this. Kamal said that he would be my champion ..you know what? Screw this, I'm leaving.'

'You can't'

'Try and stop me.' She turned to run and collided headlong into a couple of demons. She screamed and Angel pulled her away from them and threw a right hook at the closest monster. 'Go!' He told her. 'The address on the card, go there. My friends have your talisman. We can stop this thing.' The woman ran out of the lobby and into the night. Angel turned back to the two demons that had attacked them. He vamped out...

Chapter 4: Judgement: Part Four

Chapter Text

As Angel walked into the office, Cordelia and Doyle jumped up from where they had been sitting at the desk. 'Anythin'?' the small half demon asked his boss, desperately. Cordelia took in her boss's battered and bruised appearance, 'are you alright?' she wanted to know, 'what happened to you?'

Angel glanced around the office, taking in the three occupants, and the total lack of the pregnant lady. 'She isn't here? She didn't come?'

'Your pregnant lady? No...Your friend, Gunn came by with the talisman, but he's the only visitor we had.'

'You didn't find her, then?' asked Doyle, 'she's still out there?' He twisted to look out of the window at the dark, empty street, worrying about all the monsters, and the things that go bump in the night, that might prey on a vulnerable, lone woman.

'I found her,' Angel admitted, 'and then I lost her ...we were attacked, I told her to run, to come here, but …'

'But she didn'.'

'She doesn't trust me,' the vampire said, heavily, sinking down on the sofa next to Wesley. 'I killed her protector ...why should she?' He folded his arms and hung his head, sinking into a heavy brooding session. Behind the desk, Doyle did likewise. The two humans glanced at each other in alarm. Cordelia raised her eyebrows at Wesley, trying to convey to him the need to cheer up their two demonic coworkers.

Wesley nodded. 'Well, I think I have good news on the tribunal front,' he told the room. Both demon heads came up, and Cordelia smiled at the watcher, gratefully.

'What can you tell me?' Angel wanted to know

'It was Cordelia that found it, actually, but I've been able to cross reference the passage she found. It took a little work, and I'm not sure my translation is 100% accurate, but it seems that it might be medieval in origin. A small coat of arms is to be presented to the Cahair Binse. If I'm right, that roughly translates as 'chair of judgement'.'

'The tribunal,' Angel nodded.

'Exactly, it's sort of an ancient court to settle grievances.'

'What, you mean like with lawyers and stuff?' Cordelia asked.

Doyle looked alarmed. 'Man, this hasn't got anything to do with our pals over at Wolfram and Hart has it? 'Cause I've just about had it with those guys.'

But Wesley shook his head. 'No, it's far more primitive than the laws our friendly neighbourhood law firm pretends to represent. And not strictly evil. Though it is more direct in its approach - it's a fight to the death.'

Doyle whistled, 'and I'm guessin' no pregnant lady is likely to win one of those any time soon.'

'That's why she needed a champion,' Angel concluded, 'I killed Kamal…' his three employees looked confused. 'The Prio Motu,' he explained. 'So now I have to take his place. How can we find this tribunal?'

But Wesley was out of good news, he closed his book and took his glasses off before he spoke: 'There's no way to know. These are mystical events. They could rise up in our reality whenever they please.'

'Then we need to find her,' Angel said, 'whatever it takes.'

The lights were bright and harsh and the crowd didn't seem too friendly. Angel gripped the microphone and kept his eyes on the teleprompter - not that he needed it. 'Oh Mandy, for you came and you gave without taking.' He risked a glance up at the audience, blinked a few times and wished that he'd kept his eyes down. In the corner, The Host was watching him, reading his soul. It made him even more nervous. His voice wobbled and he failed to hit the notes: 'and I need you today Oh, Mandy...Well you came and you gave without taking…'

His three employees sat in stunned silence. If Cordelia had had to guess, she would have thought that Angel would be a good singer. Or at least a competent one. Doyle necked a cocktail and called for another one, his new found abstinence apparently couldn't withstand excruciating embarrassment, even when it was someone else's. Wesley's mouth hung open. He seemed to realise this, just as Angel hit the second verse, he struggled to close it. The song continued. It was going to be a painful three minutes.

'This man will do anything to save a life!' Cordelia said, but she didn't sound impressed by his dedication, she seemed horrified.

'It's times like this that I'm unbelievably glad I'm the sidekick and not the hero!' Doyle said.

She tore her gaze away from her poorly crooning boss and looked at the man beside her, 'You don't sing?'

'A little in the shower, maybe, but in public…' he didn't finish, he just shuddered instead.

'I would have thought you had a good voice,' Cordelia told him, 'what with being Irish and all.'

'We're not all Bono, y'know. And we don't all want to be.' He shook his head. 'My people are cursed.'

'Brachen demons?'

'No, Irish people! The entire world associates us with that smug, indoor sunglasses wearing…' he used a very rude word. It seemed Doyle had very strong feelings about U2, and none of them were positive. 'I mean, you don't look at Wes and think that he's gonna be like Mick Jagger!'

'Ha!' Cordelia laughed out loud at the very idea, but the singing from the stage headed back into the chorus and she sobered up again, very quickly. 'Is this ever gonna end?' she asked.

'I make it 2 minutes 20', Wesley told her, 'we have another minute to go.'

'Do you sing?' Doyle asked Cordelia, wondering if this would be one of the things that she excelled at, like drawing and first aid, or ended in disaster, like her baking and filing. There really didn't seem to be much middle ground with Cordelia.

'I sang at the school talent contest,' she told him.

'Yeah? Did you win?'

'No. I sang 'The Greatest Love Of All' by Whitney, but they put me on after Brett's stupid rock band. My song was all uplifting about human feeling, and dignity and personal hygiene or whatever - it was sappy. People just weren't in the mood for sappy after all that rock and roll. Plus a demon cut the heart out of Emma, the dancer. It was a tough show.'

'That's too bad, I'm sure you were great.'

'Huh...well, the bit with the sparklers was pretty cool.'

'Sparklers?'

The noise from the stage, which only the most charitable would classify as singing, came to an end and the green skinned Host appeared on stage next to the vampire. Angel seemed even paler than usual, completely drained of colour after his horrific ordeal. 'Well how about that, a performer!' The Host said, with charm enough to light up the room. 'Let's just call him Angel, the vampire with soul. I'm gonna have a chat with Mr. Tall, dark and rocking, and meanwhile Durthok, the child eater, is gonna open up to y'all. He's searching for the gorrishyn mage that stole his power and he's feeling just a little bit country. Give him a big hand folks.'

Angel thankfully left the stage with The Host and he was replaced with Durthok the child eater, who began to sing 'Achy Breaky Heart' by Billy Ray Cyrus. He was bumpy and hideous, but a much better singer than his predecessor.

Doyle scrambled down from his high bar stool and made his way over to where Angel was getting the results of his reading. 'Where is she?' Angel was asking. The Host smiled and asked a question of his own, 'Before I answer you, answer me first. And be honest with me, because I'll know. Why 'Mandy?'

'Well ...I know the words,' Angel said, hesitantly. He then leaned forward and whispered something that Doyle didn't quite catch. The Host threw back his head and laughed. 'And it is, you big sap!' he said. Doyle had to wonder what admission Angel had made to get that reaction. 'Good for you for 'fessin' up. She'll be at Fourth and Spring, the trial will be there. And take your little buddy with you,' the green demon nodded towards where Doyle was standing, just behind his boss, 'he feels just as guilty as you do. He has to help with this.'

'Can I save her?' Angel wanted to know.

'Try - and find out.'

The pregnant woman scurried down the dark, empty street, holding onto her bump and casting frightened glances over her shoulder. The street lights cast shadows that flickered and twitched and made her imagine that demons were moving in the darkness, ready to melt out into the light and attack her. She ran across the road, but as she did the ground began to shake beneath her feet. Three huge, stone thrones rose up through the cracked ground and she gazed upwards to see the three demonic judges staring down at her. A coat of arms was thrown on the floor, she turned to look where it had come from and saw a helmeted knight, wearing a sword. The knight said nothing. It was one of the judges that spoke: 'where is your champion?'

'He's... he's dead.'

'You have no coat of arms and no champion?'

'I ask for asylum,' she pleaded.

'Asylum is not ours to give,' the judge informed her. 'Two are chosen to meet in combat. One can save your life and one can take it. Your life is forfeit, you have no champion.' The Knight moved towards her, drawing his sword from his scabbard. The woman backed away, shaking her head and then, as the Knight advanced, felt herself being pulled from behind to one side. A small man, in a beaten up leather jacket, stood in front of her; shielding her, facing down the Knight. And then she heard a clanging noise as a second brass disc was thrown down on top of the first. 'I am her champion,' Angel said.

...

'The trial by combat will begin,' the judge pronounced. A horse appeared at either end of the road. The Knight walked towards one of them, and Angel figured that meant he was supposed to head towards the other. The small group of them made their way to Angel's mount. 'I really appreciate you coming through for us like this,' the woman said to him. 'But you know, how you're not really good at anything? Do you think you can handle this?'

'It's OK. I grew up around horses.' He didn't mention that that was 250 years ago. 'It's the sort of thing you never forget,' he said.

'Like riding a bike,' piped up Doyle. Angel grimaced, he'd never actually learnt to ride a bike. They hadn't been invented back when he was a boy, and nocturnal cycling wasn't really an evil vampire sort of thing. But that didn't mean the sentiment of his friend's words wasn't sound. He patted the side of the horse's head and then turned to the half demon, 'take her over there', he told him. Doyle started to usher the woman away, but Angel grabbed his sleeve before he could leave and made him turn back. Doyle looked up at him. 'I don't think Sir Killalot's weapons are wood,' Angel said, 'but just in case I lose…'

'I'll get her out of here.'

'I know.'

They nodded at each other, and then Doyle joined the woman at the side of the road, and Angel swung himself up onto the horse. 'Nice horsey...just try not to make me look stupid out there, OK?'

The middle judge dropped a crimson, silk handkerchief to the ground and the knight began to ride down the road, picking up speed. Angel dug his heels into his horse's flank and spurred him onward. He held the shield, which had come with the horse, in one hand and the lance that he had been provided with in the other. He'd never jousted before, it being a sport that was popular a bit before even his time, but he had seen people do it in films. He had to trust that his vampire reflexes would give him the ability to get this right first time.

Both horses were charging full tilt by the time they met, just in front of the judges' seats. Angel lowered his lance and struck it directly into the knight's chest. There was a loud crashing sound and the warrior was thrown back in his saddle, but remained on his horse. The two steeds passed each other and then cantered to a halt, turning around ready to charge again.

Over on the sidewalk, the woman flinched at the sound of the collision. 'Don't worry,' Doyle told her, 'Angel does stuff like this all the time, it'll be fine. We won't let anythin' happen to you.'

The two horses began their furious stampede down the road, once more; their hooves thundering against the ground. Angel's coat billowed out behind him as he lowered himself behind his horse's head and brought his lance down ready for the next strike. This time it was the knight that got lucky, and Angel was thrown backwards out of the saddle, tumbling through the air and crashing onto the ground.

The pregnant woman screamed and covered her mouth, as she saw her champion floored, but Doyle was quick to reassure her. 'Don't worry about it. This is better. He fights better on the ground. I don't really think horses are his thing. It'll still all be OK, you'll see.'

Sure enough, Angel had got up and pulled his own sword and mace from out of the saddle. The knight rode at him again, lance lowered; but now, with his feet firmly on the ground, Angel was able to knock his opponent off his horse. The warrior tumbled down and rolled over, getting to his feet, drawing his sword. Over on the sidewalk, Doyle moved the pregnant woman further out of the way, to avoid the wildly clashing swords.

The battle was fast and intense, the blades whipped through the air, glinting silver in the light. They slashed at each other, and blocked and parried the other's attacks. The two spectators looked on, breathless, hoping. But the pregnant woman cried out in distress, when she saw the demon knight turn Angel's sword around on himself and stab the vampire in the gut. Angel clutched at the sword, and fell to his knees gasping. The knight abandoned his opponent and drew out a knife, heading towards the woman.

Doyle pushed her behind himself, blocking her from the knight's view with his own body, hoping to be able to slow the warrior down just long enough. Behind him, the pregnant woman was whimpering, clutching onto his shoulders, her face buried into his back. Her fingers were pinching him, even through his jacket. 'It's OK, love,' he told her, 'it's not over yet.'

'The champion is defeated,' the judge pronounced. 'Her life and that of her issue are forfeit.'

'I move to appeal that ruling.' Angel stood up, pulling the sword out of his own gut and using it to behead the knight from behind. The helmeted head rolled away down the street and the body slumped to the floor. The woman gasped in astonishment. 'I told y'...he does this stuff all the time', Doyle said.

Angel dropped his sword and turned to face the judges. 'She's safe now, right?'

'You have won,' the middle judge declared. 'She is under our protection. As is her daughter, until she comes of age.' The three thrones then seemed to shimmer and become indistinct. They vanished from the road, and from this reality, even quicker than they had arrived.

Angel dropped back to his knees, grunting in pain. Doyle and the woman ran over to him and helped him back up. He limped along, almost doubled over, leaning heavily on Doyle's shoulder. The smaller man struggled to support his friend's weight, and was relieved when the pregnant woman slipped the vampire's other arm around her own shoulders, bearing some of his weight herself. 'Are you OK?' she asked, 'you sure do seem to bleed a lot.'

'It comes with the job', Angel winced.

'You really do do this a lot?'

The two men nodded. She looked astounded. 'How are you still alive?'

'We have a great first aider,' Doyle told her.

Back in the office, Angel was sat in the office with his shirt off and Cordelia was bandaging up his gut. 'This is gross,' she told him. 'Why can't you just wait for your vampire healing to ...poof! vanish it.'

The vampire winced. 'It hurts too much, it's deep.'

'Well it's a good job you're already dead or else this would have finished you off.' She taped the last bit of gauze down onto his chiseled abs. 'Done,' she pronounced 'good as new'. She turned her head to look at the other demon in the room, 'did you manage not to get stabbed this week?'

'I'm fine, Cordy.'

'Well that's something at least… so one more case closed, what's next?'

Angel pulled his shirt on, over his head, and then went over to the whiteboard and began to clean it off.

'Good idea,' Wesley said, 'start with a clean slate.'

'Actually,' his boss said, taking the board off his stand, 'we're starting with no slate.'

'Of course,' the watcher seemed to understand at once. 'We shouldn't be keeping score, we're not running a race.'

'I lost sight of that,' Angel said. 'I thought I was out of the tunnel.'

'Well sure you did,' his secretary agreed, 'because the tunnel is .. for all of us...is it a real tunnel or a metaphor tunnel? Just give me that.'

'The light was so bright,' Angel dismantled the board's stand as he was talking. 'I thought I'd made it, that I was practically human.'

'But it isn't about the reward, it's about the journey, yeah?' Doyle sank down on the sofa and watched Cordelia clear up her first aid kit: 'you want any help?' She shook her head.

'So we go back to our original mission,' Wesley said, 'one soul at a time.'

'Just the way it's meant to be', the Irishman nodded.

Angel smiled at them. 'Will you three hold the fort? There's somewhere that I need to be.'

Angel arrived in the visitor's room of the Central California Women's Facility. He sat in front of one of the reinforced windows and picked up the phone. At the other side of the glass, Faith was led into the room and sat down. She picked up her own phone. 'Hey,' she said.

'Hey.'

Chapter 5: Are You Now Or have You Ever Been?: Part One

Chapter Text

'What the heck is this?' Cordelia waved a piece of paper under her vampire boss's nose. He squinted at it. '...Um…'

'Why didn't you tell me about this?'

'I meant to?'

Cordelia put her hand up to her brow and pushed back her hair, 'this is a disaster, what are we gonna do?'

Over at the dining table, in Angel's apartment, Doyle and Wesley exchanged confused glances. 'What's goin' on?' the half demon asked.

'We're being evicted,' Cordelia told him, sounding more irate than upset. 'The office, this apartment - all of it. We're getting the heave ho!'

Angel just sat down at the table, looking unconcerned. He was the only one unmoved by the news. Doyle snatched the letter out of Cordelia's hand, and he and Wesley both bent their heads to pour over it. 'This is your final notice, bud, what's goin' on?'

'You haven't covered the rent increases that took effect when the lease rolled over to the new year, back in June - or responded to any notices, this is a final notice and eviction will follow if all outstanding amounts are not paid by the 5th of this month.' Wesley frowned as he read, 'Angel, this isn't like you, what happened?'

The vampire merely shrugged, 'I guess it just didn't seem important.'

'It didn't seem important?' snapped Cordelia. 'You're going to be made homeless, our entire outfit is going to have to run out of Wes's apartment…'

'Why my apartment?' protested Wesley, but Cordelia continued on as if there had been no interruption, 'And you don't think to mention that you've had a rent increase?'

'Is it really that bad?' asked Doyle, holding the final notice out to Cordelia, so that she could crunch the numbers. 'We still got two days to pay, can we cover it?'

She looked at the bill, noting the amount their rent had increased by, and quickly multiplied that by 5 in her head. She shook her head. 'We just don't have enough in the bank to cover the outstanding amounts,' she told the men. 'We could have just about afforded the increase in outgoings if Captain Responsible, here, had told us about it, back in June! But all lumped together like this? Even if I throw all the money from my last commercial at the problem, it won't be enough.'

'No one expects you to pay for this out of your own money, darlin'. It's Angel Investigations. And it's his house. Right, man?'

'Look, I'm sorry,' Angel said, 'I lost track of things when the Shanshu prophecy came to light. The everyday just didn't seem to matter any more. We'll get on top of this, but first there's something I want you guys to look into.'

'Is it alternative accommodation that comes with exactly no windows?' Cordelia asked, still furious. Her boss ignored her and went to retrieve something from a kitchen drawer. When he returned, he handed the item to Wesley; it was an old black and white photo of a hotel. 'The Hyperion Hotel,' Wesley said.

'How d'y' know that?' Doyle asked. Wesley turned the photo around so his other colleagues could see it. There was a big neon sign on the roof that read 'Hyperion'. At the side of the building was a further sign advertising vacancies. 'Classy lookin' place,' the Irishman said.

'It looks like something out of the Twilight Zone,' Cordelia retorted, she was still angry. 'Why are we looking at this?'

'It's an abandoned hotel in what used to be the heart of Hollywood,' Angel told his employees. 'Been shut down for a while ...68 rooms, 68 vacancies.'

'Well it looks California Spanish in style,' Wesley mused, 'Deco influence, probably built in the 1920s.'

'That's what I thought,' the vampire agreed.

'It seems strange that a big hotel, in a prime location like this would simply be abandoned and left to rot…' the watcher frowned. 'Do you think it's current condition is down to something more sinister than a downturn in the tourist trade?'

'A demon in the hotel?' Doyle looked interested. 'What kinda demon could live there all this time - and not get noticed?'

'That's what I want you to find out,' Angel explained. 'I want you to look into the history of the place, find out who owns it, and why they let it stay empty like that. There's something going on here and I want to get to the bottom of it.'

'Sure thing boss. It's not like we have anything more pressing to do like ...oh, say...stopping ourselves getting evicted in two days time.' Cordelia was not letting this go. But Angel ignored her once more, and spoke to the three of them like he had heard no interruption. 'You'll need to access police files, focus on cold cases, homicides, unsolved missing persons. Start at the beginning and take it up to present day. Doyle, find all the information you can on the net and print it. Wes, Cordy; I want you two to trawl through it - find some answers.'

'You believe that whatever made this place its home did so for some time,' Wesley surmised.

'Probably right up to the end.' The vampire put on his coat and then dropped down into the sewers. His three employees all looked at each other for a long moment, before turning to the task at hand.

The manager of the Hyperion stood at the desk, sifting through the mail. He gave a running commentary to the bellhop, Frank, as he did. 'Returned mail for 315. Mr. Ferris really needs to stop writing to his mother postage due.' Frank took the letter, and the manager reached inside his jacket pocket and drew out a liquor bottle wrapped in a brown paper bag. 'Mrs. Miggin's breakfast courtesy of Val's liquors. Make sure she makes this one last. They've cut her credit off. And…' he handed Frank a silver tray with a bill on it. 'The weekly bill for room 217.'

Frank swallowed, nervously. 'Me?' he asked, his eyes shifting around the lobby searching for another bellhop who could complete this particular task. 'Wh..why me? I did it last time!' the manger just fixed him with a stern stare. 'The guy gives me the heebiejeebies', Frank muttered. 'How about instead of delivering this bill, I deliver him an eviction notice?'

'We can't evict our guests because of the heebiejeebies,' the manager told him. He smiled a sardonic smile. 'If we did that we'd have to evict all of them.'

'Ever look into his eyes?' the bellhop asked his manager, 'there's nothing there!' The manager chuckled, and Frank reluctantly set out to the elevators, ready to get on with his delivery duties.

...

The elevator reached the third floor and the bell pinged as the door slid open. Frank stepped out and looked down the dark, shadowy hallway towards the last room. He began to walk towards it, one hesitant step at a time. Slowly but surely, his footsteps ate up the corridor and he arrived at the door all too soon. Behind him, he heard the elevator door slide shut, and he glanced back; praying that no one would call it whilst he was on this floor - that his escape route would still be waiting for him when his unpleasant job was done.

He took a deep breath and knocked on the door, very gently, as if he didn't really want to be heard. 'Sir? It's the bellman here, I've brought your bill.' All was quiet, and he heaved a sigh of relief. 'Well, I guess you're not in, so…' he heard a very slight noise from inside and began to talk faster 'I'll just leave it here on the floor, ready when you are.' He placed the tray on the floor outside 217 and then turned tail and fled back down the corridor. He hammered on the call button 'c'mon c'mon'. There was the sound of a door opening, behind him, and it was a great relief when the elevator doors slid open and he was able to dive inside. As he turned around, and pressed the button for the lobby, he caught sight of the occupant of room 217 at the other end of the corridor. Just as the door slid closed, Frank watched Angel pick up his bill and retreat back inside.

Doyle was alone, up in the office. Cordelia and Wesley had taken the information he had managed to gather from the net, so far, and were downstairs sifting through it all, trying to make sense of it. Upstairs, Doyle was still trawling for more details, because what they had already seemed nebulous and thin on the ground. Sure the legal bits had been easy enough to obtain, the name of the proprietor, the date of construction, the date of closure; but what seemed unfathomable was why Angel was so interested in all this. And why now?

He found another cache of photographs of the hotel, which were linked to newspaper articles he'd already printed and handed over to the others. He scrolled down, looking at the people in the pictures, and then stopped on one particular one. It was a crowd scene, but something in the background caught his eye. He clicked on the image to make it larger, and squinted at the back of the photo. He whistled, and then changed his mind and decided to swear instead. Then he pressed print.

Angel returned to the hotel, after an evening's trip to the butcher's. The lobby was crowded, as it normally was, but he didn't stop to chat to anyone. The television in the corner was switched to the broadcast of the McCarthy trials. Over near the staircase, a blonde woman was trying to get away from the lecherous hands of a guy wearing a trilby. 'Ah come on honey, how do you think Lana Turner got started?' But she was having none of it.

A small family of well dressed black folks were stood at the counter, asking about vacancies. They were being lied to and they knew it. With an air of resignation, the father herded his family back outside.

The bellhop, Frank, stood near the elevator, twitching nervously as Angel approached. 'Uh.. No messages for room 217,' he said. Angel didn't even glance at him. He was here to be left alone. He had no place in this world and no one he could fit in with. This hotel was the perfect place to lose himself. Everyone here, even though they were all human and really did belong in the world, was trying to lose themselves, as well. This place was a refuge for the drifters, the down at heel and just about anybody who had something to hide. It suited Angel just fine.

As he stepped out into his own third floor corridor, he saw a suited man knocking on one of the doors. Further along, just opposite his own room, another door opened and a man came out. He was followed by the actor who lived there, a real Rock Hudson wannabe. Rock Hudson guy was only wearing a dressing gown, and he was laughing as he straightened out the other man's clothes. The pair of them caught sight of Angel, and immediately stepped apart, creating a more natural distance. They shook hands and said their goodbyes.

As Angel unlocked his room, he and the Rock Hudson guy eyeballed each other, but said nothing. Everyone here had something to hide. Silence was their friend. Angel opened his door, and both men shut themselves into their own rooms, simultaneously.

Inside his sanctuary, where he felt as much peace as he was ever likely to know, Angel dropped his keys onto the table. He also carefully placed his paper bag down. It held the bottle of blood he had been out to buy. He picked up his ice bucket and went back out into the hallway to fill it. As he walked towards the ice machine, he passed a salesman who appeared to be talking to himself. Maybe Angel just couldn't see the guy who he was talking to - not that he cared either way. The salesman was promising to do something, the vampire didn't hang around to listen to what he was promising. If Angel was there to be left alone, then he absolutely respected that everyone else was there for the same reason. And even if they wanted to pal around, Angel wanted to be alone. He was completely incurious as to what his fellow Hyperion guests got up to - even when he could guess, as he could with Rock, he didn't take the time to think about it.

Arriving back in his room, he put the bottle of blood into the bucket of ice, chilling it. His bathroom door opened, and a pretty young woman in a floral dress emerged into the bedroom: 'I'm terribly sorry Sir, I'll be finished in just two shakes.' She crossed to the bed and began to straighten the sheets.

'You're not a maid.' Angel told her. She blustered and pretended not to understand, but Angel was not willing to be polite and go along with pretence. He wanted to be alone and nothing was going to disturb that, not even pretty young women looking to steal from him. He grabbed her by the elbow and started pulling her towards the door.

'I can't go out there!' she protested. 'My boyfriend's the jealous type.'

'Then maybe stop wandering into other men's rooms.'

'Wait! Please! He can't find me.'

As they stopped in the doorway, Angel heard a scratching sound at the lock. He pushed the woman against the wall, so she would be behind the door when it opened, and then opened it up. Suit guy, who had been knocking on doors earlier, was down on his knees trying to pick the lock. He looked up as the door swung forwards and saw Angel stood there, glowering. 'Where is she?' suit guy demanded. Angel said nothing. He was the taciturn type. 'Look, pal, this is something you really don't want to get in the middle of.'

'That's right, which is why you're going to turn around and leave.'

But suit guy was having none of it. He was looking for the woman and he knew Angel had her in the room. Angel kept on denying it. He didn't really want to help the woman, he didn't want to get involved in her troubles or anyone else's. He just really didn't like suit guy.

'So you won't mind if I come in and take a look around?' The man asked. Angel took a step backwards, as if allowing the man entrance. But as he crossed the threshold, the vampire slammed the door hard into suit guy's face, making contact with his nose. 'Gee. I guess I do mind.' He grabbed the man's ear, and twisted his arm behind his back, before frog marching him down the hall. As he got to the end, the elevator doors slid open and Angel threw the man inside. Already in there was Frank, the twitchy bellhop, who looked alarmed at the violence being enacted on the third floor. 'He's going down,' Angel told Frank, and then turned around, headed back to his room.

The woman was now stood out in the hall, seemingly delighted by what had just transpired 'Oh, wow .. that was just ...look I know we didn't get off on the right foot. My name is Judy …' but Angel slammed the door to his room shut in her face. He didn't want to know her name, he didn't want to know her problems. He didn't want to get involved. He wanted to be left alone.

The printouts were spread out all across Angel's dining room table, and Wesley and Cordelia were trying to sort them into some kind of chronological order, trying to understand the story of the hotel and its occupants. 'The hotel officially closed its doors on December 16th 1979,' Wesley said. 'On that morning, the concierge, one Roland Meeks, made his morning wake up calls with a twelve gauge shotgun, room to room. It's been empty ever since.'

Cordelia was sitting in one of the chairs, reading a print out of the city records. 'According to these, it's been declared a protected historical landmark. The property management company that owns it have been trying to unload it for ten years … no luck ...no buyers.'

'Well it's hardly surprising,' the watcher stated, taking off his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose. 'Even a cursory inspection of the records point to a sordid history of murder and mayhem, going right back to it's construction in '28, when a roofer leapt to his death taking two coworkers with him.'

'So what are we doing?' Cordelia asked, exasperated. 'Did you happen to notice that Angel failed to mention, for instance, the point of all this? He's about to get evicted, and here we are doing our best 'Big Sleep' impression!'

The whirring noise of the elevator announced to the two of them that they would shortly be joined by Doyle. Wesley shifted through the papers and photos, struggling to come up with an answer to Cordy's apposite question. 'Well, he clearly has us compiling incidents, arranging data, organising information in such a way that…' Cordelia just stared at him, eyebrows raised, and he crumbled. 'Yes I did notice the whole 'no point' thing. Frankly I haven't the slightest idea what to do with all this.'

The elevator groaned and clanked to a halt and they heard the gates being pushed open. 'We could make a collage', Wesley suggested, 'or a mobile!'

'Or we could all take a look at this handsome fella!' Doyle appeared at the table and proffered his latest found photograph to his two colleagues. 'Right there in the back, hasn' aged a day.' The two human team members bent over the photo, scanning the background. There, in the lobby of the Hyperion, back in it's 50's heyday, was none other than Angel. Wesley was the first to look up: 'Well, now we know one thing for certain.'

'Yes, It's not that vampires don't photograph. It's that vampires don't photograph well,' quipped Cordy, looking at the blurry image of her boss, taken some 48 years previously. He was glowering in the picture, naturally; and, as impossible as it seemed, he appeared even grumpier than he did now. Maybe it was his silly 50s hairdo making him angry.

'Angel has a personal connection to this place,' Wesley pointed out.

'A long standin' and secretive connection, by the look of things,' Doyle said.

'So why didn't he just tell us that?' Cordelia wanted to know. The three of them thought for a moment, scrunching up their faces as they tried to imagine why Angel was being so cloak and dagger about the whole business. It was Wesley who came up with a working theory: 'maybe he was ashamed to', he said.

Angel sat in his chair, drinking a cold glass of blood. This would be as good as it got for him, if only it weren't for the sound of the record player coming from next door. Next door was the room of the salesman, who had been talking to himself earlier. Now it seemed he had given up talking to disembodied voices in favour of listening to the same song over and over and over. It was a cheery, jaunty tune that jarred with Angel's mood, jarred with the whole ambience of the hotel.

He raised his glass to take a sip of his blood, and heard, faintly, over the noise of the record player, the unmistakable sound of a gunshot. He only hesitated for a moment, and then continued drinking.

Chapter 6: Are You Now Or have You Ever Been?: Part Two

Chapter Text

Angel stood in the hallway of the third floor. Dust aside, it was just as he remembered it; same carpet, same paintwork, the same all encompassing gloom. It even felt the same, even though it was so long abandoned. That air of quiet despair; the faint whispering - which disturbed the heavy stillness - to play tricks on the edges of your consciousness, were all so familiar from his stay there, long ago. Whatever had infected the hotel back in the olden days, still lingered on, even if only in the memories of the walls and hangings. Perhaps a place that had known such evil would always carry the traces of it...

The Manager and Frank, the bellhop, arrived in room 215. 'She found him when she came in here to clean', Frank was telling his boss.

'Did she touch anything?' The manager wanted to know.

'Consuela? Does she ever?' They opened the door and looked at the mess inside. The salesman was slumped on the bed, his gun had fallen out of his hand and onto the floor. Blood and brain matter spattered the wall. They both recoiled, but then remembered their duty and stepped inside, hastily closing the door so that no one might glance in and see.

The manager groaned. 'Why can't they do this at their own home? This is the third in as many months!' He heard an indistinct whisper, and strained his ears to block out the sound of Frank's yammering. The voice from nowhere became stronger, and he was able to make out words: 'Three in three months. They'll shut you down', the air seemed to hiss into his ears. He nodded his head, 'yes, they will.' The voice then appeared to dissipate, melting back into the nothingness from whence it came, and Frank's monologue came back into the manager's focus.

'So who do you want me to call first?' The bellhop asked, 'carpet cleaners or cops?'

'What?'

Frank stepped closer to his boss, repeating what seemed to him like an obvious question. 'Who first? Carpet cleaners or cops?'

'Are you mad, we're not calling anybody - they'll shut us down.'

Frank looked confused, 'So what are we gonna do with him?' He jerked his head to indicate the dead salesman lying on the bed. 'We can't just leave him here.'

'No, of course not. We'll -ah - store him in the meat locker.'

'We're gonna store him?'

...

Later that night, Rock Hudson guy, an actress well past her prime, and an out of work screenwriter were gathered in the lobby, near the television. As ever, the McCarthy trials were on, but tonight no one was watching. 'The candle salesman in 215 - shot himself,' the writer said.

'Really?' Rock asked 'Suicide?'

'And they're not even gonna report it!' the actress added.

'That's terrible.'

But the writer took a different standpoint. 'Why terrible? He punched his own ticket. No need to get outside authorities involved. Do you want the cops snooping around? Or the press?'

'Well, I guess there's nothing wrong with a little discretion', Rock agreed, thinking of his own hidden trysts.

'That's always been my motto', nodded the actress.

A little away from them, sat on one of the round sofas that were placed throughout the lobby, an older man sat, ostensibly reading his paper. In actuality, he was listening to the conversation between the three out of work show people. A susurration rippled through the air and a voice, that seemed to come from his own fears as much as anywhere, began to whisper. 'Perhaps it wasn't a suicide,' the voice suggested 'Are you sure you're safe here?'

'OK, well that's it for our rogue's gallery of '51,' Cordelia said, placing the last news item down in the '51 pile. 'So what's up for '52?'

'In October of that year, a screenwriter who had been blacklisted by all the movie studios, was arrested and ended up in front of senator McCarthy,' Wesley said, placing one of the printed newspaper articles in their brand new pile.

'And a few months earlier an aspiring actor was arrested for…' Doyle raised his eyebrows, 'homosexual peccadilloes. Seems all sorts was goin' on there in the 50s.'

'It really does seem to attract people with a thing or two to hide,' Cordelia agreed, frowning, 'but neither of those sound demonic - just bad luck for the writer and the actor. I mean what does it matter if someone's gay or a communist? As long as they're not hurting anybody...'

She reached out to sift through the pile to see if she could find something that better fit their bill. Wesley was still thinking: 'It's interesting that they were all drawn to this place though...and that they were eventually caught for whatever crime they were supposed to have committed.'

'What?' Doyle asked 'Y' thinkin' somethin' lured 'em there?'

'Perhaps, although the anonymity of a hotel, the transience of its existence, could well appeal to persons with something to hide. But then how are they getting caught? There must be something in there, a catalyst.'

'Aha! What about this guy?' Cordelia waved a clipping at the two men. 'Candle salesman, checked in in the summer of '52, and was found, months later, in the meat locker. Exact date of death is unknown - because he was frozen - ew! He'd been shot in the head. Kinda similar to the 12 gauge wake up calls of '79, don't you think?'

'But if it's a demon…' Doyle started to question, 'why all the guns? Why not just ...rip 'em apart with his claws or whatnot?'

'It was the concierge that shot all those people in the 70s...and look! A bellhop was arrested for the murder of this salesman.' Cordelia showed her information to Doyle and Wesley, who quickly read the news articles

'So it's humans that are doin' the killin's?'

'But are they acting alone, or under a demonic influence?' Wesley wanted to know.

Angel sat on the wall outside Griffith observatory, enjoying the view he got from up on the slopes of Mount Hollywood. Beneath him, the lights of the town twinkled, shining like stars fallen to the earth. He liked to be up in high places, looking down on the world from a safe distance, detached. It all seemed so far away from here, the noise, the bustle, the little lives of the ordinary people. And as the world diminished, his guilt diminished with it. It never went away, of course, but it became less, more bearable. Being still, whilst the city lived and breathed beneath him, gave him a sense of calm, a feeling of grace that he wasn't sure he deserved.

This calm was interrupted when the woman who had broken into his room approached him and began to make small talk. It wasn't her fault, she had no idea what Angel was or why she should stay away from him. She was a lost little girl, alone in the world, looking for a friend. But she had chosen badly in trying to befriend Angel. He had to be alone. He craved it.

'The world ends in ten minutes,' she said. He glanced at her, took a drag on his cigarette and then looked away. 'Have you seen it, the show? It really puts all of your problems in perspective...I mean, the entire universe explodes! Well it's air conditioned and it's cheaper than the pictures.' Angel still didn't say anything, so she took another stab at conversation. 'I hope you don't mind...I just saw you over here and thought I'd say 'hello'...I just had to get out of the hotel after what happened.'

Angel took a final drag and then threw the butt of his cigarette over the wall. 'He come back?'

'What?'

'Your boyfriend.'

'Oh….no. I meant after what happened in 215. He killed himself you know.'

'I guess he did.'

Angel was just as uninterested in the suicide as he was in the end of the world. None of this mattered, it was all so fleeting. The guy in 215, the people who could have their problems put into perspective by an astronomy documentary, they were the lucky ones. No matter how hard done by they felt.

'Listen,' the young woman said. 'You helped me before, I know you didn't want to - but you did. And I just wanted to say - I needed to thank you for that.'

He finally turned to look at her. 'You'll miss your show,' he said to her, his voice flat and disinterested.

'Right.' Defeated, she finally walked away from him.

'So this is Frank Gillnitz,' Wesley said, putting a photo of Frank the Bellhop being led away in handcuffs down on the '52 pile. 'He worked as a bellman the year Angel was in residence, and is the man that was convicted of the murder of the candle salesman.'

'So this guy's the forerunner of Roland Meeks?' Doyle asked. 'Some poor sap who did a mind numbing job for too long and gave into demonic influences...when'd they fry him?'

'Doyle!' Cordelia swatted the half demon on the chest in remonstrance. 'That's not kind!'

'Neither's shooting salesmen and storing them in a meat locker!'

'Well he wasn't executed until '54 anyway,' Cordelia told them, 'so shouldn't we put him over here?' She moved his picture to the right of the '52 pile.

'It's true he wasn't executed until '54,' Wesley told her, 'but the crimes he was convicted of; murdering the salesman and storing the body in the meat locker, all happened in '52.'

'52' said Cordelia, her voice heavy with significance.

'52' Wesley agreed.

'So we're all noticin' a 1952 theme goin' on then, yeah? It was all goin' down the year our boy was in residence. Y'think he was involved?'

Wesley shook his head: 'surely not, he had a soul then. And anyway, shooting someone and popping them in a freezer was hardly Angel's modus operandi, even when he was a killer.'

'No, Angelus is way more creative than that,' Cordelia agreed. She picked up the photo of Frank Gillnitz being arrested and looked at it for a while: 'You know...I found a body in a freezer once.'

Doyle smiled to himself: 'O'course y'did, darlin'! 'Cause no one in the history of the world has led a more disturbing life than you. What happened?'

'Dead body. Freezer.' She said shortly. 'I mean, he was totally dead, he didn't even have a head! It was in the school kitchen, which makes me wonder why I continued to eat in that cafeteria for the next two and a half years...'

'And was there a reason this freezer guy had no head?'

'It was bitten off by a giant Praying Mantis. That was the scuttlebutt I heard from Xander, anyway. Apparently bug lady tried to bite his head off as well ...but he never really explained to me why that was...'

'Fascinating,' Wesley interrupted them both. 'But as our candle salesman had a head, and one that had suffered gunshot trauma no less, I think we can rule out a she mantis, looking to spawn, and look for other causes, no?'

Doyle and Cordy rolled their eyes at each other, but they got back to sorting through the photos and articles that held the key to their current mystery. 'It's kind of like a puzzle,' Cordelia said, as she scanned more of the articles, 'the 'who died horribly because Angel screwed up 50 years ago' game.'

'All in all, I'm jus' glad that I'm not Frank Gillnitz.'

It was late when Angel returned to the Hyperion. The darkness and the solitude had been just too comforting to give up, and it was with a heavy heart that he walked back through the brightly lit foyer. The residents were still sitting in the lounge out in the lobby. The older man had joined the Hollywood group and was telling them what he knew. 'So I'm sitting at the bar, and the guy says to me 'do they serve peanuts?''

The actor didn't understand the significance, but the actress cottoned on pretty quick: 'He's planning to kill himself and he's thinking about peanuts? It wasn't a suicide.'

'But he was found with the gun in his hand and the door locked!' Rock Hudson guy protested.

'Exactly!' pronounced the blacklisted writer, 'It's too perfect. The locked door mystery. I've written it a hundred times.'

...

Judy had beaten Angel back to the hotel and she stood in the hallway of the third floor, clearly waiting for him. She was standing just in front of her door, which was open; and as he passed, she beckoned him inside. He followed her, wishing he could just walk away. He wasn't exactly sure why he didn't. She just seemed so desperate and so sad, but then that didn't explain why he cared. He'd spent the past 50 years trying not to care what people were feeling.

'Did you hear?' she asked after the door had closed. She seemed nervous, and her hands trembled as she attempted to light herself a cigarette. 'It wasn't a suicide - in 215. The guy didn't kill himself.'

'Yes he did.'

'No. he was murdered. It's true!' she said, taking in Angel's look of disbelief, 'which means there's going to be an investigation - the place'll be crawling with cops. I thought you might wanna know. In case ...I mean I'm not implying that…'

'Everyone here has something to hide,' Angel told her.

'Exactly. I thought you might appreciate a heads up. I figured I owed you on account of what happened before. I guess it'll look bad if I just leave right now, huh?'

Angel nodded. 'This something to do with that P.I I threw out of here a couple of days ago?'

It was Judy's turn to nod. She reached under her bed and pulled out a large, brown leather bag that was filled with banknotes, 'I think they want this back.' Angel looked inside, lifting out a wad of notes. The young woman, turned away, dragging on her cigarette, desperately. 'I haven't spent any of it,' she told him, 'I can't even bear to look at it.'

'So why take it?' He shouldn't ask. He didn't know why he did. It wasn't his place to know, or care what humans got up to, why they did the things they did. He couldn't explain why Judy managed to keep drawing him in, even when he resisted her. She just seemed so ...helpless.

'I was angry,' she told him, 'and I guess I panicked. Things were going so well, I loved this job and I loved this guy. But then they found out about me at the bank and they fired me. When Peter found out why I was let go he broke it off. I couldn't go back to where I came from, I just couldn't...so I took this and ran. I wish I'd never done it!' Angel just stared at her, saying nothing, giving nothing away. 'Aren't you going to ask why they fired me?' she wanted to know.

'Why'd they fire you?'

'Because I'm not what I say I am. I've been passing since I was 15 years old.'

'Passing?'

'For white,' she sounded bitter. 'My father was white, but my mother was black. I don't fit anywhere ...even my mother's family think… I'm not one thing or the other. My blood isn't pure, It's tainted. I'm nothing.'

'It's just blood, Judy,' Angel told her. If there was one thing he knew, it was blood. And the blood of the white folks tasted no different than the blood of the black folks. It was all the same. Only humans thought there was any difference. But he understood her pain, well enough. Real or otherwise, not fitting anywhere - being neither fish nor fowl, that was something he understood much too well.

'But I am something!' Judy suddenly gasped, clutching her stomach as if it pained her. She sank into the chair. 'I'm a thief! I'd never stolen anything in my life before it was just - god - the things they called me!'

'Fear makes people do stupid things.'

'It was stupid. I just wish…'

'No ...I didn't mean you, I meant your former employers.'

Judy put her head in her hands and began to shake, Angel suspected she was crying. 'What am I going to do?' she gasped. 'If I leave now then it looks suspicious but if I stay here and the cops find this….'

Angel picked up the bag. He didn't understand why he was going to do what he was about to do. Maybe it was her fear, or maybe it was the way he resonated with her story. Maybe it was her utter hopelessness that made him want to help her, but he did. For the first time in...a long time, maybe forever...he wanted to help. He cared. 'They're not gonna find this,' he said, 'because I'm going to help you.'

Cordelia held out a picture of a pretty, young woman in a floral dress, 'so where do we put her?' she asked.

Doyle looked at the picture and whistled. 'Y'know she's really somethin! Quite a looker.'

Cordy gave him a look, and he had the good grace to look a little abashed. 'And she's old enough to be your grandmother, so put your eyes back in your head, buddy.'

'When did she die?' asked Wesley, choosing to ignore the Doyle and Cordelia show that was unfolding in front of him.

'Um, it doesn't say that she did. She was being tracked by the federal authorities for bank robbery. She checked into the Hyperion in '52 and was never heard from again.'

'She's awfully pretty to be a bank robber,' Doyle said, he earned himself another swat on the chest from Cordelia.

'Looks can be deceiving,' she told him. She placed the picture of the woman down on the '52 pile and turned to the next clipping. Judy's image stared up from the table, 'search for bank robber called off', the headline read, 'woman believed to be dead.'

'Uh...Cordelia...Could I have a word with y', jus' for a moment, like?'

Cordelia looked surprised and then turned to Wesley. 'You got this if we go upstairs for a moment?' He frowned his disapproval at them giving up on the work, but he nodded his assent. They were building up quite a picture of events and there was not much else they could do until Angel returned.

The pair of them went upstairs, and Doyle led her over to the green sofa. She sat down, but he hovered above her, shuffling his feet a little nervously. 'What is it?' she asked, 'what gives?'

'Ah - Cordelia - there's something I've been meanin' t' give y'.' He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small rectangle of paper. 'It's just a start, I know, but I'm workin' on gettin' the rest.' He handed the paper to her, a little shyly. She took it. It was a cheque for 200 dollars.

'Where did you get all this money?' she asked him, in amazement.

'Well, I saved a bit o' it. And I earned the rest. I'll pay y' the rest back soon enough, I hope.'

'How did you 'earn' the rest?' she asked him, suspiciously.

He swallowed a little, as if this was a question that he maybe hoped wouldn't come up right away. Cordelia watched his prominent Adam's Apple bob up and down, and knew she wasn't really going to like the answer.

'Well, the thing o' it is, is I've paid back all the guys I owe - I'm living debt free now, apart from my debt to you, obviously.'

'Uhuh,' she nodded, slowly. She was pleased he'd finally managed to track down all his creditors and that he was no longer at risk of having his legs broken - or worse. But she still wasn't sure where this was going.

'So...now I'm not in trouble with the demon types, there's this poker game I've gotten in on.'

'What?' She sounded furious.

'It isn't what you think!' he was quick to reassure her. 'It's all above board ...well apart from being an underground demon poker ring, but it's not dodgy! They don't extend any credit so you can't get into any debt. And the chips they use are…' he struggled to locate the correct word '...unorthodox. They're big currency in the demon world, but no use to me - so If I win I sell them on, like. Which is how I make the money. If I lose, I only lose the money I paid to be at the table, and I can't go there unless I can afford it. It's not like last time, I'm in control.'

'That's exactly what every addict says, until the day they prove that they're not in control!'

He gave her a reproving look, 'I'm not an addict. Playing poker isn't like having a flutter on the gee-gees, or placing too much coin on a Viking's game. I'm not in control of those. Poker is a skill. And it just happens to be a skill I have in bucket loads, darlin'. And I only play when I can afford it.'

Her furious expression softened somewhat, but she still didn't look convinced. 'But why do you go there at all? If you lose then it's a waste of money. You could save money quicker by not spending it at the gaming table.'

'But I enjoy playing poker!' he told her. 'It's what I like to spend my money on. You could save money if you didn't buy so many shoes…' Cordelia looked like she was going to object, but Doyle kept on speaking, 'but that's what makes you happy, so it's fine to use your money that way. It's the same with me and poker. And I'm making sure I don't get in over my head. It's safe and I'm careful.' He sat down on the sofa and took one of her hands in his. She didn't shake him off, and he took that as a good sign. 'When I sold on my ...chips ...I more than tripled the amount of money I'd put down. I can pay you back in no time. And then we can... y'know…' he smiled at her shyly.

She smiled back, also a little shyly. But then her face fell and she sighed. 'No,' she said.

'No?'

She handed the cheque back: 'You should give this to Angel. If I give him my commercial money, and you give him this, and Wesley chips in a few bucks ...we can pay off his rent arrears, save the company. That's more important than us getting to date.'

He looked at her, his eyes soft and gentle. 'It's important that we get to be happy too, Princess. Not everythin' has to be about work. Everyone needs a balance in their life.'

'Uhuh,' she said, far more pragmatic than he. 'And how happy do you think we'll be if we have a night of passionate lovemaking planned, and Mr. Bat like hearing is crashing on the sofa because he lost his apartment?'

'Well maybe we could pack him off to Wesley's for…' he shook his head as he suddenly seemed to process her actual words. 'Hang on...do you foresee many nights of passionate lovemaking in our future, darlin'?'

Her brilliant, thousand Kilowatt smile spread slowly across her face, 'well..' she said, 'if you think you're up to it.'

'Hey! Stamina is my middle name!'

'Your middle name is Francis.'

'Stamina is my second middle name. Allen Francis Stamina Doyle. Everyone knows that! Just ask around.'

They laughed together, sitting on the sofa, still holding hands. But they were interrupted when the office phone began to ring.

Chapter 7: Are You Now Or have You Ever Been?: Part Three

Chapter Text

Angel led Judy down into the basement of the hotel, she was babbling nervously as they went. 'I guess it'll be OK down here, just for a few days. Until the cops are gone.'

'Judy, there are no cops.'

'Well, not yet...but there will be…' She carried on talking as Angel looked around for a handy place to stash the bag of stolen money. 'I just can't go to prison...I can't ...being trapped like that, not able to get out...it'd be like death…'

He pulled an old chair over to the middle of the room and climbed up onto it, using his extra height to push the bag up onto the pipes, safely out of view. Judy was still talking. 'No, it would be worse than death...it would be like being buried alive.'

As Angel stepped down from the chair, he heard a whispering sound weave it's way through the air. It made him feel cold, paranoid, even though it was just noise. He knew for sure now: there was something in the hotel. 'Judy, I want you to go to your room and stay there, there's something in this hotel making people crazy.'

But Judy was still focused on the money, and her desperate desire to evade arrest. 'Do you think if the money just happened to end up on the doorstep of the bank...and they saw I hadn't spent any of it then maybe they'd call that P.I off? I mean, there's such a thing as forgiveness, right?'

Angel just looked at her.

Down in the basement, Angel pulled a chair over to the pipes, he wondered if it was the same one. He reached up and rooted around until he found it. The bag was right where he had left it and, when he opened it, he saw that all the money was still inside. It was covered in a thick layer of dust, though, now. As he dropped down from the chair he heard that same, insubstantial whisper that he had heard down here all those years ago. An evil mist of sound that crept into his mind and chilled him right the way through. It was still here...after all these years. He had to make a phone call.

Down in Angel's apartment, all by himself, Wesley had finished laying out all the pictures and articles that they had found for events taking place in the hotel back in 1952. 'There's a pattern here,' he announced to the empty room, thinking aloud. 'I can sense it...some force was residing at the Hyperion over the past decades, affecting staff and residents...but how can we know what that force was?'

'It's a thesulac demon,' Cordelia said, appearing behind him. Wesley jumped and turned to look at her, incredulously.

'Without a doubt,' Doyle agreed, 'this whole thing just screams 'thesulac' to me. I'm surprised you didn't pick up on it, Wes. What tipped you off, Cordy?'

Wesley just gaped as Cordelia began to explain her deductive processes. 'Well, it's a paranoia demon, isn't it? Feeds off the insecurities of their victims - makes them act all crazy.'

'And in a hotel like the Hyperion, where everyone's hiding behind walls...keepin' secrets... That place was just a smorgasbord for a paranoia demon. All those juicy insecurities...ripe for the pickin'.'

Wesley's astonishment was only increasing, 'but how did you….'

'Of course the biggest tip off for me, was when Angel called and told us about it.' Cordelia smiled at the flustered British man, and he heaved a sigh of relief that he hadn't yet been bested in the research department by his two coworkers. 'He's on the phone upstairs,' she said, 'he wants to talk to you.'

Angel was back up in the spacious, deserted lobby. He had his cell phone scrunched in between his ear and shoulder, and was working on an open fuse box as he spoke to Wesley. 'A thesulac demon claimed this place as his own, even before they began building. I thought if I got you to trace the events we could track it, find out where it went. But it's still here.' He turned his screwdriver and a few sparks flew out into his face, he flinched away from them. 'I want you and the others here asap. And page Gunn, we're gonna need all the muscle we can get when we raise this thing.' A few more sparks flew, and then the lights came on. Angel glanced upwards.

'Raise it?'

'It's incorporeal,' the vampire told the watcher. 'We need to make it manifest in order to kill it.'

'I see. You'll want me to research the raising ritual, then?'

'Already done it...there's just a few things I need you to pick up. Doyle'll know a guy that'll know where to get them.'

Angel entered 'The All Seeing Eye' bookstore and looked at the unprepossessing little man that appeared to be the proprietor. He was listening to a radio show and talking back at it. The vampire had heard this man had a reputation, though it seemed a little unlikely looking at him. Still, this was his best shot. 'Are you Denver?' Angel asked.

'No other cat but me,' Denver replied.

'Right, well I need to see your books on demons.'

'Do you now, daddyo?' He got down from his stool behind the counter, and walked around so that he was facing Angel. The vampire nodded. 'Anything you have on possessing entities, demonic suggestions, exorcisms, cleansing rituals…'

'Why don't you start with this one?' The bookseller threw one of his books at Angel. He caught it and immediately felt it burn; smoke rose from his hand, and his face involuntarily vamped out with the pain. It was a bible. Denver dove behind his counter and when he reemerged, with his stake and cross, the store seemed empty. He went to the front door and yelled out into the street. 'That's right! Run you coward of the night! You got any idea who you're dealing with?' He was grabbed around the throat from behind, Angel still wore his vamp face. 'I know you've got a rep, that's why I'm here,' he snarled into Denver's ear. 'Now it's been a long time since I opened a vein, but pull any more of this Van Helsing jr. crap with me and I'll give it go. Now, I want the books in the back.'

...

The manager stood at the hotel counter, scanning the L.A Times for any mention of suspicious activity going on at his hotel. Frank, the bellhop, appeared beside him. 'What took you so long?' the manager wanted to know.

'He wouldn't fit.'

The manager dropped his paper, 'What? What did you do with him?'

'Well he's in there. I just had to ...what d'ya call it? Make him fit. Hey, I won't get into any trouble for this, will I?'

'Don't be paranoid.'

Across the lobby the guests began to argue, and the two hotel workers scurried over to see what was happening.

'You've got more reason to kill him that anyone,' the writer shouted at Rock Hudson guy.

'What? Why me? I don't even know the man.'

'What if he saw you with one of your little trysts?' demanded the writer, 'maybe he was gonna tell the studio. Publish your little peccadilloes in the press!'

'Don't use alliteration with me, you hack!' Rock fired back, 'you're just mad because the studio won't return your calls, comrade!'

'Pansy!'

'Red!'

The manager interrupted them, before the argument spilled over into actual violence. 'What's going on?' he demanded.

'There's a murderer in the hotel!' the old actress told him.

'And we're gonna find out who,' the old man agreed.

...

Alone in her room, Judy sat in her chair reading a book. She felt something rustle past her ear, and then a voice began to murmur to her. She wasn't sure if she could really hear it. 'They know about you,' the voice said, 'they'll turn you in.' Judy closed her book and listened to the whisperings that were disturbing her conscience. 'You'll go to prison,' the voice said, or maybe it was just her own fears. 'How long do you think someone like you will last in prison?' She got up and closed the window, hoping it was just the wind that had whispered through the air. But as she sat back down, she could still hear the voice.

Doyle, Wesley and Cordelia had stopped off at the magic shop in Korea Town, en route to the hotel. Wesley had the list of items necessary, and Doyle was haggling over the price. Cordelia wandered round the shop looking at the various things on sale. There was a whole raft of wooden boxes built to contain demons - she remembered all too well the shorshack box this guy had sold them, and how inefficient it had turned out to be. It was a good job they weren't planning on storing the thesulac for a thousand years, because if last time was anything to go by, it would only end up in a slice and dice anyway.

She picked up a scented candle and sniffed it. It smelled funky, so she looked at the label - 'essence of slug.' Ew! who would buy that? Next, she looked at a jar of newt eyes. The amphibian eyes stared back at her from their place in the pickle jar. The white roundness of the eyeball and the black dot of the pupil made her think of frogspawn. She shuddered and replaced it. She knew that Willow was getting big into magic, back in Sunnydale, especially now that Oz had left and she had no new guy to distract her; but it seemed like a disturbing little hobby to Cordelia - even if magic was a handy shortcut to superpowers, it wasn't for her.

The men had finished, over by the counter, and Doyle looked around to find her. He saw her examining crystal balls and walked up to her. 'You lookin' to see if we get a happy ending, there, darlin'?' he asked her.

She jumped, as she hadn't realised that he was right there behind her, and nearly dropped the crystal ball. Luckily her reflexes, which had always been good but were now honed from hours of cheerleader practice, were quick enough that she was able to catch it again before it smashed. 'No, I was looking to see if you ever manage to develop a decent taste in shirts.' She gave his purple and blue stripy number, which he was wearing over a light purple tank top, a very pointed look.

'Ah - and what did the fates have to say on that one?'

'It doesn't look hopeful.'

He laughed, 'we're done here, are you ready to go?' She nodded and they left the shop to make their way to the Hyperion Hotel.

Angel and Denver sat in the backroom of the bookstore, Angel was pouring over one of the ancient, dusty tomes that he had found there. There was information on a very likely looking demon, and he wanted to know more. 'This thesulac?' He said, showing the book to Denver. 'How do I kill it?'

'You don't, you run away from it.' But Angel disagreed, he refused to accept defeat, this thing was in his home and it was making the rest of the clientele jumpy and suspicious. That was bad for him, as he had a lot of secrets to hide. 'There must be a way to kill it.'

'Well, first you gotta make it fat - corporeal. But that only happens after a nice big feed. Or, if you raise it- but that is tricky and dangerous.'

'How?'

Denver got up and went to look for the supplies. 'The incantation is right there in the book. Then you'll need an orb of Ramjarin. Now I've got one that I can let you have for cheap.'

'for free.'

'For free,' the bookseller agreed, locating the orb and placing it on the work surface. 'Then you'll need sacred herbs - and divining powder.' He got those and put them with the orb. 'And something big to hit it with.'

'And that'll kill it?'

Denver shrugged, 'it might, wouldn't hurt to have a lightning strike, but failing that…' he scanned the shelves and found what it was he was looking for, 'one of these ought to do it.' He handed a hefty fighting axe to Angel, who took it from him, gratefully. 'Thanks, bag that stuff up,' he nodded at the other supplies. Denver dutifully started packing them into a brown paper bag. 'You know…' the bookseller said, 'A vampire...wanting to slay a demon in order to help some grubby humans? I'm not sure I get it.'

'To be honest,' said Angel, grabbing the bag, 'I'm not sure I do either.'

...

Inside the lobby, the staff and guests of the Hyperion were still arguing, and the crowd had got bigger. Tempers ran high and feelings were overwrought, as accusation after accusation was flung at the various people. The almost constant whispering in their ears, which they couldn't quite place, drove them on - looking to pass the blame and shine a light on anybody else's indiscretions, hoping no one would look too closely at their own.

'You're the one who asked me where you could buy a gun,' the manager said to the actress, all the heads in the crowd whipped around to face her. She had had a gun, she could have shot the candle salesman.

'That was for protection!' she yelled back.

'Protection?' Rock guy asked, aiming to keep the conversation away from his own illicit activities - the salesman had been his neighbour after all, it was all too easy for the others to imagine that he would have seen Rock with one of his boyfriends ...and started to blackmail him. 'Protection from a salesman threatening to turn you in for solicitation?' The woman gasped in fury. She was a legitimate actress, what she did for income when funds were a little low, and the studio wasn't calling, was nobody's business but her's.

Frank leaned in to speak to his manager - this was getting out of hand, and some kind of sense had to prevail. 'The guy killed himself, remember?' he whispered.

The manager, however, was beyond sense, and he turned on his bellhop. 'Did he?' he asked, 'were you there?' There was no mistaking the insinuation.

'It was Consuela,' Frank gabbled, 'she's the one that found him.'

'Yeah,' the old man said - the one who had brought up the idea of murder in the first place, 'she could have found him and then shot him.' Vehement arguing broke out amongst the crowd, throwing accusations in every direction, shouting over each other. No one was really listening to what anyone else said, they were all just desperately trying to push the blame onto someone else... anyone else.

'Hey!' one, lone voice cut through the crowd. A new man had entered the lobby. Everyone stopped arguing and turned to look at him. 'The name's C. Mulvihil. P.I.'

'He looks suspicious,' the screenwriter noted.

'I'm looking for this woman'. The P.I held up a photo of Judy.

...

As Angel walked back through the lobby, he was surprised to note that the entire space was empty. Not that he was complaining, he was carrying a large axe and a bag of sacred herbs. That would only lead to difficult questions in the best of situations. The front door swung shut behind him, and the sudden noise in the deserted entrance hall made him turn back round and stare...

...

...Wesley, Doyle, Gunn and Cordelia arrived through the doorway together; though Wes and Gunn seemed to tussle over who went first. 'Good, you're here,' Angel said looking up at them. 'Let's do this.'

Cordelia had taken the divining powder out of the bag of supplies they had brought and was pouring it out on the stairs that led up to the first floor landing. As she worked, her long, black hair swung down, forming a silky curtain that partially obscured her face. Strands of it also brushed against her bare arms and, as she bent over to pour, her vest top rode up, exposing an inch or so of very toned midriff. Even though he was supposed to be taking part in an important and dangerous raising, Doyle took a moment to watch her work, and admire her beauty from a distance. A sudden, subtle, susurration disturbing the air told him that he wasn't alone.

'She'll never love you, you know,' an insidious voice whispered into his ear, hissing into his mind. 'Look at her, you can't have her. You're a demon - why would she want you?' He shook his head, trying to make the voice go away. This was the thesulac demon, it must be, but it sounded so much like it was his own mind conjuring up these thoughts. 'Look at Gunn,' the voice told him, 'another tall, handsome demon hunter - just like Wesley and Angel. And he's younger than you, and human. Wouldn't she be better off with him? Isn't she more likely to fall in love with him? Why is it that every man that joins your outfit is over 6 feet tall and looks like a Calvin Klein model? Jeez, does she never meet any fat guys?'

'But she does love me,' Doyle thought to himself furiously, refusing to let the thesulac take a hold of him. 'She told me that herself.'

'But when she did tell you that?' the malicious whisper argued back. 'When you'd just got out of the hospital, when she was worried about you. She told you that because she pitied you.' The voice wouldn't leave him alone, wouldn't shut up. It just kept on hissing his worst fears directly into his ears - making him doubt himself. making him doubt Cordelia - and her feelings for him. It was taking all his concentration not to give into the paranoia, to not attack Gunn, or start yelling at Cordelia about what a faithless little tramp she was. He needed to overcome this. This wasn't fair on her, she'd never done anything to deserve his mistrust. He did trust her! He was better than this … he could beat this.

Cordelia finished pouring the powder and returned to where the men were standing. She slid her arm through Doyle's and gave it a squeeze. 'You OK?' she asked, seeing the expression on his face. And, as if by magic, as soon as Cordelia made contact with him, the voice went silent and Doyle had control of his mind once more. He smiled at her reassuringly. 'I'm fine... Now.'

'We call thee forth, thesulac of the netherworld.' Wesley was reading the incantation aloud, from the old book. 'We command you, leave our minds and join us here on the physical plane.' He held his hand out towards Gunn, expecting to be passed the orb of Ramjarin. But Gunn was struggling to get the backpack, containing the orb, open. 'Orb,' Wesley hissed at him, snapping his fingers, impatiently.

'Orb of Ramjarin, please, makes it happen.'

'Please! And do be careful. Ancient conjuring orbs are notoriously fragile.'

Gunn lobbed the orb in his direction, and Wesley had to drop the book in order to make the catch. He ended up crouched down, hugging the ancient orb to his chest. 'Angel!' he protested.

'Guys, don't listen to it, alright?' the vampire said. 'Whatever it's whispering to you, ignore it.'

'They were like this the whole car ride over here,' Cordelia told him.

'Oh.'

Wesley stood back up and began to intone once more. The orb had begun to glow. 'We invoke thee by the power of the orb of the priests of Ramjarin. What was once in our thoughts be now in our midst.'

The air above the stair landing began to shimmer and bulge...

As Angel stepped out of the elevator onto the third floor landing, he saw a large crowd gathered at the other end of the hallway. In the middle of the group was Judy, being pushed and pulled and manhandled. She seemed very frightened, 'Please! Stop! You're hurting me!'

'We'll do more than hurt you, missy!' One of the crowd yelled. Angel dropped his axe and bag and began to walk quickly down the hallway, hoping to rescue the beleaguered young woman.

'We know about you. missy - the name you registered under was fake.'

'Who knows what else you've lied about?'

'I'm sorry I'm sorry,' she cried, 'I didn't mean anything by it.'

'Oh now you're sorry!' the old man said, 'I thought you didn't have anything to be sorry about?' And Judy disappeared under the onslaught of the pushing and the shoving of the maddened crowd.

'It wasn't me, it wasn't me!' Angel heard her cry, as he approached, picking up his pace. Judy saw him, from her place in the middle of the violent gathering and managed to wriggle herself free, running towards him, sobbing. He ran towards her, ready to protect her, to make her safe. But she came to a stop and pointed one trembling finger at him. 'It was him!' She shouted, turning the crowd on her would be rescuer. Angel stopped dead. 'Look in his room,' Judy told the people. 'Go ahead, look! He's got blood! He's a monster!.'

Everyone fell silent, staring at Angel, who stared back at Judy. She was still crying. The bellhop and the P.I came up behind him, they were each carrying one of the items he had dropped by the elevator. 'What kind of maniac are you?' asked the P.I, looking at the axe in his hand with disbelief.

As Angel turned to face him, the detective struck him on the chin with the axe handle and then bashed him on the back as he fell down. The whole crowd then descended on the fallen vampire, hitting and kicking and shoving, and screaming the whole time. Angel made no attempt to fight back; he just lay there, looking at Judy, who stood alone in the corridor, her face wet with tears. She alone had not joined in with the desperate physical violence being meted out. But she did nothing to help, either. She just stood there and cried.

As the beating continued, Angel's vision of Judy began to blur and then faded completely to black...

Chapter 8: Are You Now Or have You Ever Been?: Part Four

Chapter Text

The frenzied mob dragged Angel out onto the balconied landing overlooking the lobby, and pressed him against the balustrade. Frank, the bellhop, hurried halfway down the stairs so that he could get a better view. He slapped the banister in gleeful anticipation. 'Ha ha! We got you now,' he hollered, 'Come on! String him up, string him up!'

Someone threw a thick rope around one of the rafters, and a noose was slipped around Angel's neck. The other end of the rope was then tied around the railing for support, whilst the crowd screamed their encouragement, urging the impromptu executioners on. As Angel was dragged upwards onto the edge of the balcony, he managed a glance behind him; where he saw Judy still stood alone, still sobbing. But everyone else was baying for his blood. 'Push him!' yelled Frank from the stairs 'Come on! Push him out, push him out!'

The P.I and the old man pushed Angel over the edge, and he dropped downwards until he reached the end of the rope. The rope twanged as his weight pulled it down, and then came to a stop. His body shuddered and then just hung there; head down, eyes closed, unmoving. Judy screamed out in terror and remorse, but the screaming and the clamouring of the vigilantes was louder. They all cheered as they watched him swing, and the bellhop laughed once more. 'Yeah, swing you freak! You had that coming!'

But once the cheering was over, the crowd fell silent, just watching the body of the dead man sway in the breeze. The mass hysteria that had affected them began to ebb away, and the mob mentality evaporated, as they became single human beings once again, staring into the face of the atrocity they had just committed. One by one, they melted away, scurrying back to their rooms and their hidden lives. Shame and guilt and remorse, and a healthy dollop of disbelief, followed them as they ran. They couldn't have just done that, they couldn't have been a part of that. They had to get away, to make it clear that they had not sanctioned his execution. When the police came calling, as they no doubt would, no one would be able to pin the blame on them. It was everyone else's fault. Not their's.

'Oh my God,' said the manager, staring out at the space where Angel still swung. 'What have we done?' He too backed away, although he had no sanctum of his own to retreat to. He had to get away from the body.

'What?' asked Frank, from his place on the staircase. He watched as his boss backed away, and as Judy, last of all, turned away, sobbing, and fled down the hall. 'What's wrong?' Frank said again, running back up the stairs to stand where his manager had. He looked down at Angel. 'It's just a ….what d'ya call it….' he glanced around, and the fact that he was now the only person left with a dead body, a murder victim, seemed to hit him. He knew better than to be seen here, looking at the hanged man, all by himself. So, he too, turned and fled.

...

Once the hallway was empty, and Angel was sure he was completely alone, he opened his eyes and reached up to grab the noose. He managed to free himself from it and he dropped to the floor, like a stone. He managed to land on his feet, though, and he began to walk towards the front door.

The air behind him began to shiver and bulge; and, glutted on the fears of the hotel clientele, the thesulac demon was made manifest. He hovered behind the vampire, though Angel did not turn to look at him. He got a sense of him though, in his peripheral vision; tall and cloaked, he got an impression of tentacles reaching out from under the demon's cape, waving in the air.

'Well, I don't know about you,' the thesulac demon laughed, 'but I'm stuffed!' He smacked his lips together. 'God I love people, don't you? They feed me their worst fears and I just serve it right back to them. And then all that fear and prejudice turns into certainty and hate. I just take another bite and -mmm mmm mmmmm!' He laughed again. 'What a beautiful beautiful dance!' He began to move towards Angel, floating down the stairs, his tentacles never really making contact with the ground. 'Aw, now you got your feelings hurt didn't you?'

Angel didn't reply. He was ashamed to admit there was truth in the thesulac's words. All he'd wanted was to be left alone, to be given space to brood, but Judy just wouldn't leave him be. She'd drawn him in, made him care. Against his better judgement, he'd begun to care for her, wanted to help her - and she'd spat in his face. It did hurt. It shouldn't. He shouldn't expect anything else, he didn't deserve anything else. But still it hurt.

'See now what happens when you stick your neck out for them?' the demon taunted, 'they throw a rope around it.'

Angel began to walk forwards again. He'd heard enough. He'd had enough. The more the demon spoke the angrier the vampire became. The hurt intensified until it was a painful ball in the pit of his stomach, seething.

'And you'd thought you'd made a friend!' The thesulac said in mock sympathetic tones.

Angel still didn't answer. It had been nice; helping Judy, talking to Judy, feeling needed, feeling wanted. He hadn't had that since Darla. He'd been alone for 50 years and then suddenly she was there, in her floral dresses and her touching distress; making him feel like a person; making him feel like he could do some good. Giving him hope. That that had now been torn away from him, once more, was even worse than if he'd never felt it. Betrayal: it never mattered when you were evil, but once you had a soul it stung. Angel's soul was stinging, and Judy had done that. He'd been stupid to think that he could matter to someone, and he was furious with himself for daring to believe.

'Newsflash!' the demon said, 'you had!' Angel stopped his walk to the door, feeling the grief of loss all over again. 'That's what made her the yummiest morsel', the thesulac told him, smacking his lips once more. 'You reached her buddy! Restored her faith in people. Without you she would have been just another appetiser, but you plumped her up good. Now she's a meal that will last me a lifetime!' He laughed again, and moved so close to Angel that he was directly behind him. 'You know, there's a whole hotel of people here, a whole mess of tortured souls just crying out for your help. What d'ya say?'

Angel felt his anger overwhelm him, as he reflected on Judy's betrayal; on the way those pathetic humans had beaten him and tried to kill him. They needed help? They deserved this place. Let them rot. Let them kill each other until no one was left standing. 'Take them all,' he told the thesulac, and marched out of the hotel for the last time. Behind him, the thesulac demon roared with laughter. 'Take them all,' it yelled out into the empty lobby, and the words echoed around the hall.

The sound of the thesulac demon vibrated and bounced off the walls, echoing round the dusty old lobby. He screamed as he was made corporeal against his will, his long green tendrils flailed out from under his cape, whipping through the air towards the small group of people who stood before him. 'Mind his tentacles!' Angel shouted at the gang.

'What?' Cordelia sounded horrified and disgusted in equal measure.

'Tentacles,' Doyle and Wesley clarified for her, in unison.

'Oh right.'

As the demon became used to being solid, he focused on the 5 people huddled in the lobby, and laughed when he recognised Angel. 'I don't remember ordering takeout,' he said, 'but I like what you brung me.' The thesulac leered at the living members of the party, and Doyle edged himself in front of Cordelia, trying to shield her from view. This just made the thesulac laugh even louder. 'Well take a look at our big hero!' he said, 'thinking he can protect the little lady from little ol' me.' It leaned in towards them both, closed his eyes, and sniffed deeply; like he was trying to inhale their worst fears. When he reopened his eyes, he smiled: 'there's not much I can do with her,' he told Doyle. 'But you? My oh my oh my - what a healthy vein of insecurity there is to be mined there! You make it easy.'

He spoke to Angel again, 'this little girl is no good to me - not like the last one you gave me. There's precious little fear in this girl's heart. But the men folk you brung?' He smacked his lips 'mmm mmm mmm mmm mmmmm. Just bung full of tasty paranoia.' He flicked a lone tentacle towards Wesley, 'especially that one,' he said.

'What's that supposed to mean?' Wesley asked his friends, sounding offended. Cordelia gave him a comforting look, but Angel ignored the question, concentrating only on the ancient paranoia demon hovering in front of him. 'You had your last meal here a long time ago', he told the thesulac. 'You should have got out of here whilst you had the chance.'

'Now why would I do that?' the thesulac demon sounded surprised, 'when the room service in this hotel is still excellent. Has been for fifty years.' He floated closer to the vampire, grinning. 'Paranoia here - it's like a fine wine.'

'It gets better with age,' Angel said to himself, quietly, realising a terrible truth. He glanced over towards his newest associate. 'Gunn, now!' he yelled. The young man aimed a crossbow at the thesulac and fired. The bolt hit one of the waving tentacles, pinning it to the banister. The thesulac screamed out in pain and then used another of his feelers to smack Gunn to the ground. The street fighter hit the wall, head first, and landed in a crumpled heap.

As the long, green, appendages of the the thesulac demon waved in the air, looking to do more damage, Wesley ran off in one direction, whilst Doyle and Cordy fled in the other. The half demon pushed the young woman ahead of himself, hoping he could protect her from physical harm even if he was woefully ill equipped to protect her from the psychological damage that the paranoia demon inflicted.

With Gunn down in the corner and the three others racing away in opposite directions, the thesulac didn't know who to focus on and, whilst he was distracted, Angel used that advantage to roll into close proximity. He grabbed another of the demon's tentacles and hauled it over to the fuse box. The box hung open and there were wires hanging out, from where Angel had fixed the lights earlier. 'Kitchen's closed,' the vampire declared, and thrust the tentacle against the open wires.

Blue waves of electricity crackled from the wires and down the tentacle, eventually reaching the body of the thesulac. The demon screamed out in pain, as he was fried alive, the jolts of charge visible in the gloom. He began to smoke, even as he still twitched and shuddered as the current ran through him. The five team members just stood around, watching, as the ancient demon was electrocuted to death.

With a final scream of agony, he exploded in a great big ball of shining white light. Team Angel all raised their hands to shield their faces from the blast, and their hair blew wildly in the wind that accompanied it. Then, just as suddenly, it was all over. There were scorch marks on the floor, but other than that, there was no sign of the demon that had haunted the hotel for over seventy years.

'Well I guess that's some kind o' justice for poor Frank Gillnitz', Doyle said, looking at the burn marks on the marble floor. 'You reckon they'll come off?'

'Who cares?' asked Cordy.'This whole place needs to be condemned, anyway.'

'Is everyone OK?' Angel asked. The four of them nodded, and Angel left them to head up the stairs of the old hotel.

'What did he mean by especially that one?' Wesley wanted to know.

Angel padded back down his old third floor corridor, and stopped half way along, outside one of the rooms. He remembered the last time he had gone through this door, the moment he had allowed himself to become involved. He had let her down, let his own rage and bitterness and disappointment get in the way of doing what was right. But that was 50 years ago, and he had been through a lot since then. He would not stumble so easily, at the very first hurdle, this time.

He pushed the door open and there she was, sitting in her chair, like it was 50 years ago. Except it was the new century now, and Judy was an old woman. He spoke her name, softly, and she looked up towards him. 'I don't hear them anymore', she said, sounding confused. 'Are they gone?'

He walked over to her, 'yeah.' He knelt down on the floor, right in front of her, so that they were face to face. An expression of wonderment crossed her features, and she slowly held out a hand and caressed his cheek. 'It's you,' she said. She sounded both joyful and disbelieving.

'Yeah, Judy, it's me,' Angel said softly, smiling back at her. He put his own hand on top of hers, where it rested on his face.

'You look the same.'

'I'm not.'

'They killed you,' she remembered, her look of happy bewilderment falling into one of regret. 'Because of me.' Angel shook his head, to tell her 'no' but she didn't pay attention. 'I killed you.'

'No,' he said shaking his head, smiling at her, 'no', trying to convince her this was real, he was really there with her. 'No.'

'He kept them from the door,' Judy told him, and Angel grieved for her. He felt a stab of guilt that he had left her in this awful place, to the ministrations of that demon, when he knew what the thesulac would do. When she had told him how terrified she was of being trapped, of being buried alive. 'He told me I'd be safe,' she said. 'Am I safe?'

'Yeah, you're safe.'

'Can I go out now?'

He felt another stab of grief and guilt. 48 long, lonely years with nothing but fear for company. He had done that to her. He had been supposed to help her and instead he had helped to trap her in a form of living death. 'Yeah', he said to her, 'you can go out.'

She gave him a big smile, then, and he held her hand as he helped her up from the chair. 'Let me help you.'

'I just ...need to rest,' Judy told him. He guided her towards the bed. 'Just a little rest,'

'Easy.' Angel lowered her onto the bed, and she settled down. He sat down on the bed, next to her and she gripped his hands. 'I'm so sorry I killed you,' she told him, her voice hoarse and croaky. 'Can you forgive me?'

The vampire smiled down at her, and stroked her hand, 'of course', he said, gently.

She smiled, then, and it seemed like a terrible weight had been lifted from her. 'I'll just rest for a moment,' she told him, 'just a little rest ...and then I'll go out.'

She closed her eyes, breathed deeply, and then went still. Angel continued to hold her hand for a while, keeping vigil as her soul departed. He understood completely, why she had held on throughout all those years of despair, why it was she could rest now. She had been holding out for just one thing, the thing she had so desperately wanted to believe was real -all those years ago when, as a naive young woman, she had planned to deliver the stolen money back to the bank. It was the very thing that Angel was dedicating his life to achieve for himself. She had wanted forgiveness, and he had granted it. He had freed her. And now she was at peace.

Finally, he got up from the bed and left the room, closing the door gently behind him, even though it could not disturb Judy now. As he came down the stairs, he saw his four friends sitting around waiting for him. Doyle and Cordelia were sitting on one step together, Doyle's arm around her. Gunn was slightly lower down the staircase, packing things up in the backpack. Wesley was standing down in the lobby, talking - mostly to himself. 'I've been accused of a great many things in my time, but paranoid?'

Gunn glanced up at the other two, shaking his head, and they just shrugged back at him.

'Unless they've been saying it behind my back?' Wesley worried.

The sound of Angel's footsteps made Gunn glance up, once more. 'You alright man?'

'Yeah.'

'We finished?' Cordelia wanted to know.

'I think so.'

'Good because I for one can't wait to get out of here. This place gives me the heebiejeebies!'

Gunn nodded along in agreement. 'Too true, plus it's kind of got an odour to it. You notice that?'

'70 years of violence, mayhem and paranoia?' Cordy said, 'bad vibes.'

'We're moving in,' her boss told them.

'A few throw pillows, what's not to love?' She then fixed the vampire with a stern glare. 'This is your answer to you not bothering to pay your rent for five months? You move us lock stock and barrel into the Tower of Terror?'

'They did actually remove that candle salesman from the meat locker, didn't they?' Doyle worried. 'He isn't still there? 'cause I'm not made of as strong stuff as Cordy, if I open a freezer and a body falls out ...I'm gonna need therapy.'

'Tch! You don't even have the mental resilience of a sixteen year old girl! You're such a loser!' She shoved him playfully.

'You are an unusual and disturbin' person, darlin',' he told her. 'It's not me that's the odd one out here.'

Angel was standing in the middle of the lobby, by now, looking around, sizing the place up. 'Angel,' Wesley said to him, 'you, of all people, should appreciate that for the better part of the last century this place has been home to not only malevolent demonic forces, but also some of the worst faces of humanity. This is a house of evil!'

'Not any more.'

Out of hearing of the other three, Wesley leaned in closer to speak to his boss: 'Angel, you don't find me especially paranoid, do you?'

'Not especially.'

'Oh good...I was worrying.'

As Cordelia packed up the last of the boxes back in Angel's apartment, she went through her mental to do list of things she had already ticked off and tasks she had yet still to complete. First off she had rung the coroner, and got them to come and take the body of the old lady away from the hotel. Then she had rung up the property management company that currently owned the hotel and told them that her business wished to move in. They had been only too delighted to accept her offer of a monthly rent cheque, with a promise of looking into buying the place once they could get the money together.

Following this, she had rung up the rental company that they were currently with, and told them of Angel's decision to not stay on. She was particularly proud of the way she had managed to sweet talk them into allowing Angel to pay off his arrears in instalments, rather than in one lump sum and cause the business to go bankrupt. Then it had been her job to hire a removal van, and organise the packing up of all the office equipment and Angel's possessions. Most of the furniture had come with the apartment, and the Hyperion was already fully furnished, so at least they weren't having to hulk around sofas and beds.

The men had sort of helped with the packing, under her direction they hadn't gone too badly wrong. Now it was just her and Doyle left getting the last of the stuff. Wesley and Gunn were driving the removal van over to the hotel, and sniping all the way, no doubt. Angel was already at his new home. It was remarkable how he'd manage to dodge doing any actual work…

Tomorrow she would have to ring the phone and electricity people and tell them they were leaving the building, and get their bills transferred over to the Hyperion. Plus she would need to get new business cards printed… and then the unpacking would begin. Not to mention the cleaning - twenty years worth of accumulated dust would have to be hoovered into oblivion. She put her hand up to her brow and pushed her hair back off her face. It was a good job she had met Angel at that party last year, because if she wasn't here running things she couldn't imagine that the three musketeers would ever manage to organise themselves.

She frowned ...did she mean the three musketeers? Or were they the good ones? The three stooges. That's what she meant. Larry, Moe and Curly. Angel, Doyle and Wesley. Apparently, being a big superhero, or a half demon seer, or a member of the Watcher's Council, meant that you were completely incapable of surviving in the real world. She snorted. Men!

'Are we just about ready, Princess?' Doyle asked her, box in hands.

She glanced around, 'I think so.'

The half demon made to leave and then stopped when he realised that she wasn't following him. 'Cordelia? What's wrong?'

'I was just thinking …' she said, 'isn't Angel sad to see this place go? We've been through so much here.'

Doyle shifted the weight of his box, and then shrugged. 'Angel's 240 years old. He's lived lots o' places. He can't get attached to them all.'

'Yeah, but this place?' She pointed through to the bed, 'this is where I crashed when my apartment was infested with cockroaches, and where you stayed after you'd been stabbed at the gladiator ring.'

'And how many times did we have to chain Angel to it?' Doyle added.

She looked further round the apartment… 'and there,' she pointed at a brick pillar, 'that's where we dug bullets out of both you and Angel. And that's where the disembodied hands of the psycho stalker surgeon knocked us out, and dragged you down into the sewers - oh! And over by that door is where Spike threatened us.'

'Yep, it's been a heck of a year alright. C'mon now, we need to get this stuff to Angel.'

She took one last look around and then followed him to the elevator for the final time. As they pulled the gates closed and listened to the groaning and clanking, Cordelia was hit with more memories. 'This very elevator saved us from a mental watcher with a machine gun, and it was how you escaped the apartment with Rebecca Lowell when Angelus was on the rampage.'

'Y'know, the more you reminisce, the less sorry I am to be leavin' the place.'

She smiled at him, and he smiled back. 'And look on the bright side,' he told her, as they pulled open the gates, at the top, 'you can accept that cheque from me now. I don't have to give it to Angel.'

'That's true,' she said, as they walked through Angel's private office and out into their own. She cast a glance at her desk and the green sofa. 'It just feels like the end of an era, you know?'

'Nah, Cordelia,' The half demon said to her, still smiling. 'This is only the beginning.'

He switched the office lights off and the pair of them left the building together, one last time, and walked out into the future...

Chapter 9: First Impressions: Part One

Chapter Text

Angel left the stage and went to go speak to the Host, to find out what the anagogic demon had read in his soul. The psychic congratulated him on his vastly improved singing, and Angel admitted that he been practising.

'I'm guessing not in front of the mirror?'

'In the shower.'

'Well - you really put your heart it into it. The question is, what happens to it now?'

'It?' Angel didn't understand.

'Your heart, you big lug. It might not be beating but it can still get broken. You've reached a bend in your own personal uphill road, bro. Whether or not that slows you down ….that's up to you.'

The Host began to sing his next words, and then he took to the stage, the lights dimmed and the spotlight shone down on the green skinned demon. Angel made his way over to the bar. And that's where he found her. He put his hands around her waist and pulled her in closer. Darla smiled up at him. 'I weren't sure you were coming,' he whispered.

'Silly boy, I've been here all along.'

'You have?'

'Mhhmm - just waiting for you.' Her words made Angel smile, and she smiled back at him: 'aren't you going to ask me to dance?'

He led her over to the dance floor and wrapped his arms around her. She felt so tiny in his embrace, but also so right. Like she had always meant to be there, like he had been missing her these past hundred years, but now he was home again. The entire bar was deserted now, apart from the two of them and the singing Host. Angel rested his forehead against hers. 'I can't believe you're here', he told her. 'I mean, I killed you.'

'I'm over that,' she said, then she looked a little concerned, 'you haven't told anyone about these little dates of ours, have you?' He was quick to reassure her, to make that look of concern go away. 'No - I want you all to myself.'

'I know how you feel,' she murmured.

'It's so strange.'

'But good?'

'But good.'

He leaned in to kiss her, and their lips met just as the song came to an end.

Angel smiled in his sleep. But as the kiss was broken, he awoke. He sat up and looked around his new room, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. Realising he was alone, and that he had dreamt of Darla once again, he swallowed in trepidation...

Downstairs, in the lobby of the Hyperion, the three living members of team Angel were busy making their new premises habitable. Cordelia was dusting the staircase, a look of disgruntlement on her face as she embarked on the Sisyphean task. In the middle of the hall, Doyle had a tub of hot, soapy water and was trying to scrub up the scorch marks that the thesulac demon had left on the floor. He had rolled up his shirt sleeves, and donned a pair of pink elbow length marigold washing up gloves - he was on his third bucket of water already, and he didn't like it when his skin went all wrinkly and pruny.

Wesley was behind the counter, and his two coworkers weren't entirely sure what it was that he was contributing to their cause. They were too busy to actually stop and investigate, however, so Wesley just made sure he always looked vaguely occupied in order to ward off any accusations of shirking. He had no intention of mucking in with the cleaning; unpacking the library was much more his level of work.

'We are never gonna get this place clean!' Cordelia complained, sneezing as a cloud of dust enveloped her face.

'Now, now, it's just a bit of dust!' Wesley told her.

'This is not mere dust. This is son of dust,' she informed him, 'this is the kind of dust that spawns generations of baby dust - I give up!.'

'These scorch marks aren't goin' anywhere fast, either,' Doyle said, resting back on heels, and wiping his brow with his rubber gloved hand. He left a trace of soapy bubbles across his hairline.

'Well, we could always give up the hotel and work out of Cordelia's living room,' Wesley told them.

'Why not yours?'

'Your place is bigger - and comes with a handy ghost!'

'Fine,' Cordy grumbled. 'I'm dusting. Doyle, keep scrubbing.' She swiped her feather duster around a few more times and sneezed once more.

'Y'know what I'm thinkin' would look really good right in the middle of this hallway?' Doyle asked: 'a rug. A nice, big ol' rug - hides a multitude of sins and I can give up.'

'Scrub it up, buddy. If I have to clean, so do you.'

'Why me? I'm vision guy - don't I already provide a valuable and unique service to the team?'

'And if you have a vision, I'll be sure to let you stop cleaning for those few seconds, but until then - clean!'

'It really shouldn't be taking you this long, Doyle,' Wesley reproved, 'those marks are fresh.'

'Uhuh - and what exactly is it that you're doing to help, again?'

'I'm unpacking!' Wesley picked up a pile of books, and hurried into the room behind the counter, which Angel had designated as his office.

As Wesley left the lobby, Gunn entered it, through the front door. He glanced down at Doyle, giving his pink marigolds a funny look: 'Yo, man where's Angel?'

'He's sleepin'.'

'It's 3:30 in the afternoon! I've been up since dawn.'

Cordelia looked down at him from the staircase, still brandishing her duster. 'Which part of 'creature of the night' don't you understand?'

'I told him 4 o'clock!'

Doyle got to his feet, glad to have an excuse to stop cleaning for a moment. 'You had an appointment with him?'

'He didn't brief you?' Gunn asked. 'He said he'd back me up. We're meeting a snitch downtown, he's got a line on Deevak.'

'Deevak?' the half demon frowned, he hadn't heard of this one - maybe he hadn't been paying enough attention when the guy's talked during their poker sessions.

'A nasty demon, he's set up camp in my neighbourhood - put two of my men in the hospital last night. So could one of you go up there and knock on his coffin.'

'Actually, he doesn't sleep in a coffin,' Wesley said, appearing in the doorway to the office, 'and he hates that stereotype, you may want to refrain from mentioning it in his - incredibly excellent - hearing.'

'Besides,' Cordelia chimed in, 'have you never heard the phrase 'let sleeping vampires lie'? He'll rise in his own time, he always does. Maybe we can help you.' Wesley and Doyle nodded their agreement, Gunn's problem didn't seem anything beyond what they dealt with on a weekly basis.

But Gunn didn't seemed impressed with the suggestion. 'You guys? I find Deevak I'm gonna need more than C3PO and stick figure Barbie backing me up.' He glanced towards Doyle, 'you've always got stuck in in the past, but …' he looked pointedly down at the Irishman's hands, 'I guess you don't like getting your hands dirty.'

Doyle followed Gunn's line of sight downwards - dammit! He was still wearing the pink marigolds. He surreptitiously put his hands behind his back. 'Deevak is badass', the young street fighter told them, 'I'm gonna need some serious muscle.'

The door opened again, and this time it was David Nabbit that walked through. He wore his blue silky cape, and waved a sword in the air. 'Demons of the world beware! Your time on the surface grows short.'

Cordelia smiled at him, warmly, coming down the stairs to talk to him:'David, Hi!'. Her enthusiasm made Doyle wish he'd taken the rubber gloves off before now, so that he might have looked more manly in the face of his stiffest competition. Behind his back, he began to try and remove one of them, but they were all sticky.

David left the doorway, and ran up to meet them. 'I came as quickly as I could.'

'We paged you two days ago.'

'I was in Kuala Lumpur - hostile takeover.' He then whipped his sword in the direction of Gunn, pointing it at his throat. 'Identify yourself, traveller. Are you a fellow demon killer?'

Gunn knocked the sword away from his face, giving David a look of disdain. 'Who is this guy?'

Wesley made the introductions and then Nabbit asked after Angel.

'He's still sleeping.'

'At 3:30? I've been up since dawn!'

The vampire then decided to put in his appearance, coming down the stairs and into the lobby. 'Sorry I'm late', he told everyone.

It was David that replied. 'I stand ready to fight the good fight, sir! What do you need?'

'Financial advice.'

The billionaire blinked, OK ...good.'

'We're making this hotel our base of operations,' Angel told him. 'Right now we're leasing it for six months with an option to buy.'

'How much are you willing to put down?'

Cordelia had the answer to that: 'nothing - would be good.' Doyle gave up trying to remove his gloves behind his back, and brought them round front where he could see. So far he'd just managed to drag the left one down a bit, so that the glove's fingers hung empty whilst his own fingers were trapped inside the wrist part. He'd somehow managed to fold the top over as well, so that bit was inside out. He just couldn't get purchase on it, whilst his other hand was still encased in rubber. He'd been defeated. By his own pink marigolds.

Meanwhile, David was talking money - laying out various options they could try, and Cordelia was listening avidly, her cheeks were turning more and more pink with every fiscally technical word that Nabbit spouted. 'Is anyone else getting warm?' she asked, all the men looked at her, and David smiled nervously. 'Say that bit again about tax breaks, FHA and PMI.'

Doyle rehid his begloved hands behind his back. Nabbit glanced between the woman and her boss a few times, before coming up with an answer: 'I'll get my money guy to run up some numbers for you.'

'Thanks,' the vampire said, and Nabbit turned to leave. As he got to the door he raised his sword and spoke to them with a big grin: 'is this demon fighting cool, or what?'

Competition safely out of the way, Doyle held his hands out to Cordelia. 'I'm stuck.'

She rolled her eyes at him and started to yank down on the left glove. 'Uhh uhh' -she pulled it off, with a grunt of exertion, and started on the right one. 'Why were you wearing these ridiculous things anyway?'

'I don't like it when my skin dries out and goes all tight.'

'You know they have this amazing little invention called moisturiser now? Clears dry skin up right away.'

'Moisturiser? Who d'ya think I am? Angel?'

'Hey!' their vampire boss protested, and they both laughed together as she finally freed him from his last pink, rubber prison.

Angel went over to the coffee pot and began to pour himself a cup, his lack of urgency agitated the already highly strung Gunn. 'What are you doing, man? We need to move on this.'

'Relax - we'll make it.'

'Relax? Every time you ask me for a favour, I'm right there. First time I need your help, your snoozing the afternoon away, what's up with that?'

But the vampire ignored him and held his car keys out to Cordelia. 'Cordy, I want you to drive.'

'Me? Drive your car?' she snatched the keys off him, 'so cool!'

'How come I don't get to drive?' Doyle protested.

'Every time you drive -I worry you'll get a vision and end up wrapping us around the nearest lamp post and - I really love that car.'

Doyle nodded in sad acceptance, and Cordelia patted him, comfortingly. 'Maybe we can get a crappy car for you to drive,' she said, 'one that it doesn't matter if you total it in a hideous firebomb wreckage ...type of ...hey! It isn't the safety of the car we should be worrying about!'

'Wesley,' Angel said, ignoring her protestations. 'We're gonna need some bribery money - there should be something in the cash box.' The watcher went to go and get it.

'Hang on!' Gunn said.

'I thought you wanted us to move on this?' Angel asked, pulling on his leather coat.

'Which is why we're not taking English Breakfast Tea, Princess Cordelia and the boy wonder, over here - they'll only slow us down.'

But the vampire shook his head. 'If we go against Deevak we're gonna need the whole team.' He turned to his secretary, 'pick me up round back, in the shade.' She nodded and walked out of the hotel, followed by her two male coworkers. 'Why am I always Robin?' Doyle was complaining.

'Shotgun!' Wesley called.

'Dammit!'

Cordelia pulled the car into an underground parking garage. She and Wesley climbed out of the front, whilst the other three piled out of the back. Somehow, despite being the first in the car, Doyle had ended up squashed in the middle. Sometimes, it really sucked being a short man surrounded by freakishly tall men, they always used their height to muscle you around.

The garage seemed empty, and Gunn was less than impressed: 'we're too late, he split.' It was clear he blamed the whole of team Angel for this mishap.

'Maybe he heard what a pleasant person you are to be around,' Cordelia said to him, sweetly. The tall, young man glared at her, but she was unabashed.

'There!' Angel pointed out an undersized youth, who was peering out from behind a van, looking frightened. Gunn went up to talk to him, and Angel gave him the envelope of cash. But the young man, Jameel, threw it on the floor. He'd changed his mind, he was too afraid to speak out against Deevak and thought it likely that he had been followed to the garage. He had only turned up out of respect for Gunn, because he had heard the street fighter had a rep, but that was all. Jameel was way more afraid of Deevak than he was of Gunn.

Gunn knocked him to the floor. 'You afraid of me now?' He kicked the fallen man, and Angel stepped in to intervene. 'What are you doing?'

'What I got to!' the younger man replied, 'I got people dying.'

'Man, I didn't do anything!' Jameel protested.

But Gunn yanked him up by the front of his shirt. 'You think I care? Survival of the fittest, bro. And right now, you aint looking too fit.' He pulled his fist back, ready to punch the cowering snitch, but Angel caught his arm and stopped him from landing the blow: 'Easy'.

'Let go man, this is my case,' Gunn argued, but Angel stood firm. 'And now it's mine. Doyle?' He turned to look at his sidekick, 'you think your contacts will have any luck finding this Deevak?'

'I can try,' the half demon shrugged. The vampire and the street fighter stared at each other, neither willing to back down…

The door to the garage burst open, and three vampires, presumably sent by Deevak, rushed in. 'Oh man!' Jameel cried, 'see, I told you I was being watched.' And he wriggled free of Gunn's grip and ran away. The two fighters turned to confront the oncoming enemy.

Gunn and Angel took a vampire each, whilst Wesley and Doyle set about the final one. Cordelia danced around in the background, her stake raised, swinging at the backs of the fighting vamps. The vampire punched Doyle in the face, knocking him to the ground. He rolled over, wincing in pain, and looked up just in time to see Wesley also thrown to the floor. His demonic adversary made to jump on top of him, but as it prepared to leap, Cordelia got in close enough and staked it through the back. As the wood hit its heart, the vampire exploded into dust, and then the secretary held out her hand and helped the fallen watcher up.

Doyle also crawled to his feet and saw Angel and Gunn taking on their own vampires. Their fights were brutal and, although the good guys weren't technically losing, they weren't winning either. The Irishman launched himself at Angel's vampire and pulled him away from his friend, he managed to hold him still, pinning his arms behind his back whilst Angel staked him through the heart. Doyle coughed as the dust exploded in his face. Angel then turned to help Gunn…

... Once all three vampires were no more than piles of dust on the car park asphalt, the five heroes sat back, leaning against the convertible, nursing their various injuries. 'I am so sick of dust,' Cordelia said.

'My face hurts,' Doyle complained.

Angel winced. 'I can't lift my left arm all the way up.'

'That vamp did a number on my ribs.'

'And I've thrown my back out,' the watcher finished.

'These grease stains are gonna take forever to come out,' Cordelia added, the men all looked at her. 'OK, maybe my pain isn't physical and is more cleaning bill based but...I was the first to actually stake one of the vampires y'know', she muttered that last part to herself, whilst the men continued to groan and grumble.

'We're no closer to finding Deevak,' Gunn pointed out.

'I'll find him,' Doyle told him …'I always know a guy.'

'Maybe it would be better if we waited,' Wesley said.

Gunn was impatient. 'How you figure?'

'Well, if it was so much trouble for us taking out three vampires, then we're hardly in fit condition to take on a demon of Deevak's calibre.'

'Wes is right,' groaned their boss, 'that should have been easier -we need to regroup.' Gunn got up to leave, he looked at Doyle before he did. 'You find out anything about Deevak, you tell me right away, you hear? I wanna be in on this.'

'Sure man, no problem.'

The young street fighter left, but the members of team Angel remained behind, still collapsed against the convertible. Still aching, and in pain. 'Angel?' Wesley said 'what you said earlier - I've never seen you have so much trouble with a single vampire before.'

Angel thought about it for a moment: 'off day,' he said.

Chapter 10: First Impressions: Part Two

Chapter Text

The convertible swept up outside the Hyperion. 'Here we are,' Cordelia said 'home sweet hotel.' She'd dropped Wesley and Doyle off at their respective homes, on the way back from the garage, and now it was just her and Angel. 'Just bring the car back tomorrow,' her boss told her. It was unlike him to let her take his car home, overnight, but she wasn't about to complain. She thought she had better check he was feeling alright, though, as he was acting so out of character. 'You sure you're gonna be OK?' she asked.

'Yeah, I'll be fine. I just need to get some sleep.'

'That seems to be all that you're doing lately.' He gave her a look. 'Not that I'm judging!' she added quickly.

'Good night.' He got out of the car.

'Sleep tight...don't let the bedbugs bite.'

Up in his apartment, Doyle was on the phone, talking to one of his contacts. 'Hey Johnny- I'm lookin' to find a demon.' For the first time in a long time, he didn't have to delay his conversation with Johnny Red whilst the hustler complained about outstanding debts that Doyle owed him. It felt like a real luxury, living debt free, not having to dodge his own acquaintances. Cordelia had really liberated him, given him a whole new chance at life. She probably didn't even realise what a difference she had made.

'Yeah he's called Deevak...apparently he's a bit of a nasty... bastard. Hanging around Downtown sorta way, maybe as far over as Boyle Heights… hang on let me get a pen.' He hadn't expected to get lucky so quickly, and he hastily scrabbled around for a biro and something to write on. Settled down, once more, he picked up the handset. 'OK, man, I'm ready - shoot ...uhuh uhuh ..Henry's…oh no, not now...' Just as he was getting the pertinent details he felt the unmistakable head twinging of an incoming vision.

BAM

He dropped his pen and the phone, and rolled off the sofa, as the psychic onslaught took effect. He twitched and convulsed as the waves of pain crashed through his skull, and the images he was being sent burned into his retinas. It was Gunn. Terrified, and fighting for his life.

Once the vision pain had receded, the half demon scrambled back to his feet, and grabbed the phone again. Johnny Red was still on the end of the line, sounding confused as to what had become of Doyle. 'Listen, man,' The Irishman said to his contact. 'I gotta hang up right now, but thanks anyway.' He put the receiver back into its cradle and, as soon as he heard the click disconnecting the call, picked it back up again and dialled Angel.

Angel lay asleep, under the covers. The phone on his night stand began to ring.

'What's that ringing?' He asked Darla. The two of them were outside, moon-bathing under the light of the beautiful full, harvest moon. They were on deckchairs and wore swimsuits and sunglasses. 'Nothing darling,' Darla told him, 'it'll stop.'

'Where is it coming from?'

'Ignore it.' She took an ice cube out of her drink and rubbed it down Angel's bare chest. The vampire laughed as the melted ice tickled his skin. 'Why are you so good to me?' He wanted to know.

She smiled at him, 'because … you and I are one.' The ringing noise stopped and she glanced upwards, 'see?' she said. He nodded, and she leaned in to kiss him.

After failing to get hold of his boss, Doyle tried Wesley. It rang and rang, 'c'mon, c'mon,' he muttered to himself. Eventually the answer machine picked up. 'Wesley, man it's me. I've had a vision. It's Gunn, he's in trouble. I can't get a hold of Angel, where are you? Look, when you get this, will you get Angel and meet me over at Gunn's? I'm going over to him now - it looked bad, man.'

He hung up again, and then re picked up the phone a final time, this time he rang Cordelia.

'Hello?'

'Oh thank God! Cordy, it's me.'

'Doyle? What's going on?'

'I had a vision,' the half demon told her, 'Gunn's in trouble and I can't reach Wes or Angel. I'm goin' over to Gunn's place to see what I can do. Will you keep on trying the others for me? It looked bad, I'm gonna need all the help I can get.'

'Sure thing -Doyle?'

'Yeah?'

'Be careful.'

He hung up the phone, and grabbed a sword from out of his closet. Swords killed most things, he figured. He ran out of the door.

Cordelia tried to reach Angel and, having failed, she tried Wesley. There was still no answer. 'Where are you guys?' she shouted into his machine. 'Doyle's gone to face a big bad demon all by himself - you know he's not gonna be a match for it. Pick up! Uhhh! Where are you? - when you get this, get over to Gunn's place asap. Doyle and Gunn need you.' She hung up the phone, and thought for a moment.

She had no idea where Wesley and Angel were, or what the likelihood of them getting their messages was. Meanwhile, Doyle had gone to face off against a demon that, in his vision, had been getting the best of Gunn. Gunn was a good fighter; Doyle was alright as backup, and he could take out a vamp or two, but if this thing was bad enough that it was giving Gunn trouble - then Doyle was in way over his head. And there was no way of knowing if the cavalry would arrive in time.

She couldn't just sit home and wait to find out if Doyle had died. Cordelia loved all her friends, of course, but she loved Doyle most of all, and she couldn't just wait around and do nothing whilst he was in danger. She went to her closet and grabbed an axe. Axes killed most things, she figured. She was going to have to be Doyle's backup, until the other two pulled their fingers out and got there. Axe in hand, she went to the door, taking deep breaths. 'OK, I'm gonna die ...I'm gonna die.' But at least she wasn't going to leave Doyle to die alone. And with any luck, as she still had Angel's car, she should get to Gunn's place first.

She barely took the time to turn the engine off, once the convertible had pulled up outside of Gunn's place. Leaving the keys in the ignition, she hefted her axe and jumped out over the door. There didn't seem to be any sign of Doyle yet ...good. Cordelia ran down a deserted corridor, inside Gunn's building, and as she ran she was alarmed to hear the sounds of weapons clashing. Oh God, she must be too late. She only hoped that she wouldn't find her friends already dead on the floor when she got there.

Following the noise of the fighting, she ran through a door and saw Gunn battling against an opponent using a quarterstaff as a weapon. Well...she had a better weapon than that! She lost no time in lifting her axe, and using all her might to bash the guy around the back of the head. The man stumbled and then rubbed his head. 'Ow!'

'Are you crazy? What the Hell are you doing?' Gunn demanded, sounding furious. He yanked the axe out of her hand and glared at her, like she was a cockroach or something.

'Saving you from a killer demon!' she exclaimed, like it wasn't obvious what she'd just done for him! Laughter broke out behind her and she turned around and saw more of Gunn's crew sitting at the side of the room, watching them. She began to feel the first flicker of uncertainty. 'Not a demon?' she asked. Gunn shook his head. 'I didn't just save your life?' He shook his head again. The first feelings of embarrassment began to wash over Cordelia, as she stood there, looking at the vampire hunting crew rather awkwardly.

Darla was stood alone, and Angel walked up to her, wrapping her in his arms. 'What are you thinking about?' he asked.

'You ...us.' There was a soft knocking sound coming from somewhere and Angel couldn't quite place it. 'You seem sad,' he worried.

'It's just I have to go ...away.'

'I'll go with you.'

'You can't, I'm in danger.'

'I'll protect you.'

She turned around to face him, still wrapped up in his arms and, as she did, the knocking turned into a hammering sound. 'You're too busy protecting everyone else,' she told him. They leaned in to kiss, but the hammering sound became too loud, and they pulled apart to look. Wesley was just at the side of them, hammering a nail into an upright coffin. 'Wesley?' Angel said, in confusion, 'stop that.' He turned back to Darla, but she had vanished and when he looked up he was face to face with Wesley. Angel grabbed the watcher by the throat and threw him down onto the floor. 'You made her go away!' he yelled.

'Angel! It's me!' Wesley choked out.

'What are you doing here?'

'Gunn's in trouble. Can't breathe.'

'Gunn can't breathe?'

'I can't breathe!'

Angel jumped off him, 'Oh, sorry.' Wesley inhaled, taking in deep lungfuls of air. 'It's quite alright,' he said. Then he looked up at his boss, 'Now. About the naked thing?' The vampire glanced downwards: 'I'll get dressed.'

'Much appreciated.' He refused the hand that Angel offered to help him up, though, and got to his feet by himself.

When Doyle arrived at Gunn's place, he found himself entering an entire world of confusion. Cordelia, of all people, was already there, and she appeared to be bandaging up some guy's head. Gunn was stood at the side of her, arms folded, apparently seething with rage. 'Uh...what's goin' on?' the Irishman asked. Gunn glanced down at the sword held in Doyle's hand and rolled his eyes, 'Lord, save us from white folks with weapons.'

'Um...OK...but...I had a vision.'

'Save it,' the younger man snapped back at him. 'I already heard all this from the prom princess over there.' He threw a furious look in Cordelia's direction, and Doyle followed his gaze, watching her deftly wrap the bandage around the head of her patient. He was still none the wiser as to what was going on.

'Apparently, The Powers themselves have declared that I'm in some kind of life threatening situation. Though I think they may have got their wires crossed 'cause it's my boy Joey, there, who's in danger from that axe wielding maniac.'

'Wait!... Cordy? Did you hit that guy with an axe?' Even though she had apparently hit the wrong target, Doyle had to admit to himself that he was impressed. She had got herself to the scene of the danger before any of her associates and pitched straight in without any thought to her own safety. Plus… Cordelia with an axe, you had to love the imagery.

'It seems there may have been a slight misunderstanding', Cordelia told him, as she finished taping on the bandage. She patted Joey on the side of the head, 'there you go, good as new.'

'I think you cracked my skull.'

'Well that's new!'

'OK then,' Gunn said. 'I think it's time that you two went home for the evening, before you put any more of my boys on the critical list.' He held the door open for them and ushered them out into the corridor.

'Wait!' Cordelia said, 'Doyle had a vision, you have to listen to us, we know what we're talking about.'

'Oh yeah, like you knew that Joey was a demon?' He walked down the corridor, so that Doyle and Cordelia had no choice but to trot along after him.

'That was an honest mistake. I was trying to help you.'

'Right because, it always enhances a guy's rep when some skinny, white beauty queen comes to his rescue - in front of his crew.'

'Hey!' Doyle cried in indignant protestation. 'There's nothing wrong with being rescued by Cordelia! She grew up on a hellmouth - she's been fighting demons since she was sixteen. You're not the only teenager to go toe to toe with the dark forces, bud.'

'Damn skippy!' Cordelia agreed, 'I've been present at at least three apocalypses, plus an ascension. And I've been helping Angel for the past year - if Doyle says you're in trouble then you're in trouble - and you need our help, that's what his visions are for.'

'Not interested,' Gunn said walking out of the front door, 'bye.'

'Listen, I know you don't wanna hear this, but my visions are 100% accurate, and if Joey back there wasn't the danger, then we need to work out what is - because I saw you man, fighting for your life - terrified.'

'Well now I know you're trippin' 'cause I don't get scared.'

'Well aren't you quite the masculine fella?' the smaller man said, folding his arms across his chest to convey just how unimpressed he was with Gunn's words. 'But I gotta job to do. The visions are my mission, if The Powers say jump I ask 'how high?' And right now, my mission is saving you. Now, Angel and Wesley should get here soon and then we can …'

'Hey, hey hey!' interrupted Gunn. 'You mean the whole crack staff of lily white demon hunters are on my case? So I got the fang gang… who else is coming? The avengers? The justice league of America? The scooby gang?'

'No...why would they come? They're in Sunnydale...ooohhh...you probably meant… I'll just shut up, now.'

'You do that,' Gunn glared at the axe wielding young woman. 'Now the pair of you just get in your car, buckle up and tell Mr. Tall, Dark and Vampire that I don't need no help.' He glanced around the road, frowning. 'So, where is your car?'

Angel and Wesley stood outside the Hyperion, staring at the empty spot where the convertible was normally parked. 'Um - so where's your car?' Wesley asked.

Gunn was fuming as he drove Doyle and Cordelia towards some of the garages he knew, in his own pickup. At least the crazy chick was sat furthest away from him; and it was Doyle, who at least seemed normal, that was squashed in between the two seats.

'Angel is not gonna be happy when he finds out I let his car get stolen,' Cordelia was fretting.

'He won't find out,' Doyle reassured her, 'Gunn'll find the car for us.'

'And how exactly are you gonna do that?' she leaned around her friend to talk to the driver.

'I know a couple of guys in this part of the neighbourhood that jack vintage cars. We'll just work down the list until I find Angel's ride.'

'And then what? You're just gonna ask them to give it back?'

'I'll say please.'

'Oh right, I forgot. You'll use your famous charm. Like you did this morning with that pigeon stool.'

'Cordelia!' Doyle warned, trying to avoid a fight, but it was to no avail.

'Stool pigeon!' said Gunn in exasperation, 'It's stool pigeon. And you aint got no idea why I do the things I do.

'Paging Mr. Rationalisation!'

'Paging Miss about to be thrown out of a moving vehicle.' He took his eyes of the road to look at Doyle. 'What's wrong man, you can't control your woman?'

'Hey!' Cordelia shouted 'I am not his woman and he cannot control me, no one can ...apart from, you know ...myself...sometimes.'

'Why would I want to control her? She heard her friends were in trouble and she rushed straight into what she thought was danger and hit a guy with an axe! Don't you want someone who you know absolutely has got your back, 100% of the time? '

'Fair point, but she's crazy, man.'

'I can see how it might appear that way,' Doyle said diplomatically, smiling at the furious Cordelia that sat beside him. 'But we're only trying to help. Cordelia gets how important the visions are and I don't think you do. The higher powers themselves send me messages and tell us who to help - you think it's OK to just ignore divine intervention, like that? We have to help you.'

'Right,' said Gunn, disbelievingly. 'You have to help me when it suits your agenda, but when I want help - like over Deevak, I can just sort it myself. That how it works?'

'Hey, man! I was workin' on finding Deevak. I'd just got a beat on him when my vision hit.'

Gunn slammed on the brakes, and Doyle and Cordelia were thrown forwards towards the windshield. 'You found Deevak?' demanded Gunn, 'And you didn't say anything? where is he?'

'Well...I don't honestly know. I got the vision just as Johnny Red was tellin' me and I had to stop what I was doin' and come and help you.'

'You were helping me looking for Deevak,' Gunn pointed out, 'now you're ruining my evening.'

'You know, you can be as rude to us as you like,' Cordelia told him, 'we're still not going anywhere until we know that you're safe. The visions are the mission - we do what they tell us, not you.'

'I'm being rude? You're the one that shows up at my crib, attacks my boy and then hijacks my life. The way I see it, I find this car for you and we're through.'

'But it's not as easy as that,' Doyle protested.

But Gunn just shook his head. 'I'm making it that easy.'

'You need protection,' Cordelia told him.

'And you're gonna protect me? With what? Some weakass lady smith battle axe.'

'I've got a sword!' Doyle chimed in.

'You just ask Joey's cracked skull how weakass my axe is! Besides I have this…' she rooted in her purse and brought out a small canister. 'Mace,' she told the two men, 'squirt squirt. Right in the eye.'

'Mace?' Gunn was beyond tired of this now. 'What? You think I'm gonna get jumped by some purse snatching demons?'

'Well, it's just gonna have to do, because me and Doyle aren't going anywhere until we know you're safe.'

'Well something had better happen soon,' muttered Gunn, 'because I can't take much more of this.'

Chapter 11: First Impressions: Part Three

Chapter Text

Wesley got onto his motorbike and glanced over at the reluctant vampire. 'Well, come on, what are you waiting for?'

Angel held up the motorcycle helmet that the watcher had given him, it was bright pink. 'I- I really don't think this is gonna fit.'

'Of course it will, put it on.'

'You know - I don't even need a helmet for protection.' A motorcycle crash couldn't kill a vampire ...unless it ended in a fireball, but then a helmet wouldn't be much use anyway.

But Wesley had no time for his protestations. 'Angel, it's the law in California. You want us to get pulled over?'

'No.'

'Then what's the problem?'

'Well it's just the whole visibility issue,' Angel blustered, even he wasn't sure what he meant by that - was he claiming he was too visible, or not visible enough? You couldn't be too visible when you were nipping through L.A traffic on a motorbike, and there was no chance he wouldn't be visible enough in the bright pink helmet. He thought of a better excuse. 'Not to mention the whole hat hair thing - and if you really think about it…' he now got down to the real crux of the problem: 'how come I have to wear the ladies helmet?'

'Stop being such a wanker and put it on!'

Angel wanted to protest some more, but Wesley was eyeballing him sternly, so he sighed deeply - just to show his own sadness and frustration, vampires had no need to sigh - and put the helmet on his head. He peered through the open visor at Wesley.

The British man suppressed a smile and then put on his own - black - helmet. 'Good. Hop on, gorgeous.'

'You're gonna pay for this,' his boss told him.

Gunn walked his two unlikely protectors into the car yard. Cordelia glanced around. 'It isn't here!' she said in dismay.

But Gunn wasn't discouraged. 'They wouldn't keep it here on the lot, new acquisitions are kept in the garage.'

A door opened and a man came out. 'What you want?'

''67 Plymouth,' Gunn told him.

'Give me a couple of days and I'll see what I can do.'

'Cordelia, Doyle - meet Henry,' Gunn said, indicating the man. Doyle frowned to himself, he felt like there was something he should know, something he should remember. Something important. But it wasn't coming to him, so he shook his head and ignored the voice in the back of his mind.

'New to the neighbourhood?' Henry asked them.

Cordelia shook her head, 'someone stole my friend's car,' she explained.

'And he really won't take the news well, so we'd really appreciate it if you could give us a hand finding it, bud.'

''67 Plymouth,' Gunn repeated.

But Henry shrugged. 'Wasn't me. You said it was a convertible?' The three of them nodded. 'Then Desmond's your man. He can't resist a convertible. But you won't find him at his garage. Tito's having a party, everyone's invited. That's where he'll be.'

Gunn was scanning the cars out in the yard, his already prominent scowl was growing ever deeper the longer he looked. 'Where'd you jack these cars from?' he demanded. Henry shrugged again. 'Around.'

'They look like neighbourhood cars to me. Look, I told you, you wanna jack beemers in Brentwood, be my guest. But leave neighbourhood cars alone.'

'Business is business. I suggest you start by minding your own.'

'Things don't change - I might have to think about putting you out of business.' Gunn turned back to Cordelia and Doyle, 'let's go,' he commanded.

'Is there anyone that you're nice to?' Cordelia asked him, as they left the car lot.

...

Once they were gone, Deevak, himself, came out of Henry's shop. 'I'm surprised you didn't wet yourself.'

'Him?' Henry was dismissive. 'He's no one, Deevak. Name's Gunn and he's under the mistaken impression that he runs this neighbourhood.'

'I know who he is,' Deevak said, 'and the trouble he's caused. Tonight, it ends.'

Angel and Wesley rode through the street on Wesley's hog. The pink helmet shone in the streetlights, standing out against the black on black look that both riders were otherwise wearing.

The three of them arrived outside an abandoned looking house, with boarded up windows. The loud rap music blasting through the building and out into the streets, however, suggested that this place was far from abandoned. On the way in, they met three of Gunn's crew coming out. They were supposed to be vampire hunting in the garment district and their leader was not best pleased to find them shirking their duties. He told them to go home and wait for him there. Cordelia and Doyle glanced at each other uncomfortably, that just wasn't the way they thought a leader should speak to those that followed him. But when Cordelia voiced her concern, Gunn was dismissive. 'Some people need discipline to survive. Now, when we get inside, you both just shut up and let me do the talking.'

'Hey! I do not need you to tell me to behave at a party. Believe me, I know how to blend. And Doyle'll just blend in with the beer. People won't even notice we're not meant to be there.'

But inside, Cordelia had to admit that she had never been to a party like this, and she most definitely didn't fit in. Even if her clothes hadn't already marked her out as not being part of the neighbourhood, the colour of her skin was a definite indicator that she didn't belong. And Doyle was even worse, his skin was so pale that he seemed to gleam in certain lights. It didn't matter how much beer there was on offer, a semi drunk and badly dressed Irishman was always going to stand out at this party. 'OK, so, not blending,' Cordelia said. 'Maybe we should just shut up and stick close to you.' But it was Doyle that she pressed herself against, sliding her arm through his and taking comfort in the fact that at least they stuck out like sore thumbs together.

A young woman spotted Gunn and called him over, Cordelia and Doyle scuttled along after him, sticking to him like shadows.

'Hey, stranger!' the woman greeted Gunn.

'Hey, girl. You're looking good, Veronica.'

'Where you been at? I've missed you!'

'I just been kinda busy lately.'

The woman glanced towards Doyle and Cordy, who were stood behind Gunn, feeling awkward and doing a terrible job of blending. Veronica had felt a fleeting stab of jealousy when she'd seen Cordelia arrive with the tall street fighter, but she was relieved to see the way that the other woman clung onto the little, white guy. She obviously wasn't interested in Gunn. 'Who are your friends?' Veronica asked, nodding at them.

'This is Cordelia and Doyle, they're in the business but they work up Hollywood way.'

'They don't look much like demon fighters to me.' She spoke to Cordelia, 'you fight demons, but you're afraid of some black kids partying?'

'Me? Oh….I'm not afraid,' Cordelia spluttered '...I'm just ...it's very loud in here...and I'm actually turning into my grandmother as I say that…. But this is nice ...earthy.'

'Uhuh.' She wrinkled up her nose, 'Do I know you?...Aren't you the girl in the stain remover ads?'

'That's me.'

'And you fight demons?'

'What? I can't have a hobby?'

'We're looking for Desmond, Cordelia got her car stolen earlier tonight, you seen him?' Gunn interrupted the chit chat, and Veronica pointed the car thief out: 'He's over there.'

The three of them headed further into the house and as they walked through, Gunn greeted many of the people that passed them by. 'What? Are you like Doyle and you know every criminal in the neighbourhood?' Cordelia asked.

'There you go, assuming those brothers are criminals.'

'Aren't they?'

'What you mean like your friend David Nabbit? You think he became a billionaire by being a good citizen?'

'Actually, he did,' Cordelia said. 'He made his first millions developing software that allows blind people to surf the web.'

'There is that whole 'he visits demon brothels' side issue, though,' Doyle pointed out.

'Nobody's perfect! Besides he set up a charitable donation that donates 20 billion a year to various charitable causes.'

'Well, I scrubbed the floor of the hotel today!'

'And that's a wonderful achievement too, honey.' They smiled at each other for a moment, forgetting where they were, and just happy and comfortable in each other's presence. But, then they had reached Desmond, and Gunn was employing some more of his trademark charm.

'G-man,' Desmond greeted him, 'can I get you a drink?'

'You can get me the '67 Plymouth convertible you stole from my place tonight.'

'I never …' But his hot denials were interrupted by the sound of glass breaking and some girls beginning to scream. Vampires had crashed the party and were attacking the guests, hitting their way through the crowd as they made their way towards Gunn. Doyle was able to rugby tackle one of the vamps away, and used the element of surprise to bowl the demon over and stake him through the heart.

Whilst Doyle was wrestling on the ground, Cordelia raised her axe and tried to hit one of the vamps with it; but he threw her to one side, as easily as if she were made of nothing but air, and advanced through the room. Two vampires had a hold of Gunn and were hitting him; and, undeterred by her previous failure, Cordelia went into the breach once more, this time breaking a popcorn bowl over the vampire's head. It was the same one who had hit her before, and he turned around, annoyed, and hit her harder this time. She hit the wall, and crumpled to the ground, breathing heavily, her arm aching where it had smashed into the hard surface.

Doyle, having dispatched his own vampire, used his sword to behead the demon that had hurt his Cordelia, and then, as the vampire was still crumbling to dust, ran to check on her. 'I'm fine,' she gasped, 'go help Gunn.' But before the Irishman could make it to his associate's side, Veronica had entered the fray, using her fists to batter at the vampires, hoping to protect her friend. But, just like Cordelia, she was too easily tossed aside, and she was thrown right into some glass shelves.

The shelves smashed as she hit them, breaking into jagged fragments and tumbling down onto the floor, onto Veronica. One particularly sharp shard fell straight into her neck cutting deep and, instinctively, she pulled the piece of glass straight back out. 'Cordelia!' Doyle shouted, seeing the wounded woman on the floor.

'I'm on it!'

As Doyle swung his sword at the next vampire, and then threw a punch at the one after that, Cordelia crawled across the floor to where Veronica was lying down, bleeding out. 'What happened?' Veronica asked, her words sounded thick and slurred.

'Umm - you're bleeding, but everything's gonna be OK, I'm gonna help you,' Cordelia told her, gently. She grabbed a tea-towel and pressed it hard against the other woman's neck. 'OK, try to sit up, easy now, come on.' Veronica struggled into a sitting position, leaning against the sofa, whilst Cordelia kept the pressure on her wound. 'Here we go, OK, you're gonna be OK.' She glanced at the bloody towel, but she didn't let Veronica see her worry. 'It's gonna be OK.'

Most of the vampires were dust, by now, and the final one jumped through the window, head first. A squeal of tyres announced his escape. Doyle and Gunn peered through the window hole, to see where he had gone, and then turned back to look into the room. It was then that Gunn noticed Veronica. 'She needs to get to a hospital,' Cordelia told the men, keeping her voice firm and even, so as not to frighten the bleeding woman. But Cordy's eyes were scared, and out of the other woman's eye line she mouthed one word at her friends: 'Now!'

Angel and Wesley arrived at Gunn's place, but could find no sign of the street fighter or Doyle. 'What do we do?' Wesley asked.

'Yo man, can we help with you something?' It was the three crew members that had just left Tito's party, arriving home. They recognised Angel at once, and, even though they knew their boss ran with this vampire sometimes, they were still eager to get him out of the way. No one wanted vampires hanging round their homes, not even friendly ones.

The door to the emergency room was kicked open and Gunn marched through it, carrying the still bleeding Veronica in his arms. Cordelia scurried along beside him, keeping the now sodden towel pressed firmly against the woman's neck. Doyle followed on behind.

'She needs a Doctor!' Gunn yelled out to the room, 'now!'

A Nurse ran up to them and ushered them through into a room, calling for the Doctor as they went. Gunn lowered Veronica onto the gurney, Cordelia keeping the pressure on her neck the whole time. 'What happened?' the Doctor asked. It was Cordelia who gave the answer, clearly and precisely, including all the relevant information. 'A piece of broken glass went into her neck. She pulled it out before I could stop her. It looked like it may have clipped her artery. I applied pressure to the wound, slowed the bleeding. Her pulse has been weakening. She passed out on the way over here.'

Spurred on by Doyle's many injuries, Cordelia had taken a proper first aid course over the summer, and her confidence and expertise in what she could do shone through. Doyle had always known that she was naturally gifted when it came to patching people up, but even he was surprised at how far she had come since the last time he had suffered a serious injury.

But it wasn't good enough for Gunn, and he wanted to know if Veronica was going to be OK. The doctor told him he had to leave so they could get to work saving his friend, but Gunn repeated his question furiously. The doctor looked down at where Cordelia was still holding the towel against Veronica's neck. 'Your friend probably saved her life,' she said, 'but we still have a lot to do, so I need you to leave.'

'C'mon, man, let's go wait, yeah?' Doyle ushered Gunn through the door, the street fighter backed away reluctantly, keeping his eyes on Veronica's torn and bloody neck the whole time. The doctor put her hand onto the towel and smiled at Cordelia. Cordy finally removed her own hand and followed the two men out of the room. Her white jumper was now covered in blood, all down the front and up the sleeves. It was wet and heavy where the blood was. She pushed her soaking sleeves up her arms, and out of the way.

When Cordelia arrived in the waiting room, she found Doyle sat in one of the plastic chairs, drinking a cup of coffee out of one of the plastic cups from the vending machine. He handed her a drink of her own as she sat down next to him. 'Thanks,' she said. 'Where's Gunn?'

Doyle nodded over towards the corner of the waiting room and she looked in the direction he had indicated. Gunn was standing alone, his forehead resting against the wall, looking utterly defeated. 'He say anything to you?' she asked.

Doyle shook his head. 'Nope, he's been that way since we got here.'

Perhaps it was because he could hear them talking about him, but the young man suddenly lifted his head and began to pace the waiting room floor instead. His agitation manifested itself further, when he slammed his fist into the wall. Cordelia sighed deeply, and handed her coffee back to Doyle, who gave her a questioning look. But she didn't say anything. Instead she stood up and walked over to stand behind Gunn.

'She could have died,' Gunn said to her, so quietly she wasn't sure she had really heard it.

'But she didn't.'

'No thanks to me.'

'This isn't your fault,' Cordelia told the young man.

But he didn't agree, as far as he was concerned, this was all on him. 'I let my guard down - and she's the one...' He slammed his fist against the wall again; and over in the seats, Doyle looked up in alarm. 'The vamps were coming after me not her.'

'Take it easy,' Cordelia soothed, also looking a little alarmed at the sudden display of violence.

Gunn span round to face her. 'I can't take it easy. Not ever. I let my guard down and someone like Alonna pays the price.'

'Alonna?'

Gunn shook his head, 'Veronica', he began to pace again. 'I can't stop, I can't ever stop.'

Over in the chairs, Doyle noticed Desmond, the car thief, sneaking his way through the room towards the elevators. He was about to say something, when Cordelia's arm suddenly shot out and she pointed straight at Desmond, without even turning away from Gunn: 'Don't you move a muscle!' she shouted. Desmond came to a halt, Doyle smiled down into his coffee, glad he wasn't the one facing down the barrel of that accusatory finger. Cordelia spun round to eyeball the car thief. 'Where. Is. My. Car?'

The motorbike pulled up between two police cars that were pulled up outside Tito's house. Angel quickly removed his pink helmet and stashed it on the bike, before running his hand through his hair, trying to get his 'do back into shape. A young woman was coming out of the house, and Wesley stopped her. 'Excuse me, Miss, do you by any chance know a Charles Gunn? One of his associates suggested he might be here.'

But the girl seemed confused, and didn't seem to know whether she knew him or not. She wondered if Gunn had been one of the ones that had got hurt.

'You look hurt', Angel said to her.

'Huh? No I'm fine,' they were walking away from the house as they talked, and had arrived round the back of the ambulance that was still outside. 'I just need to lie down.'

'What happened here?'

'I don't know, we were partying and they attacked us. They were strong, like they were on something.'

'But you're OK?'

'Yuhuh'

'Good.' Angel head butted her, and her face vamped out. 'Now, you're gonna start talking', he said.

Chapter 12: First Impressions: Part Four

Chapter Text

Angel's '67 Plymouth convertible was parked inside the garage of Henry's shop, waiting for it's full makeover. The garage door was open and Cordelia spotted it from outside and scuttled towards it. 'There is a God!' she cried, 'Oh thank you, thank you thank you'. She climbed into the driver's seat, and started to look around, as the two men came up behind her. 'That's great,' Gunn said. 'Now you can just drive away, and we can call time on this on whole little adventure.'

'Just as soon as I find the keys.'

Gunn glared at her; then he turned on Doyle and glared at him, opening and closing his mouth as if he was thinking of things to say and then rejecting them, and then looking for new words. Eventually, he gave up and turned back to Cordy. 'You don't have the keys?'

'Well...I kind of left them in the car when I came in to save you and Doyle. I thought you were in danger, every second counted.' Doyle smiled at her, pleased that she had been so worried about him and so desperate to come to his aid. But Gunn was far less impressed with her heroics. 'You are one high maintenance chick, you know that?'

'Alright, everyone, let's just calm down, yeah? The keys must be somewhere.'

Cordelia was patting down the seats in annoyance, 'well, they gotta be somewhere.'

'You're killing me!' Gunn protested, gritting his teeth and raising his eyes to heaven.

Doyle tried to calm him down: 'C'mon, man, it's not that bad. She didn't know someone would steal the car, she had bigger things to think about - like saving our lives. That's more important than a car, bud.'

Cordelia gave up looking and glanced towards the men: 'I don't suppose you know how to - you know - hot wire it?'

'Just because I know car thieves doesn't mean I am one.'

'Actually I was talking to Doyle. But you know, rather than being moral high ground guy, you could help me look.'

A jangling of keys made the three of them look up. 'Looking for these?' Deevak held them in his hand. He was massive, and ugly, with wrinkly greenish skin - though in places it seemed to have been torn off. He was big and ugly enough to not require any backup, but nevertheless he was surrounded with a group of vampires. It was then that Doyle realised what had bothered him when he had been here before. Just before his vision had hit, Johnny Red had given him one name -'Henry.' He raised his sword ready to fight. A slight nod from Deevak and a couple of the vamps crowded in on the half demon. Deevak wanted to kill Gunn, and he wasn't interested in the distraction that the smaller man might cause. Sword still raised, Doyle began to back away, not wanting to start to fight until he felt himself to be on better ground.

As the Irishman was pushed out of their group, Gunn glanced at Cordelia: 'Go' he told her, but she wouldn't. 'I'm not leaving you!' Her head swung wildly between the vamps cornering her friend, and the massive demon bearing down on the street fighter.

'How touching,' the demon snarled, 'a woman willing to die with her man.'

'Oh - he's not my man! He's just a friend ...and about the 'willing to die' part?...'

Backed into a corner, Doyle swung his sword and beheaded the first of the vampires. He then headbutted the second. It barely slowed the vampire down, and it swung it's fist hard into the half demon's face. Doyle was knocked to the floor, and as he landed, he felt the blue spikes shoot out from under his skin, in reaction to the pain. He shrugged to himself, and got up and re headbutted the vampire, this time in demon face. The spikes gouged into the vampire's face, goring his skin. It took a few steps back, clutching at his injured face, and Doyle used that moment to morph back into his human features and swing his sword.

...

'Damn!' Gunn said to Deevak 'I heard you was ugly but…'

'And you're the big, bad Gunn, I heard you were looking for me.' He reached out an arm and grabbed the young man by the throat, lifting him up into the air.

...

The vampire's arms, raised up to protect its face, had also managed to protect its neck from the swing of the sword. He was cut though, and he roared out in pain, as Doyle swung at him once again.

...

Cordelia used her axe to try and hit the massive Deevak, desperately attempting to free the suffocating Gunn. It just bounced straight off his gnarly skin, however, and the demon grabbed hold of her wrist to stop her from hitting him again. 'How does it feel to finally meet someone nastier that you are?' he asked the choking demon hunter.

'Stop it!' Cordelia cried 'you're killing him!'

The demon suddenly seemed to shudder and blur, and then he shrank downwards - morphing into Jameel the stool pigeon. 'Survival of the fittest bro!' he said to Gunn 'and right now, you aint looking too fit.'

...

The sword was now on the floor. Doyle was lying face down, scrabbling desperately to reach it. But the vampire was on top of him, and it was far stronger than he. He took a moment to stop reaching for the weapon, and elbowed the vampire right in the face. The vampire released him, momentarily, and he was able to scramble forward and grasp the hilt of his sword.

...

Cordelia was still held in the vice like grip of Deevak, but she had one hand free, and she used that to rummage around in her purse. He wasn't even paying attention to her - more fool him. She pulled out her mace and - thankful that, as Jameel, the demon was more or less the same size as her - squirted the liquid straight into his eyes. He screamed out in agony, and dropped both her and Gunn. But the vampires began to circle, now, and Jameel morphed back into Deevak.

A screech of tyres announced the arrival of Angel and Wesley, the motorcycle slid under the garage doors sideways, and knocked down one of the vampires. In the same moment, Doyle was able to kill his own assailant and rushed back over to Cordelia. Angel took off his pink helmet, one of Deevak's vamps saw it and laughed. Angel looked down at the helmet, grinned, and then swung it upwards and smashed it into his face, using it to knock out the laughing vampire. He then turned on the next one.

Gunn took a swing at Deevak, but he missed. He tried again.

Cordelia and Doyle were pinned up against the side of the car by one of the vampires. The half demon had already taken out two by himself and his energy was waning, he didn't know he could manage a third. Cordelia used her axe, one more time, and swung it at the vampire, but he easily blocked her. The demon bore down on the two of them, Doyle tried to throw a punch, but he missed. Cordelia closed her eyes. And then she heard the unmistakable sound of a vampire turning to dust. When she opened her eyes she saw only Wesley, stood where their attacker had been, stake raised.

She smiled, gratefully, at the watcher, but then felt herself being roughly dragged sideways by Doyle. As she watched, Wesley then launched himself at a vampire wielding a crowbar, which had been just about to hit her.

...

Deevak had grown tired of allowing Gunn to throw punches at him, and he was now the one taking the offensive. The street fighter was having to duck and weave to avoid Deevak's massive hands, but he misjudged the timing, and was clipped around the head by the demon's green fist. He fell to the floor and Deevak moved in for the kill.

'Cordy! Axe!' Angel yelled. She threw it to him, and he jumped off the hood of one of the cars into a somersault. He caught the axe as he spun and then buried it deep into Deevak's skull as he landed. Deevak was felled and he toppled down beside Gunn: dead. Angel held out his hand to help the street fighter to his feet...

Angel and Doyle were pushing the car out of the garage. Once in the lot, Angel got into the driver's seat and tried to start it by popping the clutch. 'Is it gonna work?' Doyle asked. The vampire tried again - nothing.

Wesley ran out to them. 'Angel -look, I've found your keys!' he was holding the key ring with a pen slid through, as if he didn't want to touch them: 'unfortunately this substance doesn't seem to be coming off them.'

'What is it?' Angel wanted to know.

'Demon blood ...or maybe demon puss… possibly both.'

Doyle pulled a face, and Angel held up his hands, refusing to touch the keys. 'Does anyone know how to hot-wire a car?' he asked.

Yes. It turned out that - actually - Doyle did know how. Angel moved over onto the passenger side, and Doyle got into the driver's seat and pulled out the wires - looking slightly shamefaced at this outing of his criminal skill set.

...

Over by his pickup, Gunn was stood rubbing his throat. Cordelia walked up to him. 'Hey,' he said.

'Hey.'

'Well...you finally saved my life, I guess I should say 'thank you'.'

'I guess you should.'

'You really been in three apocalypses?' Gunn wanted to know.

'Three that I knew about,' Cordelia clarified, 'one of which was being caused by Mr. Tall, Dark and Vampire over there. But my first ever apocalypse I didn't know what was going on. I was mainly just there as something for the vampires to snack on.'

'But you didn't get snacked on?'

'Not to date.'

'Damn girl!' Gunn actually sounded impressed, and Cordelia smiled. The sound of the engine coming to life, and cheering from the three men by the car, interrupted them briefly. 'So. If I accept that maybe you do know a thing or two about demons, do you promise to never try and save my life again?' Gunn wanted to know. Behind Cordelia - hot-wiring finished, Doyle walked up to the pair of them. 'The danger's over now, right. Deevak's dead. The Powers will let me have my life back?'

'Actually, bud…' Doyle started to say. Gunn groaned. 'Aww, man, don't tell me this aint over!'

'Deevak wasn't the threat I saw in my vision.'

'I thought you said your visions are 100% accurate?'

'They are,' Doyle told him, chuckling drily, 'they're just really cryptic a lot of the time.'

Cordelia nodded to that, in agreement. 'They're totally lame,' she told Gunn, she lowered her voice to a stage whisper: 'but we try not to say that out loud so as not to hurt his feelings!'

'Yeah? So what's the real danger?' Gunn wanted to know.

'You,' Doyle told him, simply. 'How you live your life. You don't just face danger, you create it. And believe me, bud, a know a little something about that. You're on a self destruct mission and I've been there. You need help.'

'From you?'

'Pfft!' Cordelia interjected 'What's he gonna do? Saving people from themselves, that's my gig.'

Gunn groaned, loudly 'aww, man, no - spare me from the crazy chick!'

'Hey! I worked on Doyle 'til he gave up his severe alcoholism and his moping about the whole 'half demon' thing. I got Angel to introduce some colour into his wardrobe and I even got Wesley to stop being so incredibly uptight ...that one's still a work in progress.'

'You know guys only do what you tell them to, to get you off their backs', though, right?'

She didn't take offence. 'Whatever works - I always know best, and as soon as everyone else accepts that, the easier things will be.'

'So you're gonna be on my case, now?'

'Until you don't need me.'

He opened the door to his pickup and made to get in. 'Hey!' Cordelia shouted, he looked back at her. 'How about that thank you?' Gunn smiled at her, sheepishly, and she smiled back. He got in his truck and drove away. Doyle wrapped his arm around Cordelia, and the pair of them made their way back to the car.

Outside Cordelia's front door, she and Doyle were saying goodnight. As usual, it was taking far longer than was strictly necessary, and they were finding any opportunity to spend a few more moments of the day with each other. Cordelia had her hand on the door handle, like she was planning to go inside any moment, only she wasn't. 'I should get inside,' she said, 'Dennis will be worrying.'

'Yeah, it's been a long day.'

She took her hand back off the handle, and turned back to him, 'Do you think Gunn will be OK, now?'

'Now he's got you on the case? He won't dare not be, Princess.' They both laughed. 'You know you were amazing tonight, Cordelia,' he told her, 'the way you saved that girl's life… and the number of times you tried to hit someone with an axe. Y'know, you're really somethin'.'

'Ah - you're not so bad yourself,' she said to him.

'I'm not?'

'No - you killed, like, 4 vampires tonight and hot-wired a car - though I'm filing that with 'getaway driver' and 'knows how to use a blowtorch' as things that I just don't wanna know how you know how to do them.'

'It's a long and murky tale ...none of it pretty.'

'But on the plus side you're a total hero with those visions. Except for the complaining part.'

'And let's not forget I scrub a mean floor!'

She laughed again: 'You know, you looked kind of cute in those rubber gloves.'

'I didn't know you were into that sort o' thing, Cordy!'

'Ew!' She sounded delighted and disgusted in equal measure, as she laughed at him, 'I didn't mean like that!'

'So, y'mean I don't have to invest in pink rubber bondage gear for when we take our relationship to the next level?'

'Please- please do not do that.' They smiled at each other again, and then stood there, not really knowing what to say next, until the door opened as if by itself. Doyle looked up at it. 'You'd better go inside, Dennis is waiting for his woman.' She reached out and took the handle again, pushing the door wider open, but before she went in she stopped and turned back to him once more. 'You know what I said to Gunn in the truck, before? I only said it because he was being such a chauvinist. I am, you know.'

'What?' he didn't understand.

'Yours.' She smiled at him, shyly, and then went inside.

Angel walked into the hotel of the lobby feeling totally beat. He was exhausted and he ached, and his hair was messed up from that stupid pink motorcycle helmet. But then . there was Darla, ready to make everything better. 'You look tired,' she told him, 'what's wrong?'

'Nothing.'

She walked over to him, and placed her hands on his chest, looking up into his face: 'Did you save any lives today?'

'Some.'

'Did any of your friends say thank you?'

'Not exactly.'

'That's so typical,' she said softly, 'you know next time I see them, I'm going to say something.'

'No it's fine.'

'It isn't. You give and you give and you give. You take care of so many people, who takes care of you?'

He smiled down at her: 'you do.'

'That's right,' she said, and she began to pull him over to the red sofa in the middle of the lobby. He dropped down, bonelessly, and lay back. She began to take his sweater off, 'just let Darla take care of you,' she crooned. She kissed him. 'How's that?'

'Good.'

'I'm just getting started,' she began to kiss her way down his bare chest. 'I always know how to please you.' He closed his eyes and smiled to himself, as he felt Darla's fingers trace their way down his bare skin. 'All you have to do is let me,' she said, and kissed the hollow of his neck. She looked down at the sleeping vampire: 'I could just eat you up,' she told him.

Chapter 13: Untouched: Part One

Chapter Text

Lilah sat behind her desk, struggling to open her mail with her prosthetic hand. 'It's frustrating isn't it?' A voice said to her from the door. She looked up in alarm, and then relaxed only slightly when she saw who it was. 'Darla ...I didn't realise…'

'He took away your control...and now you want to pay him back.'

'Angel is of interest to The Senior Partners.' Lilah trotted out the company line, 'we operate a strict hands off policy on …'

'Mhhmmm...but you don't care about that.' Darla smiled, seductively, and walked her way over to Lilah's desk. 'You want to hurt him.'

'Don't you?'

'My boy ...' Darla smiled again, this time as if she were far away, daydreaming. She sat on the edge of Lilah's desk, crossed her legs and looked down at the lawyer. 'I know what's in his heart, I know how to make him bleed.' She took a small packet from out of the front of her dress, and poured some of the dark, blue powder it contained into the palm of her hand.

Lilah looked at it, 'Callynthia powder? Is that how you keep Angel sleeping - when he's with you?'

That seductive smile again: 'There is nothing so lovely as dreams.' Darla sounded like she was feeling an almost physical sense of pleasure as she spoke. 'Everything is in them - everything hidden. Open those chambers and you can truly understand someone - and control them.'

'And what's in Angel's secret chambers?' Lilah asked, leaning her head towards Darla, and smiling slightly. She was met with a much broader smile in return.

'Horrors.'

As Angel walked down the main staircase of the hotel, buttoning up his shirt, the sound of Cordelia and Wesley arguing drifted upwards. 'That is so typical of your kind,' Wesley was saying to her.

'My kind? At least I'm not a sheep, like you!'

'I am not a sheep!' the watcher protested, angrily.

But Cordelia was sticking with her accusation. 'Oh please like you've ever had an opinion of your own that you didn't get out of book!'

'At least I've opened a book.'

Angel could see them now, they were stood in the middle of the deserted lobby, yelling into each other's faces. Doyle was sat behind the counter, holding a cup of coffee, and watching the fight. He looked up as he heard the vampire coming down the stairs. The vampire gave him a questioning look, but the half demon just shrugged. It seemed that this had been going on for a while.

'Oh don't give me that!' Cordelia retorted, 'I was top 10% of my class.'

'And what class was that, advanced bosoms?'

That got Doyle to move out of his neutral territory: 'Hey!' he said 'there's no need for that, bud, Cordelia's not stupid and that's totally inappropriate. You owe her an apology.' Cordelia looked smug.

'Oh, well of course you rush to Cordelia's defence,' Wesley fired at Doyle - 'and she has the nerve to call me a sheep!'

'O'course I'm defending Cordelia - what you just said was indefensible!' The half demon replied, heatedly.

'What the hell is going on here?' Demanded Angel, looking between his three members of staff, hoping someone would be able to give him a decent explanation. It was Cordelia that spoke: 'we were just discussing whether or not we should offer to pay Gunn.'

'No you weren't.'

'Well our discussions tend to go about three minutes,' the watcher informed him, 'and then it's strictly name calling and hair pulling.'

'And it's Wesley that's the hair puller!' Doyle interjected. He took a sip of his coffee, slid off his stool, and came out from behind the counter, walking over to join the little group in the middle of the room.

'Ebenezer, here, doesn't want to share the wealth.' Cordelia indicated Wesley with disdain.

'Such as it is,' chimed in Doyle.

'He's been doing for us,' she told the assembled men, 'he should pull a cheque.'

'I was merely pointing out that Gunn is a proud sort of person and he might be insulted by the offer of payment.'

'No one is insulted by money, bud, believe me,' Doyle twisted his mouth as he thought about his words, 'well, I guess it depends what you're offerin' 'em money for - but demon violence isn't a thing to get offended about.'

'I'll think about asking him, OK?' Angel told his crew.

But it wasn't good enough for Cordelia. 'No think. Pay. That's an order.'

'Hey! How about we pretend that you work for me?'

'You know you are really unpleasant when you…'

'Then how about we pretend that you don't?'

'Angel, man! Hang on a moment…'

'Pft!' Cordelia interrupted Doyle, far less concerned than he by Angel's threats. 'You can't fire me, I run this place single handed. You guys would go out of business in about a minute. You heroic types can't tell your ass from your elbow.' she stuck her tongue out at Angel, and the vampire stuck his hands into his pockets and tried not to smile. 'OK… I'll think about asking him. Maybe on a case by case basis.'

Cordelia beamed her biggest, brightest smile at him - the one she usually reserved for either Doyle or the 'Stain Be Gone' commercials. 'My hero,' she said.

Wesley sighed. 'I was going to suggest that,' he told the group, but no one believed him.

Angel glanced at the mug that Doyle was cradling in both hands. 'There's coffee?' he asked.

'Doyle took the last of it - coffee was fresh this morning, it's ten o'clock at night!' his non-fired secretary told him.

Angel looked surprised to hear that. 'Oh … huh ...I'm just a little disoriented. I've been sleeping weird I guess.'

Doyle held the cup out to him, 'you can finish this off if y' want, man. It's still warm.'

The vampire looked like he was going to refuse, but then he reached out and took it, and gratefully took a swig. 'Thanks, I need the caffeine. I'm just not waking up properly at the moment, you know?'

'This has been going on for a while hasn't it?' Wesley wanted to know, 'the sleeping more and more, and being less rested. Are you dreaming?'

'Man's gotta point,' Doyle said. 'The last time you were having trouble with sleep and - if you don't mind me sayin' - lookin' so wrecked - was when you were havin' those killin' dreams.'

'That's right!' Cordelia remembered. 'Because that psycho Wan Kenobi, Penn guy, was in the city. Do you think some of your old vampire pals have blown into town? Should we be worried?'

...

Darla kissed the hollow of his neck. 'Let me take care of you'...She dribbled an ice cube down his chest. 'You and I are one'...They danced together at Caritas, 'you haven't told anyone about these dates of ours?'

'No, I want to keep you all to myself.'

They kissed.

...

Realising he'd spaced out for a moment, Angel blinked, 'uh…', but he was interrupted in whatever he was about to say by Doyle suddenly raising his hand to his forehead, and being slammed backwards into the round sofa with the force of his vision.

'I guess we've got a customer,' Cordelia said, as she scurried off to get the aspirin.

The Irishman came back round from his vision, and sat up, blinking with pain. He took the aspirin Cordelia offered him, gratefully, and Angel handed him his cup of coffee back so that he could use that to swallow them. 'What is it? What did you see?' he asked.

'It's a girl - only a teenager, poor kid. She's in an alley, Hollywood and Wilcox - there are some guys. Angel, man - she's really scared. Go!'

Angel ran out of the hotel and Doyle slumped back against the sofa. Cordelia sat next to him, and reached out her hand to rub his temple, as he laid his head on the back of the seat, and closed his eyes. He groaned. 'Oh, man! He's gonna be too late.'

Bethany ran down the alleyway, terrified, the two men chased after her. One of them grabbed her and threw her to the ground, she rolled over, sobbing, and looked up at them. One of the guys moved towards her, but his associate stopped him: 'Hey! I get it first. You think I want your sloppy seconds?' He looked at the girl, 'the guy's a pig,' he said to her, then he took out a knife. Bethany began to cry harder. As she sobbed, a full dumpster suddenly, and by itself, slid across the alleyway and slammed into the opposite wall, the two men were pinned beneath it - now no more than dirty smears on the side of the building. Bethany took a deep breath - and then began to cry even harder.

Cordelia found Doyle in Angel's office, he was sitting in the boss's chair and looking at a bottle of scotch that he had placed on the desk. He hadn't opened it though. She glanced at the scotch and then at him. 'What are you doing?' she asked, she tried to keep her tone light - making sure he didn't hear any judgement, or disappointment, in her voice.

'Thinkin'.'

'About scotch?'

He broke his gaze away from the bottle and looked at her, 'about my vision.'

'Was it worse than normal - the pain?' she asked.

He shook his head, 'not the pain.' He leaned back in the chair, and covered his face with his hands for a moment, before he pushed them upwards, over his forehead and into his hair, leaving it sticking out in all directions. 'I hate the things I see, the bad stuff in my head.'

'I know.'

'And some of the physical feelin's are just so overpowerin' y'know? Like the stink of that slime monster Angel killed, or that guy who's eyeballs exploded...' He shook his head. 'But tonight was worse.'

'The girl?'

He stood up, and began to pace. 'She was just so scared y'know? And she was just a kid...no one should ever have to feel that scared.'

Cordelia reached out to him, and stopped him pacing. 'Angel will find her, he'll help her. You know he will.' She pulled him close and put her arm around him, rubbing his back as she spoke.

He nodded. 'I know.' He put his head down on her shoulder. 'I just wish I didn't have to have these stupid things. I wish I could get rid of them.'

'I know.' She put her own head on top of his, and they stood like that for a moment, her hand crept upwards and she rubbed the spot where his hairline met the back of his neck. 'Doyle?'

'Yeah?'

'Can I put Angel's scotch back in his cupboard, now?'

He sighed, very deeply, 'yeah.'

Angel walked past the ambulance that was parked at the entrance to the alley. Two paramedics were wheeling a body out on a gurney, and he glanced at it as he made his way towards the crime scene. He picked up a cup of coffee that was standing, unattended, on the hood of a police car, and ducked under the tape. 'So what have we got here?' he asked a young officer, who was busy writing something down on a pad. The officer looked up at Angel 'uh, you're not….'

The vampire looked over the officer's shoulders and barked some of his best T.V cop dialogue at the people stood there. 'Hey, you wanna get behind the tape? You wanna gawk, go home and watch a high speed car chase on fox.' He then fixed his glare on the young officer, 'you wanna think about keepin' the tourists off my crime scene?' He turned away and walked down the alley, 'three weeks I been out of vice, I've seen enough amateur night crap to fill a mini series. Now, you wanna pretend that's not a cub scout uniform you're wearing and tell me what happened?'

The act worked, whether or not the officer really believed his credentials, he obviously didn't dare challenge the irate and glowering man that stood before him. 'Well - detective - what happened is ...we had to scrape them off the wall.' Angel took a sip of the coffee and pulled a face. 'The guys got pinned by a dumpster' the policeman said.

'It fell on them?'

'Ah - no. They were actually pinned to the wall. Looks like someone might have shoved the dumpster from the side.' Angel went to investigate. He held the cup of coffee out for the officer to take from him as he bent in for a closer look. 'Must have been someone pretty strong.'

'You're telling me - splashed the guys right the way over here!' the officer indicated some blood spatter on the floor.

'That's not their blood' Angel said. The policeman looked confused. Angel turned back towards him, to question him. 'You seen a girl here tonight? Scared? Maybe a little beat up?'

'No one here but the victims.'

'OK.' Angel stalked off down the alley.

'So what do we have here?' The officer turned around to see a detective flashing his badge at him. He looked confused and turned back up the alley to stare in the direction Angel had gone in.

Doyle had filled the coffeepot with water, and added the grounds, he placed the carafe back on the heating plate and clicked it on. 'You're making more coffee? At this hour?' Cordelia asked him. He nodded. 'I wanna wait for Angel to come back, figured I might as well have something to drink whilst I wait - keep me up. Besides Angel might want some.'

'You're still fretting about that girl?'

'Yep - but I wanna talk to Angel about somethin' else too. Might as well kill two birds with one stone. Check on the girl and make sure Angel's OK.'

Cordelia frowned, 'you think Angel isn't OK?'

'I'm just worried about why he's not sleepin' is all. Last time there was a reason for it. We have to check it out.'

Wesley walked behind the counter to where they were standing, 'oh good - coffee. I might need some. I was hoping to stay and talk to Angel. '

'You too?' Cordelia was incredulous.

'The pair of you were right, earlier, when you pointed out that the last time this happened there was a reason behind it. But even if there is nothing untoward happening, ongoing nightmares can be very damaging to the psyche.'

'Tell me about it,' Cordelia agreed. 'I have a recurring dream where my hair is a mess - and it just keeps getting worse, and my clothes are awful and then I get dragged off to chess club ...I wonder what it means?'

'That you're a shallow, vacuous harpie who thinks her hair is more important than her life?' Wesley suggested with a smile.

'Hey! There you go again - stop talkin' to her like that,' Doyle protested. 'It's an anxiety dream, Cordelia - they're always a bit weird - I have this recurring one where I'm buying ice cream at the store and I look down and …' he shuddered and didn't finish. 'The dreams are never about what you think they're about - it's basic Freud. I'm surprised Wesley doesn't know that.'

Cordelia shrugged. 'Well I don't like them. On balance I think I prefer the dreams about demons to the ones about my hair.'

'Do you often dream about demons?' Wesley asked her, curiously.

'Don't you? It's not surprising in this gig is it? Like last night, I had a dream I was getting attacked by a vampire, so y'know, just an everyday occurrence for me. I think I must have been in Chinatown, or maybe Koreatown, because there was this pagoda and I think maybe my mom was in it? Or something...it was weird, not fun - not like a closing down sale at Niemans type of dream. But it was definitely less uncomfortable than the hair dreams.'

'Our very own Cordelia,' Doyle stated, 'doesn't mind if minions from hell turn her into a light snack between meals, but crumbles at the thought of a hair mousse shortage.'

She grinned, and nudged him, hard. 'Well, at least I'm not afraid of ice cream.'

'It's not the ice cream…'

'Well suffice it to say, Angel's nightmares probably don't revolve around ice cream.' Wesley said, 'or hair mousse shortages.'

Cordelia snorted, 'I wouldn't be too sure about that.'

'It isn't Angel having nightmares I'm worried about,' Doyle said. 'It's if he's enjoyin' his dreams that we need to be concerned.'

Angel walked into the warehouse that bordered the back of the alley. He passed some stacks of cement, and bits of re-bar scattered on the ground. As he turned a corner, the girl came into view. She was sitting against the wall and she was still crying. She jumped up in alarm when she heard the vampire's footsteps. 'What do you want?' she demanded.

'You're bleeding,' Angel said to her, gesturing to his own temple to indicate where she was injured.

But she shrugged it off and backed away from him. 'Just stay away from me.'

'I'm not gonna hurt you. I just want to ask you a few questions.'

'You don't understand - I'm really upset right now so it's best if you just stay away.'

'Were you in that alley?'

'No.' She realised her mistake. 'I mean, what alley?' She made for the door, 'I'm going.' Angel moved around in front of her to try and intercept her. She pulled up short, a frozen expression on her face. She blinked and then one of the re-bars from the floor flew through the air and stabbed Angel through the shoulder. He fell to the floor. The girl ran towards the door, crying. 'I told you...' she sobbed.

'Please wait.' Angel stood back up and the girl froze again. She turned to look at him as he pulled the re-bar out of his shoulder.

'What are you?' she asked.

'My name's Angel,' he told her. 'I've come to help you.'

She laughed a strangled, hysterical sounding laugh. 'Oh great. I just stabbed an Angel. Now I'm really never getting into heaven.'

'I'm not an angel. It's just a name.'

She looked at the metal in his hand, 'but how did you?...'

'I'm different from most people ...Like I'm guessing you are. Those men in the alley, they tried to hurt you - didn't they?' The girl nodded and looked away. 'But you stopped them.'

'I didn't mean to,' she told him, 'they followed me ..from the club ..it was...' she was beginning to panic again.

'It's OK,' Angel reassured her and she laughed her frightened laugh again.

'Oh yeah, it's just great.'

'You're not from L.A right?' he asked, she shook her head. 'Me neither. This town kinda attracts loners don't you think?'

'You can't make me go anywhere with you.'

He glanced down at his pierced shoulder, 'I think that message got through.' She turned to leave and he called for her to wait, he held out a business card. 'Just take this ...in case you need anything ...a place to stay or …'

'I'm staying with a friend.'

'Someone to talk to, then. I won't hurt you - and you can't hurt me. I think you might need that.'

She hesitated for a moment and then snatched the business card out of his outstretched hand, before turning and running away out of the open door. Once she had gone, Angel sank to his knees, gasping in pain. 'Ah. OK. Maybe she can hurt me a little.'

Bethany entered her apartment building and climbed the stairs up to her friend's place, she dug her keys out of her purse as she walked. Her hands were still shaking even now, in the safety of the building, and she fumbled as she tried to fit the keys into the lock. The door swung open before she had unlocked it. 'Bethany!' Lilah said, 'I was starting to get worried.'

'Sorry I'm late.' Bethany smiled at her friend and then walked past her, into her own bedroom. Lilah silently watched her go.

...

Half an hour later, Bethany was in her nightgown and sitting on the sofa, watching T.V. Lilah appeared behind her, carrying a laundry basket, and sat down on the sofa with her guest. The lawyer was also ready for bed - having removed her prosthetic hand and put on her own pajamas. 'So how was the club?' she asked, as she placed the laundry basket down on the sofa, and one handed took a shirt out of it. She laid the shirt across her knee, and then began to fold it with her only hand. 'You have any fun?'

'It was OK.'

'Any cute boys?' Lilah put the now folded shirt to one side, and reached out for the next item, going through the same actions of spreading it out across her knee, and then using just her right hand to fold it a bit at a time. 'I'm sorry I couldn't make it.' She said. 'Work just got insane and our new clients are monsters…'

Bethany reached out towards the laundry basket to take out an item, 'Here, you got to let me help!'

'No, it's OK. I like folding, it's kind of like a zen exercise for me. Besides I have to get used to doing things for myself one handed.'

'I can't believe you lost your hand in a skiing accident.'

Lilah glanced bitterly down at her stump, but by the time she looked up at Bethany her face was warm and pleasant again, any anger she felt was well hidden: 'It could have been a lot worse - you take risks, sometimes there are consequences. It does take some getting used to though.'

'And while you're adjusting - I should be helping! I gotta do something - it's enough that you're letting me stay!.'

'Hey!' Lilah stopped folding and reached out her right hand to hold Bethany's. 'Didn't we vow you were gonna stop doing that? Didn't we swear a blood oath?' She smiled at the younger girl, 'I love having you here.'

'You know - when you came to our school to talk - I was just so ...here was someone who got out y'know? All by themselves. Made it. Maybe I'm saying it wrong? I just couldn't believe it when you came up and spoke to me.'

Lilah shook her head, still smiling: 'see, you have no idea ...you're special Bethany. Truly special. You think I tour high school's across America saying 'look me up' to just anybody? There's a power about you…' Bethany looked away from the lawyer, glancing down at the floor, uncomfortably…'And soon other people are gonna start to know that,' Lilah finished.

But her words, so warm and flattering, had managed to bug Bethany, and the younger girl wriggled uncomfortably. 'I guess I'm getting pretty tired. I'll just head off to bed.'

'OK. I'm still wired. I'm gonna stare at the T.V for a while, yet.'

'Good night, Lilah.'

'Sweet dreams.'

Chapter 14: Untouched: Part Two

Chapter Text

Angel was sitting on the round sofa in the middle of the Hyperion Lobby. His shirt was off and his muscles gleamed in the light of the chandelier, which was directly overhead. His rippling pectorals were not having much effect on Cordelia, however, as she attempted to bandage him up. In fact , they seemed to be getting in her way. 'I can't get this to bandage ...stop moving!'

'I'm not.'

'Then stop breathing!'

'I don't breathe.'

'Then stop flexing your manly boob muscles, or whatever.'

Over by the counter, Doyle glanced down and attempted to flex his own pectoral muscles. Nothing happened. He must technically have muscles there, he reasoned to himself, none defined and underdeveloped, sure, but be there they must. But he couldn't even get his chest to feel even a little bit tighter, never mind move. He sighed and gave up. It just wasn't meant to be.

Wesley knelt on the sofa, the other side of Angel, and peered at his wound. 'That's an ugly looking injury,' he said, noting the way it went right through the vampire's shoulder.

Angel grimaced: 'It doesn't feel too pretty either.'

'But he's gonna be OK, right Cordelia?' Doyle joined the little group, and also peered into the wound inflicted on his friend. 'This isn't a problem?'

Cordy shook her head, 'You've had worse, I've had worse. Mr. Immortal, here, will be just fine, if he'd just stop wiggling his man boobs.'

'I do not have man boobs!' Angel protested.

'Then what do you call these?'

'Pectorals.'

'Is that just a manly way of saying man boobs?'

'Well… we ought to approach this girl with extreme caution,' Wesley said, trying to get the conversation back on track. The vampire gave him a dark look. 'Which I suppose you had already worked out', the watcher conceded.

'She's just a kid,' Doyle said, 'and a very frightened one at that. She didn't mean to hurt Angel! We need to find her to help her, she doesn't need people being cautious around her, she needs someone looking out for her.' The fear he had felt in his vision was still swirling round in his head, and, whilst he understood the caution that Wesley preached, he was unable to see her as anything but a victim in this scenario.

Doyle had, himself, been cornered down dark alleyways by things that intended to harm him on more than one occasion. But generally, that was something he had brought on himself by failing to repay a debt. And he knew that he was only facing a beating. This girl had been facing much worse, and through no fault of her own - beyond existing whilst female. Doyle thought she was absolutely within her rights to throw dumpsters and re-bars, and anything else she could lay her hands on, at anyone who got in her way if it would help get rid of that awful fear.

But Angel was agreeing with Wesley. 'She's very powerful, but I don't think she's in control of it. Innocent people could get hurt. She's afraid…' Doyle interrupted by making a scornful 'y'think?' noise in the back of his throat. Angel just looked at him and carried on: '...and that makes her dangerous. We have to find out everything we can about her.'

'Like - oh, say ...her name?' Cordelia asked.

'I was impaled at the time!'

Cordelia patted her boss's knee in a comforting, but patronising, way. 'Of course...perfectly understandable.'

'You have any idea how hard it is to think straight with a re-bar through your torso?'

'Actually I do.' It was still the memory of the betrayal that stung her more than the pain, or the time in hospital. Even now, nearly two years later, when she couldn't care less about Xander Harris, or her high school popularity, because she had found something much better - the sense of being betrayed by someone she loved was still what hurt the most. 'That's the benefits of a Sunnydale education,' she said, lightly, as if it were no big deal. 'You didn't get an address or anything?'

'She said she was staying with a friend.'

'Well that narrows it down to people with friends.' Cordelia turned to her two other coworkers, 'where do we keep that list again?'

Doyle smiled at her, and then turned back to her Angel. 'Was there anything about her that you noticed that could help track her?'

'Apart from the ability to blink and kill people? ...there was a trace of an accent… North east, maybe Ohio. And I'm pretty sure she's on the run.'

'So we're looking for runaways from the north east?' Cordelia said. Doyle nodded and moved back away from the group, ready to fire up the computer.

'Cross reference it with supernatural occurrences,' Angel told him. 'The way she went off tonight, I don't think she's been keeping a low profile.'

'Will do.'

'Angel, are you sure this isn't a demon of some kind?' Wesley asked. He glanced over at Doyle when he heard the half demon make an indistinct sound of outrage at his suggestion. 'I know you're worried about her, Doyle, I don't mean she's evil ...but normal humans do not have these powers - it is something we should consider.'

But Angel shook his head: 'she's just a girl.'

The Irishman nodded his head vigorously in agreement. 'I wouldna had a vision o' her in trouble if she's a demon Angel's supposed to kill. She's one of our hopeless types.'

'Just a hopeless type that can kill your ass by blinking,' Cordelia pointed out. Doyle gave her a reproachful look, and in order to make up for her callous remark, Cordelia slid off the sofa and went to join him at the computer. 'Do you want some help? We could take it in turns if you're tired.' He nodded in agreement, it had been a long day - the vision had taken a lot out of him and he still wanted to talk to Angel about the other thing. Cordelia's help would be greatly appreciated.

'What do you know about telekinesis?' Angel asked Wesley, hoping that the watcher might have some information on the phenomenon this mystery girl seemed to exhibit. Wesley nodded thoughtfully. 'Ah telekinesis…' he said, sounding like he had a lot to say on the matter: 'the power of moving things with one's mind.' Then he stopped and frowned. 'That's pretty much it,' he admitted, 'the power of moving things with one's mind ...I'm much better with demons.'

'Then it's time to broaden your horizons.'

The banging of the front door announced the arrival of Gunn, wearing his orange long sleeved tee under a dark shirt, and carrying what appeared to be a homemade axe. 'You call I come,' he announced. 'Loaded for bear, ready for battle and ...something else that starts with b.'

Wesley looked at the axe in curiosity. 'What is that?' It resembled nothing so much as an extremely sharpened hubcap.

'Isn't it the thing?' Gunn replied, looking at his new weapon, fondly. 'Some of the kids at my camp put it together for me.' He spun it round in his hands, demonstrating the aerodynamics, 'I thought I might get the chance to stick it in something tonight.'

Over by the computer, Cordelia rolled her eyes. 'Men are all alike', she said. Doyle chuckled, even as he typed, but he didn't raise his eyes from the screen to admire the new axe. He wasn't having a whole load of luck with his preliminary web searches.

'Fair Cordelia!' the young street fighter called out to her, lowering his axe and approaching the desk where she and Doyle were working. 'You still saving my life?'

'Every minute,' she was still concentrating on the screen, scanning for any pertinent information alongside her half demon friend.

'How's that working out for you?'

She glanced up at him, 'you're alive aren't you?' Gunn grinned, Cordelia was really something else - it was a shame she only seemed to have eyes for her Irish coworker, because Gunn had never met a woman quite like her before. He shook his head and decided not to go there, and instead get down to business. 'So. What kind of scaly puss monster you want me to slay tonight?'

'Actually, we were hoping you could do some legwork for us,' Angel told him.

'Legwork? That kinda leaves me high and dry with my cool new axe.'

'We're trying to find a girl.' The vampire flinched as Cordelia slapped his arm, she had a hard flat of her hand! He looked at her and she rubbed her fingers together like she was counting money. He ignored her and continued talking. 'She smashed a couple of would be rapists with a dumpster.'

'Must have been a hefty kind of girl,' Gunn noted.

'We think she did it psychically.'

'Telekinesis,' Wesley said, importantly, 'the power of moving things with one's -'

'Thank you. I have heard the word,' the street fighter interrupted, a sarcastic edge to his voice. Wesley backed off, abashed.

'I want to find out about the guys who attacked her. It happened not far from your neighbourhood. Hollywood and Wilcox.'

'I'm on it,' Gunn said, turning to leave. 'But if I come back on the end of a spatula, I'm gonna want some workman's comp.' He walked out of the hotel.

Cordelia slapped her boss's arm again. 'See? Workman's comp! He wants to get paid. The poor man can't even afford a real axe.'

'OK OK, I'll bring it up,' Angel said, rubbing his arm where his secretary had slapped him, an injured expression on his face. He turned around and headed towards the stairs. 'I'm going to bed.'

At the computer, Doyle finally looked up. 'Angel, man, wait!' He hurried out from behind the desk, the vampire paused with his foot on the bottom step and turned back to look at his friend. 'I wanted to talk to you about…'

'Can it wait?' Angel said. 'I'm tired.'

'You've only been up three hours.'

The vampire looked disgruntled on hearing this news. 'I need to sleep.'

'That's what I wanted to talk to you about...it's not normal the amount that your sleepin', I'm worried that ...'

'Look,' Angel said, forcefully. 'I've been impaled this evening. I need to sleep. I need to heal. Anything you need to talk to me about can wait til the morning.'

'But if today is anythin' to go by, you won't be up in the morning!'

'Just find the girl,' Angel said, and headed back up the stairs. The three living members of team Angel all looked at each other, concern clearly showing on each of their faces.

After Angel had disappeared back upstairs, and Wesley had gone home to find some more books; Cordelia sent Doyle to go and get some sleep as well, promising they would swap over in a few hours if she didn't find anything on the missing girl.

The pair of them had used all the research they had done into the hotel's grisly past in order to find two adjacent rooms in which no one had been murdered or committed suicide. They were now using them as a home away from home, a place where they could grab some sleep or a shower if the hours were proving too long, and stash a few fresh clothes. As Doyle passed by Angel's door on the way to his own room, he slowed down and came to a halt, worrying…

A noise from inside the room made the half demon incline his head towards the door, listening avidly. He frowned to himself, he was sure he could hear a voice -very quiet but persistent. He knew it wasn't the voice of the thesulac that had haunted here before, he was well and truly exorcised. Besides, the pitch of the voice suggested it was female. But Cordelia was the only woman in the hotel, and she couldn't be in the room with Angel - Doyle had just left her downstairs in the lobby, she couldn't possibly have got there before him. And it didn't sound like Cordelia, anyway. Was he imagining things?

He decided to investigate, and knocked on the door. 'Angel, man? You OK?' The voice seemed to stop, he knocked again. 'Angel, you alone in there?' He tried the door, it was unlocked and he opened it and peered into the room. It was gloomy and dark, and he could only just make out the slumbering form of Angel, laid out in the bed, dead to the world. He was entirely alone. Doyle pulled the door shut and continued on to his own room. He crashed out on the bed, not even removing his shoes, and fell instantly into dreamless sleep. It seemed like only a matter of moments, although it was hours later, when Cordelia shook him awake. She had not found anything, and it was his turn to continue the search.

Bethany lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, still wired and agitated. She breathed deeply and forced herself to close her eyes. She sat up in the attic, alone, hiding, staring out of the window. If she was just quiet maybe he wouldn't find her. But there was a noise from behind and there he was, climbing the ladder. Bethany's eyes fluttered as she slept, her head tossed from side to side in distress and she began to whimper. Lilah arrived in the doorway, and leaned against it. She watched as the objects on the nightstand began to rattle, and smiled to herself in satisfaction.

He took hold of her arm. 'Let's go downstairs, rabbit,' he whispered, 'just you and me.' The bedside lamp began to rattle harder, vibrating violently as the young woman cried out in her sleep.

He led Bethany towards the ladder, and the objects in the attic began to rattle as she walked. 'Ssshhh,' he said to her, 'don't make a fuss, rabbit.' They climbed back down the ladder. The lamp flew, suddenly, across the room as if thrown by an invisible force. It smacked Lilah in the head, as she stood in the doorway, and the lawyer fell to the ground, jarring her right wrist and collapsing as her stump failed to take the weight of the left side of her body. Bethany woke up and saw her friend on the floor, struggling to right herself. The lamp from Bethany's own nightstand smashed on the floor, beside the older woman, told the tale of what Bethany had caused to happen. 'No no no!' she cried and climbed out of bed, grabbing her jacket and running for the door.

'Bethany!' Lilah called to her from the floor, trying to stop her, but she could not get up in time to intercept the fleeing girl.

'I'm so sorry' Bethany apologised as she hurried out, calling over her shoulder. 'I'm sorry!'

'Wait! Don't go, don't go!' But Bethany was out of the room, down the stairs and through the front door before Lilah could get to her feet. The young woman ran out of the building and into the night, unclear as to where she was headed, but certain that she could no longer stay there. She needed to be away from people she might hurt.

Doyle walked back along the corridor, blearily rubbing the sleep from his eyes as he went. His clothes were crumpled from where he'd slept in them and his hair stood up in all directions. He walked past Angel's door once more, this time on his way back down to the lobby. He heard the vampire moan in his sleep, as he went by, but he didn't stop to investigate this time - whatever was disturbing his friend and making him overly tired, Doyle couldn't solve it by watching over him as he slumbered. Besides, Angel always slept nude, and if he woke up to find Doyle in the room keeping a silent, private vigil, he might get the wrong idea.

Darla pushed Angelus down in front of the fireplace and kissed him hungrily, whilst the flames snapped and crackled beside them, bathing them in its heat. Angelus pushed her back upwards and she arched away from him, turning her features demonic before launching in with another kiss. By the time they broke apart a second time, Angelus wore his vampire face too. Darla stroked his naked shoulder, and nuzzled into his neck. 'Remember Romania?' she asked. 'In front of the fire, with the gypsy girl, all bound and gagged? You took her right there, sucked her blood until she was drained.' Angelus bit Darla's neck, and after a moment she returned the vampiric kiss, biting into his own neck and greedily sucking the blood she found there...

He woke up, alone, and touched the place on his neck where Darla had bitten him in his dreams. He glanced around the room, confused and disorientated...

Angel walked into the lobby, rubbing his eyes and looking every bit as tired as Doyle had done, many hours earlier. Wesley was reading a book, Cordelia was on the computer, still searching, Doyle was nowhere to be seen. Angel glanced between his two employees. 'Well?' he demanded.

'And the top of the middle of the day to you!' Cordelia said, looking up at him. 'And no, no leads worth mentioning - although there was that crucial ten minutes where me and Doyle changed shift. We really lost ground there. It's a good thing I leave clothes at the hotel otherwise you'd be smelling me from here.'

'Where is Doyle?' Angel wanted to know.

'Well lets see..' Cordelia pretended to think. 'After he worked a 16 hour day yesterday, he took a three hour nap, before returning to work at 4 o'clock this morning. As that was nine hours ago he decided to go and get a coffee and then come back for a shower. He's a total slacker that way... He'll be down in a minute.'

His secretary appeared to be in a bit of a snit, probably something to do with working 16 hour days and only getting a couple of hours sleep, whilst her boss snoozed the afternoon away, but Angel decided to ignore her. He wasn't in the mood for dealing with her mood. He was tired. 'Did Gunn check in?' He wanted to know.

'Nuhuh.'

'What about you?' he turned to Wesley, who was still reading his book.

The watcher closed it and spoke to his boss: 'well, most of my reading suggests that telekinesis is a psychic phenomenon that occurs during periods of extreme stress.'

'Well that tracks,' the vampire said thoughtfully, rubbing his aching eyes, 'we just need to track her down.'

'I may have a lead,' Cordelia announced from over by the desk. The two men looked at her expectantly, and she nodded towards the doorway. Just inside the door, still clad in only her nightgown and jacket, stood Bethany. The three team members approached her cautiously, not wanting to spook her and make her bolt. She looked ready for flight at any moment, the way she stood right by the door. 'Hey' said Angel gently. 'How are you?'

'Bethany.' She told them her name, taking a deep breath as she did so, 'Bethany Chaulk. You said I couldn't hurt you? That if I needed anything -'

'You're safe here,' Angel reassured her.

'We're all - safe people,' Wesley said.

'This is Wesley, and Cordelia,' Angel motioned to his two employees.

Bethany looked at them, noting how, just like Angel, they were both tall, dark and extremely good looking. 'So it's a family business?' she asked.

'Just friends,' the vampire replied, 'come on in.' But as she walked down the steps her legs buckled beneath her and she collapsed. Angel caught her, but she immediately pushed herself free. 'I'm fine - I'm just so ...so tired.' As Angel backed away from her, she caught sight of another person, another man, coming down the hotel stairs in the lobby. She froze and stared at the stranger. Angel followed her gaze to see what had made her go still. 'It's OK,' he said to her gently, when he saw what she was looking at. 'That's just Doyle. He's my third associate. He's safe too. You're safe here, I promise.'

She nodded her head, but kept an eye on Doyle as he approached the group. 'This is her?' the Irishman asked. 'You found her?'

'She found us,' Angel told him. 'Bethany? Would you like some tea?' She tore her eyes away from the final man to join the group and looked at the vampire, nodding her head. 'Please.' Angel scurried off and Bethany looked back at the group standing before her. Wesley stood a little apart from the other two, tall, but nonthreatening. He wore a light coloured shirt buttoned all the way up to his neck, and pressed slacks. He seemed stuffy and preppy, and she wondered if he might be gay.

Doyle was smiling at her, he was so relieved she had been found, but of course she had no understanding of why he would have a personal interest in the matter. He looked far less clean-cut than Wesley. His shirt, whilst now a fresh one, was still crumpled and, as with so many of the shirts he wore, it left a vast expanse of chest hair exposed - which gave him the unfortunate air of a pimp. There was no mistaking this one for gay; especially once he turned his eyes on Cordelia, who stood right beside him. The expression in his eyes as he looked at her was unmistakable. He lifted the coffee, he had got from the store, up to his lips and just before he took a sip, he spoke to Bethany. 'Y'know we're real glad you came. We've been searchin' for you all night.' As he spoke, he wrapped his free arm around Cordelia's waist.

Bethany watched his hand snake around the other woman, as if in slow motion. Her face went still and blank and she blinked. There was a loud thumping sound and she heard Cordelia scream. When she opened her eyes again, she found that the little, pimp guy had been thrown bodily across the lobby and smashed into the floor. He was crumpled up against the round sofa, and his coffee had splashed all over his clean shirt and exposed skin, where it now clung in droplets to his chest hair.

'What did you do?' Squealed Cordelia, running over to Doyle.

Angel came hurrying out from the room behind the desk. 'What happened?' he asked, looking from Bethany, to the prone Doyle.

'Nothin', man, I'm fine. It's fine,' Doyle assured him, from his place on the floor.

Bethany looked like she was about to run again. 'You said I couldn't hurt you!' she said to Angel, her tone accusatory.

'You can't hurt me,' he assured her. 'My friends are a bit more breakable, but they'll keep their distance. Right?' He glanced around at his friends, demanding with his eyes that they agree. They all nodded.

'Doyle, you sure you're OK?'

'Never better, really.' He pushed himself up right. 'I'm fine, Cordelia,' he said to the girl fussing over him. 'I'm not hurt.'

'See?' Angel said, soothingly, trying to coax Bethany into relaxing. 'Everything's fine, you didn't hurt him. You won't hurt any of them. I'm going to help you. Let me help you?'

She gave one last look at Doyle, who was busy examining his ruined shirt; and then looked back at Angel, and nodded.

Chapter 15: Untouched: Part Three

Chapter Text

A disgruntled Cordelia took Bethany up to the room she used as a base in the hotel, to find her some clothes. 'Look, I'm sorry about sending your boyfriend flying across the lobby, OK?' Bethany said to her as she trailed behind her down the corridor. 'I was just freaked...I can't help it, can't control it... when something freaks me like that. But Angel said I would be safe here. I wouldn't've come if…'

'You are safe here. But you'll forgive me for worrying that maybe the people I care about won't be,' Cordelia replied.

'I try not to use it - I do!'

'And yet Doyle still ended up getting thrown across the room. I mean, what did he do? How did Doyle manage to freak you out so badly you went all 'Carrie' on him?'

Bethany said nothing in reply, instead just glancing uncomfortably down at her feet. Cordelia sighed, and unlocked the door to her room. 'It's in here.' The two women entered and Cordy went over to the wardrobe, opening it up and taking something out. She held it up to examine it and then shook her head, 'no, that won't go with your hair.' She found something else and held it out to the teenaged runaway. 'Here. Try this.' She grabbed a long skirt, as well. 'This should probably fit.'

'Thank you - I know you're mad, but thank you.'

'Is there anything else you need?'

'I need to make a phone call, I should get in touch with my friend, let her know I'm OK. She's probably majorly freaked.'

'Why? Did you throw her across a room too?' Bethany didn't say anything in reply, and Cordelia realised she had hit the nail on the head. 'Oh. well, there's a phone next to the bed - dial nine for an outside line. I'll leave you to get changed.' And she headed, thankfully, out of the door, closing it behind her as she went.

...

She stopped off at the very next room and knocked on that door. 'Yeah?' Doyle called out from inside.

'It's me,' Cordelia said. 'Can I come in?'

'Sure thing, Cordy.'

She pushed the door open and went inside, finding the half demon with his shirt off, shaking the worst of the coffee off it. 'You got another one?' she asked.

'Yeah.' He balled up the ruined shirt and threw it in the hamper, opened up his wardrobe and took out his third shirt of the past 24 hours. Cordelia wrinkled her nose, 'that clashes with the tank top you've got on, pick another.'

'No one's gonna see me, Cordelia.'

'I'm going to see you - pick another.'

He took a long sleeved t-shirt out and held it out to her for inspection. 'It'll do,' she agreed, and he pulled it on over his head, ruffling his hair into a mess as he did so.

'Are you sure you're OK?' she asked, once he was fully clad and decent once more.

He nodded. 'I'm fine, I'm just glad she's here and she's safe.'

'We might not be!'

'Go easy on her, OK? She's had it tough.'

'You are just too good a person, Doyle, You know that?'

He chuckled ruefully, as he answered her. 'I can quite safely say that is something I've never been accused of before. And I've been called a lot o' things in my time.'

'Well it's true,' Cordelia told him, taking hold of his hands and pulling him towards her. 'I would be much grumpier if I'd just been thrown across a room.'

He smiled and slid his hands around her waist. 'I'd be much grumpier if it was you that had just got thrown across a room', he said to her, still smiling. 'But redemption is a tough gig, and violence comes with the territory.'

They pulled apart and headed to the door, still with Doyle's right arm around Cordelia's waist. 'Was she OK when you left her?' Doyle wanted to know, as they made their way towards the stairs. Cordelia nodded. 'Yeah, she just wanted to make a phone call.'

'Wow,' said Holland Manners, examining Lilah's bruised face: 'That little girl gave you one heck of a shiner, didn't she?' Lilah hid her irritation with an embarrassed smile. 'Do you think the alleyway scenario was too much?' Her boss wanted to know.

She shook her head. 'Believe me sir, I have the utmost confidence that …'

'Don't 'utmost confidence' me,' He interrupted. 'You know some might say that you've lost control over this girl. If this is how she is now, then how is she going to be when you pull the trigger? She's got the profile - but an assassin's no good if she can't be controlled. But you know what I say? Nonsense! Lilah Morgan found this girl, Lilah Morgan recruited her and Lilah Morgan is going to bring this girl into the welcoming fold of Wolfram and Hart.'

'Believe me sir, I will find her,' Lilah promised, just as her cell began to ring. She answered. 'Bethany!' she raised her eyebrows in Holland's direction, and he smiled back at her. 'No I'm so glad you called', the young attorney said into her phone. 'I was worried ...no I'm fine, where are you?'

Angel stood out in the courtyard, leaning on a pillar and keeping to the shade. He turned as he heard the glass door behind him open, and Bethany, now fully dressed, walked out into the outdoor space. 'Did you get hold of your friend? Is she OK?' Angel asked her.

She nodded. 'She's fine ...worried about me. But how do you explain…? She'd think I'm crazy.'

'Are you, because if you are, you know, crazy, it will probably go smoother if I know up front.'

Bethany gave a small laugh. 'I probably am', she admitted. She sighed, and walked down the steps, further into the courtyard, closer to Angel. 'I - I don't wanna...I don't wanna talk about me, and share, or whatever. I mean we can talk ...about stuff ...but. I dunno. You're the expert, right?'

'I wouldn't say that,' Angel said, standing upright, so the pillar no longer supported his weight. He put his hands in his pockets and looked at the frightened girl. 'I just have experience with the kind of power that ...needs to be controlled.' Bethany shook her head. 'I don't wanna control it', she said bitterly, 'I want it gone.'

The three living members of team Angel were standing by the desk in the lobby, Cordelia was attempting to discreetly peer through the glass doors, watching what Bethany and Angel were up to. Doyle had gone on another coffee run, after the disastrous ending to his last hot drink, and the two of them were holding their Styrofoam cups in their hands as they leaned on the counter top. Wesley was sat behind them, reading.

'What's going on?' Cordelia wanted to know, taking a sip of her half caf skinny latte, as she peered through the doors towards the conversation taking place outside.

Wesley looked up from his book. 'They're talking, yes?'

'For now. There's something about her though - I can't figure it out.'

'Y'think?' Doyle asked, taking a sip of his own coffee, which was neither half caf nor skinny. 'She just seems scared, to me.'

'I must say I didn't notice anything,' agreed Wesley, from behind them. 'Telekinetic powers aside.'

'Yeah sure, let's just put those aside.' Cordelia rolled her eyes. 'That was a pretty major demonstration of power earlier. Why'd she do it? How was Doyle hurting her?'

'I told y', princess, I'm sure it was nothing personal. She's just frightened.'

'Of you? What did you do to make her turn into the girl from 'The Fury'? You weren't even looking at her when she 'Carried' you across the room, you were looking at me.'

Doyle snaked his arm around her waist once more, and gave her a comforting squeeze. 'I think you're mixing your horror movies there, love. But I told you, she's just scared, she's just lashing out. I didn't do anything to provoke her, I don't think she actually requires provocation at the moment.'

But Wesley looked at the way Doyle was touching Cordelia, and the way his hand caressed her bare skin, under her top. The watcher remembered that Doyle had been doing exactly the same thing when Bethany had attacked him, seemingly from nowhere. The British man frowned, and began to formulate a theory.

'It's like - there's a flash. Something pops in my brain. And there's this undertow. It's like there's no gravity, and I'm being pulled apart in all different directions, but on the inside, you know?' Bethany was sat on the bench, under the veranda, trying to explain how things moved by themselves around her.

Angel came to sit beside her. 'Does it hurt?' He asked.

'Yes - no. it's only for a second and then I'm back.'

'And you only feel this way when you move things?'

'I don't move them! I go into ...this, and when I come back, things have moved.'

'Have you ever done it on purpose?'

'Of course not!' Bethany sounded horrified, but Angel expanded his point. 'You've never thought 'man, that t.v remote is just too far away' and -'. He stretched his legs out as he spoke, as if emphasising the point of how one could feel too lazy to get up to change the channel.

But Bethany had no time for that sort of question, and she jumped up off the bench and began to pace in anger. 'It's not a parlour trick!' she said, angrily. 'It's a disease. You don't even know what I'm going through -I shouldn't even be here!'

'You're right.' It was Wesley that spoke. He had appeared in the doorway and, as the two people in the courtyard looked at him, he walked outside, approaching Bethany. 'It's clear this girl doesn't want our help,' he told his boss, 'you shouldn't be wasting your time with her.'

'Wesley,' Angel warned. Bethany looked between the two of them, distress evident on her face. She did want help, she was just afraid of taking it - and now it looked like she was going to be kicked out. 'I'm sorry,' Wesley said to Angel, 'but there are people out there who need us. People with far more serious problems than impulse control.' Angel got to his feet, facing his employee with an aggrieved look on his face. 'Look, that's enough.'

'Why doesn't she go back to her friend's?' Wesley asked, walking past Angel and approaching Bethany, 'toss the furniture around.' He walked right up to her, so they were face to face and then he leaned in. 'Or maybe we should send you home to your father.'

Her face took on it's closed, frozen expression and she blinked. Wesley was flung backwards, and he hit the wall of the hotel, and crumpled to the floor. Angel made his way towards Bethany, but she saw the movement out of the corner of her eye and, turning on Angel, blinked once more. Angel was tossed away from the hotel, out into the sunlight that bathed the centre of the courtyard. He scrambled as quick as he could out of the light and back under the shady protection of the veranda, smoking ever so slightly. He looked across at Bethany, who was just staring around the courtyard, gazing uncomprehendingly at what she had done.

Wesley winced as Cordelia held an ice pack wrapped in a towel against the wound on the back of his head. Doyle sat beside them on the round sofa, shuffling his playing cards - a sure sign that he was anxious. 'You're sure nothing's broken?' Cordelia asked her friend, as she held the ice in place.

'I'm sure.'

'Nothing at all? Like, oh say - your brain? What happened to proceed with caution?' She sighed, deeply.

'If I'd given her time to get her defences up…'

'She wouldn't be crying. You wouldn't be injured and Angel wouldn't have had a near toast experience.'

Doyle split the deck in two, bent the ends of them upwards with his thumbs and then expertly dropped them down, letting the cards cascade together. It was satisfying to watch, Wesley thought, even with a head injury. Once he had a full deck back in his right hand, Doyle looked over at the two of them. 'What did you say that made her go off like that?' he wanted to know.

'I mentioned her father,' the watcher told him.

Cordelia looked confused, 'So who's her father?' she asked, assuming that it must be someone that they had heard of, and that this would explain everything.

But Wesley shook his head. 'No one in particular,' he explained. 'But everything that I've read suggests that the sort of trauma that can cause this level of psychic ability usually involves abuse of some kind - usually very early on.' Doyle and Cordelia glanced at each other, uncomfortably, as Wesley continued to explain. 'I wondered if maybe her previous attack on Doyle hadn't been quite so random as you suggested. Cordelia asked what it was you did to set Bethany off - the moment she had a psychic episode was the exact moment you were touching Cordelia. I thought perhaps it was the physical contact, the intimacy in the way you touched Cordy, that might have acted as her trigger. Add in the fact that when Bethany arrived she made that crack about us being a 'family business'... it was a hunch, but it matched her profile. And, statistically speaking, her father was the best bet.'

'There is not enough yuck in this world,' Cordelia said, looking and sounding absolutely disgusted.

'D'ya really mean to tell us that she developed this power because of what she's been through?' Doyle asked. 'Are y' really sayin' that anybody can develop superpowers if they just suffer enough trauma? You can't shock me on what her dad got up to - I've been on way too many child protection courses back in my teacher days to be surprised at anythin' parents get up to. But you really think that could make her telekinetic? 'Cause that's the part I'm having trouble with.'

'Oh no, Wes is right - trauma can affect you in all sorts of weird ways,' Cordelia told him. Doyle was surprised that it was her that seemed to have the answer. 'Did you know that if you ignore a person long enough they turn invisible?'

'Let me guess - you knew someone that that happened to?' he asked. She nodded, he didn't know why he had been surprised, there didn't seem to be much under the sun that Cordelia hadn't had experience of. 'She went insane and tried to cut my face off,' she told him.

'Dear, sweet Jesus, Cordelia! How do you even dare get outta bed in the mornin' - all the stuff you've been through?'

They were interrupted by Angel approaching the sofa they were all sitting on. 'How is she?' Cordelia asked.

'Settling,' he answered her, then he turned to Wesley. 'You're gone.'

Doyle and Cordelia jumped to their feet in protest.

'You can't fire Wesley!' Doyle said.

'We'll quit too,' Cordelia added '...unless you're firm.'

'I'm not firing anyone,' the vampire told them.

Wesley nodded his head. 'I understand, having me around here isn't going to help her feel trusting. I'll be at my flat if you need me.' He got off the couch and began to head for the door.

'It helps that we know,' Angel said to him, as he passed by.

'I hope so.'

Once Wes had gone, Angel turned to his two other employees. 'I think it would be better if you two cleared out for now as well, spend tonight at your own places … just in case she …'

'You be careful,' Cordelia said to him.

'I don't think she's going to go off again.'

Cordelia opened her mouth as if to say something, but then closed it again and shook her head. Doyle said it for her: 'that isn't what she meant.'

Angel went up to the very top floor of the hotel and found Bethany in the corner room, sitting with her back against the wall, her knees tucked under her chin, and her arms wrapped tightly around them. The room she had chosen was decaying and crumbling, there was very little paper left on the walls, the floor was bare and there was no furniture - save for a mattress which was stood on its side and leaning against the wall. There were 68 bedrooms in the hotel - only three of them had occupants - and yet Bethany seemed to have chosen the worst possible room for herself. 'There you are,' he said to her.

'I came up here. I feel safe here.'

The vampire looked around the room, taking it all in, 'yeah ...you managed to pick the one room in the whole place that might collapse to feel safe in.'

'I'm really embarrassed,' Bethany told him, 'and that just makes me - all these horrible things have happened, been done to me - people have died. And I'm freaking out because I'm embarrassed. People are pathetic.'

'I dunno about that.' Angel sat down beside her and rested his own back against the wall. 'I like 'em. The time I've lived, I've seen some horrors -scary behaviour, and a couple of fashion trends I pray constantly to forget, but - I see people try. I see them try to be better.'

'You sound like an old guy,' Bethany said, wrinkling up her nose in confusion.

'Well, I'm very well preserved.'

'I'd like that,' she said, 'to see people the way you see them.'

Doyle and Cordelia had gone to a coffee shop, and spent their unexpected time off there. After the ridiculously long hours they had worked the day before, it was nice to be out of the office this early - whilst the sun was still shining. But of course, as always, their freedom was coming at a price. Last time it had been because Angel had had a psychotic slayer stashed in his apartment. This time it was because he had an out of control telekinetic staying over, who, in her own way, could do every bit as much damage as Faith could.

It was one of those coffee shops that was set up to look all cosy and homey, and the two of them were squished together on a small love-seat. They didn't actually have to be squashed up as close together as they were, they were choosing to be pressed up against each other - in actuality, there was plenty of room. They had been there a long while now, and Cordelia had long since switched to herbal tea, as, if she drank coffee too late she wouldn't sleep. And she hadn't sleep the night before. Doyle was still drinking full caffeine coffee though, he always did - even late at night, it never stopped him from sleeping.

'I'm worried. Are you worried?' Cordelia said.

'I'm not not worried,' Doyle agreed, 'there's a lot to worry about. If Bethany starts tossing wooden furniture around with her mind, our boss may end up an awful dusty way of lookin'.'

'And that's the least of it! She's super vulnerable - you know how he likes that! Maybe I should've warned her about the curse…'

'Bethany can't make him perfectly happy, no matter how helpless she is.'

'Right. Angel needs Buffy for perfect happiness. Right?' Her voice went up at the end as she demanded reassurance.

'Right. Or failing that, some really good drugs. But what are the chances that Bethany's pushing Doximal? I don't think we need to worry too much about going in tomorrow to find Angel wearing his leather pants... or Bethany's head as a hat. But if he gives in to the temptation of 'comforting' her then he may end up making her even worse.'

'But he lives like a monk - he wouldn't do that. There's no reason he would be tempted to sleep with her right? That would be crazy. He's not crazy…'

But Doyle frowned as he thought of the way his friend had been acting recently, the way he had been sleeping almost constantly ...and the mysterious voice that he, Doyle, had overheard in Angel's room last night.

Cordelia saw his face, 'what?' she asked.

He shook his head. 'Nothin', come on, Cordy. I'll walk you home.'

Angelus and Darla rolled around in front of the fireplace, biting into each others necks, greedily sinking their teeth into the flesh of their lover. The gypsy girl lay beside them, in front of the fire, bound and gagged - and weeping.

Bethany walked down the corridor, she was cold and she rubbed her arms as she went, trying to produce some heat with the friction. She pushed the door to Angel's room open and saw him sleeping there. 'Angel?'

He sat up with a start. 'Darla?'

'It's just me.' She walked inside and sat down on the edge of his bed.

He struggled upwards, so he was sitting up against his pillows and looked at her in sleep befuddled confusion. 'Bethany. Did you want something?'

'I just thought we could have some fun.' She crept her hand along his sheet covered leg. 'I couldn't sleep. I thought maybe you could do stuff to me and it'd be - fun.'

'That isn't going to happen.' As he looked at her, she seemed to blur and he saw Darla sitting there instead. He shook his head, and refocused on Bethany.

'I've done stuff before. I can make you happy.'

'You wouldn't like me when I'm happy.' He reached out to move her hand away, off his leg. As soon as he touched her, she flinched and jumped away, off the bed.

'Don't touch me!' The bed rattled for a moment, as her face took on that blank look.

'You wanna make love, but you don't want to be touched?'

'Make love? What are you? From the eighteenth century? I just figured we could have fun.' She looked down at him, jutting her chin out, defiantly. 'Are you shocked that I'm a great big slut?'

'Very little shocks me.'

She sat back down. 'Everyone thinks I'm so fragile and innocent. Men love it,' she said, sounding bitter and disgusted.

'Do you?'

'Do I love it?' She gave a small laugh. 'Does it matter? I'm like the chambermaid. I make up the room, I show them in and then I leave until they're gone. Then I come back and clean up the mess. The men don't even notice I'm not really there - or they don't care.'

'Are you sure about that?'

'Oh right, men care. Would you notice? You think your little friend cares what Cordelia's thinking every time he -' she wrinkled her nose in disgust ' -slides his hands all over her, like he owns her?'

'I don't think everyone is as bad as you're making out, Bethany,' Angel told her.

'Oh right. Yeah. You love the people. You love them so much you have a hundred rooms to be alone in.' She suddenly changed tack: 'who's Darla?' She wanted to know.

'Get some sleep, Bethany,' Angel told her, and she gave up and left the room.

...

As Bethany passed through the living area, Darla peeped out from behind the wall she was hiding behind, and watched the younger woman leave.

The next morning, Holland called Lilah into his office to deliver some serious news. 'He's not sleeping,' he told the young lawyer. 'You understand how this is putting a crimp in our project? The Senior Partners will not be happy. You've already sacrificed so much for this project and now your little girl is wrecking all of our best efforts.'

'I understand sir.'

'I know you do - you need to get her out of there, this kind of mistake cannot be allowed to happen.'

'I will. I've had a lot on my plate since Lindsey left us and I had to take on all his work as well, but I'll make every effort too…'

'If the work is too much for you, if you're feeling the pressure, Lilah - you can always be replaced.'

'No sir! I didn't mean that - I just meant…'

'You were trying to make excuses,' Holland told her sternly. 'I don't want excuses. I want results - because if this Darla project goes south - what then?'

Lilah smiled to herself, grimly, she always had contingency plans. If things didn't work out with Darla, then she was going to gun for the half breed - mess Angel up that way. After refusing to let her buy him from the gladiator ring, smashing her beacon, and causing her to lose her left hand; Lilah had a real personal grievance against Angel's little mongrel friend. It would be her pleasure to hurt him, in order to hurt Angel. But all things in time - Darla was the pet project of The Senior Partners. 'I'll get Bethany out of there', she told her boss.

'See that you do, Lilah', he replied, 'for your sake.'

Chapter 16: Untouched: Part Four

Chapter Text

'I feel funny,' Bethany told Angel, 'like, sweaty - funny, I think.' They were standing in the lobby of the Hyperion, about 6 feet apart, and were facing each other. Angel held out a silk scarf. 'Just try it', he said, encouragingly. 'You can stop any time.'

'What if it blows up?'

'I'll buy Cordelia a new one.'

Bethany took a deep breath, shut her eyes for a moment, and then nodded. 'OK - just - drop it on the floor.' Angel did as she asked, and the young woman watched as the silky fabric floated downwards. Once it landed, she stared down at it, concentrating. Her eyes seemed to widen, and then, as if by itself, the scarf rose back up through the air, and draped itself around the vampire's neck. Bethany laughed in astounded disbelief.

'You see?' Angel said to her, smiling, 'you can control it.'

Behind the desk, Cordelia hung up the phone and walked round to where her boss was standing. 'Nice look,' she said. He pulled the silky scarf off his neck, and held it balled in his hand. Cordelia held out a piece of paper. 'That was Gunn on the phone', she told him, 'he wants you to meet him at this address.'

Angel took the note from her and glanced at it. 'Brentwood?' he asked, in surprise.

'That's what he said,' his secretary informed him, 'I'll look after Bethany, whilst you're gone.' She glanced up at the other woman. 'We can hit the plaza shops,' she told her.

'Um, sure, yeah that sounds fun,' Bethany agreed.

Angel handed the scarf to Cordelia and then spoke to Bethany. 'I'll be back soon', he promised her, before striding out of the hotel towards his car. Cordelia held up the scarf, 'you're not gonna wear this?' she called after him.

...

Doyle intercepted Cordelia as she retrieved her jacket from behind the counter. 'You want me to come with?' He asked her. 'I don't like you being alone with her in case she ...y'know…' he twitched his eyebrows to suggest the many dangerous things Bethany might get up to.

'I'll be fine,' Cordelia told him. 'It's better if you stay away, you make her uncomfortable.'

'I could just follow at a distance,' Doyle suggested.

'No, Doyle - creepy stalker guy in the shadows is not going to make Bethany feel any more relaxed. I know you want to keep me safe, but honestly, in this situation the best way you can keep me safe is by not being there.'

'So what am I supposed to do whilst Angel and Gunn are out sleuthing and you're off playing babysitter?'

'You generally do the square root of zero around here anyway.'

'Hey! Anyway, I'll be lonely without you.'

She gave him a playful shove - 'don't be needy. Read the paper, go play poker, hang out with Wesley - do whatever you want. I'll call you if I need you.'

'Promise me you'll stay safe,' he said sternly, 'promise you'll call the second something goes wrong.'

'Why do you think something will go wrong?' she asked.

He just gave her a look - 'I'm playing the percentages', he said.

Angel and Gunn arrived at the apartment of the man who had attacked Bethany in the alley. The guy was still on the critical list, and his place was locked up tight. Angel kicked down the door and Gunn strolled into the living room. 'See, this is great,' Gunn said, 'you break, I enter.'

'As long as this guy's alive I can't cross the threshold,' the vampire said. He leaned on the magical barrier. 'This place doesn't exactly fit the thug in the alley profile.'

The furniture matched up to the affluent address, it was clearly expensive - if a little tasteless. 'Word on this guy was he was muscle for hire,' Gunn explained, 'not cheap either.'

'So he was sent after Bethany.'

'Someone wanted to hurt her,' the street fighter agreed.

'Or someone wanted to find out what would happen to anyone that tried. Hey - look for an address book. You know, cheques, statements.'

'I'm still dealing with this guy's ugly ass living room set,' Gunn said, shaking in his head in sad disgust, 'some people just shouldn't have money.'

That made Angel remember what Cordelia had been agitating for, and the hard slaps she had given him to make her case. 'Speaking of money,' he said awkwardly. 'I was just wondering, if maybe, you know on a case by case basis…'

Gunn stopped rooting around and stood up straight and stiff. He stared at the vampire right in the eyeballs. 'You offering to pay me?' he demanded.

Angel shuffled a little, maybe Wesley had been right after all, 'um ...yeah.'

The younger man shrugged: 'cool.'

Angel relaxed, but as he did, the mystical barrier suddenly vanished, and he tumbled head first into the living room.

'You're a very graceful man, anyone ever told you that?' Gunn smiled.

'I guess that means someone's off the critical list.'

'Rapist for hire? You see me crying?'

Angel shuffled some papers on the telephone stand and, finding nothing, decided to see who the last person this guy had called had been. He hit redial and listened to the lines connect. At the other end, the phone was picked up. 'Wolfram and Hart,' a voice said, 'how may I direct your call?'

Angel and Gunn looked at each other.

'So this place really makes you feel at home?' Doyle asked, glancing around the British theme pub. 'I've never actually been to England, but if I had to guess - I'd be thinking there are a lot less Union Jacks on the walls.'

'Union Flags', Wesley corrected. Doyle looked confused. 'It's only called a Union Jack when it's on a ship, otherwise it's just a Union Flag,' the watcher explained.

'Well that seems ...unnecessarily complicated.'

'Yes… well 'unnecessarily complicated' is the British motto to live by. If we can make something more confusing and unwieldy than it has to be - we will do.'

Doyle smiled and took a sip of his pint, as Wesley threw a dart at the board. They were on their third game. Wesley had won the previous two, naturally, so Doyle was now insisting they make it best of five. The way things were going, he was going to have to up it to best of seven. He put his drink down, and took his own turn at the board. Wesley sat down and picked up his own drink, glancing around the pub. 'I don't know why it makes me feel at home,' he admitted, 'I don't think there are any places more obviously American than this place, trying and failing to be British. But the beer is good, the music is good. Sometimes it's just nice to pretend. You don't feel at home in Irish theme pubs?'

'I don't go to 'em. I'm strictly a demon dive bar kinda guy. They don't tend to come with 'themes' - unless the theme is depression, violence and sticky floors.' He threw his third dart, like the other two it stuck in the outside circle, meaning he only took away a single amount of points. Wesley always scored double or triple points, and his aim was better too.

'Well, perhaps they're missing a trick,' said Wesley, picking up his three darts, 'you could open an Irish theme demon dive bar - serve Guinness with shots of yak urine. You could make a fortune!'

'You're right!' Doyle laughed, 'I've missed my callin' in life.' He drained his pint, as Wesley finished throwing and won the game. 'C'mon, man,' the half demon said. 'Let's go someplace else.'

'Where do you want to go?' Wesley asked.

'Caritas?'

'Alright - we can take my bike.'

'I'm not singing though.'

Cordelia and Bethany bought coffees from a stand and then walked through the plaza, passing a carousel, all lit up and piping lilting music out into the street. Bethany took a sip, 'You're right, this is great!' she told Cordelia.

'It's the vanilla that makes the mocha less latte-y,' the other woman said knowledgeably.

'Yeah. Where I'm from, they still just have coffee. You don't get stuff like this.'

'Uhuh, Bethany can I ask you something?' Cordelia led Bethany to a low wall, and they both sat down. The secretary took the lid of her cup and stirred her drink before she spoke again, 'did anything - happen - between you and Angel last night?'

'What? No! What do you…? Why would you say that?'

Cordelia sighed. 'It's just really complicated when it comes to my boss,' she explained. 'He's old fashioned - and I mean old fashioned. He pretty much sees you as the damsel in distress, and that makes him put his shining armour on - only, there's a good reason he lives all alone in that big, old hotel, never knowing the touch of a woman. So you mustn't - do anything. Even if you're tempted.'

'I'm not,' Bethany interrupted quickly.

'Good, because I hate to put this on you, but if he can't see you straight, then it's going to have to be you that makes sure nothing happens.'

'What do you mean - he can't see my straight?'

Cordelia sighed again. 'He thinks you're helpless and vulnerable. This scared little mouse. Doyle thinks it too - you flung him halfway across the room and he still can't see you as anything but this wilting flower that needs protecting.' She snorted. 'Men! They do so love to protect things. But I think it's more complicated than that Bethany. You have a lot of power - and you use it to hurt people...'

'I don't mean too! Those men in the alleyway… you have no idea how frightened I was, what it was like…'

'No I don't,' Cordelia said gently, 'I wasn't there, in those circumstances. But I've been attacked in alleyways before, and not known what to do. I run away. You smushed those guys with a dumpster. And they are better off smushed, believe me, I do think that. But you made a choice. You could have floated them away, or spun them around until they were sick - you killed them! And you hurt Doyle, and Wesley, and nearly fried Angel alive. I don't want my friends - or, and I can't stress this enough - me - to get hurt or killed. And if you sleep with Angel, then it'll complicate things, make things more difficult. And when things get difficult around you - people die.'

'Well you don't need to worry,' Bethany told her, standing back up, 'I don't want to sleep with Angel.'

'Well, good.' They continued to walk through the plaza.

'But you don't sleep with Angel, right?' Bethany asked. 'It's you and Doyle?'

'It's not exactly me and Doyle in the strictest sense of the word,' Cordelia admitted. 'But yeah, as much as anyone is my boyfriend - Doyle is. Angel though …' she shuddered. 'I like my men less broody and more spendy.'

'He does seem kind of earnest,' Bethany agreed. 'I guess Doyle is more fun? But still…' she wrinkled her nose up. 'He doesn't seem to suit you, exactly, no offence! He just seems kinda…'

'Short? Dressed like a Greek tragedy? Covered in more body hair than a chimpanzee? Yeah - I know all that,' Cordelia said, smiling to herself as she thought of him. 'But he grows on you, y'know? ...like a chia pet.'

'Hey, Cordelia,' Bethany suddenly remembered something, 'who's Darla?'

'Darla?'

'Yeah, last night Angel was asleep and ...I couldn't sleep, so I went to see him ...when he woke up he called me 'Darla'.'

'Passing over what you were doing in Angel's bedroom when you explicitly just told me you had no intention of sleeping with him ...I don't know that name. Did you ask him about it?'

'He wouldn't tell me, but I think he'd been dreaming about her. He said he was having a nightmare, but it looked like a pretty happy dream to me - but maybe the covers were just rumpled.'

'Ew!' Cordelia was disgusted. 'He has been sleeping more than usual lately...' she said, but was interrupted in her musings by a man walking past them and bashing into Bethany. The secretary didn't notice it, but he injected the young woman with the contents of a syringe, as he walked past. 'Hey!' Cordelia shouted after him, 'Are you OK?' she asked the other girl, 'that was rude.' Bethany knees began to buckle as the sedative took effect. 'You're going to drop your coffee,' Cordelia said, rescuing it. As she took Bethany's drink, two men came up behind them and grabbed the telekinetic girl by the arms, dragging her off.

'Hey! Stop! Police!' Cordelia shouted. Amazingly, the two men did stop, just for a moment, and Cordy used that moment to throw both cups of burning coffee into their faces. Scalded, they dropped Bethany, and Cordelia grabbed her, supporting her as she hurried the other girl away to safety. 'Stay with me, stay with me,' she gasped.

They crossed the road, Cordelia still dragging Bethany; and were almost hit by a van, which squealed to a halt and blocked their path. More men grabbed the nearly unconscious girl, pushing Cordelia aside and dragging Bethany into the van.

'No! wait!' Cordelia cried. 'Bethany! You can smush those guys!' She watched helplessly as the back doors of the van closed and it drove away.

But as she watched it disappear, Angel and Gunn pulled up beside her in the convertible. 'Cordelia!' her boss said.

'Tan van,' she told them, 'follow.'

The '62 Plymouth roared away after the van, and Cordelia took out her cell and dialled Doyle, just as she had promised she would.

The motorcycle had just pulled up outside Caritas when Doyle's phone rang. He took off his pink helmet, before he answered it. 'Cordelia? What's wrong?'

'Bethany's been kidnapped! Gunn and Angel are getting her back, you need to get back to the hotel, now!'

'Are you OK?'

'I'm fine - hotel - now!' she hung up, and Doyle looked at the waiting Wesley. 'There's been a change o' plan,' he said, and put his helmet back on.

Angel had been unable to intercept the van, so Gunn had taken over at the wheel and the vampire had climbed out to stand on the hood. 'Closer,' he yelled at his friend, and Gunn drove the car as close to the van as he could get. When they were only a couple of feet apart, Angel jumped onto the back of the van, and pulled the doors open. Moments later, two men rolled out of the back of the van and crashed into the road, behind. Gunn had to swerve the car to avoid hitting them.

Lilah was furious. 'Shut up!' She snarled down the phone, when she heard about the failure of the kidnapping. 'One more excuse from you and I will bury you alive. Next to my house so I can hear you screaming… he's taken her to the hotel? Well if he wants to play with little miss time bomb then let him. Pull the trigger.' She snapped her phone shut, and glowered around her empty office.

Bethany burst into her upstairs, dilapidated room; Angel and Cordelia following on behind. 'It's not true!' the young girl sobbed. 'It's someone else.'

'Bethany believe me, I know Lilah. She isn't what she pretends.'

'She's my friend!' wept Bethany. 'You're just playing with me, why does everyone wanna play with me? I don't wanna play!' She huddled down into the corner, crying to herself. The whole room shook, the windows rattled and the door slammed behind the three of them.

'Angel!' Cordelia said, worried, but Angel didn't listen. He just crouched down in front of the weeping girl and began to talk to her softly, telling her she was in control. Cordelia watched in horror, as objects began to fly around the room. A paint can flew at Angel's head, and he batted it out of the way, as he continued to try and talk sense into the girl.

But she wasn't listening, and she got up and headed towards the door. 'I'm going.' She reached out and opened it, and then she saw him. The man from her nightmares was stood just beyond the threshold, smiling at her.

'Hello rabbit,' her father said.

The motorbike had just pulled up outside of the hotel when the windows from the corner suite on the top floor suddenly exploded outwards, and the whole building shook - as if hit by an earthquake. The two men backed away as the glass fragments rained down on them. Once everything was still again, Doyle took off his helmet and threw it at Wesley, running inside to find Cordelia.

Upstairs, Angel was unconscious, and Cordy was cowering in the corner. Bethany faced her father, and the man was talking to her; telling her he had been worried, that he was here to take her home, that they could be a family again and that he had missed her. Bethany said nothing, just staring at him, but the whole room was shaking, plaster was falling from the walls. 'I know what you can do,' her father said, 'and I know you didn't mean to hurt anyone.'

Angel slowly opened his eyes. A nail worked itself loose from the wood trim and flew across the room, burying itself in Cordelia's upper arm. She gasped, but she didn't scream. Instead, she gritted her teeth and pulled it out, dropping it on the floor beside her. Angel got to his feet. 'You can finish this,' he said to Bethany. The young girl looked at him, and he found himself pinned to the wall.

Her father reached out his hand. 'There's a good girl,' he said, 'come home with me.' More plaster crumbled from the walls and ceiling, but her father remained standing there, untouched by her psychic powers. She looked like she was about to start crying. 'Shhh, rabbit,' her father said to her. Her face hardened. Angel was released and, instead, her father was lifted up into the air by her telekinetic power. He clutched at his collar, which was tightening, his face turning purple as he struggled to breathe. 'Stop it,' he gasped, 'help me.'

'You can do this, Bethany,' Angel told her, 'you can finish this.'

She released the pressure from around her father's throat, but left him suspended midair. 'Good bye,' she said, and blasted him out of the window. The man screamed as he fell.

Waiting outside, Wesley jumped, as he witnessed a man come flying out of the top window and hurtle towards the ground, screaming. He came to an abrupt stop about three feet above the sidewalk and then just hovered there for a few moments. Then, upstairs in the hotel, Bethany released him with her mind, and he dropped the final way to the ground, landing unhurt in a crumpled heap.

Downstairs in the lobby, Doyle got out Cordelia's first aid kit, and ushered her over to the sofa. Angel and Bethany were upstairs still, Bethany had finally passed out from her exertions, and Angel had taken her to one of the nicer rooms to let her sleep it off. The Irishman opened up the kit and then looked at Cordelia. 'I don't know what to do,' he admitted to her.

She pointed at the antibacterial wipes, 'you need to clean it first, I could probably do with getting a tetanus jab tomorrow, but clean will do for now.'

He took out a wipe and began to gently rub it over the spot where the nail had buried into her flesh. She gasped a little as the antiseptic stung. Doyle's head snapped up. 'Did I hurt you?'

'No, they just sting ..you must know that.'

'What do I do now?'

'It's not that bad Doyle, I think I just need a band aid.'

'Will this one do?' He held up a large square band aid, 'it's got dinosaurs on it.'

'It's fine.'

He stuck it to her arm, she watched as he pressed it down and then smiled up at him, 'thank you.'

'You're sure you're OK?'

'I'm fine...hey, Doyle? Do you know who 'Darla' is?'

The Irishman frowned as he thought. He shook his head. 'Nope, I've never met anyone called Darla, why?'

'Bethany told me that she heard Angel say the name when he was sleeping. You think 'Darla' is why he's been so tired and moody lately?'

'Could be ...we'll have to ask him, when all this is over.'

'Do you think Bethany is going to be OK now? Do you think she's cured?'

'I think she's got a pretty good chance of being OK, now, yeah,' Doyle said. 'I think Angel might have just saved himself another soul.'

'What you think that's it?' Lilah demanded, as Bethany stood in her room in Lilah's apartment, packing up her things. 'Poof, you're cured, no more nightmares?'

'I'm not an idiot, Lilah, and I'm not a child,' Bethany replied, folding her clothes, and going to the bathroom to get her toothbrush.

'Yes, you are,' Lilah told her, 'and you need us. Sooner or later your powers are going to get out of control and you're gonna need a friend.'

'My friends don't hire men to rape or kidnap me,' Bethany replied, 'or at least not my close ones.'

'I was trying to make you stronger!' Lilah pleaded.

'Good job'. Bethany held out her hand behind her, and Lilah watched, as the suitcase closed and locked itself and then flew into Bethany's outstretched hand. Bethany smirked and pushed her way past her erstwhile friend, headed for the door, where Angel was waiting for her.

'You could have been someone important!' Lilah said, running after her, trying desperately to prevent her from leaving.

'Oh sweetie, you gotta learn to lose,' Angel told her, leaning against the mystical barrier.

'Did I mention you're not invited?' she snapped, jabbing her finger at him. He just smiled.

'Goodbye, Lilah,' Bethany said. 'Don't try to find me. I mean it.'

'Our firm doesn't want to lose a … you're a ...he's a vampire, you know,' she said, pointing at Angel.

Bethany just looked at him. 'Weird' she said, and walked away.

'Oh well, I guess you're just going to have to find someone else's brain to play with,' Angel said to the lawyer, pleasantly.

'Yeah we have someone in mind, actually.'

'Good night, Lilah,' he walked off, following Bethany.

The young attorney watched him go for a moment, before she shut her door: 'sweet dreams.'

Chapter 17: Dear Boy: Part One

Chapter Text

Night had fallen over L.A, but the three living members of team Angel were still hard at work. Their undead boss, however, was nowhere to be seen. In fact, they had barely seen him these past three days - he had been upstairs asleep for almost the entire previous seventy two hours. The three of them had been worrying about his exhaustion for a while now, but had recently found reason to become positively alarmed about it.

'So have you found anything else, yet?' Doyle asked Wesley, who had a large, dusty book open on the counter top.

'Nothing good,' the other man told him. He frowned to himself, 'if only I still had access to the watcher's diaries, they were always a useful source of information on some of the older and more infamous vampires.'

'And there are none so infamous as our boy and his sire, am I right?' Doyle asked.

Wesley nodded, 'I'm afraid so.'

'Well at least you did all this research back in Sunnydale,' Cordelia said from over on the round sofa, lifting up the manilla folder that Wesley had brought in from home. It was the dossier he had put together on Angel whilst he was executing his duties as Buffy's watcher, and they had used it in the past, last time Angel had been having trouble with sleep - when his protege Penn had blown into town.

Whilst Cordelia and Doyle had had no luck identifying Angel's mystery woman -'Darla' - whom they had heard about from Bethany, their telekinetic client who had spent one night at the hotel with the somnolent vampire; they had mentioned the name to Wesley, who was a whole lot better informed on all matters relating to Angelus. The watcher had told them that Darla was in fact the vampire that had made Angel, back in the 1750s, and that together they had ravaged their way through Europe and the Far East. The three of them were now busy researching the vampiric pair, and nothing they found, so far, had managed to allay their disquiet.

'Last time he had killin' dreams about Penn, it was because Penn was in town,' Doyle said, flicking through one of the textbooks Wesley had given him. 'So do we think she's here? Should we be sweatin'?'

Cordelia looked up from her folder, wrinkling her nose 'But...I'm sure Buffy told me once that Angel had staked his sire. He killed her before the Master rose the night that Buffy died. I'm sure she said that…'

'She did,' Wesley affirmed. 'Angel staked Darla not long after Buffy arrived in Sunnydale. At the Bronze, I believe.'

'I guess I wasn't there that night,' Cordelia said. 'But if he staked her, she can't be here - right?'

'Right.'

'Unless…' Doyle said, thoughtfully. The other two looked at him. 'Well, d'ya ever think maybe she was what that Vocah guy raised?'

'Not the Vartite monster?' Cordelia asked. 'Could he do that?' She looked at Wesley. 'Can you bring a vampire back from the dead?'

'She wouldn't be the first vampire to return from a hell dimension,' Wesley said slowly.

'She wouldn't?' Doyle asked.

'Of course!' Cordelia snapped her folder shut, as she realised what Wesley was getting at, and left the sofa to join the two men at the desk. 'Angel came back from hell that time.'

'But that was The Powers that brought him back, wasn't it?' Doyle wanted to know. 'They brought him back so he could come here and help people - the good fight, yeah?'

'Yes, it was the powers for good that brought Angel back,' Wesley agreed, 'but that doesn't preclude the powers of darkness having similar capabilities.'

'But why Darla? why now?'

A noise from the staircase made them all glance upwards, Angel had finally emerged and was coming down into the lobby. 'We need to talk to him, now,' Cordelia hissed, 'make a stand.'

'We're standing up', Doyle agreed.

Angel reached the ground floor and headed straight to the couch, where he slumped down - looking every bit as exhausted as he had all the last times they'd seen him. 'Hey Angel, how are you?' Cordelia asked.

'Tired.'

'Uhuh, we need to talk to you.'

'Can it wait?'

'No - there's some tea for you.'

'Thanks'.

'It's on the table.'

Angel squinted at the table a couple of feet away from him, where there was indeed a mug of tea sitting waiting. 'Table seems kind of far,' he said. The three people standing at the desk all glanced at each other, in concern.

'Listen, bud, this is really important…'

BAM

The half demon stopped speaking as he felt the unmistakable psychic onslaught of a vision crash into his skull. He clung onto the desk to try and keep himself upright, and even through the pain felt Cordelia's arm snake around his waist, offering him extra support. His face turned red, and twitched, as the images rushed into his mind. His eyes began to water and then, just as suddenly, it was gone -like the tide leaving the shore.

'What did you see?' Angel asked, finally getting to his feet. Doyle pushed the heels of his hands against his face, as if he was trying to prevent his brain from melting out of his eye sockets, and groaned. He felt Cordelia take hold of his elbow and guide him across to the sofa. Once he had collapsed, he told them about his vision. 'It was a big, mushy, slimy, ugly, blobby lookin' thing. Demon. Growing right out of the wall. He's not the problem though, exactly - mush boy isn't goin' anywhere and he won't be hard to kill, what with being static and all. But he has followers - disciples. They're human, and they're killin' each other.'

'Do you know where they were?' Cordelia asked, she brought a bottle of aspirin out of her pocket and proffered it at him. G

e shook his head. 'I feel OK now,' he said refusing the painkillers. She put them away, with a shrug. 'I think they were underground but I don't know where.'

Angel dropped down on the sofa beside the two of them, like a stone, 'maybe I'll just…' he closed his eyes.

Doyle gave him an irritated glance. 'It felt kind of sacred, in a weird, twisted way. I think it's disciples were fighting over how to worship it.'

Angel opened his eyes, 'that's why I rarely go to church,' he said. His three employees just stared at him. 'I thought it was funny,' he muttered.

'So did I,' Darla sat in his lap nuzzling and kissing him. Doyle and Cordelia remained on the couch beside him, paying them no attention. Cordelia was too busy fussing over Doyle, and Doyle was too busy enjoying her fussing too much, for them to spare a glance at the two embracing vampires. Over by the desk, all alone, Wesley flicked through this textbook…

'Well, what did the place look like?' he asked, pushing his glasses up his nose.

Angel cried out and gave a start. The others looked at him. 'I didn't just fall asleep,' he told them. Cordelia shook her head, disbelievingly.

'So, where were we?' the vampire asked.

'Trying to ascertain the whereabouts of Doyle's vision,' Wesley told him.

'Right, ascertaining, we're ascertaining. Here we go.' He forced himself up and began to pace, hoping to keep himself awake that way.

Doyle rubbed his face, 'like I said, it's underground - maybe like in a tank or something? And there were pillars.'

'Like a water tank?' Angel wanted to know.

'Maybe.'

'St. Bridget's convent in Fremont,' their boss pronounced. His employees all looked at him, not understanding how he could know this. 'I like convents,' Angel said. 'St. Bridget's is cursed. It's built on native burial grounds and suffered eight murders in two years before the whole place burned down. The state bought it up and put in a water tank there. We're gonna need some muscle - call Gunn.'

The five of them descended down the staircase into a huge cavernous chamber, gripping their weapons tightly. Beneath them, between the slender pillars that supported the structure, an all out war was being fought between people wearing red robes and black robes. The disciples of the demon were hacking and slashing each other as they tried to murder anyone who disagreed with their own personal method of worship. The mush guy from the vision watched from his place on the wall as his followers destroyed each other out of love for him. The team of demon hunters drew up short, looking at the melee with alarm. 'You are not paying me enough for this,' Gunn said. 'My uncle Theo always said, never buy a dull plow and never get in the middle of a religious war.'

'Do you really have an Uncle Theo?' Cordelia asked.

'No. But it's still sound advice.'

Angel surveyed the scene beneath him, and turned to Wesley: 'Are you thinking thrall demon?'

'Yes.'

'How's that work then?' Doyle wanted to know.

'A thrall demon overtakes the minds of its disciples and then drives them onward to war,' the watcher told him.

'So how do we save them?'

'I'm guessing, kill the big ugly. That unthralls the groupies and they stop killing each other,' Angel said.

'Absolutely, yes,' Wesley agreed, 'but thrall demons can be tricky.'

'And how do you suggest we get through the fightin' to kill the big ugly?' Doyle asked.

'Well, they're not paying attention to us,' Cordelia said. 'They're too busy fighting each other to…'

'Intruders!' yelled the demon, spotting them from his place on the wall. The disciples all stopped fighting each other and turned to look at the little team standing by the stairs. 'Kill them,' the thrall demon demanded.

'I swear, sometimes I should think before I speak,' Cordelia groaned, she raised her axe and the men did likewise.

The demon's followers all charged at the team, screaming. Doyle gulped and swung his axe at the nearest disciple. The man went down, and Doyle swung again. Together, the five of them pushed their way forward, striking out at any demon groupie that got too close. Angel was pulled away by one of the red robed followers, they rolled off to the side, the vampire landed on top and he began to whale on the guy, oblivious to anything else happening around him. Gunn tried to call to him, to ask him to watch his, Gunn's, back whilst the street fighter attempted to make a run towards the thrall demon. But Angel ignored him, and Gunn turned away in disgust, striking out at any followers that got in his way.

Doyle had disappeared under a crowd of black and red robed disciples, his axe was still visible swinging out, but the little half demon was nowhere to be seen. Cordelia glanced in his direction, worried, and then made her own mad dash for the thrall demon; raising her axe as she got closer. But she was intercepted by another follower and hauled out of the way and held down. Wesley hit the guy holding Cordy hard in the head, and he was felled like a tree. The watcher held out his hand to help the woman to her feet, and as she gained her balance once more, Gunn swung his homemade axe deep into the thrall demon's mushy head. Blood and pus and ooze spurted out everywhere, and the demon screamed out in agony, before going still.

The disciples seemed to come around, their minds free from the hypnotising fog of the thrall demon, now it was dead. The group near the stairs scattered, looking puzzled; and leaving a very battered and bruised looking Doyle lying on the ground. Cordelia ran over to him and helped him up. The four of them then turned to look at Angel, who was still beating on that one disciple, completely unaware that the fight was over. 'Angel!' Wesley crossed over to his boss. 'It's over.' Angel continued to hit. 'Stop!' the British man pulled the vampire off the bruised, red robed man and then walked back to his friends. Angel looked up at them, as if he didn't really understand what was happening.

...

The team went back up the stairs, following the now peaceful disciples, and left the little building that housed the entrance to the chamber. 'So this whole teamwork deal - that a thing of the past now?' Gunn demanded of Angel, once they were out under the night sky.

The vampire shrugged, 'job got done.' He tossed his keys towards Cordelia, 'take the car back I need to…' he didn't finish his sentence, but just wandered off instead.

The four of them watched him go, a mixture of irritation and concern on their faces. 'Man, we gotta sort this out - and fast,' Doyle said. Cordelia and Wesley nodded.

Angel stalked down the promenade. It was busy; light filled, music playing. He passed a juggler, and a clown making balloon animals; multiple vendors selling pretzels and candied nuts and drinks; musicians busking, their tunes mingling together in the night air, and crowds and crowds of passersby. He was in a dark mood, and he prowled the streets with his brow lowered, glowering at the humans that walked by, his hands plunged into the pockets of his coat. A sudden flash of blood red caught his eye and he glanced at the woman wearing the striking coloured dress. She was petite and blonde and beautiful. She was Darla.

...

The two vampires left the alleyway, leaving the Lord and the prostitute that Darla had just murdered slumped dead on the ground. She still had some blood on her lips and Angelus leaned in towards her, half kissing her, half licking her. 'What's next?' he asked.

'I have a surprise for you.' She led him out into the square, 'but you have to guess…' He scanned the crowd, looking at all the little humans, wondering which one his Darla would choose to be his prize. He spotted three young women coming out of a house. They were all young and beautiful, their bonnets obscuring their faces in an almost coquettish way. He smiled. 'The three sisters - all virgins,' he said.

'Close,' Darla told him, 'the middle one.'

'There's something delicate about her,' Angelus whispered, hungrily, 'something unique. Darla, have you found me a saint?'

'Better than that - she has the sight.'

The middle girl turned; and Drusilla's large, innocent eyes met Angelus' ravenous ones. 'Visions! She sees the future.' He began to walk towards the group, 'she is pure innocence. But she can see what I'm going to do to her, she knows what is coming.'

Drusilla turned back to her sisters, and wrapped her arms around their waists, herding them away from the man who gazed at her with such a glint in his eye, as if she would protect them from all that the future held. Darla put her hand on Angelus' chest to stop him from following the little group. 'All in good time,' she said, 'let the plum ripen.'

'You always come up with something new,' Angelus told his sire, adoringly. She smiled ...

...

Darla walked down the promenade and Angel began to follow her, walking parallel to her. As she passed a clown and a man dressed as a hot dog, a group of people got in between the vampire and his sire, obscuring her from his view. Once they had gone, she had disappeared. He whirled around, searching for her but, no matter what direction he looked in, he could not find her. She had vanished.

Angel's three employees hadn't seen their boss since he had marched off into the night without so much as a backwards glance, they weren't sure he had ever returned to the hotel - and now it was daylight. The day to day running of Angel Investigations had to go on, however, vampire or no vampire and, for once, the business had actually managed to snag themselves a paying client.

Harold Jenkins sat on the round sofa, in the centre of the lobby, and played with one of Angel's business cards whilst Wesley, Doyle and Cordelia watched him, expectantly. 'I really need to speak to Angel right away', Jenkins said, awkwardly, not really meeting any of their eyes.

'And you will - just as soon as he gets back from his current - very important - case,' Cordelia told him, soothingly. 'Meanwhile, why don't you fill us in on some of the preliminary details and I'll give you a list of convenient payment plans.' She handed the list over, and their client took it - barely giving it a glance.

'Well it's my wife,' Jenkins said, 'Claire - she's lovely- really...but she gets abducted by Aliens.'

'Aliens,' Wesley stated the word back at him.

'From outer space?' Cordelia was incredulous, but then her professional side took over and she smiled an encouraging smile.

'It happens more often than people realise,' Jenkins told them.

'What? You mean more often than 'never'?' Doyle asked, receiving a back handed swipe in the chest from Cordelia for his lack of diplomacy.

Jenkins shrugged. 'I guess a lot of people think it's crazy - but one minute she's there and the next ….she always comes back after a day or two.'

The three members of team Angel looked at each other, Doyle was fighting a smile of disbelief, but Wesley displayed more tact. 'What is it you would like us to do?' he asked the concerned man.

'I trust my wife - I do,' Jenkins told them. 'But I found this receipt…' he pulled a receipt out of his wallet and held it out, Cordelia took it …'From the Franklin Hotel. It's for the weekend before last, when she was supposed to be in the trifid nebula.'

'Is that in Star Trek?' Doyle received another quick smack from Cordy.

'I'm sure we can get to the bottom of this,' she said, as Angel made a sudden appearance from the door that led down to the basement. He looked like he'd been walking all night, and he passed the group in the lobby on the way to his office without looking at them, or saying a word.

'Is that him?' Jenkins asked, the three of them nodded and their client got to his feet and followed Angel through to his office. 'Is my wife cheating on me?' he asked.

'Probably,' Angel didn't even look at him.

'Oh, he really likes you,' Cordelia said, appearing at the door, 'he's jumping right in,' she began to steer Jenkins away from the office and back out into the lobby.

'He's taking the case?' The man asked '...he didn't seem to …'

'Oh he's just an eccentric,' Wesley told him as he led him out to the front door. 'All the great ones are ...Sherlock Holmes, Philip Marlowe...'

'Those are fictional characters.'

'Which rather gives Angel the upper hand.' Wesley showed Jenkins out, and Cordelia and Doyle made their way over to the counter. On the way, Cordelia smacked him one last time, this time around the back of the head.

'Ow, what was that for?'

'We have a paying client - could you keep your silly jokes to a minimum?'

'He's ridiculous!'

'And you're supposed to be a poker player - how do you ever win anything if you give your hand away like that? No wonder Demon netherwigs were always out to break your legs.'

They arrived at the computer, and Doyle began to type the details into it. Angel wandered over to see what they were doing. 'And you're just as bad!' Cordelia said to him.

'What did I do?' the vampire wanted to know.

'That was a lovely way to treat our paying client -what with us having so many of them and all. Would it have killed you to be polite?' She tapped the screen that Doyle had brought up, 'see his file?' Angel leaned in, pretending to look at the screen, but instead he began to smell Cordelia's hair. She didn't notice for a moment, wrapped up as she was in money. 'He has visa, mastercard and a problem - he's our target audience.' Angel reached out and began to touch her, stroking her long tresses. 'Angel - what are you doing? - hey!' She jumped away from the vampire, 'personal bubble! Personal bubble!' She slapped Angel's hands away and Doyle looked round from the computer: 'What's goin on?'

'He's feeling my hair! He was sniffing it!'

The Irishman reached out and yanked Cordelia out of the reach of his boss, 'Angel, man. what are you doin'?'

Wesley, having seen their client out, appeared at the desk, 'what's going on?'

'He's stroking my hair!'

'What?' The two men looked at their vampire boss like he had gone insane. Cordelia pulled her hair over one shoulder and stroked it, protectively, throwing dark looks in Angel's direction. He held his hands up and began to apologise. 'Look, I'm sorry, I've just been out of it recently - because of her - and then I saw her last night. She's here, in town.'

'Please tell me we're talking Buffy,' Cordelia said.

Angel shook his head 'no, not Buffy - Darla.' His three employees all glanced at each other, and Angel caught the look 'why is it that you three don't seem surprised?'

'We've been meaning to talk to you about this, bud, but you're always…'

'Asleep,' Cordelia finished.

Angel nodded. 'I've been dreaming about her like crazy, it's her that's been making me sleep.'

'We know,' Wesley told him, 'we've been researching whilst you slumbered in your pit. We discovered she was the subject of your dreams and have been formulating theories on how it is a dead vampire can be making you so …'

'Crazy?' Cordelia offered.

'I'm not crazy,' Angel stated.

'You said you saw her for real, though, not whilst you were dreamin'?' Doyle asked, 'where did you see her?'

'Between the clowns and the big, talking hot dog'. They all just looked at him. 'On the promenade,' he clarified, as if they were the crazy ones for not understanding.

'So now we know she's really here,' Wesley said, thoughtfully, 'and she's decided to make her presence felt during your waking hours.'

'We need to sort this -I need to find her,' Angel said

'Right - but after we help the paying client?' Cordelia asked, hopefully.

Chapter 18: Dear Boy: Part Two

Chapter Text

Lilah worked fastidiously at her desk, she had a manilla envelope in front of her which she was carefully preparing, ready for delivery. Darla sat across from her, her bare feet up on the desk. It was dark in the office, as Darla preferred it that way, and Lilah was struggling to see what she was doing. 'He's falling apart,' the blonde woman smiled as she spoke.

'Angel?' Lilah stopped what she was doing and looked up, 'you're sure? He is a man with very particular strengths and weaknesses. He has proved - difficult - to manipulate in the past.'

Darla got to her feet, still smiling, and walked across to the window. 'I created a lot of those strengths and weaknesses - I think I have a handle on them.'

'That's what The Senior Partners are counting on.' Lilah stuck down the flap on the envelope and turned it over to write a name on the front, 'you've given us a lot of information on him - but that was of his past, his present circumstances are somewhat... different.'

'You mean his whacky cartoon pals? The watcher, the girl and that …' she smirked, 'tiny, little half breed.'

'God I hate that half breed,' Lilah said, half to herself, 'but you mustn't underestimate them, any of them. You are a demon on his shoulder seducing him, distracting him, making him erratic and unfocused. But he has a whole host of Angels, a veritable heavenly chorus of do-gooders, sitting on his other shoulder - pulling him back towards the light,' she smiled a wry smile, 'metaphorically speaking, at least. This is a battle between good and evil, Darla, and we are investing a lot in making sure that evil wins.'

'And why exactly is that?' Darla settled herself back down in her chair, leaning in towards the other woman.

Lilah pulled back, creating space between the two of them; loathe as she was to admit it, she was still nervous around this centuries old woman and her seductive smiles and false intimacies. 'It's in The Senior Partners interests,' the lawyer said.

'To what? Have me tease Angelus to death?'

'Oh, we don't want Angel dead - we want him dark.'

'And what better way to do that than have me appeal to his more... base instincts?'

'Exactly.' Lilah put her head back down, busying herself with her work once more.

Darla watched her for a moment, before speaking again: 'And is this really what you wanted from your life? A busy little worker bee, spinning your schemes late into the night. Did you never want more? Don't you ever get lonely?' Lilah looked up at her, nonplussed. What more could there be?

'Your hand…' Darla nodded towards the prosthetic, 'how does it feel?'

'It doesn't feel like anything.'

Darla ran a finger down the plastic. Lilah flinched. She hadn't felt anything in her left hand of course; but the proximity of the other woman, the lascivious way she touched the artificial hand, left the young attorney feeling deeply unsettled. 'And was it worth it in the end?' the blonde woman asked, noting to herself the way Lilah moved away from her, 'was it a sacrifice you would willingly make again?'

'If I had my time over … I wouldn't make the same mistakes.'

'Oh, but you would.' Darla was back on her feet, she wandered back to the window and gazed out. 'We always tell ourselves...that things could be different. That we could learn from our past. We never do. We just store up, for ourselves, a whole lifetime of regrets.'

'And what is it that you regret - in your considerably longer than average lifetime?'

'His soul. My boy got a soul and it sickened me. All that power wasted on a mopey do-gooder. That's what ate away at me on those long, bitter, eternal nights.'

'But now, you have a chance to change all that.'

'Make my depraved creature what he was again...bring him back to me. That would be the sweetest revenge for all the good he has done in this world since he left me.'

'Just as long as those whacky cartoon pals of his don't get in the way. We can both get our revenge.'

It was the end of her shift, and Kate gladly retrieved her coat and purse from the locker room. She had another date with Lindsey tonight, and she had been looking forward to it all day. They had started seeing each other over the summer - bonding over their love/hate relationship with Angel, and their shared work on the right side of the law. They made a formidable team professionally, her chasing down the criminals and finding the evidence, him putting all his Wolfram and Hart nous to good use and pulling out all the stops to prosecute the scumbags she caught. The department's crime figures had improved considerably in the last few months, even head office were pleased - there was talk of promotion for her.

It was Kate's opinion that they made an even more formidable personal team. She was happier than she ever remembered being - even her dad liked Lindsey, things were looking pretty sweet and tonight was going to be a good night.

As she made her way towards the door of the squad room, one of the other detectives called her over. 'Hey Katie - you get that envelope I put on your desk?'

'What envelope?'

The cop shrugged. 'Hell if I know. It came through internal mail - just had your name on it.' She sighed deeply and returned to her desk. There was a large manilla envelope lying on the top of it, 'FAO Detective Lockley' scrawled across the front. She ripped it open and a business card, a photograph and a note fell out. It was a photograph of the vampire, and the business card was one of his - she frowned as she saw the address on it. The note was just two words long: 'He's moved.'

Cordelia picked up some wine glasses and wiped down the table. She was wearing the skimpy, yellow waitressing outfit of the Franklin Hotel and was keeping a covert eye on the woman and man sat at the bar. Wesley sat in a chair at another table pretending to read a paper. Every so often he took a photo of the whispering couple with a tiny, concealed camera. Angel lurked behind a potted plant. He had an earpiece in that linked to a recording device; and as Cordelia moved over to the couple and pushed a napkin, concealing a microphone, in their direction - he began to pick up their conversation.

Doyle was sat just along the bar from the couple, he was supposed to be listening in as well, his pack of cards were out on the bar and hidden just underneath them was a small camcorder, videoing the events. However, he kept getting distracted by the vision of Cordelia in her little maid's outfit. He made a mental note to ensure that she kept it, once this undercover job was done.

'Are you sure about this?' The man was asking, 'right in the middle of the day?'

'Marty, the aliens abduct me whenever the mood hits,' Claire Jenkins responded, 'and it's hitting pretty hard right now.'

'Yeah?'

'Unless you're not up for it?'

Wesley lowered his paper and took another photo. Cordelia pretended to wipe down the bar and pushed the mic even closer to the flirting couple. Doyle admired the way Cordy's long ponytail swished around as she worked.

'Oh I'm up for it,' Marty assured Claire. Doyle tore his eyes off Cordelia and the way her hemline was rising as she bent over the tables, lest he find himself as up for it as Marty, and forced his attention back on the adulterous couple. He had another cheque to give her, a second instalment of his debt repayment - he would have to hand it over at the earliest opportunity - the sooner his debt with Cordelia was cleared - the better, for lots of reasons. Though it was one particular reason that stood out, as she leaned across a table that faced the bar, and he was able to glance down the front of her little, yellow dress.

'So let's go upstairs,' Claire said, and the pair of them slid off their bar stools and made their way to the elevators.

Angel stepped out from behind the potted plant: 'Claire.'

She turned to look at him, sizing him up. 'Do I know you?'

Over by the tables, Cordelia came to a halt. She stopped pretending to wipe down surfaces and stood up straight, watching her boss. Wesley lowered his paper to observe what was going on. Doyle twisted round on his bar stool to look, frowning at this sudden change of plan.

'I've been listening. I'm over here behind this plant with some machine in my ear..' he ripped out the earpiece, 'whilst my three associates have been following you around all day, recording your conversation and taking pictures.' He gestured towards the his three friends. Cordelia gave a small wave, embarrassed. Wesley immediately raised his paper again, to hide behind it, and Doyle scooped up his playing cards and recording device, dropping them in his coat pocket, before becoming very interested in the contents of his drink. Claire and Marty stared at them.

'Your husband knows,' Angel told her, 'go home, talk to him - sort this out, or leave him - I don't care. But I don't like doing this, it's crass.'

Marty and Claire gave each other a look, and then, without speaking, left the bar area - going in opposite directions. Angel began to walk away, and his three associates left their positions and hurried into step with him. 'We had a paying client!' Cordelia cried, frustrated.

'Some things aren't worth getting paid for.'

'Well, that's easy to say when you don't need food to survive.'

The vampire came to a dead stop, staring at a petite, blonde woman he had just noticed, sitting in the lounge area. His friends stopped too, Doyle nearly walking into the back of him. 'That's her,' Angel said - pointing.

'Darla?' Wesley followed the line of Angel's finger and recognised the woman from the daguerreotype of her he had found in one of his books. It seemed unbelievable, but this woman was identical to that very early photograph. Perhaps she was really here, after all - and not just visiting Angel in his dream state.

Angel made to move towards her, but Doyle held him back, putting a hand on the taller man's chest to stop him from passing by. 'Hold up there, bud. Y'can't just barrel in there. Y' need to be smart about this. If it's her, she was brought back for a reason, and she's sitting out in those chairs 'cause she wants you to find her. Don't play her game!'

'What if she needs me?'

'Oh jeez,' Cordelia rolled her eyes, 'she's evil, already! Leave it alone.'

Darla stood up from her chair, and began to make her way over to where the little group was standing. She played it casual, though, rooting in her purse and pretending she hadn't noticed them. Looking down, as she was, she was able to manoeuvre her way right into bumping into Angel. She looked up at him as she hit him. 'Oh I'm sorry, I didn't see you there.' Her face was neutral and blank, as if this really were a chance encounter with a complete stranger.

Angel's head was spinning. His chest felt tight, even though he didn't breathe. He was more aware of his lack of heartbeat than ever, as he was painfully conscious of the fact that it should be thundering away in his chest right now. His sense of her was overpowering. Her face, her voice, her scent ...God, her scent - he'd know it anywhere. He could live a thousand years away from her and still recognise her scent immediately, without seeing her, without even having to be close. There had only ever been one other woman for whom that would be the case. 'Darla,' he choked out.

She looked politely confused: 'I'm sorry?'

'Darla,' he said again, his voice a breathless whisper.

'You must be mistaking me for someone else.' She made as if to walk past him, and he reached out for her.

Doyle grabbed his boss's arm and dragged him away, 'c'mon, bud', he managed to create distance between the vampire and his sire. Cordelia and Wesley were left alone with the centuries old woman, looking terrified, as they tried to cover for their boss.

'Is he OK?' Darla asked politely, looking after him with a look of puzzled concern on her face. The actress in Cordelia had to admit: this chick was good.

'He's just not been sleeping properly on account of old girlfriend issues,' she said, backing away, without making it obvious what she was doing. 'He just got confused.'

'He thinks I'm this 'Darla'?'

Cordy and Wes nodded, still creating distance between them and the blonde woman. Darla smiled. 'Well tell the dear boy that I'm sorry to have caused him distress. But I'm not 'Darla'. My name is DeEtta Kramer, and my husband is outside getting our car.'

'We'll tell him,' Wesley promised, and the two of them turned around and scurried to over where Doyle was still keeping a tight hold of Angel. A man walked through the front door and DeEtta Kramer turned to him and waved: 'Stephen!'

'Where's she going to go?' Angel demanded, still struggling against Doyle's hold on him. 'She can't follow that guy out into the sunlight, I have to follow her.' He broke free and made to chase Darla through the hotel; but she cast a concerned glance over her shoulder. as she saw him head towards her, and ran to her husband. She stood in a pool of natural light, the sun's rays beating down on her, not harming her. Angel pulled up short, trapped in the shadows.

As the blonde woman left the hotel with her husband, she cast one final glance over her shoulder, smirking at the vampire that lurked at the very edge of the darkness. His friends came up behind him. 'What was that?' Doyle asked.

'Maybe she really wasn't Darla after all,' Cordelia said.

'It was her, I know it was her.' The team had arrived back at the Hyperion, and Angel was still insisting that the woman they had met had been his sire.

'But she was human! She ran right out into that sunlight like she wasn't even a teeny tiny bit afraid o' explodin' into dust', Doyle pointed out.

'It makes no difference, so she's human now? It can happen,' Angel replied, heatedly. 'I know her scent - that was her.'

'Angel,' Wesley protested. 'You can't just sniff a person - and -'

The vampire leaned in towards the British man and inhaled. 'You had sex with a bleached blonde last night.'

'That's amazing!' Cordelia said, Angel smiled modestly, but she was looking at Wesley 'I didn't think you ever had sex.'

The watcher tutted. 'We're not all cursed vampire's with souls, Cordelia. Or enjoying a passionate celibacy like you and Doyle.'

'Hey!' Cordelia raised her finger at Wesley, admonishing him.

'I think enjoyin' it is putting positive spin on the situation,' Doyle said, putting his arm round Cordelia and giving her little waitress outfit a hungry look. 'But y'know it strikes me Angel just said a nonspecific 'bleached blonde' - a bleached blonde what Wesley?'

The watcher tutted again, irritated, and Doyle and Cordelia smiled at each other. Angel, on the other hand, was busy flicking through the phone book. 'What did she tell you her name was?' he demanded.

'DeEtta Kramer - why would anyone make up that name?' Cordelia responded.

But Wesley frowned to himself, 'she did seem awfully keen to give us information - she's DeEtta and her husband is Stephen.'

'She wants to be found,' Doyle surmised, 'Angel, man, I think you should take a step back and …'

Angel flung the phone book down, 'she isn't in it. I'll have to find her another way. Doyle, run a title deed search see if anything comes up. Wesley? You got some money - I'm gonna need it for the cover charge.'

'Angel, surely you're not going to …'

'Do whatever it takes.'

'E-very-bo-dy … everybody have fun tonight. Everybody wangchungfun tonight. Everybody wang chung tonight.' Angel sang tonelessly into the microphone, completely flat and a little unsure of the words. Perhaps he should have gone with 'Can't smile without you.' The Host walked through the bar, carrying a seabreeze, and sat down at the front table. He never took his eyes off the droning vampire. A demon, sitting near the stage, glanced across at a woman at the next table, catching her eye. The demon shook its head and the two of them smirked. Angel reached out and switched off the karaoke machine, cutting it off mid song. 'I'm very sorry,' he said into the mic, before leaving the stage and going to talk with the green skinned, psychic demon who owned the nightclub.

'Tell me about Darla,' he said, immediately - not even sitting down.

The Host raised his eyebrows and took a sip of his drink, 'woah there, give me a sec. You are sending out family sized vibes - my fillings are still humming. I saw lots of things. You are at crucial junction, big guy.'

'So talk.'

'So no.' He put his glass down, but never took his eyes of Angel. 'You're headed for trouble. With a capital troub. Let her go bro, that way only leads to badness.'

The vampire was furious. 'What do you care?' he demanded, 'you got murderous demons in here. You give them advice for free - but you won't help me?'

'Hey, I set people on their paths, sweetie. This is way off your path. Go home.'

Angel gripped the back of the chair he was leaning on and loomed ever closer to the Host. 'Tell me where Darla is.' Menace dripped from every word, but the Host stayed his ground. He tilted his head to one side, and managed to sound sympathetic, even as the vampire threatened him. 'I know you're not going to start anything in here. You're a good boy. Have a drink before you go. It's on me.' He stood up and left the table. Angel had sung for nothing.

'So what do we do if he calls?' Cordelia asked, the two men just looked at her, unsure of the answer. Doyle had managed to find a deed for DeEtta and Stephen Kramer, the three of them now knew where Darla was to be found - the question was: should they tell Angel? The Irishman rubbed his face with his hands as he thought. 'OK, OK. How about, I go to the address - now - and do some recon. If Angel calls - tell him where I am, let him come to me. I'll try and stop him from doin' anythin' too crazy.'

'You don't think we're better off pretending we didn't find anything?' Wesley wanted to know. But Doyle shook his head. 'I can't lie to Angel. He needs to find her, and he'll do whatever it takes, so I guess the best thing we can do is help him - and try to curb the worst of his excesses. Standing in his way is only gonna get us run over, right now.'

'Be careful!' Cordelia warned him, 'she might be human now, but you can bet she's still evil.' He nodded at her and then grabbed his brown, leather jacket before making his way out of the hotel. He had only been gone a matter of minutes when the phone rang.

'It's me,' Angel's voice sounded down the phone as soon as Cordelia picked up. 'Did you get an address?'

'We did. Doyle's gone to do some recon - Angel, if I give you this address you promise not to do anything crazy? Nothing that might get you - or more importantly, Doyle - killed?'

'Just give me the address, Cordelia.'

In the Hyperion Lobby Cordelia and Wesley exchanged an exasperated glance. She sighed deeply before handing over the information. 'DeEtta and Stephen Kramer own a home at 1409 Galloway in Studio City.'

'Got it.' Angel hung up the phone and left Caritas - headed for Studio City.

'Well that's it,' Cordelia exclaimed, 'he's gone, and lord alone knows what he'll do. What do you think we should do about it?'

'He's on the edge - I've never seen him this way,' the watcher said. 'I think we need to prepare for the worst.'

'You mean batten down the hatches, here comes hurricane Angelus?'

'I rather hope not.' Wesley went to his desk drawer and took out a gun. 'But it would be best not to be caught unawares.'

Cordelia gave the weapon a look. 'And what have you got in there, wooden bullets?'

'Hardly. It's a tranquiliser gun.'

'Handier than knocking him down the nearest elevator shaft,' Cordelia agreed, thinking of the last time Angel had turned. 'God, why is he always on the verge of going off his rocker?'

'He walks a fine line,' Wesley told her, 'and now it would seem the forces of darkness are making a concerted effort to throw him off course. We're going to need all the help we can get. I'll call Gunn.'

Cordelia pushed the phone over towards her friend, and then exhaled loudly as he began to dial. 'I just hope Doyle doesn't get in the middle of something he can't handle,' she said.

Chapter 19: Dear Boy: Part Three

Chapter Text

Doyle lurked outside 1409 Galloway. He wasn't sure what was going on, but this clearly wasn't an ordinary house. Through the window he could see Darla, and the man she was pretending was her husband: 'Stephen'. There were two other guys in the house, one seemed to be wiring Darla up, the other was muscle - and if Doyle was still a betting man - he would have placed money on him being a vampire.

The half demon watched anxiously, he assumed Angel would show up any minute and was concerned as to what would happen next. He put his hand in his coat pocket, hoping to bring out his deck of cards to play with. What he touched, instead, was hard and plastic, he frowned as he brought it out to where he could look at it. It was the tiny camcorder he had been using in the hotel that afternoon - he had forgotten that he'd dropped it into his coat after Angel had outed their entire enterprise.

Well, this might be useful. He switched it on and pointed it towards the window, recording the final moments of Darla being hooked up to an earpiece. The man who had been wiring her then disappeared from the window. He appeared a moment later, at the door, and Doyle recorded him leaving, then he swung the camera back around to Darla.

'What's going on?' Angel had materialised silently at his side, making him jump. The camcorder wobbled a bit, and he hastened to straighten it. ' 'DeEtta's' in there with 'Stephen'. They're not alone though, vampire security. And she's hooked up electronically - she's talking to someone that's not there. I'm filmin' it all.'

'Good.' The vampire walked closer to the window, he was now in shot of Doyle's filming, but there was nothing the Irishman could do about it, he really didn't fancy trying to tell his boss to back up out of the frame whilst he was in this mood.

The couple, inside the house, moved into the dining room. Angel watched, and Doyle filmed, as 'Stephen' pulled out 'DeEtta's' chair and she sat down. They were talking to each other, though Doyle couldn't hear what they said through the window, and his camcorder wouldn't pick it up. He wondered if Angel could hear them, with his vampire hearing; the half demon wasn't sure what exactly the range on that was - and if it worked through solid objects.

'Are you sure that wasn't too much?' Stephen asked Darla as they sat at the table. 'My pulling your chair out for you? We're supposed to be married. In the actor's studio we were always looking for the truth in the moment and - truthfully - I don't think I would have pulled your chair out.'

'It was fine,' Darla said with a sigh that betrayed how this little human was trying her patience. 'Now, just eat.'

'I'm only going to mime eating if that's OK. I need to watch my figure.'

'Whatever.'

'So ...is he watching us?' Stephen glanced around, 'right now?'

She nodded her head ever so slightly, 'just nod and smile pleasantly, Stephen. We don't want him to know that we know he's here.'

'What'd this guy do to you anyway? You're going to an awful lot of trouble to teach him a lesson. Not that I mind! Work is work. Last year ...I was doing this puppet theatre...'

Out of sight of the window, Darla reached under the tablecloth and slid her hand up Stephen's leg. Once she made contact with his crotch she squeezed - hard - and not in a good way. 'If you don't stop talking I'm going to kill you,' she said, smiling pleasantly the whole time. But her voice was laced with venom. The actor nodded his agreement and she released him from her grip. He visibly relaxed.

The blonde woman put her hand up to her ear, and pressed the piece she was wearing in tighter. 'Lilah, do you copy?'

'Who are you talking to?' Stephen wanted to know, Darla just glared at him, and he mimed zipping his lips and throwing the zipper away.

'Copy that Darla,' Lilah's voice buzzed in her ear. 'Everything OK?'

'He's here,' Darla said, 'I can feel him.'

'I know - it will just be a few more minutes to set everything in motion,' the lawyer told her.

'Hurry up.'

Gunn stood in the lobby of the Hyperion, examining the tranq gun and the chains that Cordelia and Wesley were getting ready, preparing for the worst. 'This is all just precautionary,' Wesley assured him. 'When push comes to shove, Angel's our - we trust him.'

Gunn picked up the pistol and gave it a pointed look, 'I see.'

'Doyle is with him,' Cordelia told the young street fighter, 'keeping an eye on him. So he should be fine. It's not like he goes evil every time he gets this cranky.'

'He goes evil?'

'Only in a leather pants wearing - kill your computer science teacher sort of way - no biggie.'

'There are forces which can make Angel revert to Angelus - the vampire he was before he got a soul,' Wesley clarified, as Gunn looked alarmed at Cordelia's words.

'But on the bright side - that's only ever happened twice. And the time it happened back in April was a complete fluke,' the secretary added.

'April? Angel was evil back in April? As in April 2000? Six months ago?'

'Only for an evening! I pretended to throw holy water at him and Wes knocked him down the elevator shaft, it was totally fine. Nobody got hurt…well ... Rebecca Lowell got bit, and Doyle and Wes got knocked out. So did Angel - actually ...hardly anybody got hurt - seriously hurt.'

'Uhuh, and when he's evil - this 'Angelus' - as blood sucking vamps go, how would you rate him?'

'Oh, about as bad as a vampire can get,' Wesley told their new associate, 'especially when he was with his sire, Darla.'

'And that's the chick he and Irish are payin' a house call to right now?'

'Exactly. But Doyle knows what he's doing - he won't let anything happen,' Cordelia reassured him.

'You're just putting a miniature arsenal together for the fun of it?'

'Well, OK, maybe we're a little worried,' she admitted. 'We've been researching her for a few days now. When it's the two of them together - basically imagine Bonnie and Clyde if they had 150 years to get it right.'

'So his party girl is back in town,' Gunn mused. 'I guess things are gonna get a little hairy.'

Angelus sat on the edge of the table in the chapel at the convent, admiring the stained glass window. Darla walked into the room behind him, 'Hello love,' he said without even turning.

She wrapped her arms around him. 'We made quite a mess in there,' she whispered into his ear. 'Blood and habits everywhere.'

'Convents. They're just one big cookie jar.' They began to kiss.

'Black sky. It wants a little wormy me,' a hysterical sounding voice sobbed out into the air. The two vampires broke apart and turned to stare at the woman who sat huddled against the wall, a look of frozen horror pasted across her face. Her eyes were blank and staring, as if there was nothing left inside, as if she had reached the end of her limits and just broken. 'No. No make it stop,' Drusilla cried out.

'What is she doing here?' Asked Darla, irritated. 'I thought you killed her.'

Angelus shook his head, 'no, just her family.' He pushed his sire down onto the floor, in front of the huddled woman, and rolled on top of her.

Dru flattened herself against the wall, trying to create space between herself and the romping demons. 'Eyes like arrows… like - like needles,' she gibbered senselessly. She had been through too much, suffered too much at the hands of this man that lay on the ground before her; her wits were addled, her mind was gone.

'This one is special,' Angelus said, as he stopped kissing Darla in order to look at Dru. 'I have big plans for her.' He began to kiss his sire once more.

'Snake in the woodshed, snake in the woodshed, snake in the woodshed, snake in the woodshed,' Drusilla cried out. If her words made sense to her, then she was the only one.

Darla pushed Angelus round, rolling them both so that she was now on top. 'So when do we kill her?' she asked 'before...during ...or after?'

The male vampire pushed himself upright, so he was sitting up, Darla almost fell off him and looked startled as he caught her. 'None of the above,' he told her. 'We make her one of us. Killing is so merciful, isn't it? It's an end - the pain is over.'

'But to make her like us? She's a lunatic!'

'Eternal torment.' Her boy laughed, rolling her back over so that she was underneath once more, pinning her down and kissing her. 'Am I learning?'

The vampires kissed down there on the floor, whilst Drusilla laughed out loud; an insane, mirthless laugh that slowly changed back to sobbing.

Angel stood by the window, still watching, as Darla and her 'husband' got up from the table, carrying their plates and headed for the kitchen. Doyle, however, followed them round the house and continued filming the events taking place in the kitchen. The vampire muscle was lurking in there, the Irishman had wondered what had happened to him.

He watched as Darla dropped her entire plate into the trash, and then pressed her hand against her ear - talking to whoever was on the other end of the line. She then picked up the phone and began to dial. As she spoke down the phone she became visibly distressed and, even from out in the yard, Doyle could catch some of her words. That meant that Angel could definitely hear everything that was going on. 'There's a man outside,' he heard her cry into the phone, 'Oh God he's breaking in, help me! HELP ME!' She then dropped the phone - so that the 911 operator could still hear everything.

The vamp muscle then bit Stephen, draining him of his blood. That made Doyle flinch - clearly he had just been hired help, a poor schmuck with no understanding of what he had got himself into. Dropping the body of Stephen onto the floor, the vampire then hit Darla with a backhander - hard. She fell to the ground, still screaming: 'oh God - my husband! My husband!'

And then Angel had crashed into the house, and appeared in the kitchen - where he took in the scene of the dead body and the weeping, bruised Darla. Outside, in the yard, Doyle tutted to himself, 'Oh c'mon, man it's a trap, what d'ya think y' doin'?' He knew he had promised to keep an eye on Angel, stop him from doing anything too crazy - but he'd taken his eye off the ball leaving the vampire around the front of the house. It was too late. Crazy had happened and there was no way in hell that Doyle was going into that house and getting in the middle of whatever catharsis Angel had planned. So he stayed where he was and continued to film.

Darla looked up and saw Angel standing there, she scrabbled her way backwards 'Don't hurt me! Please don't hurt me!' she was still playing for the 911 operator, who must have been listening into the whole thing with a kind of transfixed, horrified fascination.

...

Down the other end of Darla's wire, back in her office at Wolfram and Hart, Lilah smirked to herself. Darla was damned good, and Detective Lockley should be on her way. The police woman could only come to one inevitable conclusion when she saw the bite marks on Stephen's neck. Angel was going to have a hard time wriggling out of this one.

...

Back in the kitchen, Angel just stared at the dead body on the floor. 'He was my husband,' wept Darla. 'How could you …?' The sudden whining of sirens made them both look towards the door. From his position outside the kitchen, Doyle clicked the camcorder off and began to back away - not wanting to be found lurking by a murder scene when the cops got there. He just had to hope that Angel got out OK.

Two cops got out of their car and dashed towards the house, their guns raised. They entered the kitchen, cautiously, weapon first and saw Darla, prone on the floor, weeping over the body of the slain man. Angel was just stood there, staring. They aimed their guns at him. 'Hands in the air ...turn and face the wall.' Angel followed their instructions. 'Drop to your knees,' the cop barked at him, 'do it!'

The vampire glanced down at the weeping woman: 'You'll pay for this.' He then lunged at the two cops, using his enhanced strength and speed to get between them. They fired, and he felt some of the bullets connect, piercing his flesh - but he didn't slow down. Instead, he got clear of the room and then jumped straight upwards, through into the attic access. The cops looked upwards as they heard his footsteps above them, training their guns on the ceiling: 'he's in the attic - stay with him.'

More cops arrived and one of the first arrivals barked orders to seal the house and bring in a swat team, the newcomers spread out - getting the job done. 'He's on the roof!' A dark shape fell past the kitchen window - Angel was off the roof and into the grounds - he had escaped.

...

Doyle had not fared half so well. As he had backed away from the house, following the arrival of the first set of cops, he had managed to collide with the second set as they spread out and secured the perimeter. He was now sat in the back of a police car, handcuffed, and waiting to be taken to the station.

Kate had arrived at the house. She was still in her strappy dress and high heels that she had been wearing on her dinner date with Lindsey. In fact, Lindsey was there at the house too, he had come along as they had been interrupted right in the middle of their entrees and were hoping that they could wrap this up quick and then head back for dessert. They had both grimly examined the dead body, noting the bite marks on his neck - well there wasn't going to be a successful arrest for this case, it seemed. So much for dinner.

Darla was outside of the house now, wrapped in a blanket and having been given something warm to drink. She was being treated for shock and Detective Lockley was interviewing her, gently. 'I don't understand,' Darla was saying, her face still tear stained, 'they shot him ...how did he get away?'

'Adrenaline,' Kate answered shortly, it was her go to answer whenever the world of the weird collided with the innocent citizens she had sworn to protect. It was Lindsey that had taught her that one - he was a veritable goldmine of white lies and easy explanations that would help victims come to terms with the impossible event they had just witnessed. His past at Wolfram and Hart was something he was deeply ashamed of, and something he was working to put right - and it had taken Kate a while to learn to trust him, once he had switched sides; but she was learning a lot from him, nevertheless.

'They chased him for sixteen blocks,' she told Darla. 'Don't worry, he's long gone now.'

'One of the things that I don't understand,' Lindsey said, suddenly arriving at Kate's side: 'How did he get in?' Kate looked at him, she nodded her head as understanding dawned. 'Ma'am?' Lindsey said to Darla, making his voice as gentle as possible. 'Had you met this man before? Did you know him? Had you ever invited him into your home?'

Darla shook her head and then nodded and then shook her head ...as if she wasn't quite sure what the correct answer was. 'He started following me a couple of weeks ago. He said he helped the hopeless. I told him I didn't need any help ...but he persisted. And then today there was an incident ...at the Franklin Hotel, he accosted me - called me 'Darla' - wouldn't leave me alone.'

'Helps the hopeless?' Kate frowned as she recognised that phrase, and then remembered the mysterious manilla envelope she had received earlier that evening. 'Does this man have a name?'

'He said he was called Angel.'

The detective and the lawyer looked at each other in consternation. 'Angel?' Kate asked. 'You're sure about that?' Darla nodded. The detective turned around to bark orders at the milling police officers. 'Get in touch with the Franklin Hotel, I want to see if they have any footage of this man accosting Mrs. Kramer. Seal the whole area off I want this scene preserved.'

Another cop approached Detective Lockley and her D.A's office boyfriend. 'Detective Lockley, we've caught a guy, found fleeing the scene.'

'You caught Angel?' Lindsey was incredulous. Either this cop had serious prowess or the vampire was losing his edge. The Cop shuffled his feet 'Er -no. This guy says his name is 'Doyle'. I ran a background check on him - but nothing came up.'

'Take me to him,' Kate sighed, and her and Lindsey headed off to the police car where the half demon sat under arrest. Behind them a hand swooped down from out of the tree and clamped down on Darla's mouth. Another arm was wrapped around her waist and she was hoisted out of view.

The cop reached into the car and dragged Doyle back out of the backseat. He stumbled as he got to his feet, his hands being cuffed in front of him made it hard for him to regain his balance, but his face lit up when he saw Kate. 'Detective Lockley!' He then saw Lindsey and frowned. 'What's born again boy doin' here? Wait a minute ...are you guys datin' now?' he took in Kate's elegant dress and Lindsey's natty suit - clearly they had been on the kind of date that he hoped to one day, in the not too distant future, take Cordy on. If he wasn't in jail for ...whatever it was he'd just been arrested for… lurking with intent or something.

'What's going on Doyle?' Kate asked. 'Why did Angel murder that poor woman's husband?'

'Ah - ha! Things aren't quite that simple, Detective Lockley.' He cast a worried glance at the cop who was stood right next to him, the bacon that had cuffed him in the first place. 'Could we maybe discuss this a bit more privately?'

Kate rubbed her forehead, she felt a bit of a migraine coming on - she'd just wanted a nice evening at a nice restaurant with a nice man. Why this? Why now? Why did the universe have to hate her? 'Can we keep this simple, Doyle.'

'Sure thing, Detective, Angel's innocent and I can prove it - just look in my left jacket pocket.' She pulled a face as she fished into his coat pocket. He twisted around, moving his cuffed hands out of her way to allow her access. She pulled out the camcorder. 'I filmed the whole thing as it happened,' he told her. 'Proves our boy didn't do it. Doesn't help you with what to put in the report, though.'

The Detective rewound the film and she and Lindsey watched it back together. It was exactly as Doyle said. Another vampire had killed Stephen Kramer and DeEtta was an accomplice to the fact. They looked across to the tree where they had left Mrs. Kramer stood, huddled under her blanket. She was gone. And so was any chance of finishing dinner. 'OK,' Kate said to the cop. 'Let Doyle go, this has all just been a misunderstanding.'

'But -'

'Do it.'

Doyle was released from his cuffs and he rubbed his wrists where the metal had been biting into them. 'That's better.'

Kate was talking to the cop again. 'I want a bolo out on DeEtta Kramer, call off the search for this Angel guy - it's her we're after.' She then turned back to the half demon. 'I want to know exactly what is going on here. We'll drop you off at the hotel, you can fill us in on the way there.'

All the weapons they could find were assembled around the desk, and Cordelia and Wesley had gone back into research mode. Gunn, however was pacing the floor. Cordy looked up at him, 'are you alright?' she asked.

'I'm just having a hard time getting my head around the fact that the guy I work for sometimes goes evil.'

'It does take a little getting used to,' she agreed.

'We've all been through it,' Wesley assured him.

'And 99% of the time he's good. And he's done a lot for us.'

'There's nothing I respect more than loyalty,' Gunn told them. 'But if bad Angel walks through that door, I'm gonna kill him.'

The front door opened and Gunn whipped a stake out of his back pocket. But it was only Doyle, arriving with Kate and Lindsey; and the street fighter put his weapon away.

'Doyle!' Cordelia exclaimed. 'What happened!?'

'Nothin'. Well, Stephen Kramer is dead and Angel has kidnapped Darla, and I got arrested. But nothing big.'

'You got arrested?'

'Wrong place, wrong time. Kate here, cleared it all up. We need to find our boy, though.'

Kate and Lindsey stood in the middle of the lobby, glancing around at their surroundings. 'This is quite a step up from your last place,' Lindsey noted, looking at the high ceilings and ornate fittings of the art deco hotel.

Kate, however, was less interested in the architecture and more interested in the arsenal piled up on the counter. 'What's going on with Angel?' she wanted to know. 'I've got a dead body with suspicious neck trauma, a missing woman, and a vampire with a soul that is somehow connected to the whole thing. Oh and I've got absolutely nothing I can write in my report to my supervisor. Who's Darla?'

Chapter 20: Dear Boy: Part Four

Chapter Text

'What do you mean he's missing, she's missing, and you had to release the guy you arrested?' Lilah was livid, and she was snarling down the phone at her cop contact, who had rung her with the news of Angel's escape. His voice buzzed in her ear, giving her the information of what had transpired at the little house on Galloway. 'He filmed it? What do you mean he filmed it?' The voice buzzed again. 'And he showed it to Lockley? ... and that turncoat whitehat Lindsey? And they let him go? They put a bolo out on Darla?... No! Shut up, just shut up!'

She clicked her cell phone shut, grunted with rage, and then hurled the cell as hard as she could against the wall. It bounced off the wall and hit the floor, smashing open. She took in deep lungfuls of air, as she sat down at her desk, but her whole body was quivering with fury. That dirty little half breed had stood outside the house and filmed the whole thing. He had caught all the lies; Darla's guilt and Angel's innocence, on video camera. She picked up a vase from her desk and hurled that at the wall too. Like the cell, it smashed to pieces, but she still didn't feel any better.

She hated that mongrel. She really hated him. Everywhere she turned, everything she did; that pathetic little demon hybrid got in her way, foiling her schemes. He didn't even realise he was doing it, the tiny idiot. He just had a natural affinity for scuppering her best laid plans. He'd refused to be bought, he'd cost her $10 000 when he hadn't just up and died in that fight with Trepkos, he'd smashed her beacon, he had survived the onslaught of psychic visions; he had come out of the whole sorry episode unscathed whilst she - she - had lost her left hand. And now the filthy little Irish mongrel had tipped the cops off as to Darla's role in the murder of Stephen Kramer and deflected any suspicion that might land on the vampire. Now Lindsey was involved - it was only a matter of time until there was concrete evidence leading back to Wolfram and Hart - back to her.

Lilah smashed her own prosthetic hand down against the desk, as hard as she could. She smashed it down again and again, trying to relieve her feelings of fury that way. It began to chip and splinter but still she hammered it down. She imagined that the desk was the half breed's face. She pictured those irritating, twinkling green eyes and prominent nose, cheeky grin and little dimple. God she even hated his face! She continued to pound the desk with her artificial hand, visualising smashing his little Irish face in until his nose broke and his teeth cracked. She'd straighten that annoying little dimple out for him once and for all.

There was a loud crunching noise, as the prosthetic finally gave way under the onslaught, and it brought her back to her senses. She stared, wonderingly, at the broken remains of her plastic hand - God, he'd even broken her fake hand now, as well. Her breath came in deep, ragged gasps, as she tried to steady herself and reassert control. One more thing - just one more thing. If that little half breed got in her way just one more time, if just one more - something - happened to sour her plans for Angel - for anything- then she was pulling the trigger on the vampire's tiny, ridiculous sidekick. She would pull the trigger, and watch him squirm - and she would delight in his misery.

Angel dragged Darla down into the water tank where the team had killed the thrall demon, just the night before. It was empty now, and the sounds of him pulling her downstairs, and her struggling, echoed around the chamber. Reaching the bottom of the staircase, he flung her away from himself. 'So you're what Wolfram and Hart brought back in that box.' Her breath came in ragged gasps, and he could hear her heartbeat, feel her warmth, even from a distance. 'And they brought you back as human. Because they think I won't kill one. You know what I think? They don't know me very well.'

Darla made to push past him and escape, but he caught her and dragged her back. 'Do you know what this place used to be?' he asked her, 'Can you feel it? It was a convent - you know how I used to liked convents.' The woman ripped herself away from him and pulled out a cross, holding it up to him, But Angel just laughed, 'Come on Darla - me and you - we're too old to play games. I need to speak to the real you.' His face morphed into his demonic visage and he pushed her against a pillar. He ripped her shirt down, baring her neck, and nuzzled inward. 'It's been a long time since I said this - but you can scream all you want.' He bit down, scraping his teeth across her bare skin. Above him, Darla began to smile.

'Oh - I'm not gonna scream.' She turned her face so that she was nestled against his neck and he pulled away. Still in vamp face, he began to kiss her and she responded. As they broke apart, Darla smiled in triumph: 'there's my boy.' They kissed again, harder this time, desperate, more hungry.

Wesley showed Kate and Lindsey the daguerreotype of Darla. It had been taken well over a hundred years ago, it was sepia, and Darla was dressed in Victorian era clothing - but it was unmistakably her. 'This doesn't make sense,' Kate breathed. 'This is the woman from tonight - but she wasn't a vampire. The paramedics took her vitals - she couldn't have been!'

'Oh it's even freakier than that!' Cordelia told the other woman. Wesley cleared his throat. 'Yes, ahem, Darla is Angel's sire - the vampire who made him a vampire - but Angel staked her some years ago in a town just up the coast. This woman has been dust for around four years.'

'But now she's back - how?' Lindsey frowned at the picture, before looking up at the members of team Angel, waiting for an explanation.

It was Doyle that took up the story: 'You remember last summer, when I wound up in hospital getting attacked by all those visions?' The lawyer and the cop nodded, it had been Kate who had sealed off Doyle's room when the pain had caused him to turn demon face in front of hospital personnel. And it had been Lindsey who had accompanied Angel to the crypt …

'The raising?' The lawyer asked, 'she was what was in the box?' Team Angel nodded.

'Right,' Gunn interrupted, 'so now we're all up to speed on who she is and how she's here. But what's she doin' here? Why did they bring her back and what are we gonna do about it? Cause I am freakin' out at the idea of having to face off with a crazy, evil Angel.'

Doyle patted him on the shoulder: 'welcome to the club, bud, you gotta be willing to kill the big man if you wanna be in the fang gang.' Cordelia smiled at Doyle's words, and the look of consternation on Gunn's face - the intricacies of a friendship with Angel took some getting used to. Then she turned to Lindsey. 'It was Wolfram and Hart who did this,' she told him, 'if anyone should have any idea what their game plan is, you're our best bet.'

'I'm not exactly in the loop anymore, you know?' Lindsey replied. 'In fact, I'm amazed they haven't tried to kill me.' He wrinkled his forehead, trying to remember back to the summer, before he had had his crisis of conscience. 'Angel had been causing us a lot of problems,' he said slowly, 'The Senior Partners wanted to put a stop to that - stop him ruining all their schemes.'

'Do you think their intention is for Darla to kill Angel?' Wesley was worried and he leaned forward on the desk, searching the small lawyer's face for a hint of an answer.

But Cordelia wrinkled her nose up. 'That doesn't make sense - she's human now. Those guys sent Faith after Angel and it didn't work. If a vampire slayer can't kill him, what's a normal, mortal woman gonna do?'

'But Darla isn't a 'normal, mortal woman' by any stretch of the imagination, darlin',' Doyle said to her. 'She might not have super strength anymore, or immortality, but she isn't exactly you or Kate either.'

'Exactly,' Wesley added. 'Darla has a power over Angel that Faith never held. Angel's Achilles heel is not a physical one - his weaknesses are in his soul.'

The group of people all looked at each other - worried.

Angel broke the kiss and let go of his sire, 'that's enough.' He walked away, but she followed him - she wasn't done.

'I think we have a ways to go yet' she smiled, seductively. Her voice was lascivious, and as hungry as her kisses had been. The vampire turned around and pushed her up against one of the pillars, pinning her there - trying to get her to stop. 'You're hurting me' she said, then she smiled again, 'that's good.'

Angel stepped away from her, then, flinging her to one side and morphing back into his human face. 'What is this? What game are you playing Darla?'

'I'm just having a little fun.'

'Wolfram and Hart didn't bring you back for fun. The dreams, the frame job - what's the big plan huh? Drive me so crazy I go bad again?'

'Kind of trite, I know,' she said, walking in a circle around him, still smiling that prurient smile. 'But what can you expect? They're only human.'

'Well, you'd better embrace that mediocrity, sweetie. You're talking about your own kind now.'

'But I'm still me,' she came to a stop and pressed herself up against the angry vampire. 'And I remember everything Angel, everything we did ...everything we can do.'

He pushed her away again. 'But the bitch is - you're human now, you have a soul. Pretty soon those memories are gonna start eating you up - until you can't live with it anymore. Until you can't escape the truth of what you were. Believe me - I know.'

'Oh but you can escape.' She pressed herself against him again, undeterred by his anger. 'Don't you remember how it felt?' she breathed, leaning upwards as if she would kiss him, 'to get so lost? To be so alive? You can have all that again. All you have to do is let me give you a little moment's happiness.'

He gripped her arm tightly, and snarled into her face. 'You took me places. Showed me things. You blew the top off my head. But you never made me happy.' He pushed her away then, and watched as her face changed.

The licentious smile melted off her face and she was left with an expression of hurt and bewilderment. She looked like nothing so much as a lost little girl. 'But that cheerleader did?' Her voice was pained, incredulous. 'We we're together 150 years, we did everything, shared everything. And you're saying - never?'

'You wouldn't understand.'

She walked away from him then, hiding her face by turning her back. 'Oh I understand just fine. Guy gets a taste of something new and he thinks he's touching God.'

'It wasn't about-'

'Oh you bet your ass it was,' she whirled around to face him then, angry now, the hurt had been put behind her and fury left in its place. 'There were times in the early days when you would have said I was the very definition of bliss! Buffy wasn't happiness, Angel - she was just new!'

'You know, you're getting awfully bent out of shape about this Darla.' He walked towards her, and took hold of her arm. She glared up at him. 'I couldn't feel happiness with you because I didn't have a soul then. But then I got a second chance - just like you have.'

She laughed, mirthlessly, 'what a poster child for soulfulness you are. This isn't living Angel!' She pressed herself against him, so the entire length of their bodies were touching, and then she applied extra pressure. 'Before you were neutered you weren't just any vampire - you were a legend! Nobody could keep up with you - not even me. You don't learn that kind of darkness - it's innate. You think you know me now? Well I know you too - my boy is still in there and he's dying to come out.'

Angel said nothing in reply, he just stood there, immobile, as he felt her warm body press up against his.

'Wolfram and Hart just wanted Angel out of the way,' Lindsey was telling the team. 'Faith couldn't kill him, demons couldn't kill him - and The Senior Partners don't like to lose. If they decided he couldn't be killed - they will have decided to change tack.'

'They wish to make him evil, then?' Wesley asked.

'Angel has proved to be a thorn in their side. Angelus though - they couldn't control him, but he wouldn't get in their way.'

'Their way to do what?' Doyle wanted to know.

'The Senior Partners exist to bring about one thing on this earth,' Lindsey said, 'the apocalypse. Things are going well, the world is sliding into chaos, mayhem and bloodshed - and then suddenly a champion hits the streets. A true warrior for the forces of good - and he's even connected to the big guys on the other side.' He nodded at Doyle, referencing the visions and The Powers That Be. 'Angel won't just lie down and accept hell coming to town - he'll fight. He'll give people hope. So they wanted him gone. That didn't work - but a man with his particular weaknesses is walking a thorny path - if he can't be killed, he can be distracted. Angel will fight the coming darkness, Angelus won't. Hell he may even help out - rumour has it that he once tried to have the entire earth sucked into a hell dimension.'

'That's not a rumour,' Cordelia interjected. 'I was there, it really happened.'

'Damn girl!' Gunn gave her an impressed look, 'Which apocalypse number was that?'

'3 for me - 4 if you include The Harvest. God knows what number it was for Buffy.'

'So, Darla is here to drive Angel into darkness,' Wesley mused, 'she started with his dreams, and now she has come out into the light, so to speak. Made contact.'

'And been an accessory to murder in the process,' Kate pointed out. 'She's human and if I catch her, she's going down. She'll struggle to turn Angel evil from behind the bars of the women's penitentiary.'

'Can a vampire slayer kill a vampire if they've become human again?' Cordelia asked. 'If she's going to prison I mean?' Doyle gave her a look and she held up her hands, 'hey, I'm only asking! Faith could be useful, that's all I'm saying. Better a dead Darla at the hands of Faith than a dead everybody else at the hands of Angelus.'

'She's protected by Wolfram and Hart,' Lindsey said. 'We won't be able to get her - not even you, Katie.'

'Katie?' Cordelia mouthed at Doyle, he just smiled at her.

'Well this evening has been a bust,' Kate sighed, she turned to the four team members, 'I've put a bolo out for Darla and had the one on Angel revoked. Maybe we'll catch her - probably not, if what Lindsey says is true - and she's connected. We'll deal with the death of Stephen Kramer, wrap everything that end up - come up with a report my supervisor can swallow. You guys - just try to stop him from going evil?'

'You betcha,' Cordelia agreed. 'We are so pro Angel not going evil in this house ...hotel.' She watched as the cop and the lawyer walked out of the hotel.

As they left the building Lindsey reached out and took Kate's hand. 'It's a little late for dinner. How about take out frozen yoghurt back at my place?'

'Sound's good.'

The door closed behind them and Cordelia whirled around to face Doyle, 'so, are cop lady and born again boy, like, dating now?'

The sun had risen, but Angel and Darla were still down in the water tank, still fighting. 'You're going to feel it,' Angel told her, he was exhausted, and she looked no better. 'All those people you killed, that man tonight. All of them. If you hurt anyone else, Darla, I'll kill you.'

'Will you?' she asked, 'isn't that against your cub scout code?'

'I'll make an exception.'

'You're gonna miss those dreams, honey. You should have heard the things you said in your sleep - nasty things, Angel.'

He reached out and gripped her around the throat. 'Stop!' he commanded. He squeezed tighter and she began to choke.

For the first time, her face showed some vestiges of fear, 'no, you stop,' she cried out. She held up her cross again and this time plunged it against Angel's skin. After a moment he began to smoke and sizzle, as the sacred icon pressed through the layers of cloth and into the demon underneath. But he didn't move, he just let it burn. 'See?' Darla crowed. 'It doesn't matter how good a boy you are - God doesn't want you!' He threw her off him, then, and she stumbled backwards. 'But I still do,' she finished up. She turned, freed from his grasp, and ran to the staircase, which was now bathed in daylight. She stood on the bottom step, safe in the sunshine, and turned back to him. 'What? No goodbye kiss?' And then she was gone.

He had had to wait the whole day, until night had fallen, before he could leave the water tank and return home. Now he was sealed up in the office - and Cordelia, Wesley and Doyle were out in the lobby whispering. Not that whispering made a difference. His vampire's hearing meant that he heard every word.

'Wesley go in there - see if he's gone... y'know - check that everything's - copacetic,' Cordelia hissed.

'Me? Why me? Why don't you go and talk to him?'

'A tasty bit of neck flesh like me? He'll go right for me - you're far less - appetising.'

'Doyle's a demon - vampire's don't eat demons.'

'He might break Doyle's neck'

'That really wouldn't matter now - would it?'

'Hey! It's still painful y'know, bud….' the half demon sighed, 'alright I'll go - wish me luck.'

'Do you wanna take the tranquilliser gun?' Cordelia asked.

...

Doyle arrived in the doorway to the office - sans tranq gun. 'Hey, man - we were just wonderin' if maybe -'

'I didn't go evil, Doyle.'

'Well - good. That's good. Wanna talk about it?' And the half demon entered the office, closing the door behind him. Angel got out his bottle of scotch and two glasses - pouring a shot in each.

'Just the one for me, bud, I'm cuttin' way back, remember?'

They drained the contents of the tumblers and then Doyle spoke again. 'So what happened?'

'It was really her - she's really back.'

'She's what Vocah raised in the box?'

Angel nodded. 'She's been back for months. I've been dreaming about her for weeks - I should have realised.'

'Aw man, hindsight's twenty twenty. Y' can't change the past. The question is, bud, what are you gonna do now?'

The vampire shook his head. 'I don't know.' He couldn't see where his path lay, or what his future held. He didn't know what to do.

Chapter 21: Guise will be Guise: Part One

Chapter Text

Wesley walked through the Lobby of the Hyperion, reading an open folder as he went about his tasks. He tried to open the desk drawer without looking, his nose still buried in his reading material, but it was stuck fast. He looked up and yanked harder. Nothing. He yanked again. Nothing. One final yank and the whole drawer came free, the force of it sending him flying backwards and landing on the floor. Papers cascaded through the air and down to the ground, surrounding him where he lay. He grimaced and then placed the drawer on top of the desk, before bending down and beginning to retrieve all the scattered paper work.

A man entered the lobby and stepped up to the counter. 'Hello?'

Wesley tried to straighten up to greet the newcomer, but as he stood he managed to bash his head against the underside of the desk. He swore under his breath and then attempted to stand up again, rubbing the sore spot on the back of his head. 'How can I help you?'

'Where is he?'

'Angel? I'm afraid he's rather out at the moment. I'm his associate, is there something I can do for you?'

The man looked unimpressed. 'Yeah, you can tell me where the boss is. It's kinda urgent.'

'Oh we specialise in urgent,' Wesley leaned on the counter top, wanting to know more. 'Life and death is it?'

'It could get kinda rough,' admitted the guy, 'which is why we need someone with Angel's special abilities.'

'I understand perfectly. Why don't you fill me in and -'

'You got any special abilities?' the guy interrupted, looking Wesley up and down, sizing him up.

The watcher stood up straight, stretching himself to his full height and considered his own prowess. 'Well I dare say - a few.'

'You a creature of the night?'

'No,' he admitted. 'But I used to be a rogue demon hunter, so I know how to take care of myself.' He stepped back, away from the front desk and his foot immediately landed one of the loose sheets of paper he had dropped earlier. It moved as his foot pushed it, making him skid. He went down backwards, landing right on his backside, hard. The tough guy just looked at him; sat on the floor, blinking in astonishment, surrounded by dropped paper. 'Yeah, you're real scary,' the guy said, before turning to leave. 'Tell your boss that if he doesn't want to lose customers he shouldn't be fobbing clients off with the secretary.' He walked out of the building.

'That's associate,' Wesley called after him. He sighed and stood up, just as Cordelia came rushing down the staircase. She looked at him gathering the sheets from the floor. 'What are you doing?' she asked.

'Ah - falling down, knocking things over, driving away business - you know the usual.'

'Well I've found him - and we need to stop him before it's too late. I need you to put on a suit. Doyle's upstairs changing into his…' she laughed a little. 'I had to find him, everything - you know he doesn't even own a tie? God alone knows what he'll -' a noise on the stairs announced Doyle's presence, and she turned around to look at him, as he descended wearing the full suit and tie. Wesley gave her an odd look as she seemed to make a noise that sounded like nothing so much as a feral growl in her throat - 'look like,' she finished off, sounding a little light headed.

Doyle joined them in the lobby, pulling awkwardly at his tight collar. 'I look stupid,' he announced.

'You really really don't,' Cordelia told him.

'Is my tie OK?' he asked, fussing with the offending item. 'I haven't worn a tie since high school - I think I've forgotten how to fasten one.'

'Why did you wear a tie to school?' Cordelia asked, as she straightened it out, patting him on the chest once she was done. 'How much of a loser were you? I bet the girls really went for that.'

'Um - it was part of the uniform so I had to wear it. And it was an all boys school.'

'What? Did you go to school on a different planet?'

'No - just in a different country. Do I really look OK?'

'You look a lot more than OK - no one will be able to tell that you're not supposed to be there.' She was struggling to take her eyes off him. Wesley cleared his throat, awkwardly. 'Wesley. Clothes. Changed. Now.' She never looked away from Doyle, as she barked her orders, and Wesley hurried off to do as she said. Under her appreciative and intense gaze, Doyle shuffled his feet a little, awkwardly, and smiled in embarrassment.

Down in the sewers, Angel and Gunn found what they were looking for. 'Here it is,' Angel said, 'this is where me and Doyle broke in last time.' He took out the magnetic clamps from last time and attached them to the circle that Doyle had cut out with the blow torch over six months before. 'I knew if we put this thing back in they'd never find it.'

'Good job no one stepped on it and fell on down into the sewers.'

'A Wolfram and Hart lawyer? I could've lived with that.'

'You're all heart, man.'

Angel shushed his young associate and then used his vampire hearing to check if the corridor above was clear. A security guard was pacing the hall, and the vampire waited until he had walked away, before pulling down on the clamps and removing the circular part of the ceiling. He and Gunn crawled up into the basement of the law firm, and made their way to the higher levels.

As they stepped out into the ground floor corridor, they saw three lawyers down the other end, heads bent together. 'Just walk past,' Angel whispered. 'Don't say anything don't make eye contact, don't move too fast. Just keep going.'

The pair of them sauntered, nonchalantly, past the attorneys and made their way to the elevators that went up to the higher offices. They stepped into the first one that arrived but, just as the door was closing, a briefcase was placed in between the door and the wall, jamming it. The two men inside the elevator looked on in alarm, and we're relieved when the briefcase was quickly followed up by Wesley, Cordelia, and Doyle.

'What are you three doing here?' Angel asked, as he pulled them inside the elevator.

'Wait a minute - you three were the lawyers we were just hiding from?' Gunn asked. 'How'd you get in here?'

'Through the door!' Cordelia told him, pulling out a pair of glasses that were just frames and putting them on her face. 'Hello! Lawyer!' she grinned. She made one hot attorney. Angel pushed the 'up' button, his secretary immediately reached out and pressed the 'open' button. The doors slid open again, and the elevator waited. 'You are not going up there!' she told Angel.

He pressed up again, and waited for the doors to close once more. 'No. No. I have to do this. I have to find her...where they have her...'

'Still with the Darla thing?' Cordelia was exasperated. She re pressed the 'open' button.

'Angel, man, you gotta snap outta this!' Doyle told him. Angel gave his small friend an odd look, he had never seen Doyle in a suit before - he looked - different. 'This isn't healthy, bud. They want you crazy. Why are you lettin' them win?'

'Did you encourage this?' Wesley asked Gunn, looking at him accusatorily.

But the younger man just shrugged. 'Hey, I'm just here for the ride.'

Angel pressed the up button.

Cordelia pressed open. 'Gonna be a pretty short ride,' she said, 'they have vamp detectors.'

'And a pretty extensive security service - I might add,' Doyle agreed. 'Remember all the trouble we went to last time to break in here? And now - what - you just waltz in through the door without a care in the world?'

'It's cool,' Gunn told them. 'He's got a plan.'

'Oh, A plan?' Wesley said, sarcastically - looking at Angel, expectantly, as he waited to hear more.

'Yeah,' Angel replied, pushing up. 'I get to the offices before they stop me.'

'See,' Gunn said, nodding his head. Then his brain caught up with his ears, as he digested the information the vampire had just given them. 'What?' his head whipped around so he could eyeball Angel. 'That was the plan? Walking real fast was the plan?'

Cordelia pressed open. 'Angel! Listen to yourself you're all insane and angry and -' Angel pressed up - 'Insane! You need help!'

'She's right, man.'

'I'm not insane and I'm not angry.'

Cordelia pressed open. This time, though, when the doors slid apart there was a security guard stood outside - waiting. He flicked a switch, and a stake concealed in his nightstick sprung outwards. Angel grabbed hold of it, twisted the man's arm around and then impaled the guard in the foot with his own stake. The guard screamed out in pain. Doyle and Cordelia flinched, Wesley winced and looked away.

'Man that's nasty,' Gunn said, looking down at the security guard in disgust. The group swept out of the elevator, walking past the injured man on the floor. 'Maybe I am a little angry,' Angel said as they headed for the door.

Cordelia shook her head, 'maybe?' But as she left the law offices, she slid her arm through Doyle's and grinned at him. 'You know all this insanity has been worth it just to see you in that suit. Promise you'll wear it when we finally go on our date?'

'You really like this look, darlin'?'

'Yuhuh - you look totally hot.'

Doyle looked very pleased with himself, when he heard her words, and his walk took on something of a swagger. 'Then I guess I'll wear it on our date.'

Two Japanese business men stood on the stage at Caritas, singing 'I Got You Babe' - not especially in tune. The four living members of team Angel sat at a table near the front, enjoying cocktails and watching the show. Gunn was gazing around at the assortment of creatures that populated the other tables, his eyes followed a horned demon that crossed in front of them, sat down at the neighbouring table and then used the candle sat in the middle of his table as a cigarette lighter. 'OK. What I want to know is: how'd I live in L.A all my life and not notice weird ass stuff goin' on?'

'Oh the ass is weirder than you think,' Cordelia told him, sliding a cherry off a cocktail stick and popping it in her mouth.

'Yep. demon's frequenting karaoke bars is only the tip o' the iceberg.'

'There's more weird?' Gunn asked, 'cause horned monsters enjoying a bit of Sonny and Cher is about as far out as I can imagine going.'

'They do more than just enjoy the singing, bud,' Doyle replied.

'Come again?'

'The Host - that green fellow talking to Angel over there-' Wesley pointed in the direction of the bar, indicating the charismatic demon that ran Caritas, 'reads demon's souls, auras - puts them on their path.'

'But he can only do it when they sing Karaoke,' Cordelia finished up.

...

Over at the bar, the Host was drinking a Sea Breeze and having a quiet conversation with the vampire with a soul. He was both surprised and relieved to find Angel back in his club, seeking his advice. 'I thought maybe I'd seen you walk out here for the last time,' The green skinned demon said. 'You doing OK?'

'Yeah ...yeah.' There wasn't any conviction behind Angel's words, and his expression belied the truth of them.

The Host raised his painted on eyebrow. 'How about once more with less feeling?' he asked.

Angel shuffled, awkwardly, glancing down at his shoes, and re positioned himself against the bar before he answered. 'I guess I'm a little -ah - uhm - rocky.'

'You're Rocky. And Rocky II. And half of the one with Mr. T. Tell me about it.'

I just - I I feel this… like -I have to do something - and If I don't let it out I'll explode, and then - when I do something - it feels, ah - maybe, maybe this is it. I…' the vampire hung his head and mumbled the next part. 'I'll sing if I have to.'

...

'So the question is,' Doyle said, draining his Margarita, 'what will our boy be favourin' us with this evening? Pony up guys and place your bets.' He, Wesley and Cordelia all rooted into their wallets and brought out a five dollar bill, each, which they placed on the table.

'Hang on a mo,' Gunn interrupted, watching them in incredulity, 'are you really sayin' that -'

'Sure thing, bud. Ladies first - Cordelia, what's your guess for this evenin'?'

Cordelia wrinkled up her nose as she thought. 'Well, this is all about work, right? Getting the job done? So my five bucks says 'working nine til five' by Dolly Parton.'

'Good call,' Doyle said, nodding sagely, 'but maybe it's a little fast? The big guy loves himself a ballad. This is all about his obsession with Darla - so it's gonna be a love song, and it's gonna be a slowy. My guess is 'when a man loves a woman,' Percy Sledge.'

'My money is on something by Elvis,' Wesley said.

Cordelia snorted: 'The King himself, that's so Angel!'

The British man nodded his agreement. 'Exactly, Mr. Tall, Dark and Hair gel has minor delusions of grandeur. I'm going to split the difference between the two of you - love song about Darla, but nice and fast to work off his excess energy - 'The Devil in Disguise'.'

'Nice,' Doyle nodded his approval, then he turned to the newest member of their team. 'So, what'll it be? A quick tip, as you're a newbie - the champ loves himself a bit of Manilow.'

'Wait are you guys really sayin? Is Angel gonna sing?' The other three all looked at him, grinning and nodding their heads. 'Aw man, is Angel gonna sing?'

...

'You don't have to sing,' the Host told the vampire. 'A break for you, a break for me and a break for Mr. Manilow.'

'OK, If you're sure.' Angel sounded relieved, but not necessarily convinced.

'I am, Angelito,' the Host told him. 'There's something you're forgetting in all this, big guy. I'm not your guide. I'm not the one who is a PTB approved mentor sent specifically to help you find your path.' He nodded over to where the group of Angel's associates sat, laughing and drinking, as they waited for Angel to sing. 'Old Irish eyes over there is the one who's very purpose in this world is to keep you on the straight and narrow. It's him you need to be looking to in all this - not me.'

'Doyle? But what does he know?'

'Nothing! That's not the point. His mission is making sure you complete your mission. Stick with him, listen to him - he'll see you right. Now I know a place, the two of you can go there - it's right up his alley- spend some time, regroup - come back refreshed and back on the path.' The demon took out a notepad and scribbled an address on it and handed it over to Angel.

The vampire glanced at it. 'Tijuana?' He asked in surprise. 'You want me and Doyle to go to Tijuana?'

The bartender walked up and handed the Host a fresh Sea Breeze, taking away his old glass.

'It's a break. Put some clear blue water between you and this whole Darla thing and reconnect with your friend. You'll come back a new man.' He raised his Sea Breeze to his lips and took a sip as he watched the small group of demon fighters sat around the table, laughing and having fun. Doyle had slipped his arm around Cordelia and joined in with the Japanese business men - just for a single line: 'I got you babe.' The Host sighed, deeply. 'Take this time with Doyle, Angelcakes, enjoy it. You're not the only one with dark powers lining up against you right now - there's a rough road ahead for our little lucky charm.'

'Doyle? Is in danger? Will he be OK?'

'His path is unclear right now - if his friends stick by him, then - maybe, maybe it can all be averted. The question is: can you be there for him, big guy? Can you put this Darla nonsense behind you in order to concentrate on what really matters? Or will you let him suffer alone?'

The two men up on stage, finished their song and the Host slapped his big smile back on his face. 'Lovely! That was cher-rrific, boys!'

Angel headed over to his friends. 'We're going,' he told them, 'I don't have to sing.'

'Oh Thank God!' Cordelia exclaimed, Angel looked at her in annoyance and she backpedalled 'I - I mean for your sake, 'cause you don't like to do that.'

The two demons took to the freeway, it was deserted and Angel pressed the pedal right down to the metal. It was about a three and a half hour drive to Tijuana - they hoped to be there in two.

Cordelia and Wesley were back at the hotel, tidying up the papers that he had scattered on the floor early that morning. 'They should be back tomorrow night,' Cordelia said, as she shuffled through the loose sheets, trying to restore some kind of order. 'Doyle said the address was for some kind of demon bar and sweat lodge combo. He likes the sound of the bar - though he's less impressed with the sweating part. I figure they'll get there tonight - Doyle'll talk Angel out of being all crazy and then they'll wait til after sunset tomorrow to drive back.'

'You're not worried about what Doyle might get up to on the streets of Tijuana, during the day, when Angel can't be there to keep an eye on him?'

'I'm sure even Doyle can't make enough enemies in one night that he'll need constant vampire protection - and he's doing much better with the drinking thing. He should be OK.' She took some of the papers into Angel's office and, seizing the opportunity of her surly boss being absent, sat down in his big chair and began to spin. 'Hey! Look at me, I'm Angel!' she cried, her face lit up by her massive smile.

'He doesn't generally spin that much,' Wesley pointed out to her. She put her foot down on the ground to stop the spinning. 'You're right,' she agreed, 'this is Angel.' She picked up one of his old pretentious books and pretended to read it, furrowing her forehead to make her expression pensive and brooding. 'Oh, no. I can't do anything fun tonight. I have to count my past sins, then alphabetise them. Oh by the way I'm thinking of snapping on Friday.' Wesley suppressed a smile and Cordelia reverted back to her brilliant beam. 'You know I love Angel and all,' she told her British coworker, 'but, boy am I glad that it's Doyle that got lumbered with the babysit and handhold - and not me.'

The convertible cruised down the Avenida Revolucion, before turning off and wending its way to a seedier, less vibrant part of town. They pulled up outside a small bar, and Doyle checked the address against the note the Host had scribbled. 'I guess this is it,' he said.

They entered through the saloon doors and were greeted with the sight of scores of demons, of all varieties, sitting in the smoke filled room at tables, propping up the bar or playing pool. One scaly, purplish creature with curved horns was trying to get the jukebox to work. 'This place isn't a sanctuary, Like Caritas,' Angel warned, as they made their way to the bar. 'These demons can fight in here, so be careful and don't start anything.'

'When do I ever cause trouble?' Doyle protested.

They reached the bar and Angel signalled the bartender. This guy was almost human looking, but his skin was red and he had small horns at either temple. 'What can I get you boys?' he asked.

'Um - a beer and - do you have O positive?' Angel asked.

'Sure thing, pig's?' the guy replied, 'or I can do you a glass of fruity capybara.'

'Uh- Pig's is fine'

'You must be the vampire and his pal that the Host rang me about - come here for some spiritual cleansing?' the demon said, as he fixed the drinks. 'You can go in the sweat lodge in the morning - it's not like a blood sucker like you will be looking to sunbathe!'

Angel looked confused. 'You want us to take part in a sacred ritual after spending the night drinking in your bar? Isn't that a bit ...sacrilegious?'

'We're demons,' the bartender pointed out. 'Let the humans keep their sacred ceremonies in their own way - we do things our way. You know what Rasputin used to say about forgiveness?'

'In order to be forgiven one must first sin,' Angel replied without hesitation.

'Exactly!' the bartender said. 'And in order to purify yourself, first you gotta need purification.' He plonked the blood and the beer on the counter. 'Now you boys have a good evening.'

Cordelia had picked up her purse and was headed through the lobby on her way home. As she reached the door, she suddenly felt someone grab her from behind, and she found herself held in a choke hold. 'Where is Angel?' an unfamiliar, male voice hissed in her ear.

'He's not here,' she gasped, struggling to free herself. But it was no use, the man's grip was too strong.

'You're lying. Give me Angel.'

Cordelia tugged on his arm once more, trying to relieve the pressure from around her neck. 'I can't - let me go.' He dropped her and she turned around, furious. 'It's about time -' but her words were cut off, when the man raised a gun and pointed it at her…

Chapter 22: Guise will be Guise: Part Two

Chapter Text

Wesley had just been finishing up in Angel's office and, as he left that room and headed back towards the lobby, he heard the panicked voice of Cordelia. He stopped where he was and listened.

'My boss needs your boss,' a man was saying. 'So are you going to go and get him for me - or am I going to blow your head off?'

'No! I-I I can't!'

'Pity,' he cocked the gun. Wesley returned to Angel's office.

...

'Please! Please wait!' Cordelia had her hands held up in surrender, and was imploring the man to hold his fire. Her words were having no effect, however, and he pointed the gun at her head. She closed her eyes, and turned her face away, ever so slightly; bracing for the shot.

...

The door to Angel's office opened and a tall figure strode out, Angel's coat billowed behind him as he walked. 'I'm Angel!' Wesley slipped on the floor, but was able to right himself before the goon with the gun had turned around to face him. The gun was now pointed at the watcher, but he forced himself to stare down the barrel, calmly. 'You looking for me?'

The two demonic members of Angel investigations sat themselves down at a rickety table, their drinks in hand. 'I just don't understand why the Host thinks this is the place to deal with all my problems,' Angel said, as he glanced around the dive bar. The air was thick with smoke and alcohol fumes. Over in a corner two large, scary looking demons were beating each other over the head with pool cues.

'Ah - it's the distance we've created,' Doyle answered him, shrugging: 'both physical and metaphorical. You've left L.A and Darla behind - so now you can gain a little perspective, like, reassess your situation - without wonderin' if she's gonna walk by at any minute.'

'Right, I'm perspective guy. Now what?'

Doyle sighed and took a swig of his beer, then he pushed his chair backwards so he could get a better view of Angel, and folded his arms across his chest. 'Look, bud, Wolfram and Hart are playin y' 'cause you're a threat to their cause. They want you gone 'cause they don't want you messing up their plans for the end of humanity or whatnot. They couldn't kill y' - so instead they've decided to make you dark. That's not the important bit.'

'It's not?'

'No. The important bit is - why are you lettin' them win?'

'I'm not,' The vampire protested, 'Darla -'

'Is a distraction. Nothin' more. Sure, when she was hauntin' your dreams I can see why she was gettin' to y'. She was in your psyche, your subconscious - and you didn't know what was happenin'. But now she's out in the open…' He broke off and shook his head. 'I guess I just don't get why you're still playin' her game now you can see it for what it is.'

'You don't get it, Doyle, you can't know the link between me and Darla - the strength, the power. This isn't some happy little human romance, like you and Cordelia - this is an eternal bond. You could never understand that.'

'Fine. I'm not in the immortal club so I don't get to understand eternity - but I do understand relationships, you think your bond with Darla is something special - that nothing else compares?'

'You don't understand.'

'What about your bond with Buffy?' The Irishman fixed the vampire with a stern gaze, and watched as his friend began to flounder. 'Look bud, you're the real deal - a champion. You've lived and loved and fought and lost and vanquished- inside of a single day, some days. I still haven't asked Cordy out for dinner. You're not like other people, Angel - you don't get to be. But the vampire I know is in love with precisely one tiny, little blonde woman - and her name aint Darla. And that guy had the strength to walk away from this woman - twice - for her own good. Which begs the question - why can't you walk away from Darla? You don't love her, you have the strength to do what's right no matter what - and you're not doing it. Angel, do you want to turn dark? Is that what this is about?'

The goon trained his gun on Wesley's chest. 'That - that won't kill me,' Wesley stammered, cursing the way his tongue tripped over the words, as he desperately tried to appear unruffled.

'Fine,' the tough guy said, lowering his weapon. 'Lets go.'

He began to head for the door, but Wesley didn't follow him. 'You expect me to just follow you? Why should I? As you know, that gun won't kill me.'

'Oh yeah?' The goon pointed his gun back at Cordelia, aiming once more for her head. 'What'll it do to her? Now come on.'

Wesley held his hands up in panic, placating the tough guy. 'OK, OK, I'll go.' He gave one last, desperate glance to Cordelia, who stared back at him with horror in her eyes. 'But I won't be cooperative,' he said.

...

The tough guy drove them to a large, white mansion that was surrounded by wrought iron railings. There were robed men standing guard at the curlicued gates. The car swept up an expansive driveway to a paved circle in front of the house. A fountain, with a decorative cherub stood on top, tinkled away in the middle of the circle. They got out of the car, and the goon opened the impressive front door and stepped inside, Wesley followed on immediately behind him.

'I invite you in,' the goon said, without turning around; and behind him, Wesley hastily staggered back a couple of steps, so he was outside once more - before re entering the grand house.

'Thank you - very considerate.'

As they stood in the hallway, two middle aged men came out of one of the rooms - arguing. Their tones were polite but the words were hostile. One of the men left, and the other turned to Wesley and the goon. 'Angel!' He reached out and shook Wesley's hand, 'sorry to make you wait - business thing. Come in.' Wesley was ushered into the room that the two arguing men had just vacated. It was a home office, but a very finely appointed one. 'I'm pleased to meet you, Angel. My name is Magnus Bryce. Benny, get him a drink.' The goon went over to the drinks cabinet.

'I know who you are Mr. Bryce,' Wesley told him, 'I read the business pages.' His tone changed to show some of his annoyance, then, 'I don't know why you want me here, but this is not the way to get my cooperation. Your man abducted me tonight.' His voice rose with outrage and indignation, but Mr. Bryce remained calm. He said soothing words to placate the man in front of him, but he didn't apologise.

Benny came back over to them and handed Wesley the drink he had been fixing. It was a small tumbler filled with a red substance that, on first glance, Wesley mistook for tomato juice but then realised, with a sense of disquiet, that it was in fact: 'blood.' He tried to hide his natural revulsion. 'I don't normally - drink - in front of humans.'

'Don't insult me,' Mr. Bryce said, and with Benny and Bryce watching on, Wesley had no choice but to press the tumbler to his lips and take a sip. The liquid was cold and thick and slimy - and the taste was- 'Dear God,' Wesley exclaimed as he forced himself to swallow. 'That's - nummy.' He lifted a hand to cover his mouth, hoping to also cover his abject disgust, and bad reaction to the blood.

Happy to have seen his guest refreshed, Bryce then began to explain his problem. Although he was famed, in the business pages, for making his money through software - in fact all his wealth came from wizardry. The first spell in the family had been a tallness illusion, created by his great grandfather in his garage. Now it was custom designed spells for the right money. As he listened, Wesley put his hand to his stomach, and then quickly lifted it back to his mouth as he felt the blood repeat on him.

Bryce turned to the table to pick something up, and at the exact moment, Benny also looked away. Realising he was unobserved, Wesley took a sideways step towards a vase of flowers and quickly poured the rest of his blood inside it. The vase was clear, and the water turned red. As Bryce and Benny turned back to him, Wesley hopped in front of the vase - obscuring the reddened water from sight.

'You notice someone in town with looks and talent,' Bryce told him, 'chances are we provided one of them. It's like they say: The goddess Yeska does not give with both hands. It's not a nice business. I have a lot of enemies - industry rivals.'

'Like the man in the hall?' Wesley asked.

'Paul Lanier? His firm deals in wish granting. Scary little euro-creep. And there are others.'

'Lanier is threatening you?'

'Someone is threatening my daughter. My only family. Could be Lanier, could be Briggs over at Consolidated curses. There have been ...phone calls - letters. Twice we've caught intruders in the house. I've used every protection spell I know, but these guys are in the business. Nothing has worked.'

'And you want me to say I will act as her bodyguard?' Wesley surmised.

'You don't get much of a say in anything. I will pay you a lot of money to protect my daughter - and we'll both be happy.'

'That's it isn't it?' Doyle said, when he saw the look on Angel's face. He began to press. 'She opened a window in that soul o' yours - made you realise it didn't have to be this way. That there was an easy way out. And all that guilt, that remorse - this whole attempt at redemption gig - would go away - and you'd be free.'

'No,' Angel squirmed, 'that's not it at all.'

But the half demon looked unconvinced. 'Atonement's meant to be hard, Angel. It's meant to hurt. You and me - we got a lot to make up for - and sure, in your darkest hours it's easy to think 'why me?' There are hundreds, thousands even, of bastards doing worse stuff than us out there - so why are we the ones that've got to pay? It's because we're the ones that are sorry, Angel, man. Some of those people out there - they can't save themselves, they can't atone. We can. We've been given a chance to make things right with the world. And sure it's painful and it's brutal and it's every day; but it's a gift you've been given - I've been given. Don't give up on it. Y'think you can just lose yourself in Darla and put an end to all this? Y' think we'd ever let you? If we didn't kill y', then we'd get Cordelia's little witch friend to stuff your soul back inside of you so fast your head would spin. And then you'd have even more to atone for.'

'I don't want to go dark!' Angel protested.

'And if you keep tellin' yourself that, then it might just become true. I've been there, man, I know what it's like to lose yourself because the path is too hard, just hopin' it'll all go away. I know that never works. You have to fight.'

Over in the corner, the two big demons had stopped beating each other up with pool cues and had rounded on a much smaller demon, working together to batter and bruise the defenceless creature.

'So that's your great advice?' Angel asked sulkily, 'be a good boy, stay on the right path and remember that all this guilt is a gift?'

'No,' Doyle drained the last of his beer. 'This is Mexico, man, so my advice is that we sack off the beer and pig's blood and switch to Tequila. Whilst I'm rustling us up a lime and some salt, you go over there,' he nodded to the demon fight in the corner, 'and help out that hopeless type. Remind yourself of who y' really are - and get a spot of satisfyin' violence in at the same time.'

Bryce escorted Wesley upstairs, down a corridor laid with thick, plush carpet on the floor, and ornate lighting sconces on the walls. He pushed open a door to reveal a bedroom inside. A young woman, with long red curls, was lounging on the bed, reading. She glanced up as she heard the door and looked at the intruders.

'Virginia, honey, we have a guest,' Bryce told his daughter.

'Oh look, the vampire is here.' She sounded bored and unimpressed.

Wesley nodded 'Um - yes - hello.'

She sat upright: 'well, daddy knows how to send out for just about anything.'

As Virginia and her father began to argue, Wesley sauntered into the room, looking round it. He passed a dressing table, with a large vanity mirror, and caught sight of his own reflection. He hurriedly leapt out of the way. 'Cover the mirror,' he demanded, hoping that the Bryce's had not spotted anything amiss.

'Why?' Virginia wrinkled her nose, 'we know you're a vampire.'

Caught off guard, Wesley began to extemporise, pulling at ideas in his head, like they were loose threads in a tapestry, praying that he could find something that could act as a convenient excuse - give him cover. He could not spend the next - god knows how long - trying to dance around that mirror. 'Strategy - you see - if we were to be attacked - in here ...then I wouldn't want my enemies to know what I was too soon - give away my advantage.'

Virginia got up off the bed, clearly irritated, and draped a shawl across the mirror, casting a dark look in Wesley's direction as she did. 'You're anticipating letting kidnappers into my room?'

Wesley sighed - this young woman was not going to make this job easy for him, and it was difficult enough just pulling off this deception. 'Mr Bryce, could I speak to Virginia alone for a minute?' He asked. Mr. Bryce nodded and stepped back out into the corridor, closing the door behind him. Wesley fixed Virginia with a stare, and held her gaze. 'You know I didn't want to be here?' he told her. 'Your father's associate threatened the life of my employee to ensure that I would come. I am in no particular mind to cooperate with your father or do as he asks.'

It was Virginia's turn to sigh, she dropped down into the wicker chair that sat just across from the bed. 'Daddy thinks he owns everyone,' she told him.

'And it's high time he found out that he didn't - however - you are not your father, and the threats against you are real. You are in real danger and, much as I disapprove of your father's methods, I cannot, in good conscience, leave you here unguarded.'

'There have been a lot of threats over the years,' she told him, shrugging. She waved at the numerous bookshelves that lined the walls. 'Every time there's a new threat, I buy a bookshelf. I get confined to my room. This is the first time I've required vampire protection.'

'Are you afraid?'

'Do you think you're up to the job?'

'I'll certainly give it a go. Unless you want to fight me about it?'

Virginia paused for a moment, considering causing a fuss, but then she stood up. 'Let's go shopping.'

'What? Now? It's the middle of the night! Wouldn't you rather wait 'til morning ... when I can't feasibly leave the house...Yes. As your bodyguard, I insist we go at once.'

They walked out of the room, passing Bryce still stood in the corridor. 'We're going shopping,' Wesley informed him.

'At gunpoint?'

'Yes! At the point of a gun!' Panicked when Wesley had not returned, and unable to get hold of Angel and Doyle on their romantic Mexican getaway, Cordelia had called Gunn back to the hotel, and relayed the night's events to him. 'He just walked Wesley right out of here,' she told her newest associate. 'And this whole 'I'm Angel' thing is a very very bad idea. I mean, if I thought that would work I could have been Angel - 'cause guess what? Pretty much a girly name!'

'Where'd they go?'

'I don't know - I tried to follow them, but I lost them. I tried ringing the number Doyle left me for this demon spiritual hangout they've gone too, but I can't get through. The line is busy - I swear - demons must chat like 14 year old girls on the phone.'

'What about their cells?'

'No answer there either.'

'So what's the plan?' Gunn wanted to know.

'The plan is - you go and get Doyle and Angel from this retreat thingy. I try and track down Wesley. The guy that took him was pretty distinctive. Maybe I can find a criminal record - known associates - uh - mug shots…'

'I better get goin' It's a long drive to Tijuana - you got the address?'

She handed the information Doyle had left her over to Gunn. 'Gunn - this thug guy is bad news. I really hate to think where Wesley might be right now.'

Wesley glanced around the magical department store he found himself in. the floor was made of marble, there were buckets of ice containing champagne out on plinths, and classical music played softly in the background. 'I say, this place is extraordinary - but isn't it a little exposed here? Are you safe?'

'You tell me,' Virginia smiled, as she browsed the magical artefacts displayed in glass cases.

'Oh yes. My job. Exactly. Make it safe. Well I shall do my best.'

'We all do our best for daddy,' she replied, her voice a little bitter. 'It makes shopping for him a real pain.'

'Are we looking for a gift for him?'

Virginia nodded. Bryce's birthday was coming up, his fiftieth - and this was why he had been so twitchy lately. He had a large celebratory party planned, but that made the security harder to enforce. Plus, Virginia suspected there was something of a midlife crisis going on. She drifted over to another glass case, this one filled with charms, Wesley noted her interest. 'You're looking at talismans?'

She nodded, 'of the goddess Yeska. Daddy's favourite creepy deity. What do you think of the gold one?'

Wesley picked it up and examined it, feeling its weight in his hand. 'It's not real gold, it can't be,' he told her. His watcher's training kicked in: 'one good hex and it would be finished. You should go with the iron one.'

Virginia laughed softly, noting the similarity between her father and Wesley, the way they really cared about all this magic and ritual stuff, the way they took it so seriously. She had loved this sort of thing once upon a time. When she had been a little girl, after her mom had died and it was just the two of them, she had loved learning about runic incantations or enchanted armour. But she had grown past all that. Her father, however, had not. 'I guess he's got to love something,' she said, a little sadly.

Wesley rested his hand on top of a helmet that sat on the counter beside them. 'Virginia,' he said in a comforting tone of voice, 'you're father clearly loves you very much. He's gone to a great deal of trouble to protect you.'

But she just shrugged, unconvinced, 'he has his car insured as well.' She looked at where his hand was resting, on top of the helmet, and frowned. 'Doesn't that hurt?'

Wesley took his hand away to see what the problem was: the helmet had a small, ornamental cross sticking out from the top of it. He had wrapped his fist right around it, naturally feeling nothing. He immediately grabbed his hand and waved it around 'ow, hot hot!' He cried before plunging it into the nearby bucket of ice. After a moment he ripped it back out. 'Ow! Cold Cold!'

As Wesley pranced around, flicking iced water off his hand, two tough guys approached Virginia. 'Virginia, we're gonna go now,' the first one said.

'Say goodbye to the pretty guy!' The second one added, taking hold of her arm.

She twisted away from him, turning back towards Wesley. 'Angel!' she cried out to him.

'You're Angel?' The first guy asked. 'The vampire?' They let go of Virginia and backed away ever so slightly.

'Yes - Yes I am - I'm Angel.' Wesley tried his best not to stammer. He pulled his glasses off his face and laid them down on the counter, and then fixed the two tough guys with his most penetrating stare. 'The vampire with a soul - fighting for my redemption - with - with killing evil demons.' He began to gain confidence as he saw the men buying it, beginning to back away. 'Don't worry boys, I don't kill humans - unless I'm angry.'

Virginia hurried away from the two men, and went to stand behind Wesley. The tough guys held their hands up to placate the menacing vampire in front of them. 'Hey, man, we were just doing what he told us.'

'Who?' Wesley asked. 'Lanier?'

The men nodded.

'Fine - you're going to leave now - and tell Lanier -' He raised his hand up his temple, as if trying to transmit the thought directly to them, 'forget about the girl. Now go!'

The two men turned tail and fled. Wesley put his glasses back on. 'We'd better get you home. It's not safe here, and if we give them a next time it could get a lot rougher.'

Chapter 23: Guise will be Guise: Part Three

Chapter Text

The two big demons had been neutralised, the little demon saved; and Doyle had found all the necessary ingredients for Tequila Slammers. He licked his wrist, sprinkled some salt on it, licked that - downed his shot of tequila and then immediately bit into the lime wedge and sucked the sour citrus flavour. His face crumpled in on itself and his whole body juddered, as the onslaught of bitterness went through him. 'Your turn, man,' he rasped - pushing everything towards Angel.

'You know what, Doyle? I think I'll pass.'

'Absolutely not. I'm your spiritual guide and mentor, putting you back on the path to righteousness, what I says goes. Besides, you heard the demon bartender - you gotta work up a lot of sin before you can go purify in the sweat lodge. And I'm gonna have to be very drunk to prance around in nothin' but a towel in front of a whole load of demon types - shot - now.'

Angel sighed deeply, only to demonstrate his own frustration - as vampires had no need to exhale. He went about pouring the salt onto his own wrist, licking it off, downing the shot and then sucking the lime. The alcohol made him grimace, but much of the sour taste - the challenge itself - was lost on him due to his deadened vampire taste buds. 'Was that supposed to be fun?'

'The more you do, the funnerer it gets,' Doyle told him, pulling the bottle back towards himself. 'Thanks for humouring me, big guy.' He went through the the three steps again, winced, and then pushed everything back across to Angel. 'So the fight?' The half demon asked, as he watched the vampire down the shot. 'How'd y' find it?'

Angel pulled a face at the tequila before answering. 'It was just a fight.'

'Yeah? Didn't get your adrenaline up? Heart thumpin'? Blood racin'? Made you feel like you were alive?' Angel just looked at him, and Doyle backtracked on his words. 'Oh no - I guess it really didn't, did it? Still…' he broke off to complete another shot, shuddered, and then continued, 'did it remind you of who you are at all? What your purpose is? Defending those that can't defend themselves.'

'I guess ...it was just a little demon, though - not like I averted the apocalypse or saved a bus full of nuns and kittens or anything.'

'But you forget, man, one life at a time, one soul at a time. That's the mission. Sure, some are more worthy of protection than others, sure, some are bigger fights for you than others - but in the grand scheme o' things - balancin' the scales between good and evil - all lives matter the same.'

'And what? - At the end of all this - I save enough lives, I balance the scales enough, outweigh all the evil I did and then …?'

'Well, there is always that little matter of the Shanshu Prophecy, remember? You avert the apocalypse, stop the coming darkness, save all the little helpless types and eventually you become a real boy.'

Angel sighed again, angst played a big part in this put on exhalation. 'That prophecy - you know I set a lot of store by it over the summer. Lost sight of the big picture, I was so eager to get to the end. But then the dreams started … and the prophecy faded in importance.'

'Well I rather think that was the whole point of Wolfram and Hart's little exercise. Stop you from reachin' your goal.'

'But maybe I'm not supposed to,' Angel said quietly. Doyle raised his eyebrows when he heard what his friend said, but he didn't reply - he just waited - and the vampire continued after a moment. 'I can't change what I've done - I can't bring back the people I killed, or undo the hurt. But somehow the powers have decided that I can become human again, clean slate - fresh start. It doesn't work like that. It shouldn't work like that. Even when I'm human - I'm still responsible for all the lives I've taken, why do I get a second chance when they don't?'

'Because you're earning it,' Doyle told him.

But Angel just shook his head. 'It doesn't matter what I do - how many people I save, the whole world even - I shouldn't be forgiven, I shouldn't get a reward - because I can't undo what I did.'

'So what? You're letting Darla play with your mind, turning to the darkness - because you're afraid you might be made human before your period of self flagellation is over? Man, you have a real addiction to the brooding part of life.'

Angel chuckled ruefully, 'you've said that to me before, I guess it hasn't changed, I haven't changed.'

'No, but your circumstances have. So let me see if I've got this straight-' Doyle rocked back on his chair, so he was balanced on only the back two legs, and held up his left hand, counting off on his fingers as he spoke. 'On the one hand, you wanna turn dark because you have all this guilt and being evil is an easy fix to make the pain go away - that's your weakness talking. And on the other hand, you wanna turn dark because you've been offered a big, shiny reward for doing good and you don't ever think you'll deserve it - so you wanna scupper your own chances. That's your fear and your guilt talkin'. But what does your inner champion say?'

Angel just shook his head. 'I don't know.'

'Well - maybe if you're real quiet you'll hear him when you're in the sweat lodge. Now, there's only a couple of hours before I'm gonna have to get way more naked than I'm comfortable being in front of other people - just to support you through your mid centenary crisis - so let's imbibe more tequila, yeah?'

He poured the salt on his hand, licked it and then reached for a shot. His face screwed up again, 'ah - that's the stuff.'

...

At the back of the bar, the red skinned bartender spoke quietly into the the phone. 'He's down here, like my contact said he would be - him and some little demon half breed. Caused a bit of trouble in a fight, but they're mostly peaceful . I'm delaying them as long as possible - putting them in the sweat lodge come daybreak, for the whole of the day. The shaman knows to hold them there.'

At the other end of the line, back in L.A, Lanier frowned into his handset. 'What are you talking about?'

'The vampire with a soul! Word was you wanted him out of the way - that's what I'm doing.'

'Wait -wait!' Lanier interrupted. 'You're saying that Angel is in Mexico?'

'Yeah, man, he got here a few hours ago. He's been drinking and fighting right in front of me. Came right after he spoke to the Host, just like Ramone said he would.'

'The vampire is with you?' Lanier then spoke the next words almost entirely to himself. 'Then who the hell is the English guy?'

Cordelia sat at the computer, her eyes slightly glazed over, as she looked at mugshot after mugshot. She wasn't finding anything on the net - she needed Doyle for this, he was better at this sort of stuff than she was. But Doyle was gone, along with Angel, and it was up to her to rescue Wesley - but the going was slow, and boring - she might add.

She eyed up the gossip magazine that lay beside her keyboard and then wrenched her gaze away, forcing herself to look back at the mugshots. But it was like the magazine was calling to her, and she gave it another sideways glance. 'OK,' she said out loud, 'but just for two minutes.' She picked up the glossy mag and began to flick through. 'Celeb photos, page 46 - celeb photos, celeb photos.' She flipped to page 46 and then stared in disbelief. There he was, the tough guy, in a celebrity photo. Software tycoon and millionaire, Magnus Bryce, was attending a charity gala with his daughter Virginia and there, lurking in the shot just behind them, was the goon with the gun. Doyle would never have found this guy!

Wesley had escorted Virginia back to the mansion, and they were walking down the corridor towards her room, their footsteps muffled by the thickness of the carpet. The watcher was worried that Virginia had been made afraid by the attack on her at the store, but the young woman was more angry. She had had enough of this. Her whole life it had been threats to her safety, hiding and security. It wasn't her attackers themselves she was angry at, it was her whole situation. 'It's a waste of a life,' she told Wesley, angrily. 'The whole time I'm waiting for my life to start and it never does! There is just more locks - and surveillance cameras- and…' As she approached her bedroom door she saw two men stood outside of it. They were robed like the ones that guarded the gate to the house. 'Guards?!' she cried in outrage and exasperation. 'OK - what is this now? Bedroom guards?' She approached the two men at the door, furious, 'OK you better go back and tell my dad -' But she was interrupted when one of the guards reached out and grabbed her arm.

The other guard held his hand out towards Wesley, it contained a magical flame that sparkled and flickered in the air, emitting sparks towards the man pretending to be a vampire. 'Let your flesh be weakened,' the guard began to intone.

But Wesley grabbed hold of his outstretched hand and forced it to close around the flame. The guard howled in pain as he was burned. 'Pipe down,' Wesley said to him, 'I've had enough of your-' he interrupted himself to slam the guy holding Virginia in the face. The guy staggered backwards clutching his nose, and Wesley flipped his own assailant over his shoulder. The two robed men scrambled up and ran away. Wesley stood in the corridor, panting loudly.

'You were amazing!' Virginia told him, impressed and excited by his brilliance.

Wesley smiled, roguishly, 'I suppose I was, wasn't I?'

'Your face - it didn't...' She wrinkled her forehead and the bridge of her nose, indicating vampiric features ' -like a regular vampire.'

'Well - I suppose I'm not a regular vampire.'

'OK,' Doyle said, he'd switched back to beer - but also had a large glass of water stood next to him. The time for the sweat lodge was fast approaching and, whilst he wanted to be too drunk to be mortified, he also didn't want to go into organ failure through dehydration. He was walking a fine line. 'So we know losing yourself, going evil, that's the easy option. The difficult path, ignorin' Darla, stayin' true to y'self, that's what you gotta fight for. The question is - how are you gonna accomplish that?'

'Well - I guess I just have to stay away from her as best I can. Not go looking for her. Cordelia was right, back at Wolfram and Hart. I've been acting insane - I need to put her out of my mind...or at least, if I can't help thinking about her, I need to keep myself too busy to go and find her.'

'That's good. Busy is good - there's a lot of folk that needs savin'. And Darla aint one of them. Let Wolfram and Hart spin their little schemes. Nothin' has worked for them before. Don't let this be the one that brings you down.'

Angel nodded, and took a sip of his pig's blood as he digested what the Irishman had said to him. Then he spotted a flaw in the argument. 'The trouble is - Darla's human now. She has a soul. She's playing their game for them for now, but it won't last. The things she's done - the things we've done - will tear her apart until she can't stand it anymore, and then she's gonna need me.'

Doyle sighed in frustration. 'If she needs you, let her come to you. Don't go lookin' for her. She'll come to her sense of remorse in her own time - don't hurry her. And if she comes to y' - be careful. She'll be hurtin' and needy - and you love that in a woman. We don't want anything triggerin' that pesky curse, now, do we?'

Virginia sat down on the bed. Wesley secured the door and then went to her. 'Are you OK?' he asked. 'I mean - two close calls like that -'

'I don't know, are we safe now?'

'I don't know.'

She wrapped her arms around herself and gazed around the room, taking in the lock on the door, the bars on her windows and the shelves and shelves of books. 'You know, sometimes I just think of running away?' She told him, and then she laughed. 'Isn't that ridiculous? A 24 year old runaway?'

'We all want to escape our lives sometimes.'

She smiled as she contemplated her fondest, silliest fantasy - the life she wished she could lead - the life of a normal girl. 'I think about getting my own place - a little apartment - a job. Something silly like - uhm - a perfume sprayer, or working in a tyre store.'

'A tyre store?'

They both laughed. 'I told you it was silly,' she said.

'No, no,' Wesley disagreed. 'It sounds nice - rotating tyres. Inflating - things.' They laughed again. 'I suppose your father would never allow it?'

'Oh no - far too dangerous. Daddy says they would grab me in a second if I ever went out there, into the world. They'd use me to get to him. If you think about it - he's saying that if I moved out, it would kill him.' She sighed.

Wesley looked at her, his eyes gentle and understanding. 'That's a huge burden to put on you.'

She leaned across towards him, and rested her head on his shoulder. 'I just want out - you know?' Then she looked upwards, and moved in so that their lips were parallel. She brushed his mouth lightly with her own. She pulled away and they looked at each other, before moving in for a second kiss. This one was just as light, but it lasted for longer. It was Virginia that broke it off. 'I'm sorry, I know we can't.'

'Yeah,' Wesley agreed, kissing her again, his mind befuddled as he was completely surrounded by the sense of her. 'Why?'

She pulled away again, this time creating a little distance between them. 'Well, you're a pretty famous guy, Angel. I hear the guards talking sometimes, I know.'

'Know?'

'About the curse,' she whispered.

'Ah - the curse,' he chuckled to himself, regretfully, and shook his head - not looking at her.

Angel and Doyle had been ushered out of the back of the bar and into the outside space. There was a low hut built in the yard - made from saplings lashed together with rawhide. It was the moments before dawn, the morning star was glowing up in the lightening sky. Another demon, the same species as the bartender, showed them to a bench where they could put their things - a couple of towels lay folded, waiting. Doyle swallowed nervously. 'OK bros - take your clothes off, put your towels on and go in - the shaman will be waiting for you in there.'

He looked at Doyle. 'You part demon?' He asked. Doyle nodded. 'Well, then you might wanna transform into your demon form - if you can. The sweat lodge gets pretty hot, and the ceremony can last for hours - you'll weather the whole experience better if you wear your stronger skin, bro.' The Irishman shrugged, and morphed into his spikes. He found he felt, surprisingly, much more comfortable about the whole stripping off thing now that he was green. As if the demon face was an extra layer of protection - a form of disguise in and of itself - it wasn't really him anymore, it wasn't really his skin out on show: it was the demon.

Still, green as he was, he would have appreciated the red skinned demon turning away from him as he stripped down and wrapped his towel around his waist. Angel just did it, of course. The vampire loved to get naked. 'OK then, bros, before you go on in, I have to warn you - there is beaucoup de mojo flying around in that teepee. You should not access the sweat lodge if you are taking any medication or are under the influence of any curses.'

Angel raised his hand. 'I've got a curse.'

'Vampire with a soul - sure thing - that's a different kettle of fish though, bro - and it's anchored, right?'

'There is a trigger,' Angel replied.

'What's that?'

'Perfect happiness,' mumbled Wesley, kissing Virginia all the harder, 'ah yes - mustn't let - mustn't let oneself …' Virginia reached up, as she kissed him and pulled his glasses off, 'let oneself forget …' she nibbled his ear…'diabolical consequences,' he breathed, 'I should - you know, this curse thing has been widely misinterpreted.'

'Really?'

'Yes - it's more of a hex really - actually barely that - more like a recommendation.'

She pulled back from him, 'are you telling the truth?'

He leaned in to kiss her again. 'Virginia, I want to be honest with you,' he murmured, as she began to kiss him once more. 'I'm not really -' her kiss became harder, and the rest of his words were cut off...

The two demons sat inside the sweat lodge - sweating. Red skinned guy hadn't been kidding when he said it was hot in here. There was a demonic shaman beating a drum, and chanting - presumably casting the mojo that they had been warned about. Doyle wondered if Angel could feel anything happening, because he just felt prickly and uncomfortable. Plus his mouth was dry. And he was a little bored. If this was supposed to be purifying his soul, then it wasn't working.

Perhaps his soul was already pure, he wondered, maybe there was no sin on him that required spiritual detox. But that didn't seem likely. Probably this was just some demonic form of charlatanism. Angel had his eyes closed. He at least seemed to be enjoying the experience. But then he didn't have body temperature to start with - so this probably didn't feel quite so overpowering to him.

...

Outside the bar, Gunn's red pickup truck pulled up, and the street fighter got out, blinking in the sunlight. He strolled through the saloon doors and greeted the bartender. The bar was empty now, and the red demon was cleaning glasses.

'Yo, yo, I'm looking for Angel,' Gunn greeted him.

'The vampire? He's in the middle of a spiritual ceremony right now - you'll have to wait.'

'And how long's this ceremony gonna take?' The young man wanted to know.

'They can last for hours,' the demon admitted.

'Well. I don't got hours. I need Angel now, he through here?' He pointed at the back door and then made his way towards it. The bartender scurried after him, protesting, and once out in the yard Gunn came up against towel guy as well. 'You can't be here, bro,' the demon said. 'There's a ceremony on.'

'And I told your bro back there that I don't have time for that - now get me Angel.'

...

Inside the low wooden hut, the sounds of the disturbance began to filter through. Angel opened his eyes, 'is that Gunn's voice?' he asked his friend.

The Shaman began to drum louder, and walk around the lodge, hoping to drown out the sound of the fracas in the yard. But he couldn't overcome Angel's vampire hearing, and he broke off his chanting. 'You are in the midst of a sacred space, and this is a key moment for your purification - you must not allow anything to disturb you. Stay here, relax, feel at one with the universe. I will see to the disturbance.'

He left the lodge and stepped into the yard. Unbeknown to him, Doyle followed him to the door, wanting to know what had brought Gunn all the way down to the border. Angel lurked in the shadows of the low room, but he was able to see out, past his friend in the doorway. Gunn was standing with his back to the sweat lodge, arguing with the two red skinned demons. The shaman, positioned behind him, raised the large club he was using to beat his drum, and hit the young man over the head with it. Gunn crumpled to the ground, taken unawares.

'What part of the purification ritual was that, exactly?' Doyle asked.

The shaman spun round. 'This man is not your friend - I can sense it,' he explained.

'Uhuh.' Using his demon strength and speed, Doyle reached out and pulled the shaman back into the sweat lodge and threw him towards Angel - who vamped out in readiness. The vampire grabbed the shaman. 'What's going on?'

Chapter 24: Guise will be Guise: Part Four

Chapter Text

Wesley woke up, in the soft bed, and looked down at the sleeping woman that lay beside him. Her red curls were spread out across the white of the pillow. He brushed the bare skin of her arm with his knuckles and kissed her on the shoulder.

...

Later, when they were both awake and dressed, he opened the bedroom door, kissed Virginia, and then stepped out into the hallway. He ran, smack, into Cordelia. 'There you are!' the secretary exclaimed, 'I found you!'

'Cordelia! How do you get in?'

'I just told them I worked for Angel and they let me straight in. Boy! You have everybody scared around here - they don't even realise you're an impostor.' Wesley shushed her, just as Virginia came up behind them.

She looked curiously at the dark haired woman who stood in her hallway. 'Who are you?' she asked.

'Virginia, this is Cordelia Chase - she works for me,' Wesley told her. Cordelia nodded along. 'Virginia - I left my coat -' the watcher said, and the young woman nodded and headed back to the bedroom to retrieve it.

'Good thinking,' Cordelia congratulated him, 'now let's scuttle our butts outta here!' She took hold of his elbow, thinking to lead him away down the hall, but he resisted her and stood firm. 'Cordelia, I'm not leaving.'

'What? I'm rescuing you! A key part of that is - we leave!'

'I understand, but I have to stay. I have a job to do.'

The secretary rolled her eyes and snorted in annoyance. 'What is wrong with you? You've got delusions of being Angel. You can't do stuff on your own…' She spotted Mr. Bryce and a couple of his guards coming down the corridor, headed straight for them. 'Oh crud!' She put on her biggest smile and held out her hand to shake Bryce's. 'Mr Bryce! I've seen you picture in the newspaper.' She spotted Benny and nodded to him. 'And I recognise you from the armed abduction.'

Wesley turned to look at the new arrivals. He pulled himself up to his full height and spoke to them, a little condescendingly. 'I had Miss Chase, here, test your defensive perimeter and I must say ...Did you know your guards just let her straight in?'

'Because I told them to,' Bryce replied, calmly. 'I wanted my daughter to hear someone call you by your real name.'

Virginia arrived back at the group, carrying Wesley's coat. 'What's going on?' she asked, looking between her father and Wesley. 'What real name?'

'This guy aint Angel,' Bryce said.

'I am so Angel!' Wesley protested, as Benny took a hold of him and began to manhandle him towards the window.

'Yeah, yeah,' Cordelia agreed, nodding her head vigorously.

But their lies held no weight, and Benny flung Wesley in front of the glass, so that he was standing in a patch of sunlight. Wesley raised his hands, protectively, and cowered in the light. 'No no - not the sun. For I am a vampire. Oh Oh Oh! It burns! Oh!' He cringed away from the light, and then stood there, rather foolishly, as nothing happened. Cordelia pulled a face of embarrassment. Wesley gave up the pretence and looked towards Virginia.

The red haired woman was in shock, but was working her way towards anger. 'You're not Angel.'

'My name is Wesley Wyndam Pryce.'

'I talked to you - I trusted you. You lied to me. Come to think of it - you actually put my life in danger - I was walking around thinking I had vampire protection. Here's the funny part - I thought that I'd made a friend.' She held out the coat - her hurt and disgust written plainly on her face. After a moment, Wesley reached out and took it. Then she turned on her heel and disappeared back into the bedroom.

Cordelia went to stand by Wesley, 'well - you really screwed her over, huh?'

Bryce looked at the pair of them, standing in the sunshine. 'You're gonna leave now, loser. Take the piece with you.' The robed guards began to manhandle the two of them towards the exit, Cordelia struggled all the way: 'The piece? Was that supposed to be me? Get off me!'

Down stairs, Benny and Bryce we're arguing. 'You should have let me kill them! You're gonna just let them go?'

Bryce grabbed his goon and threw him against the wall. 'Never tell me what to do! Never!' He was breathing heavily as he hoisted Benny up by the lapels. 'You brought me the wrong guy! You almost risked the whole sacrifice, you understand? But I'm not gonna kill you, Benny, 'cause I need you right now.' He threw the tough guy to one side and walked over to where a rock like sculpture stood in the centre of the room. 'It's only a few hours until the sacrifice. You understand the need for security in this? This is the party of my life.' He picked up one of the iron manacles that dangled from the rock and showed it to Benny. 'Obviously, Virginia's too.'

Cordelia and Wesley had arrived back at the Hyperion. Wesley sat in the main staircase, his head hung low, as he contemplated his recent failures and the way he had ended up hurting Virginia. Cordy sat herself down next to him. 'So that was pretty humiliating, huh?' she sighed. The watcher didn't answer, he just shook his head, gazing at his shoes. As they sat together in gloomy silence, the door opened and Doyle and Angel walked in, supporting a dazed looking Gunn between them. 'What happened?' Cordelia sprang to her feet, and ushered the street fighter over to the sofa so she could sit him down and check his head injury.

'He got hit,' Angel said, cutting a long story short.

'By who?' she bustled off to get her first aid kit and began to patch up Gunn's head.

'By our friendly sweat lodge Shaman,' Doyle told her, 'with his massive drum stick, right across the back o' his skull.'

'A shaman did this?' Cordelia was horrified. 'Shaman's don't hit - shamans sharm.'

'Well this one also hits.'

Angel looked at the watcher sitting on the stairs, and crinkled his brow up in confusion. 'Why is Wesley wearing my coat?'

'That was a whole lot of Shaman,' Gunn groaned.

'Why did the Shaman hit him?' Wesley asked, ignoring Angel's question.

'The whole thing was a set up. The demons at the retreat were being paid to keep us there, out of the way.'

'Who hired them?'

'They wouldn't say.'

'But it must be someone scary!' Doyle added. ''Cause Angel pulled out all the stops when it came to menacin', nothin'. Wouldn't give up the name.'

Wesley got up and began to pace up and down the lobby. The long coat billowed out behind him, and Angel watched it. 'That is my coat, right?'

'It must be Paul Lanier,' Wesley deduced, still pacing. The rest of the team followed his path with their eyes - apart from Gunn who - after the first couple of turns Wesley took around the room - had to close his eyes, as this movement made him feel sick. Wesley was still thinking out loud. 'He must have wanted Angel out of the way as he thought that would keep Virginia unprotected. Then, when his men couldn't take me out, he tipped off Bryce that I wasn't Angel. He hoped Bryce would get me out of the way.'

'Hang on a minute,' Angel interrupted. 'Were you in Virginia?'

'That's beside the point.'

The three arrivals from Mexico were looking increasingly confused by Wesley's words and actions, so Cordelia took it upon herself to explain, as she put her first aid kit away. 'He was posing as you, protecting a girl called Virginia.'

'She's probably in danger right now,' Wesley ruminated. 'She's at the big party.'

'What big party?' Gunn asked, his eyes still closed.

'Her father's birthday. Big event. Cake. presents. Tributes to the Goddess Yeska.'

'Yeska?' Angel asked. 'I know Yeska, she's no goddess. She's a Davric demon.'

Doyle whistled softly to himself, 'oh boy, that can't be good.' Angel shook his head in response.

Wesley frowned. 'Davric demon? Davrics don't serve humans - not unless they give them a big sacrifice.'

'Sacrifice?' Gunn asked, he opened his eyes a crack and then shut them again, when he realised Wesley was still pacing the floor.

'Live sacrifices,' Doyle told him. 'It's never pretty.'

'Davric demons eat live sacrifices, usually girls,' Wesley explained to Gunn and Cordelia, Cordelia looked momentarily outraged, but the watcher continued. 'They grant huge power to a person who offers a sacrifice on their fiftieth - oh dear lord - on their fiftieth birthday.' His face drained of colour and his voice took on a note of horror 'Bryce is going to sacrifice his own daughter!'

'Wait! If Bryce is going to sacrifice Virginia, why would Lanier be trying to abduct her?' Cordelia asked, Doyle nodded along.

'She's not wrong, bud, Lanier went to a lot of trouble trying to get Angel out of the way - as Gunn's skull will testify.'

But Angel shook his head, he agreed with Wesley. 'Bryce will get a lot of power out of this sacrifice,' he told his associates, 'Lanier will want to stop that from happening.'

'We have to go.' Wesley stopped pacing and whirled around to face the rest of the team, his face was set, his voice determined. 'Angel,' he commanded, 'you take Gunn and head to the front of the house. Cordelia, Doyle, and I will take the back.'

'Uh, isn't it Angel that usually gives us the orders?' Doyle asked looking between his boss and the British man.

Angel stood up and shoved his hands inside his pockets, glancing around at his staff - 'uhh- I guess - Gunn and I could take the back?'

'Very well, let's go.' Wesley strode out of the hotel, the coat billowing out behind him, Angel scurried after him, trying to catch up, 'Uh -Wesley - could I have my coat back?'

The party was in full swing. The room was crowded with various well wishers, satisfied clients, and the upper echelons of magical society. Music tinkled in the background, conversation buzzed along and guests drank champagne and consumed hors d'oeuvres. Virginia walked through the party feeling depressed. There was no one there for her to talk to - and she felt the lack even more keenly than usual, having got used to talking to Angel - Wesley Wyndam Pryce - the night before. She felt lonely, even by her standards. Lonely - but not alone. Benny was tailing her around the room, following her wherever she went. Probably daddy had told him to stick close in case of another abduction attempt.

She came to the rock sculpture in the middle of the room and examined it in distaste. 'What on earth is this horrible thing? I hope some poor girl isn't going to jump out of it.'

'Not exactly,' Benny said.

A chiming noise made Virginia look around, and she saw her father tapping the side of his champagne flute with a spoon in order to get everyone's attention. The gentle hum of conversation stopped as everyone turned to look at the man of the hour. Satisfied that all eyes were on him, Bryce began to speak. 'Thank You. I want to thank you all for being here on this special occasion. My feelings -' he began to choke up a little, and took a moment to regain his composure. 'My feelings run almost too deep for words. But I'll try to do this and do this right.' He took out a match and lit a candle.

Virginia turned to Benny, frowning, 'what is he talking about?'

Bryce began to recite a prayer. 'Yeska, of the razor eyes and stone heart, take this offering. I cast my most precious emerald into the ocean on this the moment of my birth plus fifty years.'

'Daddy? What are you doing?'

Benny grabbed her by the wrist and began to haul her over to the sculpture, she struggled with him, trying to work her way free from his vice like grip. 'Daddy? Hey! Stop stop - Daddy make them stop!'

But Bryce was not listening to the desperate pleas of his daughter. Instead he continued to chant. 'Take this gift-'

Benny took the shackles attached to the sculpture and forced them around Virginia's wrists, so that she was chained in place, unable to escape. She fought the whole time. 'Stop - stop now,' she demanded.

Bryce glanced across at her. 'Virginia, be a good girl, honey, this is hard enough already as it is.'

'He's really torn up about it,' Benny told her.

'Let her death return tenfold unto me my power.'

Virginia's bottom lip began to tremble, as she realised that, far from her daddy rescuing her, it was he that was sanctioning what appeared to be a human sacrifice of her own life. She looked around the room at the party guests who just stood and watched as she was offered up to Yeska. 'Help! Somebody help me!' But nobody did.

Bryce came to stand in front of her, and she looked up at him, trying to make her face soft and pleading. Willing him to come to his senses. 'Daddy?' But he just dipped his thumb in a bowl of water, and then marked her with it across the forehead, anointing her. Then he moved away and left her alone once more. Tears began to streak down her face.

BAM

The double doors were kicked in and Wesley strode into the room, the other four all marching in step behind him. 'Release her or die,' the watcher commanded.

Angel glanced down the line at his employees. 'Don't I say that?' he asked.

Bryce was unruffled. He called for his guards, and the robed men all ran forward to attack the small family of demon hunters. Wesley was immediately knocked down by the first charging guard, but he scrambled back to his feet and launched himself into the fray. Angel and Gunn were throwing fast and furious punches in every direction, and Wesley found that, keyed up by his determination to save Virginia, he was able to match them. Doyle was trading blows with one of the guards, and things seemed to be a stalemate between the two, until Cordelia stood on the edge of the guard's robe and tripped him up, sending him flying. She then turned around, picked up a handy champagne bottle, and cracked another guard around the back of the head. This guard had been throttling Gunn and, as the robed man dropped to the floor, the street fighter gave her an appreciative nod.

As his four associates continued with the battle, Wesley made his way towards Virginia. He slugged Benny, knocking him out of the way, and then began to unfasten her chains. 'I'll get you out of here.'

Bryce was cowering under a table as the fight raged on around him. But he was undeterred, and he kept up his chanting. He had waited too long, gone to too much expense, to just give up now at the first sign of trouble. 'The hour approaches, Yeska. Do not be blind to my plea. Yeska, I beseech thee.' A wind began to blow, howling through the room. The fighters looked up as the breeze ruffled their hair.

'What is that?' Cried Cordelia, her hair whipping in her face.

'He's calling Yeska- she's nearly here!' The vampire shouted back to her.

Doyle looked around at the room, as smaller, lighter objects began to be blown around. 'Man, it's getting dodgy in here!' He threw one last punch at the man he was fighting and then scrabbled his way across to Cordelia, wrapping her in his arms to protect her from the ensuing gale and the approaching Davric demon.

'Appear!' Cried out Bryce and, with a sudden flash of light, Yeska materialised. She was round and squat, floating in the air. Her skin was grey, her eyes like flints. Her hair was an untamed mane of frizz. Lightning crackled in the air before her and she looked down at Virginia, cowering on the sculpture, and began to laugh; reaching out for her with pudgy hands and sharpened nails.

'The sacrifice,' she grinned. Virginia stared up at the demoness hovering above her, wide eyed in fear. As she she gazed upwards she saw the grin flicker and then vanish. 'Is impure,' Yeska pronounced, and then disappeared, as suddenly as she had come. The wind died down, the objects fell to the floor with a clatter. Virginia gasped great ragged breaths of relief. Over near the door, Doyle pulled a little away from Cordelia, and pushed some of her hair out of her face. She smiled at him. But they were the only two in the room smiling.

Bryce was looking perplexed. As Wesley finished unchaining Virginia and led her over to his friends, the magician spoke, consternation in his voice. 'She's impure? She's - she's not a virgin?' The puzzled look left him to be replaced with one of anger and he headed for Wesley. 'You!' he exclaimed, Wesley looked alarmed.

'Woah!' said Gunn, 'That's what impure meant?' Angel nodded.

Cordelia looked between the woman and the watcher, 'she slept with him?' she whispered. Doyle looked impressed. He'd known Cordelia for over a year and they had shared precisely one kiss. Not that he didn't treasure the memory of that kiss - and not that he didn't understand and accept why they couldn't be together, but still - that kiss was months ago now. He might as well as share Angel's curse, all the action he ever got. Wesley had managed to close the entire deal in one night - the British man had game!

'You were supposed to be Angel!' Bryce raged at the watcher. 'This wouldn't have happened. That's why I hired him. He's a eunuch.'

'Eunuch?' Angel questioned in disbelief and disgust. Doyle threw him a commiserating smile, very glad that he didn't share that particular curse with his boss.

Cordelia was still looking between Virginia and Wesley. 'You really slept with her?'

'Two young people - things happen,' Wesley stammered, his hands held up trying to placate Bryce.

But he wouldn't be placated. 'She was a virgin before you got here!'

'I was not a virgin!' Virginia protested.

'Oh thank God!' Wesley nearly collapsed with relief.

'I am not a eunuch!' Angel interjected. But no one was listening to him.

Cordelia turned back to Doyle, who still held her in his arms, 'One day as Angel, one day! And he's getting some!'

'Which is remarkable when you consider the great castrati over there never gets any!' Doyle agreed.

'Not a eunuch!' His vampire hearing had picked up on his two friends' conversation - and he was not impressed with the content of it.

Bryce was talking to his daughter, ignoring all the bantering demon hunters that were turning his greatest personal tragedy - the loss of his power granted by Yeska - into a joke. 'I kept you away from all men. How could you…?'

'You remember the chauffeur when I was 16, Daddy? And the one when I was 18? I haven't been a virgin for a long long time.'

'The curse isn't even that clear,' Angel worried. Both members of the Bryce family continued to ignore him.

'Don't do this, Ginny!' Bryce warned. 'Don't make me angry.'

'Oh right, because bad things happen when you get angry. You were going to kill me.' She hauled back and then slugged her father with a left hook. He crumpled to the ground. 'You are not my father anymore.' She turned and walked out of the room, Cordelia smiled a proud, appreciative, commiserating smile at her as she left - men! The others turned to go, but Angel wasn't finished. Before he left the room he stopped to speak to Bryce, still collapsed on the floor: 'I am not a eunuch.'

'So, did you manage to cure Angel down in Tijuana? Is he all not crazy now?' Cordelia asked Doyle, as he walked her home that evening. The half demon shook his head. 'I dunno, princess, I think it's gonna take more than a few tequila slammers and a half hour in a sweat lodge to get him to shake this whole Darla thing.'

'But that's your mission in life - keep Angel from going crazy.'

'And I'm trying, I really am. The trouble is, I think he wants to go crazy.'

They entered the covered walkway of her building, and Cordelia dropped her arm from out of Doyle's in order to root in her purse for her keys. 'What? That's insane! Why would he want that?'

'Lots o' reasons. Because if he's evil then he doesn't have to feel all that guilt anymore. Because he's worried he's gonna be forgiven - and made human - and he doesn't think he deserves that. Because our boy just loves the feel of leather against his skin - pick one.'

'So what do we do?'

'Keep him busy - don't let him go lookin' for her. The thing of it is is - Darla's just his excuse - this isn't about her, it's about him. She could go away tomorrow, but these feelin's would still be there. She could never have arrived in the first place, and he might still feel this way. It's gonna be like that time you bought up half the art stall getting supplies for him - we need to keep him busy, distracted, like, until he's ready to be a champion again.'

'Well we can do that,' she nodded as she got to her door, and put her key in the lock. 'Starting tomorrow our mission is to keep Angel busy. Boy! You'd think someone who had celebrated their own personal bicentennial wouldn't need so much babysitting.' As she twisted the key round, she turned back to face Doyle. 'So do you think Wesley is gonna be seeing more of Virginia, now?'

'I dunno, Darlin' - watch this space.'

A couple of days later, Cordelia was sitting out in the lobby leafing through one of her cheap, gossip mags. She stared in disbelief at the picture she was looking at and then marched into Angel's office, where the vampire and the half demon were sitting talking. 'Look at this!' she cried out in annoyance, waving the magazine under their noses.

Angel plucked it out of her hand and read the article out loud. 'Virginia Bryce squired by Wesley Wyndam Pryce, private detective and bodyguard to the stars - Hah, 'squired'. Who says 'squired'?'

'Look at him all over her!' the secretary exclaimed in disgust, pointing to the rather chaste way Wesley had wrapped an arm around Virginia's waist.

'What's the problem, Cordy? I thought you were pro Wesley datin' someone rich?'

'You're just jealous that he's getting some attention!' Angel told her.

'Damn skippy - he's getting famous off of this! Reflected glory? That's my thing!'

'And I've told you, before, that you don't need to reflect anyone else, princess, let Wesley have his moment in the sun with Virginia - you've got better things.'

'Like what -you?'

Doyle opened his mouth to answer, but then closed it again, not sure of how he could make Cordelia feel better in these circumstances, as she was so clearly determined to feel aggrieved. The more he tried to reason with her, the ruder she would be to him - he knew her well enough by now to know when he couldn't win.

'Cordelia, you just need to get some perspective,' Angel said. She snorted in disgust and stalked out of the office, leaving the two men alone once more. The vampire continued to scan the page: 'Bodyguard to the stars - yeah right! ….There's no Wyndam Pryce Agency!'

Chapter 25: Darla: Part One

Chapter Text

Down in the lobby of the Hyperion, the four living members of team Angel were quietly discussing what to do about their undead boss. He had been upstairs, shut away in his room, for a couple of days now, and his friends knew that this could not bode well. 'We were supposed to be keeping him busy,' Cordelia hissed, 'what happened to that? Now we're just letting him sit upstairs, stewing in his own broodiness, obsessing over Darla?'

'Cases have been a little thin on the ground,' Wesley pointed out. 'It would have helped if we had had something to distract him with.'

'Well I gave him all those art supplies - that should help,' Cordelia answered, then she turned to face her Irish coworker. 'You know, if someone would just do his job properly - and have a vision - we wouldn't be in this mess!'

'Hey! I can't perform on demand, you know.'

'Well, why aren't the PTB helping? He's their champion! And he's off the rails, shouldn't they be trying to re rail him, or something?' She pushed her hair back in frustration. 'What are we gonna do?'

Gunn looked up from where he was polishing his homemade axe. 'Y'know I'm getting kinda jumpy sitting round here, not getting my violence on. I'm thinking I might go and patrol - maybe Echo Park kinda way. I could always use the help of the big guy.'

'That's great!' Cordelia enthused. 'He loves violence! Go up there and tell him.'

'Nuhuh. I'm doin' my part, offering the distraction. Aint no way I'm walking into his den of crazy, though - someone else tell him.' Three sets of eyes; two dark brown, one blue and hidden behind spectacles, all turned and settled on the hapless half demon who sat on the round sofa, shuffling his cards. He looked up and saw the direction of their gaze. 'Me? Why me?' They all just continued to look at him. He sighed. 'Fine, I'll go talk to him.'

...

He made his way up the stairs and along the hall towards Angel's room. The door was open and he stood on the threshold looking inside. Paper was scattered all over the floor, some were crumpled and some lay open, revealing the subject of Angel's artistic attempts. The vampire sat in the middle of the room - sketching - and if the previous drawings were anything to go by, he was only sketching one thing: Darla. So much for Cordy's art supplies distracting him!

'What do you want Doyle?' Angel asked, without looking up.

'Not much, bud. Are you OK?'

'I'm fine.'

'Uhuh - and there isn't anything on your mind, anything you want to share?'

Angel looked up, then, and glanced down at the discarded images of his sire. 'No.'

'..Right,' Doyle took a deep breath, calling on all his reserves of patience. 'Well, Gunn is thinking of going patrolling - wants to get a few vamps dusted whilst the night's still young. He'd appreciate the help, if you're available.'

'I'm not.'

The half demon gave up on his attempts at patience. He stepped into the room, walked over to Angel, and snatched the sketchpad from out of the vampire's hands. 'Hey!' Angel looked up, annoyed.

'I think we need to go over, again, all the ground we covered down in Mexico. 1) Wolfram and Hart want you to turn evil, and are using Darla to make that happen. 2) You want to give up on the monumental guilt trip and just give in to the darkness. 3) We're never gonna let that happen, so 4) You agreed you'd keep busy so you wouldn't have time to brood over Darla. How exactly does drawing her face 327 times over two days help you accomplish 4? Out. Now.'

'I'm your boss, Doyle, you can't tell me what to do.'

'I'm your mentor - and yes I can. C'mon man: killin', violence, staking vamps - it'll be great!'

'No.'

'Well if you don't - I'm just gonna do this-' he began jabbing Angel in the shoulder, hard, with his index finger, 'until you move.'

The vampire just sat there for a moment, the jabbing became more intense until the force of it was actually shoving him, causing him to move against his will with every prod. 'Ow ow. Stop it!' He slapped Doyle's hand away. 'Fine, I'll go. Jeez are you twelve?' he got out of his chair, found his coat and, for the first time in 48 hours, left his room. Behind him, Doyle smiled a smug smile of satisfaction and triumph.

Lilah opened the door to the rooms where the firm had been keeping Darla. There had been reports of a disturbance and Holland Manners had dispatched her to check it out. She found the former vampire sitting slumped in a chair, moaning softly to herself. The floor was covered in smashed shards of glass, the only remains of the mirrors that had hung on the walls. Darla seemed mostly unhurt, but her wrists and hands were cut and bleeding. 'Darla? What happened?' Lilah asked.

The blonde woman stopped her gentle whimpering and looked up at the lawyer. 'Everything,' she breathed. 'So many things have happened - more than you can imagine. And I remember them all. Which one did you want to know about?'

Lilah was disconcerted. This woman had always made her uneasy, with her flirtations and confidence and experience. But this version of Darla: a broken shell, a mockery of her former self, was even harder to deal with - all that experience turned sour and leaving her hollow and traumatised. 'I mean what happened here? The neighbours said there was a disturbance - did someone break in, was someone here?'

'No, it was just me. It's always just me. Even after a hundred years, you're still alone at the end of it - nothing to show for it but regrets.'

'You broke the mirrors?'

'I guess I did.'

'You're bleeding.'

'I guess I am.'

Lilah entered the room, reluctantly. 'Maybe we should get you out of here? Perhaps you'd be better off back at Wolfram and Hart?'

'You don't think I can be trusted to be left alone?'

'The work you do is of great importance to The Senior Partners. You are a vital asset to our dealing with the Angel problem - we cannot afford to have anything ...amiss ...happen to you.'

'Angelus,' Darla moaned, his name being all she had heard of Lilah's words. 'My boy, you should have seen us together - Europe trembled in our wake - such brutality, so perfectly matched. And now look what we have become.'

'Enemies.'

'Oh no,' she sat up and leaned forwards, fixing Lilah with a stare, refusing to drop eye contact. 'It's much worse than that. We've become soul mates.' And then she began to laugh; a bitter, hysterical, mirthless laugh.

Constance lay on her deathbed and gazed weakly at the winter sun that shone in through the shutters. It offered light but no warmth. Death had stalked the colonists of Virginia and now it was her turn. She had only arrived in The New World the previous year, one of the very first women to come - along with Margaret, the wife of a settler, and her little servant Ann. She had known life would be tough, but the adventure on offer was far too great to turn down, and she had left her old life in England without so much as a backward glance.

But a drought during the summer had led to a poor harvest - and the people of Jamestown were now starving. Not that this had proved a problem for Constance. There were so few women, especially unattached ones, in the colony - and men had such particular weaknesses. A woman willing to do anything to survive need never go hungry. But even that had led to death.

Her fair, porcelain skin, which had always been the envy of her sisters - of all women, was now ravaged with the marks of disease. A pox sore pustulated on her lip. But this was only the outward signs of damage. Her heart was weakening, failing. Her breathing was laboured. She had fallen foul of the infections that were a constant threat to women of her profession. And now it was her very determination to survive that was killing her.

Weak and cold as it was, the sun was hurting her eyes. 'Someone close the shutters. It seems wrong that I should die when the sun is still so bright.'

One of the women that tended her bedside acquiesced, and the room was plunged into darkness. A hooded priest entered the room. 'You'll not see it again,' he warned her. 'Before it sets, you will have left this life.'

'I didn't call for a priest,' Constance told him, she turned her head slightly to look at the women, 'who invited him here?'

'You did,' the priest told her, 'last night. You cried out for me in your delirium.'

'I don't remember.'

'You should have called for a priest long ago, child. You're life might have been the better for it.'

She rolled her head on the pillow so she could see him. 'And you should have paid me a visit before today, Father. Your life might have been more interesting for it.'

'Are you now prepared to renounce Satan and beg God for his forgiveness?'

She shook her head, still not lifting it from the pillow. 'God never did anything for me.'

The priest spoke the two women: 'leave us.' They did, and then the priest spoke to the doctor. 'You can't save her life, perhaps I can still save her soul.' The doctor stood up, and left, following the women out of the room.

Constance was still unconvinced. 'My soul is well past saving. Let the devil take me if he'll have me. Either way, I die.'

'No'. The priest lifted his hand and removed his hood. His face was not that of a normal man. He was completely bald, and his skin was white - true white - except for around his mouth which was stained red, as if he had drunk Christmas punch too quickly. His nose and brow were wrinkled, and his teeth were sharp, like fangs. He looked more like a gargoyle that adorned the exterior of churches back in The Old World, than like a man that would minister from inside of one. As hideous as he was, Constance was not afraid. There was something familiar about this creature, something that felt right.

'I know you,' she breathed.

The Master leaned down and took one of her hands in his own. 'I came to you last night. I sang to you from that window.'

'I remember now. Are you death?'

'No.'

'What then?'

'I am your saviour. God never did anything for you, but I will…' and as he opened his mouth and bit down hard into her neck, Constance realised that she had found another way to survive - and that she had discovered the dawn of a new adventure.

Angel and Gunn cruised the streets. It wasn't bad actually - being out at night, looking for action. It was good. Better than staying cooped up, brooding over his sire. Action. Adventure. His friends had been right. He made a mental note to thank Doyle for insisting he leave the hotel.

They got lucky, and found a group of vampires attacking a young couple near the Dodgers' stadium. Gunn swung his hubcap axe at the nearest vamp, and beheaded him in one clean stroke. The demon crumbled to dust. Angel led with his fists, preferring to have more contact with his kills. As he thumped and kicked and threw his vampire against the wall, he realised how much he was enjoying himself. It wasn't getting his heart racing or his blood pumping, of course, but it was blowing away the cobwebs.

As two of the vampires rushed him at once, from different sides, he flicked out the stakes from his wrist holsters and dusted them both, simultaneously. Then, he leapt backwards into a somersault, his long coat flying out like a cape, and he landed on his feet on the hood of a parked car. He immediately kicked the final vampire in the face before jumping on top of him, and finishing him off.

The young couple were breathless and frightened. 'Wh what - what was that?' the young woman asked.

'They just exploded into dust!' her boyfriend said, staring at the ground, where the remains of the demons lay, in disbelief.

'Ah - I think it's best if you folks just get on home now,' Gunn told them. 'Forget all this ever happened, y'know what I'm sayin'?' But the couple were a long way from their home, and were not eager to head on out into the night after the experience they had just suffered.

'Well - if you want a ride -' Angel told them, now he was out and his head was clear, he was anxious to avoid returning back to the dank gloom of his hotel, and spiralling into his obsession with Darla once more. 'I mean, we could drop you off - right, Gunn?'

'You're the boss.'

The couple lived all the way up in Sun Valley, and Angel happily ushered them into the back of his convertible and took the interstate north. If he drove slowly, and saw this couple back to their front door, he could maybe avoid returning to the hotel for a whole hour.

Meanwhile, Wesley was back in the Hyperion, flicking through some of the books in Angel's office. 'What're you doing?' Cordelia asked, coming into the room.

'Researching Darla.'

'Still? I thought we agreed not to mention the D word?'

'Interestingly enough, the 'D' word may not be accurate. This book indicates that 'Darla' as a name, only became popular in the early 18th century - over a hundred years after she was born.'

'You mean it isn't even her real name?'

'Quite - whoever that woman was when she was first alive, she wasn't the person Angel thought she was. Someone else has named her after she was sired - much like Angel was originally 'Liam'.'

'What a wussy name!' Cordelia snorted. 'But what does any of this matter?'

Wesley rested his book down on the desk before speaking. 'I think it's best, under the circumstances, that we know as much as possible about her. If we're to assume that she is what Angel is spending the days brooding over -'

'Oh assume away, bud!' Doyle came up behind Cordelia, and held out the sketch pad that he had snatched from his boss. Wesley took it with a frown. 'It's very good,' he said.

'That's hardly the point. And this isn't the only one, there's hundreds of 'em up in his room.'

Cordelia snatched the pad from the watcher and looked at it. 'What the heck is this? This is what he's using my art supplies for? Oh, boy - this is worse than we thought. We need to confiscate all drawing materials - paper, pencils, charcoal, the works.'

'That would be rather like sticking a band aid over a gaping wound wouldn't it?' Wesley said. 'These drawings speak to a disturbed psyche, a clearly deep rooted obsession. Simply removing the tools of his outlet won't heal his mind.'

'Isn't that why we sent him out with Gunn, though?' Cordelia asked, 'distract him, make him too busy to brood. Isn't that what's gonna heal him?' She looked between the two men, seeking clarification.

'With any luck, it'll help,' Doyle told her, 'just as long as nothing happens that reminds him of Darla - and their lifetimes long love affair.'

She had brought her boy back to her master. Not that they had hurried. They had come the long way round, the very long way. Galway to London was such a short journey, and they had had the whole of Europe to claim for their own. They had cut a bloody swathe through South Wales and up into the North of England, before her magnificent creature had decided to see how people tasted over on the mainland. Seven years, and a continent laid to waste before them, and now she had decided to show off her prize. There had never been a vampire like this one, her master would welcome him with open arms.

The Master sat back in his ornate chair and surveyed the fine specimen that Darla had brought before him. 'Angelus?' he chuckled 'The latinate for Angel. It's marvellous.'

Darla, standing beside her master, decided to add some detail to further pique his interest. 'Angelus' name would already be a thing of legend in his home village - if he had left anyone alive. He was magnificent.' She smiled proudly down at where her boy stood before her master's throne. The Master surveyed him, raking his red eyes across this young and handsome creature Darla had created. He was impressed with what he saw.

The Feeling, however, was not mutual. 'So, Darla tells me you're some sort of 'Master'?' Angelus asked, insolence dripping from his voice.

The Master frowned at his tone, and Darla stepped forward to try and smooth over her boy's rashness. 'He is the master of our order, he commands us.'

'The order of Aurelius,' the Master said. 'We are the select - the elite.'

Angelus folded his arms and glanced around their surroundings, taking it all in, disdain evident on his face. 'And you live in the sewers do you?' Darla looked worried at Angelus' refusal to behave.

The Master patted her on the hand and then stood up, so that he was eye to eye with the new boy. 'We live below. Giving tribute to the old ones. Awaiting the promised day when we will arise - Arise! And lay waste to the world above.'

'Now why would you want to do a thing like that?' Angelus asked. 'Have you been up there, recently, it's quite nice. Now me. I could never live in a rat infested stink hole - like this, if you'll pardon me saying. I need me a proper bed or I'm a terror. Isn't that right Darla?'

'He's young,' Darla tried to explain to her master. 'We fed recently, the blood is still hot in his veins.'

'Oh you noticed did you?' Her boy whispered in her ear, slipping his arms around her waist. The Master watched him with growing irritation. 'We stalk the surface to feed and grow our ranks. We do not live amongst the human pestilence.'

'I'll be honest. You couldn't really, with a face like that, could you?'

Darla turned, and slapped him in reproach. 'Angelus!'

But the young vampire just laughed out loud and dropped himself down into the Masters throne. He lolled in the chair, his left leg dangling over the arm, and reached out to take a pinch of snuff. 'It's not stuck that way now is it?'

'The Master has grown past the curse of human features,' Darla told him, hotly.

'So, am I gonna end up with a bat nose like that?'

'Few vampires are cunning enough to live as long as I have,' the Master told him. 'As you are about to ably demonstrate.' He reached out and yanked Angelus off the chair and threw him against the wall.

The young vampire crumpled down to the ground, laughing. He got back to his feet and began to talk to Darla, as if there were no one there but the two of them. 'Naples. You and me Darla. What do you say?'

'Angelus…'

The Master hit him, throwing him against the wall again. 'You should show the proper respect.'

But Angelus just pushed himself back up and continued to address his sire. 'This is no place for you - bound to the likes of him.' Another blow from the Master, and Angelus was down on all fours. But he kept talking to Darla only, as if there were no one else in the world but them. 'You belong by my side - out in the world - feeding as we like, taking what we need. I'll give you all that you crave - Darla - I'll give you everything.'

The Master kicked him and he landed on his back, but still he laughed. He pushed himself upwards and faced his sire. 'Tell the truth - whose face would you rather look at for eternity - His? Or mine?'

'Idiot,' hissed The Master, 'I made her'. But Darla was smiling down at her boy, and the boy was smiling back up at her. The ancient vampire looked between the two lovers. 'You're leaving with the stallion, aren't you?' She didn't even bother to answer him, she just swept past and helped Angelus to his feet. They wrapped their arms around each other as they left the hall of the Master. One of his minions tried to block their way, but the Master called him off, without even looking. 'Leave them. It'll never last. I give it a century - tops.'

Lilah ushered the blonde woman into her office. She was irritated, she had no wish to babysit a traumatised ex vampire, to stop her from hurting herself. But Darla was important to The Senior Partners, which meant her survival was crucial to Lilah's own. The attorney had no choice but to see her through this.

Holland Manners entered the office and raised an eyebrow when he saw Darla there. 'Darla.'

'Holland.'

'How are you?'

'I'm fine - it's nice to see you, Holland.'

'Always a pleasure - Lilah, a word?' he beckoned Lilah to follow him, and the young attorney stepped out of her office and shut the door.

Once the door was closed, Holland began to speak. 'I thought it was agreed that since she made contact it was not - ah - prudent to have her on the premises?'

'I know, sir, but there's something wrong with her. The disturbance her neighbours reported? That was her. She's smashed the mirrors and cut herself.'

'She's cracking up,' Holland surmised.

'My thoughts exactly, sir, I didn't think she could be trusted to be left alone.'

'She's way ahead of schedule.'

'Excuse me?'

Holland blinked himself out of his reverie and smiled at Lilah. 'We'll have to accelerate matters.' He clapped her on the shoulder. 'You did the right thing, Lilah. Good work. Don't let her leave the building.' He started to walk away, but then turned back. 'Oh, and any sharp objects; letter openers, staple guns - even ballpoint pens - maybe keep them out of reach?'

'I'm way ahead of you, sir.'

Chapter 26: Darla: Part Two

Chapter Text

Darla gazed down at the body of the sailor she had just fed on and discarded. He had been beautiful. Unmarred by a blemish or freckle, his skin shone like white marble. He had been so very young, and she began to regret that she and her family had feasted on him without pause. What a waste of such beauty. Perhaps they should have turned him, made him like them, to preserve his loveliness forever. Angelus shrugged at her words. 'Still - he'll not age now', he told her.

'No. But he'll rot. Seems a pity.'

'I could hop into him. Like I did the ocean.'

Darla rolled her eyes. 'Of course you could,' she said, in a voice that showed how wearisome she found Drusilla. It had been twenty years now, twenty years that she had had to share her darling boy with the mad seer. And Angelus never seemed to tire of the babbling, raving lunatic. He was fond of her.

'I'm all full and warm. But I'm all alone,' Drusilla mourned.

Angelus shook his head, and took her chin in his hand to look into her face. 'That's not true at all, precious. You have us.'

'Not in the least,' Drusilla replied, sadly, shaking her head out of the vampire's clasp. 'You won't even have me just a little bit.'

'All you have to do is ask,' Darla told her. She didn't mind if Angelus took Drusilla. It was his heart she was jealous over.

'No. his head's too full of you, grandmother.'

Darla tutted in irritation. 'Stop calling me that!' Angelus began to chuckle, and she swatted him with the back of her hand, as they began to walk on down the street - leaving the blemishless corpse of the sailor behind.

'Well, If you're lonely, Dru,' Angelus said to her over his shoulder, 'you could always make yourself a playmate.'

'I could.' Drusilla liked this idea. Her eyes sparkled as she considered the possibilities. 'I could choose the bravest and wisest knight in all the land - and make him mine forever with a kiss.'

A human, marching down the streets, his eyes filled with tears so he could not see where he was going, bumped into the small family of vampires, then. His notebook was knocked out of his hand and he stumbled to pick it up. 'Mind where you're going!' he shouted at them. His voice sounded broken with pain, as if he had been angry before this little encounter - but this had just made everything worse. He seemed utterly desolate and alone. Like Drusilla.

He shoved the vampires away from himself and continued on down the street. Darla watched him go with a smirk. 'Or you could just take the first drooling idiot that comes along.' Angelus laughed and the pair of them walked onward. 'Do you think she'll find anyone good?' he asked.

His sire smiled. 'I found you.'

But Drusilla stayed where she was, staring back down the street, gazing after the broken hearted poet who had just stumbled into her life...

The phone rang out in the lobby. It was Doyle that got to it first. 'Angel investigations -we hope the helpless to - hang on, what is it again?'

Back in Angel's office, Cordelia rolled her eyes. 'I swear - why do we even let him answer the phone?'

'I imagine for the same reason we continue to let you file,' Wesley said to her. 'It adds a frisson of excitement to our otherwise dull lives.' She stuck her tongue out at him.

'Hang on a minute, Gunn - slow down - what are y' sayin', man?'

The secretary and the watcher stopped their sniping when they heard Doyle address their final associate, and they hurried out into the lobby to see what was going on. 'Uhuh - uhuh - couldn't y' stop him? - OK OK - sorry! ….uhuh… sure thing, man - what's the address?' He reached out, and Cordelia pushed a pen and pad of paper towards him. 'Ready, man - shoot.' The half demon began to scribble down the address that Gunn was giving him, then he hung up the phone and looked at his two colleagues.

'What is it?' Wesley asked. Both he and Cordelia were staring at Doyle, expectantly, their eyes wide as they waited to hear whatever news had made the young street fighter call the office in such a panic. The Irishman looked back at them and sighed. 'The two of them found some vampires up in Echo Park. Standard stuff, dusted the vamps - saved the humans. But Angel must have put his good citizen badge on when he left the hotel earlier, 'cause he gave the couple a ride home - all the way up to Sun Valley.'

'So?' Cordelia asked. 'That's good isn't it? We wanted him out of the house. Though Lord knows why you'd go to the Valley if you could possibly avoid it.'

'Yeah - well I think that was the big man's thinkin' - stay outta the house, keep busy. He took the couple right the way back to their apartment block - and that's when Gunn said he started acting all crazy.'

'Crazy how?' Wesley asked, leaning on the counter top, his face taking on an expression of concern and concentration.

'Well at first it wasn't too bad,' Doyle admitted. 'As they got closer to the apartment block he was just sorta distracted...then he began to sniff the air.'

'Weirdo.'

'No, Cordelia,' Wesley explained to her, 'he has an enhanced sense of smell. If he was sniffing the air it was because he had picked up the scent of something - like a bloodhound.'

'And what was it that Mr. Bloodhound was getting great big whiffs of?' she asked.

'Three guesses,' Doyle replied.

'Oh! No! No way! He goes out of the house, after two days solid of brooding about Darla, trying to forget about her, and the first thing he does is run into her?'

'Well, apparently they haven't managed to physically run into her - yet. But the big guy is adamant that Darla has been staying in that apartment block. He's refusin' to leave. Gunn wants us over there pronto to try and bring him back to his senses.'

'Then we'd better hurry,' Wesley said. The three of them grabbed their jackets and ran out into the street, where Cordelia hailed a cab. They crammed into the back and gave the Sun Valley address to the driver. 'Angel'd better cover this unexpected expense,' Cordelia grumbled.

Gunn had managed to keep Angel outside of the building whilst they waited for the rest of the fang gang to show. The vampire had been all for barrelling straight in, tracking down Darla's apartment by her scent, and sending Gunn over the threshold to investigate. But the young street fighter refused point blank. 'Nuhuh - no way, man. No way am I going in there and then breaking into some white chick's place in the middle of the night. I can just imagine how well that would go down with the cops: "no, sir, I thought the lady was a 400 year old serial killing maniac, sir - I wasn't interested in her television, sir." That's if they ask the questions before they shoot. Damn man! You got no clue!'

'Then you wait out here - I'll go in and -'

'And what? Lurk in her doorway and shout mean things at her? We stay our asses put until the others get here.'

'And then what? They break into her apartment?'

'Well they less likely to be shot for it - but no, man. I was thinking Cordelia might sweet talk the landlord, get him to let her in - nice and legal.'

'Why would a landlord do what Cordelia asked?'

'I'm thinking you really haven't looked at Cordelia, lately.'

Angel slammed his fists down on the hood of his car in frustration. 'We're wasting time.'

'No - we'll be wasting time if we wind up spending the night in jail - relax, she aint goin' nowhere.'

When Lilah returned to her office, she found Darla standing by the window, staring out at the twinkling lights below. At least she didn't seem to have stabbed herself in the short time she'd been alone. 'Darla?'

'Say that again?'

'I just said your name - Darla.'

'It sounds so odd, doesn't it?' the blonde woman asked, still not turning away from the window.

'What do you mean?' Lilah didn't understand.

'It wasn't my name when I was human - the first time I was human, I mean.' She smiled sadly to herself, as she remembered the circumstances of her vampiric rechristening. 'The Master gave me that name to celebrate my centenary. In 1709. Nearly 50 years before I found my boy… 'Darla'...it means 'dear one' - he gave it to me because I was his favourite. But for a hundred years, I had a different name entirely.'

'What was your name?'

Darla looked round then, and Lilah was surprised to see that there were tears in her eyes. 'I don't remember.' She shook her head. 'I'm not her anyway. I was 'Darla' for so long...and then I wasn't ...I wasn't anything. He killed me and there was just nothingness ...until you brought me back.'

'Yes.'

'You, Holland. The Senior Partners. Why Lilah? What did you bring back? Did you bring back that girl whose name I can't remember? Or something else - the other thing?'

Lilah wasn't sure what to say. 'We - we brought back - you. As you are now. A human with - with the experiences of a vampire.'

'A nothing.' Darla said. 'A half breed?'

'I wouldn't go quite that far.'

'But I'm not one thing or the other. And you don't care. You just want to use me - to get to him.' She left the window and began to advance on the attorney and, in that moment, Lilah could quite clearly see the vampire this woman had been - the favourite of The Master, a member of The Order Of Aurelius - the sire of the scourge of Europe. Ruthless, brutal, unhesitating. She began to back away. 'Darla -'

'Is that who am I?' the smaller woman asked. 'Darla would have snapped you in half - is that who you brought back? who you hide away in your office?'

Lilah backed away so far she hit up against the wall. With nowhere left to go, she held her hands up to placate the woman in front of her. 'Darla. This is a difficult time for you. I know what you're going through - I understand…'

Darla turned away with a snarl of impatience and disgust. 'No - no you don't.' As the blonde woman went back to staring out of the window, Lilah felt herself relax. 'Nobody can understand.' Darla rested her forehead against the cool glass. 'I can feel this body dying, Lilah. I can feel it decaying moment by moment. It's being eaten away by this thing inside of it.' She tore her head from the window and turned back to glare at the attorney. 'It's a cancer - this soul!'

Angel stumbled up the hill, tripping over his feet as he tried to get away. But it wouldn't work, it was himself that he was trying to escape - this burden - this guilt - clawing away inside of him. Every face, every man, woman and child - every laughter cut short - every life snuffed out - every sob - every scream - every desperate plea for mercy. He remembered them all. 150 years and he remembered everything, every single moment. He wanted to die, but he was afraid to. For what torment must await a man like him in the next life? Each moment was a fresh hell, a new depth of suffering he could never have imagined - even at his most depraved - and yet he must continue on. There could be no peace - no rest. Just this. Remorse and shame and desperate sorrow, claiming him as their own for all eternity.

...

Down in the gypsy camp, Darla faced the elder. Tears stood out in her eyes. She was angry, but she was also afraid. So very afraid. These nomads had taken her boy from her, in the cruellest way, taken him from himself even - given him a soul and turned him into the shambolic wreck that fled through the hills. Neither vampire nor man. Not one thing or the other. Nothing. 'You stole him from me,' she said. 'Took him away - gave him a soul.'

'He must suffer,' the elder replied, 'as all his victims have suffered.'

'That's no justice. Whatever pain your daughter felt was fleeting. Over in a moment ...or an hour. But what you have done to him will force him to suffer for the rest of eternity. Remove that filthy soul so that my boy might return to me.' She couldn't help the pleading tone that crept into her voice in her last few words.

'Angelus has gone all away,' the cockney, singsong voice of Drusilla floated through the air, as the younger vampire came to stand by her grandsire. 'Where is he?'

Darla's whole body stiffened. She grabbed the gypsy by the neck. 'Drusilla - the camp - go kill things.' Her voice was brittle, and her words were short, by necessity. She had kept the situation hidden from Drusilla and Spike for now. They were like children, still young, still naive - for vampires. She couldn't bear for them to know what she had lost, to see their pity. She couldn't bear the shame of anyone finding out what had become of Angelus. She needed to rectify this - restore her boy to himself once more - so that no one need ever know he had been infected with a human soul.

'He shall be very cross if he finds we have had a lovely mass slaughter without him,' Drusilla told Darla, piously. Darla closed her eyes and willed herself to keep her patience, to keep her fear and sadness and anger hidden. It was all the harder knowing that Drusilla had the sight - this couldn't be kept from her forever, soon she would simply 'see' it.

'He'll join us soon. Now do as you're told.'

Drusilla licked her fingers and considered her grandsire's words. Then she nodded. 'OK,' and she drifted away again, going to kill and maim and torture.

Still holding onto the gypsy's neck, Darla indicated his wagon, stood just to the side of them, with her head. 'Your family are in there,' she told him. 'Your wife and daughters. They will die tonight without my protection.' She stroked his cheek. 'But if you do what I say, your family can live.'

Just as she finished speaking, Spike came out of the wagon, belching loudly. His face was vampiric and blood trickled down his chin. Darla glared at him.

'What?' the ridiculous boy asked in annoyance.

The eldest vampire, realising her defeat, snapped the neck of the gypsy and let his body fall to the ground. She had lost. She had lost Angelus, and those that could restore him were dead. Her boy would not be returning to her in this lifetime.

...

Down beside the fire, Drusilla was swaying in time to music that played only in her head - the music of the gypsy's had been silenced by her family - and all that was left of them was the melody that played in the mind of the crazed seer. 'Pretty music. Pretty pretty music,' she cried. Spike came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist, nuzzling into her neck, and the two of them swayed together in perfect synchronicity. Darla stared bitterly at their happiness, at their togetherness. The seer began to chant once more. 'They cry out for mercy - they cry out for mercy.'

Reflecting on all she had lost, Darla's broken, unbeating heart became stone. 'Show them none', she commanded and she stalked away into the night.

The men waited outside, by the car, whilst Cordelia, her top pulled down low and her biggest smile firmly in place, went inside and knocked on the landlord's door. It was a landlady that opened it - dammit, change of plan. She dampened down her smile, and made her bottom lip tremble as she spoke. 'Oh Hi. My name is ...Buffy Summers, I'm sorry to disturb you so late - but I'm looking for my sister, I think she lives in this apartment building - it's it's kinda urgent.' The landlady looked her up and down, slowly, and Cordelia wished she hadn't pulled her top down so low.

'I can't give out personal information on tenants,' the landlady said, making to shut the door.

Cordelia stuck her foot in the way. 'No wait!' As the door slammed into her foot, sudden tears of pain welled up in her eyes, and she internally shrugged and decided to use them. 'You don't understand! I have to find her ...I haven't seen her in years and I need to tell her about -uh .. the coma.'

The landlady stopped trying to shut the door, and looked up curiously. 'What coma?'

'Uh - the one my - our - parents are in ...there was a - a car accident. The doctors say they're not sure that they're gonna make it.'

'I'm very sorry to hear that.'

'Thank you - but you see - I just know that if - that if mom can hear Darla's voice again, just one more time; if Darla can come to the hospital and hold their hands - and tell them that she's there - then they'll wake up. They haven't seen her since she ran away - they haven't known for years if she's dead or alive, and I just know that she can provide the miracle I've been praying for. So I have to find her.' She raised her hands to her face and allowed the tears that had been standing in her eyes to fall. It was a shame 'Stain Be Gone' never asked for this kind of range - because this was the performance of a lifetime.

Even the landlady was looking a little misty about the eyes. She reached out and patted Cordelia on the arm. 'There there - I'll see what I can do. I know how hard it can be when your folks are in the hospital. Darla did you say?'

Cordelia nodded silently as she continued to weep. The landlady took down a clipboard from near the door and scanned down the list. Once she found Darla's name she gave Cordelia the number, and a spare key, and wished her all the best.

'My older sister Darla lives in unit 319,' she told the men when she returned to the car. 'It's on the top floor.'

'Darla always did love a view,' Angel said.

'So now what?'

'I go to her.'

'Wait!'

'Angel, man, isn't this exactly the opposite o' what you're meant to be doin'?' Doyle demanded, standing in front of his boss so that he could block his entrance.

But the vampire just shoved him aside. 'I was trying to ignore her - trying to forget. Fate brought me here. Fate brought me to Darla - so now I need to go to her.'

'Listen, bud if it was The Powers that wanted you to do this they would have just sent me a vision!'

'Doyle's right, Angel,' Wesley cautioned. 'You have to consider the possibility that you are seeing Fate where there is only coincidence. If The Powers That Be wanted -'

'I didn't say it was The Powers,' Angel interrupted, whirling round to face his four associates. 'I said it was fate. I was meant to find her. Now I can't get into that apartment without an invite - so are you guys gonna help me - or are you gonna be fired?'

The four of them looked at each other, uncomfortably, and then followed him into the building. He took the stairs three or four at a time, and they had to scurry to keep up with him, especially Doyle and Cordelia - who were rather shorter than their irate boss.

...

Once outside number 319, Angel forced the key into the lock and shoved the door open, using all his strength in his eagerness to get inside. It broke in half, fell off its hinges and splintered around the edges. 'Avon calling!' Cordelia said, trying to sound bright and cheery, hoping no one on the same landing came out to investigate the noise.

'So much for nice and legal', Gunn muttered to himself.

The four living members of Team Angel crept through the door and looked around the whole apartment. Cordy stuck close to Doyle the whole time, hoping that they would find safety in numbers against evil, psycho vampire lady. But she wasn't there. The apartment was empty.

'There's nothin' here, bud,' Doyle told his boss. 'But you should really see this.' He pulled the broken down door wider so that Angel could look into the living space. The glass from the smashed mirrors still littered the floor. 'Looks like somethin' happened here before you could get to her.'

They had to return to the hotel before it got light. The three original members of Team Angel sat in the lobby, talking about what they had seen. 'I don't understand what happened at that place,' Cordelia said. 'It didn't look like anyone had broken in - no sign of a forced entry.'

'Well - not until our boy got there,' Doyle added.

Cordelia nodded. 'But why was the place all smashed up like that, if no one had broken in?'

'She must o' done it herself.'

'She smashed all the mirrors,' Angel said, his voice heavy and tinged with sadness.

'Why?' Cordelia still didn't understand.

The front door of the hotel opened and Wesley and Gunn walked in. 'We talked to the neighbours,' Gunn told them. 'They said they reported a disturbance there earlier this evening.'

'They said they heard the sounds of things being broken - but could see no evidence of there being an intruder and they believed the young woman who lived there was there by herself. Another woman came to investigate and took her away - they saw no one else,' Wesley continued.

'Another woman?' Cordelia was getting more confused, not less.

'From Wolfram and Hart,' Angel told her. 'They brought her back, they put her up, they control her.'

'Y'mean it was Lilah,' Doyle said.

Angel nodded. 'Almost certainly - Lilah has her at the office with her.'

'But why was she smashing mirrors in the first place?' Cordelia wanted to know.

'Isn't it obvious?' Angel asked. His four associates all looked at each other, nonplussed.

'Angel, I don't think anything is obvious,' Wesley told him.

But Angel shook his head. He knew he was right. 'The weight of her soul - she's feeling it.'

'We don't know that for certain.'

'It makes sense. She used to be a vampire - now she has a soul.'

'That makes sense?' Cordelia was incredulous. 'Then why don't you go round smashing mirrors?'

'Because I don't have to look at myself.'

The three humans still looked unconvinced, but Doyle was beginning to nod. There had been a time when looking in mirrors had caused him more agony than he could bear. At first - when he'd only just found out about his demon half and couldn't control it - couldn't just shake it off - he would get stuck that way for hours. One day, he had been drinking - heavily - and he had stumbled over, falling into the glass coffee table, smashing it and cutting himself in the process. The pain had forced the spikes out from under his skin and then he was just stuck like that, unable to change back - trapped in the house because he was too monstrous to leave. Harri had had a large, antique mirror, that she loved, stood in the corner of the living room and when he saw himself reflected in the glass - all green skin and red eyes and the blue spikes covering his face like a disease - he hadn't been able to stand it anymore. He had taken the table lamp and smashed it into the mirror until it broke into shards, and that awful creature, the monster that was himself, had gone away. Then he had taken the lamp into the bathroom and bedroom and smashed the mirrors in there as well. When Harri had returned home she had found their apartment covered in broken glass, her things smashed to pieces, the floor awash with shining, sharp fragments. And in the middle of it was Doyle - cut and bleeding - and drunk.

She had left the next day.

Angel was right. Darla had smashed the mirrors because she couldn't face the monster inside of herself.

The phone began to ring and Cordelia went to pick it up. Wesley leaned forward to speak to Angel in a low voice. 'You think the state of the apartment is a sign that Darla's guilt has begun to manifest? That she's in trouble and needs help? But - have you considered that that is what someone wants you to think?'

'You think it's a trap?'

'Angel,' Cordelia interrupted - holding out the phone.

'Not now Cordelia.'

'I think that wherever Lilah Morgan is concerned - we cannot take anything at face value,' Wesley told him.

'Angel-'

'I'm talking Cordelia, take a message.' He turned back to the other men.

Over by the phone Cordelia sighed, rolled her eyes and then spoke in false, cheery tones. 'Hey - sorry, Darla. He and his little man friends are just working out the best way of finding and rescuing you. Once they've got it sorted - I'm sure he'll call you back and let you know the plan. Take care now. Bye bye.'

The phone was suddenly yanked out of her hand, as Angel used all his vampire speed to get to her side. 'Darla?'

'My dear boy. My darling boy. I told her that no one understands. But that's not true. You do.'

'Yeah - I do.'

'You said that you'd give me everything. Do you remember that? I believed it then. I still do.'

He thought back to that night in the sewer tunnels, when he had taken her away from her master - the promises he had made. 'I'll do whatever I can.'

'It's been four centuries since I've been afraid of anything. Now I'm sick of it.'

'I know.' Down the phone line Angel heard the sound of a door opening and closing, and a voice at the other end. 'Darla - put the phone down,' the voice said.

Darla lowered her voice, still speaking into the phone. 'Help me!' she whispered.

...

'Darla you need to put the phone down,' Lilah said. 'Come on now.' Even from the doorway she could hear the voice of the vampire, calling out Darla's name. Darla lowered the phone and held it against her chest, looking at the attorney.

...

As Angel pressed the receiver to his ear, he could hear the steady thump thump of Darla's heartbeat, and her ragged breathing. She was afraid.

...

The door opened behind Lilah and a security guard walked in. 'Is everything OK in here? Mr. Manners said you might need some help.'

'No it's fine - leave. Darla, put the phone down.'

'I have to go to him, Lilah. He's the only one that can help.'

'That's not true, Darla,' the attorney entreated. 'We can help you - we have all the resources to -'

Darla shook her head. 'I'm going. I have to.'

'Mr. Manners said she wasn't to leave the building,' the security guard said, moving in closer. Darla suddenly struck out, hitting Lilah with the phone, and then made to dash past the guard.

...

Back at the Hyperion, listening in, Angel could make out the sounds of a desperate struggle - and then the sound of a single gunshot firing.

Chapter 27: Darla: Part Three

Chapter Text

Lilah sat in Holland Manner's office. He sat behind his desk, surveying her over steepled fingers. 'You lost control of her,' he said at last.

'I did, sir - but-'

'She isn't the first project you've lost control of recently.' He was referring to Bethany, the telekinetic that Lilah had hoped to train as an assassin, who had been rescued by none other than Angel himself. 'If I didn't know better, Lilah, I'd think you were losing your edge.'

'That's not true.'

The older lawyer sighed deeply, and rocked back in his chair. 'Isn't it? There have been ...failures ...disappointments... for quite some time now. Angel has proven to be quite a thorn in our sides and now our attempts to neutralise him seem to have come to nought. Since Lindsey left us…'

'There were failures under Lindsey too,' Lilah interrupted, quick to point out that she was not the only lawyer who had fallen foul of the vampire. 'That business with Russell Winters - and the rogue slayer.'

'Which you were a part of.'

'As was Lee Mercer,' she replied. 'The department has downsized from three to one in under a year, and I am the only one left standing. The only one still loyal to The Senior Partners - to you.'

'Ah loyalty,' he patted his chest, right over his heart - pretending to be touched. 'As with all good associates at this firm, you are loyal only to yourself, Lilah. Now I am terminating this project.'

'Terminating?'

He smiled at her, allowing her to work out for herself what he meant by that. 'Now, let's see if that fierce loyalty of yours can get you out of this mess. The Senior Partners will not be happy with this failure - what are you going to do about it?'

She stood up to leave, smiling grimly to herself, she knew exactly what she was going to do. When The Senior Partners began to ask questions - she was going to have answers prepared, a solution to the Angel problem - and this time she was keeping it within her own area of expertise. Lindsey had once told her that, as lawyers, they should stick to their strengths- not try and manoeuvre outwith the law. She was going to follow that advice.

As she opened the door she stopped, just for a moment, and turned back to face her boss. 'The guard? What happened to him?'

'His family have been notified. Police have a suspect in custody. It's handled.'

Angel was pulling his coat on, his associates gathered round him in the lobby. 'Want me to come with?' Gunn asked, but Angel shook his head. This was something he needed to do alone.

'Are y' sure about that, man?' Doyle wanted to know. 'You're not exactly thinkin' straight, y' could use some backup.'

'I know what I'm doing.'

Cordelia held the cars keys out to her boss, and he took them, gratefully. 'Thanks.'

'Angel,' It was Wesley that spoke up this time, hoping to change the vampire's mind.

'I know, I know, I'm walking into a trap.'

'I'm not convinced you do.'

'Wesley's right, bud, this - whole thing -it…'

'Reeks of a trap?' Cordelia finished up. All the men, except for Angel, nodded their heads in agreement.

'Look, she asked for my help.'

His employees all sighed and looked at each other. Doyle rolled his eyes. 'O'course she did. 'Cause you're the big strappin' hero type. You love a damsel in distress - you can't resist 'em.'

'That's what makes it a trap,' Cordelia added, helpfully.

'I can't turn my back on her.'

'And I'm not saying you should,' Wesley told him. 'You, better than anyone, know what she was - what she's capable of.'

'What we were - what we were capable of,' Angel corrected. 'And I also know what she's going through. And unlike me - maybe she won't have to go through it alone.'

'You're not alone.' Cordelia sounded hurt at his dismissal of the roles his friends played in his life. But the vampire was too caught up in the problem to notice. Doyle slipped his arm around her waist and gave her a squeeze. They smiled at each other, commiserating smiles, as Angel continued to ignore his friends and concentrate only on his troubled sire.

'You may be right,' Wesley finally seemed to agree, 'she may be experiencing this exactly as you did,' but here his agreement ended: 'But Angel, you yourself wandered for a hundred years without ever seeking redemption.'

'That's right,' Angel told the team. 'I sought her.'

Fires blazed, lighting up the night sky, as buildings burned to the ground. People ran through the streets, screaming - carting their meagre possessions away from the burning buildings. In Tiananmen square, the boxer army massed; laying siege to Dong Jioman Xiang - and all the foreigners and Christians who huddled in the legation quarter. They had besieged the district for 40 days already, and there would be another 15 before troops from the eight nation alliance came through and defeated the imperial army, relieving the besieged.

The whole city was in chaos. Fear and panic roamed the streets, along with the people who fled from their homes. This was the perfect hunting ground for a vampire, and Darla had led her two young proteges to the East, in order to enjoy the madness.

She was all alone in their lodgings, Spike and Dru were out enjoying the death and destruction, and she was packing. It had been fun - but it was time to move on. Her actions were slow and measured and calm, in direct contrast to the screaming and terror that took place right outside the window. A creature of the night had nothing to fear, here.

A filthy pair of hands suddenly grabbed her face from the sides, and she whirled around to face her attacker. It was Angelus, her boy, or that hollow mockery of himself he had become since the gypsies had cursed him with a human soul. His clothes were ragged, his hair untamed; and dirt streaked his skin, his hands, and buried under his nails. She remembered how well turned out he had always been, how clean and proper looking. He had lived for the finest rooms, the finest silks, the finest luxury money could buy or his teeth could kill for. They had never had any problem entering into the highest of society, as the two of them had always looked the part of a fine lady and gentleman. And now he was ragged, dirt encrusted and soiled. Her fine boy, her magnificent creature, gone so much to seed.

But even as she recoiled from his filth, and from the putrid infection she could still sense within him, she still felt that longing for him that she had always had; that hunger and desire. This was her boy, she could never not want him.

'You're so warm,' the creature said to her, as he felt her hot skin beneath his cold hands. 'You've just fed.'

'You found me,' she whispered, looking up at him.

'You never could resist a religious war - and you always talked about China. I just followed the bodies. You never used to be careless.'

'Maybe I wanted to be found.' Maybe she had. Her unbeating heart felt so empty, her loneliness gnawed at her - but his soul still sickened her. She no longer knew what she wanted - she wanted so many things, conflicting and contrary. She wanted her boy back, but that could never be. But Angelus was right on one count; she had never before been careless.

He released her from his grip and, as his back was turned, she pulled a blade from out of her packing. She pushed him against the wall and held the knife to his throat. 'I should kill you now.' From this close up she could feel the soul inside of him, the guilt, the humanity. She could just slide the blade back, right to the wall - one clean cut and watch this creature crumble to dust before her eyes. He encouraged her to do it. He wanted the pain to stop. But then she remembered him as he was that first ever night, in that tavern in Galway, head and shoulders above the other men - the finest specimen she had ever laid eyes on. All that magnificence crumbled to ash. She couldn't do it, and she wrenched the knife away, turning from him as she did.

'Is that why you're here? Too much of a coward to end your own life you want me to do it for you? Release that filthy soul? I can smell it, you know. And that's not all - you reek of vermin. Is that what you've been living off? What do you want?'

'A second chance.'

She turned back to look at him, unbelieving. But he seemed serious. 'I want things to be like they were - you and me - Darla, together - the way it's supposed to be. I promised I'd give you everything, Darla, the whole world - let me give it to you.'

She shook her head. 'That's impossible - you're no longer one of us.'

'I'm still a vampire.'

'You're not - you have a soul. Look at you. You're not anything anymore. I don't know you.'

'You know me,' he moved towards her, slowly, like a predator. 'You made me, Darla. I'm Angelus.'

But she shook her head again. 'Not anymore.'

'I can be again,' he said to her, stepping closer with every word. 'Just give me a chance to prove it.'

'You almost made me believe you.'

He was right in front of her now, she had her back up against the wall with nowhere left to go, and he grabbed her hands, clasping them in his own filthy ones as he spoke to her. 'Believe it - we can have the whirlwind back.'

His closeness was intoxicating; she felt the physicality of him getting inside her mind, obscuring her thoughts, as she was once more surrounded and enveloped in the heady sense of him. She looked up into his face, into his eyes. 'We can do this.'

'Yes we can,' he smiled back down at her.

'We can do anything.'

'Anything we like.' And they leaned in to kiss, snuffing out the pain and loneliness of the last two years in their hungry embrace.

Lilah was back in her own office. She sat behind her desk and unlocked the middle drawer, carefully taking out the dossier she had been keeping there. This was how she was going to defeat the vampire - now that the Darla project had turned to ash and blown away on the wind. She was going to separate him from The Powers That Be, once and for all. She wasn't going to bother with invoking demons from the lower realms, and attempting to cripple him and his ragtag bunch of misfit friends, mystically. She had tried that too many times before - it never worked. The mystical was where Angel lived, where he was strong, where he was a champion. Of course he always won those battles.

But there was one place where he was weak - and where Lilah was strong. The place where she lived, where she was a champion: the laws of man. Oh, of course a major part of her job was circumventing and flouting those laws in order to satisfy her clients; but, unlike Angel, she knew what the laws were, what their limits were - and how they could be used to one's own advantage. This was the arena in which he couldn't defeat her. He couldn't even touch her.

She opened the dossier and looked through at the contents she had been carefully collecting since March. Eight months of hard work, of digging, of rooting out facts and interviewing lowlifes. And now she had everything she needed to sever Angel's connection to The Powers and leave him fighting blind. As she turned over the papers with her right hand, and grimly glanced down at the prosthetic that was in place of her left, she realised just how much she had been waiting for an excuse - she had been itching to use this. Now all their chickens were coming home to roost, and she would get her revenge.

She looked at all the details of the unsolved crimes she had managed to unearth - starting in 1995 and continuing on into early 1998. Accessory to Bank Robbery, Actual Bank Robbery and Grand Theft Auto. Four counts of the last one. She turned to the last sheet in the folder. It was a photograph of the culprit named for all the crimes, and she could hardly stop herself from beaming with satisfaction. That ludicrous half breed was irritating even in picture form. That dimple - God! She wanted to smash it in with her plastic hand. But now it was time for him to pay; for every time he had thwarted Lilah, for every lowlife petty little crime he had committed since he had found out about his demon half. She snapped the folder shut and placed it into her purse, leaving her office to take this evidence down to the precinct. It didn't quite fit, and so the top of the dossier stuck out of her bag. The sticky label was exposed, there to be read by anyone who cared to - Allen Francis Doyle.

Good luck guiding Angel in his quest to protect the innocent whilst serving 5 to 10 in LAC.

'So what now? Do we just sit here and wait?' Cordelia asked. Doyle came out from around the back of the desk, carrying a tray with four mugs on it. She reached out and took her own cup of coffee, smiling her thanks at him, as she lifted it to take a sip.

'I guess we just have to hope that the big guy knows what he's doin',' the half demon told her, as he proffered the tray towards his other two associates. They took their own cups, and he disappeared back around the desk to put the tray away, reappearing with his own mug of coffee and joining them on the sofa.

'Is this a thing that happens often?' Gunn asked. 'Angel goin' all crazy like this?'

'Often?' Cordelia stuck out her bottom lip as she pondered the question. 'Um- not in a -only in a - yeah... I guess he does get this way a lot.'

'Our boy can be very highly strung,' Doyle agreed. 'Everything's all life and death, end of the world, "arghargh what have I done?" Sorta thing, when it comes to him.'

'It leaves him cranky.'

'But then he's always OK in the end, right?' Gunn sought reassurance.

Wesley sighed and took off his glasses. He cleaned them and replaced them on his nose before he spoke. 'Angel has lived a long time, and gone through many phases in that time. We know since he's been cursed he took a certain period of adjustment. He himself, admitted to seeking out Darla, hoping he could remain what he had been. But his soul wouldn't let him. Once he left her side, he came to these shores and spent the next 90 odd years alone - not really looking to atone or seek redemption.'

'There was that time he tried to help the nice lady bank robber here in the hotel,' Cordelia pointed out.

Wes just shook his head, 'He gave up on her at the first hurdle and left her to the mercy of a paranoia demon for the next 50 years! It took a good long time for him to be ready to change.'

'So why did he?' Gunn asked.

Doyle took up the story. 'In a word - Buffy. The Powers found him living homeless, feeding off rats. They showed him the slayer gettin' called and asked him to help her. Well our hero took one look at this tiny, little, blonde woman, so vulnerable and scared, and he fell madly in love with her. Changed his ways, cleaned up his act. Became a champion of the people.'

'Tiny, little, blonde woman, all vulnerable and scared,' repeated Cordelia, raising her eyebrows to emphasise the significance of the words. 'Sound like anyone we know around here?'

'Well y' gotta hand it to him. Our boy's consistent.'

'So - Angel can't resist a blonde chick in a crisis - and now he's run off to what could well be a trap in order to try and save her - I ask again - do we just sit here and wait?'

'Angel has to try and save Darla,' Wesley told his colleagues. 'He sees too much of his own circumstances in her. To leave her to face this situation alone would be more guilt than he could bear - when he knows firsthand the pain she might be in. He has to at least make the attempt to save her soul - for his own sake, if not for her's.'

Lilah left the building, her purse stashed under her arm, and made her way to her car, ready to drive Downtown to the police station. As she struggled to find her car keys, one handed, she felt something slide around her neck. Angel pulled the cable tight against her throat making a noose. 'Where is she?' He pulled tighter, and her feet left the ground. She clutched at the cable with her one hand, hoping to free herself. Her purse fell to the floor and her wallet, her keys, and the dossier all spilled out underneath her car. Angel barely glanced at them. 'Angel-'

'No, you get just enough breath to tell me where she is. My advice? Don't waste it.'

'I'll tell,' she gasped out, 'just let me go.' But he held her firmly in place. He did not trust this woman to speak the truth - not unless her own life was in actual danger.

'They're going to kill her,' she rasped, 'Or at least, that's what Holland said.'

'Where?'

'There's an abandoned bank - Figaro and Ninth. We own the property. That's where they'd take her.'

'You're sure?'

'It's where they do all their wetworks, underground - where the vaults used to be.'

The pressure around her neck was suddenly released and she was slammed, from behind, into the body of her car. The vampire grabbed her, twisting her to face him and held her by the lapels. 'Know this,' he snarled into her face, 'If you're lying to me - If she's not there -I'll come back for you.' He let her go again, dropping her roughly so she once more fell against the car. 'Heck, I might come back for you anyway.' And then he was gone.

She massaged her throat for a few moments and then dropped to the floor to pick up her fallen things. The vampire hadn't even glanced at what had spilled out. He could have saved his best friend a whole world of misery if he'd just taken his head out of his ass for a moment and used his eyes. Good. Let him look back on this exact instant in time with regret. Let him wish he could have the moment over again - so that he could save his friend as well as the stupid girl - let the memory of this little incident haunt him for the next 5 to 10 years. It would only serve to make Lilah's revenge even sweeter.

Angel left the law firm and headed West towards Santa Monica. His soul, his very being, vibrated with the need to get to Darla on time, to reach her - to find her.

He wandered through the streets, looking for his sire. The riots raged on all around him, the chaos bled and the houses burned. It was difficult, in all this din - this assault on the senses - to hunt and track a particular target. But he had been with Darla for 150 years, not even the demons of hell themselves could keep him from her side, could stop him from feeling her, from finding her. As he stumbled down an alleyway, calling out her name, he came across a missionary family; a man, his wife, two children, and a baby crying in a basket, huddled fearfully against the wall, hoping to stay hidden.

As he looked upon them, and they stared back, a curved sword swung through the air. It was a Chinese warrior, attacking from behind. Angel slapped him to one side, and pushed him against the wall. He connected head first, and fell unconscious, his sword clattering to the ground. Angel turned back to stare at the missionary family - and then he began to back away, leaving them alone down the alley.

As he stepped out into the square, he bumped straight into Darla. 'There you are!' she greeted him, her smile was wide and her skin was flushed with the excitement of the destruction that surrounded her. 'The whirlwind, Angelus.' They kissed.

She broke away and tried to peer down the alleyway. 'What's down there?' But he held onto her, holding her back. 'Nothing - bodies. Let's find something warm.'

'Yes,' she smiled. 'Some Missionaries. We'll drain the piety right out of them.'

As they moved down the street, they came across the other two members of their little family. Drusilla was tugging Spike through the crowds, though every now and then she broke off to turn back and kiss him. He looked all roughed up, like he had been in a fight - one that perhaps he hadn't had full command of. 'Well, where have you two been?' Darla asked.

Drusilla's face lit up in a smile. 'May I tell?' she asked Spike, although she kept her eyes on the other two vampires. Spike wrapped his arms around her and kissed her neck. 'No need to be humble.'

Drusilla's grin grew even wider. 'My little Spike just killed himself a slayer!'

Darla felt like she had been punched in the gut. 'Did you hear that?' she asked Angel, turning to look at him. He stood there, grim faced, unsmiling. 'Congratulations' he said to the youngest of their group. 'I guess that makes you one of us after all.' Darla continued to look at him.

'Don't be so glum mate.' Even the idiot boy had noticed there was something wrong with Angelus. 'The way I hear it, one slayer snuffs it the next one arises. I figure there's a new chosen one getting all chosen, even as we speak. I tell you what - if and when this new bird shows up - I'll let you have first crack at it.' He did a little playful punch towards his grandsire, and grinned at him, but Angelus still looked dour.

'I smell fear,' Drusilla announced, turning to peer down the alleyway where the missionaries hid.

'This whole place reeks of it,' Angel replied, hoping to distract her. Darla could not find out that he had protected those missionaries from her. Spike walked up behind Drusilla, holding her and kissing her once more. She reached a hand back to cup his face. 'It's intoxicating' she said.

'Let's get out of here,' Angel commanded, 'this whole rebellion is starting to bore me.' He swept past the young couple, feeling Darla's eyes on him as he walked away.

The four of them walked through the night, chaos and destruction before them and behind. The flames licked and crackled and spat; smoke billowed into the sky, blotting out the stars; the people ran - screaming and terrified. The whole world bled before them, brought to its knees by the war that raged on. But the four of them just walked on through the night. Not slowing, not stopping. Masters of destruction themselves, they revelled in all that was around them... But the whole time, Darla never took her worried eyes off Angelus…

Everything was black where Darla was. She didn't know where she was, or why she was there. 'Are you with me, Angel?' she whispered. 'Angel are you there?' The blackness was lifted, and she was thrown out of the back of a van. There were three men surrounding her. One of them pulled out a gun and took aim. 'Sorry, lady,' he said. 'It's just us.'

Chapter 28: Darla: Part Four

Chapter Text

Angel walked into the house. Darla was there waiting for him, dressed in a kimono, her hair piled up on top of her head. He had always preferred her in something a little more revealing, himself, but that had been before - when they were matched - two halves of the same demonic whole. Now there was this great gulf between them and he had to admit, it didn't matter what she wore - all he saw was the killer. And it disgusted him. He didn't want it to, he wanted to be like her. Or at least he wanted to want that. But he wasn't - not anymore. And now the two former lovers both found each other repellent.

'Where have you been?' she asked, her voice was hard and her eyes were cold. 'Answer me.'

'Feeding.'

'On vermin?'

He didn't answer at once, and then after a moment, he lied. 'No.'

She shook her head in disgust. 'Don't lie to me.'

'Look I've killed men!' he protested. 'You've seen me.'

But it wasn't enough. She'd seen the types of men he had killed and fed on. 'Rapists,' she hissed, 'and murderers. Thieves and scoundrels. Did you think I wouldn't notice? Only evildoers, that's all you hunt now.' Angel looked down at his feet, ashamed. He had hoped she wouldn't notice, that he had fooled her - if not himself, that he was the same man he had always been. When she spoke again, her tone was accusatory, filled with cold, disappointed fury. 'You said if I took you back, you'd prove yourself.'

'I will.'

'Well now's your chance.' She stood up and, in one swift movement, pulled the sheet off the object that had lain on the table. It was the basket that the missionaries had had, and it still contained the baby - though it was quiet now - the dark of the blanket having sent it to sleep. Angel looked down at the helpless, innocent creature - and then up into the unforgiving face of his sire.

'I went back before dawn,' she told him. 'They were still there, cowering in the alleyway, praying to their god for salvation.' Angel had stopped looking at her and was watching the baby again. She watched him watch it. 'They didn't know that their only saviour was down at the waterfront - dining on rats. I won't be made a fool of, Angelus.'

He tore his gaze away from the baby and looked back at her.

'Not by you,' she said. 'Not by anyone.'

He looked down at his feet once more, 'I didn't mean…'

'Whilst Spike - Spike! - was out killing a slayer, you were out saving missionaries. From me.'

'I'm sorry.'

But she had had enough. If he couldn't do this for her, then this was the end of the road for them. There could be no more whirlwind. 'No more words,' she told him, pointing at the baby, 'act.'

Darla lay on the ground, peering up at the three men who surrounded her. One of them still had his gun trained on her. So this was it. The end. Again. She found she was afraid, even though the pain in her heart was so intense, the burden she carried too great. Still, in all her agony, she did not want to die. Not like this. Not here, in this strange place, at the hands of these strange men. Shot in the head and then dumped in the river, like a nobody. She closed her eyes.

A squeal of tyres announced the arrival of another car. She could feel him. Her boy. He had come for her.

Angel jumped out over the windshield and headed for the three men who threatened his sire. As he advanced, one of them grabbed the woman and dragged her out of the way. But for now, Angel concentrated on the immediate threat, kicking the gun out of the first guy's hand. He set to work then, punching, kicking and slamming them against the wall. The one man dropped Darla to go to his associates' aid, and the blonde woman stumbled and crashed into the wall, where she slumped to the floor.

Even three against one, these humans were no match for a vampire, and Angel made easy work of them, knocking them out and throwing the last of them into the back of the van. Then he approached her, carefully and slowly. He crouched down in front of her and reached out to touch her. 'Darla?'

Lilah walked back into the lobby of Wolfram and Hart, delivery complete, feeling pleased with herself. As she entered the well lit space, she saw Holland shaking hands with a guard over by the reception desk. She stopped in her tracks. That was the guard from earlier - the one Darla had caused to be shot. Holland had said he was dead. He had played her. This guy was fine, it had all been a set up, they wouldn't be terminating the project… And now she had played her hand with regards to the half breed and muddied up the seemingly ongoing Darla project at the same time. She had made a severe miscalculation. And if she wasn't very careful now, then this would all come down on her hard, and she would get it right in the neck. Dammit!

Across the foyer, Holland looked up - and saw her staring.

'It's been too long,' Cordelia announced, pacing up and down the lobby. The men all looked up at her, from where they were sitting on the sofa; playing Go Fish with Doyle's ever present playing cards. 'Angel should be back by now.'

'Ah, he'll be back, princess, don't worry.'

'What if he isn't? What if he's injured, or dead or locked up in Wolfram and Hart's dungeon or something?'

'Wait? Do those nasty ass lawyers really have a dungeon?' Gunn wanted to know.

Doyle screwed up his face, as he thought. 'They have a high security vault guarded by a nasty ass demon. It amounts to the same thing.'

'And Angel might be locked up inside of it!' Cordelia exclaimed, pushing her hair back out of her face, in frustration.

Wesley cleared his throat. 'If all Wolfram and Hart were looking for was a simple capture and containment, then they would have done that long ago. If, as we suspect, their plan is something rather more devious - and that they are deliberately setting out to turn Angel dark, then whatever trap tonight may spring on him will be much more long range in it's reach. He is in no immediate danger - although the repercussions of tonight may have rather drastic consequences.'

'And that's it? That's your big answer - sit back and wait because Angel is probably fine?'

'Cordelia- ' Doyle began but she cut him off. 'Are you honestly telling me that you guys aren't worried?'

'Nuhuh,' Gunn replied, immediately.

'Nope.'

'Not me.'

'Cool as a cucumber,' Gunn rounded the denials, which he had started, off.

The secretary glared at them. 'Really? In that case, why exactly is it that you guys are playing a lame ass game like Go Fish?' The men all shifted uncomfortably, clearing their throats and looking anywhere but Cordelia.

'Well...games of chance are …'

'It's not a bad …'

'I mean...under the circumstances…'

'We're ….we're too tense to focus on something like poker,' Doyle finally admitted, mumbling.

Cordelia snorted. 'Exactly, I think we should go and find him.'

'How're we going to do that?' Doyle asked.

'Duh! we're supposed to be detectives - let's do some detecting - it's what we're good at.'

'No - it's what we suck at,' Gunn told her.

'Man's got a point.'

'Let's face it, Cordelia,' Wesley told her, 'unless Angel left us a trail of handy breadcrumbs to follow, we don't have a hope in hell's chance of finding him.'

'Fine,' she whirled round to head out of the door. 'You all stay there, playing with yourselves…' the men exchanged uncomfortable glances at her choice of words...it was probably deliberate '...too defeatist to go save Angel - but I'm gonna…'

She was interrupted by the front door of the hotel being kicked open and Angel walking in, carrying a semi- conscious Darla.

Lilah walked into her office, leaving the door open, and sure enough, Holland followed her in. 'You said you had notified his family,' she said. 'You said he was dead.'

'Lilah -'

'Darla's still alive isn't she? You never had any intention of killing her.'

'We always knew she would buckle under the weight of her soul - though we never expected it to happen so quickly,' he admitted, 'there must have been more goodness in the human she once was than we had realised, we thought we had months yet.'

'I don't understand why this means you played me.'

He took a step towards her, a kindly and entreating expression on his face. 'Lilah, the end game has always been to turn Angel into his darker form - Darla is the tool with which we hope to achieve that. We hoped to tease and torture him for a while longer yet, but we always knew eventually she would crack with the guilt- and that then she would seek him. She had to reach crisis point and we had to accelerate that - tonight.'

'But why not keep me in the loop?' She was breathing heavily, working hard to control her anger. Holland's lies had led her to deploy her contingency plan and now - not only was that out of her hands, but it would affect the running of the Darla project. She couldn't admit any of this to Holland, she would have to fire fight, try and keep everything under control, and if the worst came to the worst - deny all knowledge. And the worst of it was - this was all Holland's fault! If he'd just told her what was going on she would never have pulled the trigger on the half breed - not yet. But he was her boss - so she would pay for his mistake - it was still her ass on the line.

'It had to be real,' Holland explained to her. 'She had to believe so that he would believe. And you were the one he would come to for information. So you had to believe as well. If our plan was to work at all, it all had to be real.'

'And now what?' she asked, drawing herself up to her full, not inconsiderable, height, and folding her arms across her chest. 'She's driven back to him weak and vulnerable? And our vampire hero just can't resist?' She smirked, 'are we on the clock for his moment of perfect happiness, now?'

'Oh, Lilah,' the old attorney shook his head, 'can it be you have misunderstood our boy so badly?' She shook her hair back off her face and stared down at the man, her expression bold and impassive, refusing to show uncertainty. 'Angel is a champion,' Holland explained, 'a creature of nobility, morals, homespun family values and all that hallmark crap. There is no danger of physical intimacy at the moment. Darla is hurting, he would never take advantage of her in her time of need - the caped crusader does not work that way.'

'Then what do you think he's going to do?'

'I know what he'll do. What he must do. What he has to. What he lives for... He will save her soul.'

The men had cleared off the sofa, the playing cards hastily stuffed back in Doyle's pocket, and now Darla reclined where they had been sat. The team all stood around, watching her. Angel crouched down and took her hand in his own. 'She's gonna be OK,' he said.

But Cordelia looked unconvinced. 'I don't know - maybe we should get a doctor?'

Darla opened her eyes. 'No,' she said, 'no doctors.' Then she looked into Angel's face and smiled, a weary but pleased smile. 'Angelus.'

'Ummm - I know you're concussion girl and everything,' Cordelia told her, looking scandalised, 'but around here it's 'Angel' OK? Just 'Angel'.'

'Guys!' can we get a moment here alone, please?' Angel glanced over his shoulder at his four employees. The three men all agreed and walked away, Cordelia stayed where she was for a moment - glaring. Realising that she hadn't followed him, Doyle stopped and looked back - he held out his hand to her - and, reluctantly, she stepped away from the sofa and followed him. As they walked back into the office, she threw a last look over her shoulder at the vampire and his sire.

...

'What do you think she'll do?' she asked as the door to Angel's office closed, sealing the four of them inside.

'I don't think she's in much of a state to do anything,' Wesley replied, 'except lie there weakly and be thankful that he found her when he did.'

'Oh right, weak and thankful, that sounds like a safe chick to leave Angel alone with - not!'

'Cordelia, we have to trust that Angel knows what he's doin'!' Doyle told her.

'Why?' She sat down in Angel's chair and looked at them each in turn, daring them to come up with a reason why they should trust that Angel was a safe pair of hands right now. But they all dropped their gaze, refusing to meet her eye, and shook their heads. Maybe 'trust' wasn't the right word. They had to hope that Angel knew what he was doing - because the alternative was unthinkable.

Alone in the lobby, Darla smiled at her boy again.'I thought I was dead.'

'You're not dead.'

'I'm not sure how I feel about that.'

The vampire gave a half smile in response. 'I know the feeling.'

She reached out and touched his face. 'I'm so lucky - so lucky to have someone who understands - you never had that, did you?'

He leaned into her touch, remembering it, as if the last time they had embraced had been only yesterday.'It's not your fault.'

'No,' she struggled upright, so that she was sat up, her legs still curled up on the sofa. 'No. But there's so much that is.'

'It's gonna be OK,' he reassured her.

And she smiled once more, her whole face relaxing. 'I knew you'd help me,' she whispered. 'Knew that if I could only get to you - funny, that's why they brought me back - to get to you.' She leaned forward towards him, so that their foreheads were almost touching. 'Now I find I need you - as I've always needed you. You'll make the pain stop, won't you?'

He pulled his head away from hers, and took her hand. 'It takes time,' he explained gently.

But she shook her head, and then shook her hair back, exposing her long, white neck to him. 'It takes but moments,' she murmured, 'do it -now.'

He stared at her, pulling his hand away, standing up and backing off. 'What?'

She got off the sofa and followed him. 'Do it do it!' she begged, 'make me what I was again.' She grabbed him by the front of the shirt.

'Darla!'

'You said you'd help me!' she cried. He tried to back away, but she wouldn't let go, so desperate was she for him to give her what she needed.

'I will,' he told her, 'I want to - but not like this!'

Doyle sat on the edge of Angel's desk, shuffling his deck of cards, barely listening to the quiet hum of conversation that came from the others. He didn't need to - there was nothing new to say. Cordelia was anxious and this was coming out as anger, Wesley tried to be pragmatic, Gunn tried to be clever - no one had anything useful to suggest. The sound of raised voices from outside made him stop his shuffling and look upwards towards the door. 'Sshh,' he told the others, 'd'ya hear that?' They all stopped talking and listened.

'Are they fighting?' Gunn asked. 'Should we go out there?'

'You all were the ones who agreed to come in here in the first place!' Cordelia pointed out, indignantly. 'Besides - this is Angel - fighting is better than boinking. If we hear that - then we go out there.'

'Damn girl! You nasty!'

'I think what Cordelia means,' Wesley began to explain, 'is that as long as he is -ah - discussing things with Darla then his soul is anchored. But if things progress to the next level -'

'And with our boy - violence and sex are always pretty much the same thing.'

'-quite then it would behove us to interrupt the pair of them before he reaches …uh ...'

'I believe the technical term you're searchin' for there, bud, is 'perfect happiness'.'

'Yes.'

'Quick rule of thumb, if Angel is miserable then we're all happy. He gets groiny with anyone and our lives kaleidoscope,' Cordelia summed up. 'As long as I can hear him yelling - actual words - I don't need to check that he's OK.'

'Turn me back,' Darla pleaded. She finally let go of the front of his shirt, and turned away from him, pushing her hands into her hair as she spoke. 'God! I can't bear this pounding in my chest for another instant.'

'It's a gift,' Angel told her, his voice low - but his tone betrayed the hurt in his words - the envy he felt for what she had been given. 'Too feel that heartbeat -' he remembered his own, on that one perfect day with Buffy, 'to know really, and for once, that you're alive. You're human again, Darla, you know what that means?'

'Of course I do. It means pain and suffering - and disease and death.' She whirled round to face him once more. 'Look, I released you from this world once, I gave you eternal life. Now it's time for you to return the favour.'

Angel stared at her in incredulity. 'You think you did my a favour? You damned me!'

'Fine then,' she was desperate. 'Fine. If it's such a punishment - pay me back - take your revenge!' Angel just looked at her, and the anger and energy drained from her and she just stared back at him, tears in her eyes. 'Please,' she whimpered.

'I can't.'

...

'What do you mean, you can't? You won't!'

Angel just stared down at the baby, watching as it wriggled and writhed, helplessly, in it's basket. 'I just can't seem to - uhm - I'm sorry.'

Darla shook her head, ever so slightly. 'You disgust me.'

He picked up the baby, holding it close to his chest, and dashed past Darla, crashing out through the window and landing in the street, where he ran off into the night, the babe still cradled safely in his arms.

...

Darla pushed past Angel and ran for the door. 'Darla wait!'

She stopped in the doorway and span around to face him. 'No!' she shouted at him. 'Don't look for me again.' She left, fleeing into the darkness, and Angel just stood there and watched her go.

Later, Doyle found him in his room, once more - sketching. 'She ran away from me,' the vampire said, without looking up.

'Why'd she do that?'

'She wanted me to end it all for her - turn her back.'

'You mean she wants a kind of help you're not willin' to give, and you want to help her in a way she's not yet willin' to receive? Wesley said - it took you a hundred years to search for redemption. You tried for the easy fix, so did she.'

'But she doesn't have a hundred years. She's human now, mortal. She gets one shot at this. I have to find her.'

'You will.'

...

He returned back down the stairs, to where his coworkers were waiting for his report. 'He just needs some time,' Doyle told them. 'Meanwhile - we need to help him find Darla.'

Cordelia sighed deeply, and the men turned to look at her. 'I just get the feeling that we're right back where we started,' she said.

Chapter 29: The Shroud of Rahmon: Part One

Chapter Text

The two cops stared through the two way mirror into the interviewing room, observing the man that they had held in custody there. He was slumped forward, his head resting on his arms so that his face was not visible. He was completely still. 'I'm telling you,' the first cop said. 'This creep knows something - we got one body already and a cop in the hospital - and if she dies…'

They walked into the interrogation room, the second cop sat down opposite the suspect. 'Hey, we can help you. Tell us what you know and we'll take you back down to holding. Stay quiet and my partner here will dent your skull.'

The first cop slammed his fists down on the table. 'Hey! You listening?'

'Now my guess,' the second cop said, 'is that you got into something a little bit bigger than you expected. You got scared, you panicked. And there's an officer on the floor - not to mention the body without a head. Do yourself a favour …'

The man looked up, at last - it was Wesley. He was unshaven, and his eyes seemed bleary and unfocused. 'She shouldn't have been there. She didn't know! I had to warn him ...He didn't know what he was getting into.' He suddenly looked directly at the second cop, his eyes clearing for a second. 'You didn't bring it here did you?' But then he shook his head, 'no -no, if you had, it would be too late for all of us.' He looked down at the table. 'He grabbed her -very hard.' He remembered her body slipping to the floor, and Angel stood there - his face vamped out, blood around his lips - and the watcher stopped talking.

'Just tell us what you know,' the cop said.

'It all went horribly wrong...'

Cordelia sat alone in the lobby of the hotel. She had just got back from filming her latest 'Stain Be Gone' commercial and the various post it notes she found stuck to her computer monitor informed her that the firm seemed quite busy for once. The front door opened and she looked up, it was Doyle entering, alone. His post it had informed her that he was out talking to his contacts to see if he could get a beat on where Darla had disappeared to. She looked at him, questioningly, as he walked towards her, but he shook his head. 'Still no luck.'

'She can't have just disappeared!'

'She doesn't want to be found,' the half demon told her. 'She's over 400 years old, she's got some experience in covering her tracks.'

'Well that sucks.'

'Uhuh - Cordelia?' He fidgeted and then took something out of his pocket. 'I've got this for you.' He handed it over. 'It's the last o' the money I owe y' - I'm officially livin' debt free as of this moment.'

She reached out and took the cheque, her eyes widening when she saw the amount. 'What happened? Did you sell a kidney?'

He chuckled. 'Nope - all body parts and vital organs remained intact during the procurin' of that money.'

'You won big at the poker table, huh?'

'Uhuh.' He really had. Not only had he cleaned up, nabbing himself 12 tiny little kittens - but one had been considerably fluffier than the rest. On a hunch, he had looked it up on the internet and - boy was he glad that he did. It had been a ragdoll, and was worth $500 all by itself. Added to the money made by selling the other eleven cats, he was finally able to pay off everything that he owed - and that meant …

He cleared his throat. 'So...I was wonderin' - now that we're even and all … if maybe you'd like to...'

She reached out and picked up the phone. 'I'll make the reservations now.'

'Yeah?'

She smiled her biggest, brightest beam at him, 'yeah - we've waited long enough - is 8 OK?'

'Tonight?'

'You got anything else planned?'

He shook his head, and she made the phone call. He sat there listening to her talk to the restaurant, grinning away to himself the whole time.

She hung up the phone, and turned back to Doyle. The pair of them were still grinning when Wesley appeared, coming down the stairs. He looked at them, startled. 'What happened?' They turned to look at him, still smiling, but it wasn't their apparent happiness he was interested in. 'What happened to your hair?'

'Excuse me?' Cordelia reached out and patted her now shoulder length hair. It had been getting too long, and thick, and unmanageable and she had fancied a change. This style was edgier - it showed she had grown up and moved on from her cheerleader days. But a massive hairstyle change always came with its own critics - and as Wesley stared at her head, she suddenly regretted cutting off her long tresses.

The British man suddenly smiled. 'It's new - it's great!' Cordelia smiled back. 'When did this happen?' he asked. The smile slid off her face.

'It was ten days ago, bud,' Doyle told him in a stage whisper.

Wesley had the grace to look embarrassed. 'Of course,' he said, 'I didn't want to embarrass you by …'

'Noticing?' Cordelia asked. She raked her eyes over his sharp suit. 'Nice suit,' she told him. 'Going to yet another glamorous filled celebrity gala with Miss Virginia Bryce?' she faked an over ostentatious yawn.

Wesley smiled again, 'have you seen Angel?' he asked. 'I thought I might check on him before I go. He doesn't seem to do all that much lately.'

'Now that's not fair, man,' Doyle said. 'He gets up to a lot in that darkened pit of his.'

'It's a packed day,' Cordy agreed. 'Brood about Darla, brood about Darla - lunch - followed by more Darla brooding.' She yanked Angel's post it from her computer screen and gave it to the British man. 'Today, however, there is a slight interruption to his forecast brooding schedule. He's out with Gunn, something to do with a job.'

Wesley scanned the sticky note for the scant information that was there. 'Good - that's good. He's getting out. Something I must do right now.'

'Uhuh - time to traipse off to your shallow soul sucking Hollywood party?'

'Premiere actually - and I have an extra ticket if you'd care to join me?'

But Cordelia glanced across at Doyle, and beamed brightly once more. 'Maybe next time, Wes, we've got other plans.'

Gunn and Angel leaned against the hood of the convertible, arms folded across their chests, as they spoke to the kid in front of them. This was Lester, Gunn's cousin, and he had got himself involved in something big. Big meaning illegal. And now he wanted out. He wasn't too happy about Angel being there though, vampires freaked him. That was the very reason he had called Gunn in the first place - it was a vampire problem that he had - but his cousin assured him that Angel had experience in that line. 'Yo spill it!' Gunn said, 'we aint got all night.'

It turned out that Lester had agreed to take on a driving job for some big time crew, who were planning on knocking off a museum - though he didn't know which. He hadn't met the crew himself, but he'd been vouched for - only now he was thinking …

'That you'd like to stay out of prison?'

'Well, yeah - there's that. Then I heard they're bringing in this psycho vamp from Vegas - and like I said man …' he didn't like vampires.

'What are they planning on taking?' Angel asked. But Lester didn't know. It was something supernatural - and the heist was planned for sometime during the week. There was a meetup tonight, and he had been informed that if he didn't show then the crew would hunt him down and kill him. He was panicking.

'Where's the meet?'

Lester pulled out a piece of paper, both men reached for it, but Gunn was the one that got it. He looked at the details.

'This vampire got a name?' Angel wanted to know.

Lester wasn't sure of it exactly. 'Something like Jee-don or Joe-don...'

'Jay-don?'

'Yeah that's it. He's coming for the meeting tonight. They're picking him up.'

'Where?'

'Downtown bus station, midnight.' He turned to his cousin. 'What am I gonna do?'

'Take the meetup,' Gunn told him. 'I'll get you out before the crime goes down.'

'I owe you big time cous!' he hugged Gunn, and then ran off.

They had been shown to their table, and a menu handed to each of them. Doyle gazed around at the opulent surroundings; there was a fountain tinkling away in the middle of the room, and a chandelier overhead. Classical music played in the background. 'Uh - are you sure we can afford this place, darlin'?' he asked. He glanced down at the menu and saw the prices. He gulped. That would be a no.

Cordelia laughed. 'You can't,' she told him. 'But I've just finished filming another commercial and I'm feeling flush.'

'Hang on a moment - are you tellin' me that not only do I get to go out to dinner with the most beautiful girl in the world - she's payin' for it?'

'Do you have a problem with that?'

'No ma'am. But I must have done something really good in a past life to get all this.'

She laughed again. 'Somehow, I doubt that, Doyle. Now, you look very nice in your new suit. Just sit there quietly and pretend you belong here.'

'You know this Jay-don guy?' Gunn asked, looking at the paper with the details of the meet up.

'I know of him. He's a big player. Way too dangerous for you. I'll take it from here.'

'You'll what? - this is my cousin we're talking about.'

Angel snatched the paper away from Gunn and read it. 'Which is why I don't want you jumping into this thing guns a blazing.'

'Since when did I take orders from you?'

'Since I started paying you.'

But Gunn protested that this wasn't a paying gig - that it was he who had brought the vampire in on it. But Angel didn't listen, his aim was to shut the heist down, and if that failed - then he'd protect Lester.

'And what am I meant to do?' asked Gunn. 'Stay home and knit?'

'I could use a sweater - something dark.' The vampire jumped in his car and drove off, leaving Gunn standing there, shaking his head.

No one was in the hotel when Angel returned, but it wasn't long until he heard Cordelia's voice floating through the courtyard, as she made her way back. 'That was so embarrassing.'

'I don't think anyone noticed, princess.'

'Pft! And here I was worried it was you that would show us up! I'm losing my touch. I used to rule places like that. Now I'm a backwoods country bumpkin that can't even use a knife and fork.'

'It's not that bad!'

Doyle and Cordelia entered through the front door and Angel looked up to watch them. Cordelia seemed furious with herself, and her fancy top was all stained with red. 'What happened?' Angel asked.

'It's not blood - it's cocktail sauce. Because I'm not even fit for human company anymore.'

'I meant to your head - to your hair?' She looked at him, even more irritated - 'It looks great.' He chuckled. 'When did this happen?'

'Ten days ago,' she and Doyle said in unison. Cordelia began to root around under her desk, and Doyle turned to ask how things had gone with Gunn. Angel filled them in on the meeting, explaining that there was a planned robbery on a museum - but that they didn't know which museum or what they were after. 'Well that narrows it down,' Doyle said. 'It's a good thing Cordelia's unbelievable klutziness called time on our date early - this is going to take a lot of looking into.'

'I heard that, buddy!' Cordelia called, from under her desk

'Hang on a moment.' Angel looked between Doyle, in his suit, and the desk that currently obscured the changing Cordelia. 'Were you guys out on a date?'

Doyle grinned. 'The first o' many.'

'Yeah, but next time I'm wearing a bib!'

'You're a classy girl Cordelia!...So, we need to find out which museums have just got new stuff in - maybe we should call Wesley? Well, this is great man - you're back on a case.'

'Yeah!' Cordelia popped up from under her desk, now wearing a black top. 'It'll be just like old times.'

'They're bringing in a vampire tonight - Jay-don. He's got a rep,' Angel told them.

'Man, I've heard o' him. He's meant to be a flashy sorta fella isn't he?'

'Well he ran with the whole Sinatra Rat Pack thing,' Angel informed them, 'never got over it. You know, I think I'll meet his bus.'

'And take his place?' Cordelia asked enthusiastically. 'That's great! No more sitting alone brooding about - things we don't even have to mention.' She turned to look at Doyle. 'How flashy?'

'He's meant to be quite the extrovert, darlin'.' They both turned and scrutinised Angel. 'Hmmm.'

'What?' The vampire wanted to know.

'Nothin' man - we're sure you can pull it off.'

The bus rolled into the station and Angel watched as the people disembarked. Last off was a pale man in a bright red shirt, with a 50s quiff, and sunglasses. He dusted himself off, as he stepped onto the asphalt, and adjusted the shades. Angel approached him, in character; a nervous, gushing, flunky type - all awestruck to meet the famous Jay-don. 'Oh man - what an honour, I'm a big fan you know.' he thrust his hands in his pockets and bounced up and down on the balls of his feet. 'When the boss said Jay-don was coming I was like woah woah! Can I see the glasses?' He reached out and the other vampire pulled back: 'No one touches the glasses or the hair, doll.'

'Yeah, right, doll, you got it - cool!' His face suddenly took on a look of concentration. 'There was something I was supposed to ask you.' He bashed his forehead with his hand. 'What was it? Oh yeah! What's the password?'

'There is no password.'

Angel stretched out his arm and a stake, concealed in its sheath, sprung out and plunged straight into Jay-don's heart. As the vampire crumbled to dust, Angel grabbed his shades. 'Just checking.'

...

Once the station was empty, and the bus secured for the night, an ugly demon crept out of the shadows and peered under the chassis. 'Jay-don?' he whispered.

'What, you think I'm travelling luggage?' a broad New York accent asked him. The demon turned around, and there was Angel, wearing Jay-don's shades and a bright, bright green shirt.

'Lets go,' the demon said, taking him over to his car.

It was a beaten up station wagon and Angel protested loudly. 'What is this piece of junk? You gotta know bro, there are two things bringing the chicks in: the do,' he adjusted his sunglasses, 'and the ride.'

'Just get in.'

'I hope I don't see anybody I know.'

The station wagon pulled up outside of a garage, and the ugly demon and Angel got out and were met by an even uglier, spiny looking demon and a human security guard. 'Let me guess,' said Angel. 'You must be-' he squinted at the name tag, 'Bob, the security guard.' he looked at the demon, 'and you're just a great big - monster aren't you?'

'This is Jay-don,' the ugly demon said. 'He talks too much.'

'I'm a people person.'

Ugly demon looked around. 'Where's Lester?'

'Yeah - where is Lester?' Angel asked. 'We can't get the ball rolling without Lester. Who's Lester?'

'The driver,' Bob told him.

'I don't like this,' Ugly said. 'He should be here by now.'

'Hey - he's vouched for - he'll show,' Bob reassured him. There was the sound of a car pulling up outside. 'See?'

'What kind of name is Lester?' Angel wondered, still in his thick New York accent. 'Norwegian? Finnish?'

The door opened and Gunn walked in. 'What took you so long?' Ugly asked.

'What took me so long is: I'm a professional - had to make sure there were no cops, I wasn't being followed.' The young street fighter looked around the garage and saw Angel. 'Looks like I'm the last one here.'

Chapter 30: The Shroud of Rahmon: Part Two

Chapter Text

Ugly, Spiny and Bob were standing around a table, examining the blueprints of the museum they were going to rob. A little distance away from them, Angel and Gunn stood together, having a quiet but very heated discussion. 'I told you I'd handle this,' Angel told his employee.

'And I told you I don't take orders!'

Ugly looked over at them, impatiently. 'Is there something wrong?'

Gunn shook his head. 'Just as long as we don't all got to wear those ugly ass shirts,' he said, motioning to the bright green number that Angel sported. 'I got my pride.' He walked over to the table, and put his hands down to lean on it so he could better examine the map. 'So what we looking for? Ming something? Egyptian somethings?'

'The Shroud of Rahmon,' Ugly told him. 'Worth about 2 million on the black market. Do you want to pay attention now?'

Gunn and Angel glanced at one another. 'You got my undivided,' the street fighter said.

Ugly pointed to the map, indicating a doorway at the side of the building. 'this is an access door,' he told them. 'Bob turns the alarm off at 2:40. We enter-' he traced his finger down the diagram of the hallway, 'take this hall to the elevator, where we meet Bob at 2:45. We all go down together.' He tapped another part of the map. 'This is the vault where they keep it. The vault has a code known only to the curator - which means we have to blow it. Now the door has no alarm - but the vault itself has its own system - a thermal sensor.'

'I guess that's where I come in,' Angel said, accent still in place. 'No body temperature.'

'Yeah, that go along with the no soul thing?' Gunn asked. The two of them glared at each other.

'Jay-don enters,' Ugly continued, as if there had been no interruption. 'He disarms the sensor - and then we're all in.'

'How big is this thing?' Angel asked. Big - was the answer. Ugly opened a book and showed them the casket that held the shroud. It was made of wood, but it's edges were sealed with gold, and the inside was lined with lead. All in all it weighed about a ton and would take all five of them to lift it.

'And what? I gotta hang around here with these guys all week?' Angel asked, still eyeing Gunn with annoyance.

'No. Just the rest of the night,' Ugly told him. 'We're not waiting. We're doing this now.'

'Tonight?'

Doyle sat at the computer, Cordelia stood behind him, thinking. 'OK OK museums,' she said. 'We've got the Moca, the Lacma uh - the Gene Autry!' Doyle twisted his neck to give her a look. 'Maybe not,' she conceded.

'Try the Natural History,' Wesley called over from where he was sitting with his books. He hadn't been thrilled at having to cut short his evening with Virginia, but knowing how important it was to keep Angel on a case - on anything that wasn't Darla - he had come straight back to the hotel in order to help.

Doyle brought up the website and, as he surfed the page, Cordelia's hand crept up to the base of his neck and began to play with the tuft of hair that rested there. But she kept her eyes on the screen the whole time. 'site map - membership - museum shop - don't they have a section on things you might like to steal?'

'That might be considered somewhat of an open invitation in the criminal community,' Doyle pointed out. 'Why don't I try 'recent acquisitions', huh, princess?'

'OK, Mr. smartass half demon.'

The smartass half demon smiled to himself, and clicked the link. Over by his books, Wesley was worrying. 'Angel should have been back by now.'

'Maybe his meeting ran over.' Cordelia pointed at the screen, 'might it be a collection of chelicerate arthropods?'

'Nah, the street value on arthropods is rubbish,' Doyle joked. 'Here we go, this looks more likely. On the third of this month, museum research department received 'The Shroud Of Rahmon', from a tomb recently unearthed by University of New Mexico archaeologists.'

'OK two words I don't like, right there,' Cordelia told the room, 'tomb and unearthed. You gotta keep your tombs earthed, people!'

Doyle chuckled appreciatively at her words, but Wesley was intrigued by the discovery. 'Shroud of Rahmon?' he asked, 'have you ever heard of it?'

Cordelia shook her head. 'I'm not big into shrouds, they're an after you die outfit. Doyle?'

Doyle twisted up his mouth as he thought. 'This particular shroud? No. But demonic burial shrouds can go for a lot o' money on the black market - y'know if the demon was important enough. Think of it being like the Turin Shroud - but evil.'

'So the street market on one of things might be a bit higher than it is for the arthropods?' Cordelia asked.

'Considerably higher,' Doyle agreed, 'maybe a couple o' million.'

Cordelia whistled. 'Is anyone else hoping that Angel manages to pull off this heist and come home with his own demonic death shroud ready to sell? You could sell it, right? Doyle? You're connected?'

He laughed. But Wesley didn't. 'Cordelia, if this shroud is valuable enough to make it worth stealing from a well guarded museum, then it must be an artefact of extreme power - and extreme evil.'

'I was only joking!' she protested. She was sort of only joking.

'Right, so we think Angel's goin' after an artefact of extreme power and evil,' Doyle summed up, 'shouldn't we start lookin' into it?'

'You pull up everything on the museum database,' Wesley told him. 'I'll hit the books, Cordelia?'

She sighed, and left Doyle to go and work alongside Wesley. The books took longer to go through, and the database was unlikely to have anything of the shroud's true provenance or history on it, anyway. But she glanced back across the room at her coworker - her boyfriend - a little wistfully, as she settled down to work.

As Doyle scanned the computer screen, a frown played across his face. His neck missed the place where Cordelia's hand had been, and it felt much colder in the lobby since she had left his side.

A white van, with 'Rehak Moving and Storage' stencilled on the side, backed into the loading dock of the museum. This was where all large artefacts were brought into and out of the museum, and taken off or put onto moving vans. No one would question another removal van parked there, not even at this hour. Gunn and Ugly jumped down from the cab, Spiny and Angel got out of the back, they made their way over to the access door. This took them into the basement - they would have to go up into the museum to rendezvous with Bob, and get him to take them in the service elevator down to the even lower floor - the vault.

Ugly pulled the door open, revealing the tape that Bob had stuck over the lock to prevent it from shutting properly. 'Hey I think the driver should stay with the van - in case someone comes,' Angel said. Gunn did not look too impressed with the suggestion. But Ugly shook his head, anyway, 'we need him inside.' They all went in.

They met Bob up on the first floor, and he used his card to take them into the service elevator that would take them down to the vault. 'Earl goes on his rounds in one minute,' Bob said, talking about his fellow security guard - the one not in on the heist. He turned to look at Spiny. 'You don't have to hit him hard.' Spiny smiled a grim smile. Angel and Gunn glanced at each other, making eye contact for a split second, before looking away and staring straight ahead.

The doors opened, and they walked down the hallway. Spiny darted ahead and hid inside an alcove. Bob used his security card on the scanner. Just as the scanner flashed it's acceptance, Earl came into view, starting his rounds - whistling. Ugly pulled out a gun and pointed it at Bob's head. 'They got me, Earl!' Bob cried out. And the other security guard began to run towards him. As he passed the alcove, Spiny stepped out, caught hold of him and threw him against the wall. He collapsed, unconscious. The massive demon stepped in once more to finish the job, but Angel stopped him, catching his arm. 'You kill him and the cops'll be all over this. We have to do this clean.'

Ugly threw a roll of duct tape towards Bob. 'Tape him up.'

They moved on, leaving Earl bound on the floor, and reached the locked door to the vault. Ugly laid his hand against it. 'What are you waiting for?' Spiny hissed, 'blow it!' Ugly took out a drill and began to make a hole. Angel and Gunn kept exchanging secretive glances, as they waited.

Kate was sitting at her desk, filling out some paperwork, when another detective approached her and dropped a photograph down. 'What's this?' she asked.

He pointed to the two men in the picture. 'This is one Mr. Robert Skale, works as a security guard at the Museum of Natural History He's got a record, petty stuff, small timer. The Calvin Klein model he's with may or may not be one M. James Menlo, he likes to crack bank vaults. Our current thinking is that they're planning a heist - probably at the museum.'

Kate looked at the picture of Bob and Ugly. She frowned. 'But why are you telling me this?'

The cop took out another photo. 'We picked this up tonight. We couldn't figure this guy out until we ran it past Carlson, he said you might be interested.' Kate looked at the photograph. It showed Ugly and another man at the bus depot. The other man was Angel. She frowned even harder. His presence could only mean that this heist was not going to be the straightforward job her fellow cops believed it to be. It must be magical or demonic in nature, and Angel must be trying to stop it. If the cops barrelled in there, then they'd get themselves killed. This was another job for the Mulder of the LAPD. 'I'm interested,' she said.

Ugly took out a small vial of yellow liquid from a padded box. He moved extremely slowly, and with extreme caution, as he was handling it. His hand shook a little, as he moved it towards the hole he had drilled.

'You're taking too long!' Spiny exclaimed angrily. Everyone jumped, and the vial wobbled in Ugly's hand. He steadied it, and took some deep breaths. 'Spine-man, chill, alright?' Gunn said to the impatient demon. 'That's nitro he's got. The last thing I want is my body parts mixed up with yours.'

But Spiny wasn't mollified. 'We should've been in the vault by now!'

Ugly spun round to face him, 'Shut up!' but, as he moved, the nitro slipped from his fingers. 'No!'

The five of them watched as the glass vial, filled with extremely volatile high explosives, tumbled downwards towards the floor. It seemed to go in slow motion, turning over and over as it fell - and Gunn closed his eyes, waiting for the bang that would send him to Alonna.

Angel stretched out his foot and, rather than smash on the floor, the vial landed softly on his boot. They all breathed deep sighs of relief. 'Allow me,' he said, and he very delicately raised his foot, so he was balanced only on his other leg, and brought the vial up to where he could reach it. Four sets of tense eyes never left him the whole time. Once it was safely in his fingers, he slid it inside the hole in the door.

Everyone sighed with relief, again.

They then trooped back down the hallway, hiding around the corner, and Ugly used a remote trigger to detonate the device. With a deafening boom, the lock blew out of the door.

Doyle had given up on the computer, it had yielded no more results than simply giving them the information that the shroud existed and that the museum had it. He wasn't surprised - it wasn't likely that a big, public museum would acknowledge the existence of demons and magic - even if it must have several exhibits that defied all other explanation. The Demons Demons Demons database had been a bust too - Rahmon was simply the name of the demon, not the species. Trying to find him that way was like typing the word 'Doyle' into the search bar and hoping to find out about brachen demons. It just wasn't specific enough. And shrouds were outwith its remit.

Fortunately, Wesley had had more luck with his books, and he was currently scanning a new one back in Angel's office, as he believed he was just on the cusp of a major break through.

Doyle left the computer, and drifted over to where Cordelia was sitting on the round sofa. He sat down beside her, and twisted his body so that he was facing her. She looked up at him: 'what?' He reached out, pushing some of the strands of her newly short hair out of her face and then cupping her cheek with his right hand. He leaned in towards her and brushed his lips against hers very softly, before pulling back and giving her a questioning look, checking that this was OK.

'Oh,' she said, and smiled. She leaned forward and kissed him back, harder and with more intensity. He was just getting round to opening up his lips, when Wesley walked back into the lobby reading from a book. 'I've got it. The Shroud of Rahmon. Said to have been woven by the head priest, who had been driven mad by the demon himself.' Cordelia and Doyle broke apart, grinning sheepishly. Wesley didn't even seem to notice that he hadn't had their undivided attention to begin with. 'Once Rahmon was defeated, the priest dyed the shroud with the blood of seven virgin women, sacrificed at the first full moon. Then laid it upon Rahmon's body in order to prevent resurrection.'

'Why is it always virgin women who have to do the sacrificing?' asked Cordelia, sounding scandalised.

'For purity, I suppose,' answered Wesley.

But Cordelia was unconvinced, and she shook her head. 'This has got nothing to do with purity, it's to do with dominance, buddy,' she said.

'It is funny that they never ask the virgin guys to spill their own blood,' Doyle agreed.

'Ha! If a religious ceremony required cutting off a male body part, the world would be atheist like that.' She snapped her fingers, and Doyle wriggled uncomfortably at the thought of the bits that might get cut off in order to sate the blood lust of a god.

'The shroud supposedly absorbed Rahmon's powers,' Wesley read, ignoring them.

'So he who has the shroud has the power,' Cordelia mused, she turned to look at the watcher reading from the book, 'you said this Rahmon was a drive-ya-mad - kind of guy?'

'So what can y' get from the shroud?' Doyle wondered, 'who wants the kind of power that can drive y' mad?'

'Oh people want powerful artefacts that can do all sorts of weird things,' Cordelia told him, 'even when normal people don't get what the draw is at all. Faith once had this mad watcher - Mrs. Post - and she was looking for this evil glove. The glove of Finnegan or something.'

'Myneghon,' Wesley corrected her.

'Right - and all that did was draw lightning from the sky and shoot it at people. Which sounds cool and all, but once you put the glove on - it didn't come off. Ever. And we're not talking one of your pink rubber marigolds here. It was a big, metal claw, beastly looking thing. Why would anyone want to lug that thing around with them, the rest of their lives? Imagine trying and getting in the shower with that - and airport security? Forget it. People who want demonic artefacts aren't thinking straight. I mean - look at the guys who tried to buy your eyeballs. As if your visions work if your brain's not attached, and the rest of you isn't there to say what you saw!'

'I guess,' Doyle agreed, impressed as always at the depth of knowledge Cordelia always seemed to have floating around in her mind, courtesy of an adolescence spent on a hellmouth. 'So what does this shroud do exactly?'

'Well the casing was opened, once in 1803,' Wesley read.

'And yuckiness ensued?' Cordelia guessed

'Well, yes. The entire population of El Encanto went insane, mothers and children hacking each other to pieces, men roaming the street like rabid dogs.' He turned the page to continue reading, but Cordelia stopped him - they got the picture.

'Well - we just have to warn Angel off the case when he gets back,' Doyle says. 'The big guy, of all people, can't go fetchin' himself a crazy makin' box o' evil.'

'I would have expected him back by now,' Wesley frowned.

Cordelia suddenly looked alarmed. 'What if the heist was tonight?' They all looked at each for a moment - and then ran out of the door.

Angel entered the vault, leaving those with a body temperature outside. As the door closed behind him, he heard a low whispering. There was a large box stood in the middle of the room and, as he passed it, there was a wooshing noise and something seemed to come over him. He turned to look at the box and - just for a moment - his eyes turned yellow, as if he were about to morph into his demon face. He managed to shake it off, and his eyes turned brown again.

The others waited impatiently outside.

The vampire began to head towards the control box, ready to dismantle the heat sensor, but the coffin seemed to call him back. He stared at it, gazing through the glass panel on the box, where the imprint of the demon Rahmon's face was clearly visible on the shroud. He heard the whispering noise again, and felt that same wooshing sensation, and this time he was not able to shake away his demon face.

'How's everything going in there?' Yelled out Gunn.

Angel shook his head and morphed back to his human features. 'Everything's fine...'

Chapter 31: The Shroud of Rahmon: Part Three

Chapter Text

Wesley pulled the car up outside of the museum, and all three of them spilled out. 'The place is gonna be locked up tight' Doyle said, raking his eyes over the hulking building in front of him.

'But if the heist was tonight, Angel and the others must have got in some way - right?' Cordelia asked, looking at Wesley for confirmation.

The British man nodded: 'we need to check the perimeter of the whole building, find the door Angel used. It'll be quicker if we split up - you two go clockwise from the front door, I'll go anticlockwise.'

'And if we find the right place?' Doyle wanted to know.

'Ring me and then wait. We all enter together.' The three of them nodded and then went their separate ways.

Inside the vault, Angel tore himself away from the box and made his way over to the control panel. He yanked out some wires; there was a crackling, fizzing noise, a spark of light, and then the lights outside of the vault went off. Ugly walked through the door smiling - Angel had managed to disable the thermal sensor. The others followed them in. Immediately, Gunn became aware of the strange whispering, and a feeling that didn't quite sit right inside of his head. 'I feel something weird in here,' he announced to the others.

'Humans always gotta feel something,' Spiny rolled his eyes in disgust. 'And they always gotta tell you about it. I'm so happy. I'm so angry. I'm so scared. Makes me sick.'

'Oh I dunno, I kinda like it when they're scared,' Angel said. 'Makes 'em taste kinda salty.' Gunn glared at him.

The whispering noise began again. Gunn shook his head, as if to clear it. 'We need to do this quickly,' Ugly told them, 'everyone take a corner.' They moved into place, shoving and jostling with each other as they did. 'On the count of three. One...'

Angel's eyes turned yellow again. Gunn noticed. 'Are you OK?' He hissed. 'You gonna turn?'

'No.'

'Two...'

'That sure don't look like a no.'

'Shut up and lift, Lester'

'Stop giving me orders, Elvis'

'three!'

They all strained and, with great effort, lifted the box together.

'Y'know, if you have a hair pin, I could just pick the lock o' the nearest door and we'd been inside already.'

'I just got my hair cut.'

Doyle looked confused, wondering what that had to do with anything.

'So, no hair pins,' Cordelia explained, slowly and carefully - as if she thought he wasn't very bright.

'Oh right - o' course, y'don't need 'em. What about a credit card? I can pick a lock with one o' those as well.'

'Would you stop airing your petty criminality in front of me? It isn't exactly a turn on, Mr. we've all got something to atone for!'

They rounded a corner and found the loading bay, with the van parked outside. 'This is lookin' hopeful,' Doyle said.

'Unless we we're hoping that the heist wasn't tonight, in which case it seems like all our hopes are in the process of being crushed.' She walked down the ramp and found the access door at the bottom. She pulled on the handle and it opened. 'Hey, Doyle! I think this is where they went in.'

The half demon followed her down the ramp and examined the door. 'Ah - the old tape in the lock - y' gotta admire the classics.' He pulled out his phone and rang Wesley. Two minutes later, the British man appeared, and they all entered the museum basement together.

...

'So it is tonight,' Wesley said. 'Just as we feared.' As they stepped further down the hallway, there was a wooshing noise and they felt some unseen force roll over them. 'Oh I'm sorry - I'm- I'm feeling a little...'

'Me too,' agreed Cordelia. 'I think it might be the altitude.'

'Right the altitude,' Wesley nodded. 'At sea level.' All three of them cracked up laughing; forgetting to continue with their search, as they stood in the hallway and chuckled helplessly. Wesley was the first to attempt to shake it off. 'Right - we mustn't lose focus.'

'I'm focusing,' said Doyle, but he was still giggling.

'Maybe we should split up?' Cordelia suggested.

'That sounds like a good idea,' Doyle agreed, nodding his head and trying to sound solemn, but failing miserably.

'No, no,' Wesley said, and Doyle changed from head nodding to head shaking. 'It would be far too dangerous,' the watcher told them, 'better stick together.'

'Right.'

'Right'

They all walked off in opposite directions.

Kate pulled up outside of the museum. She found the open access door, pulled out her gun, and went inside.

The five men manhandled the box down the corridor. It was heavy going, and it whispered to them constantly, messing with their minds. 'Try holding up your corner, Les,' Angel snapped at Gunn.

'Who died and made you corner monitor?' Gunn snarled back. 'Same old story, vampires pushing people around. Think the world is theirs.' The two of them glared at each other, furiously. 'Take take take that's all you do. Take your blood, take your sister. You wanna take something huh? Let's see if you can take me.' He dropped his corner and advanced on Angel.

'It's slipping,' Bob cried, struggling to maintain his grip on the heavy box, now that they were a man down.

'Don't drop it, don't drop it!' shouted Ugly. But Gunn launched himself at Angel, tackling the vampire, and the box dropped to the ground. The glass panel cracked and a purple mist began to seep out.

Angel had Gunn by the throat and was holding him up against the wall. 'Get off my throat!' Gunn yelled, but Angel didn't listen. 'You know? I'm getting a bit tired of this 'vampires killed my sister so now I'm entitled' song you keep singing. You know something different? Like MacArthur Park?' The whispering in the background intensified.

'Get off of me.'

'You gonna play nice, huh? huh?' He let go of the street fighter, and Gunn dropped to the floor. He pulled a stake out and jumped up again, thrusting it towards Angel's back, but the vampire turned, swatted it out of the way and knocked Gunn down once more. He raised his fist, ready to strike, but stopped when he heard a gun being cocked. Both Angel and Gunn turned towards the source of the sound, and saw Ugly pointing it at them. 'We need to move this case, before someone comes along and takes it from us,' he said. He put the gun down on top of the broken glass panel.

Bob took out some ropes. 'Allrighty it's roping time. Tonight I will be playing the part of the poor defenceless calf. Who's gonna be cowboy?' Ugly took the ropes from him and began to tie his hands behind his back. 'Just make it tight OK?' Bob said. 'I'm not the bad guy - I'm the good guy.'

Having tied the security guard up, Ugly moved back towards the case. 'Pick it up,' he told the others.

'Hey no wait!' Bob protested. 'You gotta hit me! Someone's gotta hit me to make it look real. Come on man! Do it! Make it real!'

Spiny put down his corner, walked over to Bob, reached out, and twisted his head clean off his neck. 'Looks real to me.' He dropped the head, and then went back to pick up the case.

Kate walked through the museum, gun in hand. As she came down some steps a, shadow flew across in front of her. She aimed her gun. It flew above her and she span around, firing upwards into the darkness. As she whirled back the right way, she crashed into Wesley and knocked him to the ground.

'Where's Angel?' she asked.

'Angel - right,' Wesley picked himself up. He looked dazed and confused. 'That's why I'm here to warn him about something -' he took a deep breath, '-important'. He suddenly grinned, his whole face lighting up and he pointed at Kate. 'Your hair!'

'You came to warn Angel about my hair?'

'It's blonde!'

She just looked at him. There was a sudden wooshing sound and the British man put his hand up to his head, as if pain. 'The shroud - he's got to know about the shroud - it will make everybody - it makes everybody act differently.'

...

Cordelia stared into the glass casing, admiring her own reflection. She giggled and then pulled her lips back, gritting her teeth together. She admired them from every angle. 'My teeth are so- big!' she said in wonderment. She admired them a bit more. 'I -am -pleas-ant,' she enunciated, slowly.

...

Doyle wandered through into the hall of mammals, his mouth was open in a round o of amazement at all the exhibits he saw around him. There was a case that displayed the ascent of man - from his earliest evolutionary common ancestor with apes, all the way up to Homo sapiens. The Irishman dropped his body lower, making his arms seem overlong as he walked past the Australopithecus. 'Ee ee oh oh,' he squeaked like a chimp. He began to straighten up, slowly, as he went past the other hominids. 'Me Angel - caveman brow,' he grunted, beating his chest, as he passed the Neanderthal. He came to a stop in front of the last waxwork model - homo sapiens sapiens - modern man. He put his hand against the glass and pressed his nose right up to the casing. 'This one looks like me,' he breathed, in awestruck wonder.

...

'We have to hurry before it's too late!' Wesley said urgently. But the wooshing sound overcame him again, and he was taken by the influence of the shroud, once more. 'I noticed your hair right away.'

Kate pinched the bridge of her nose as she felt the unseen force wash over her. Once it was gone, she dropped her hand and looked back up. Wesley was nowhere to be seen.

...

Cordelia drifted over to where a grey mannequin was wearing Native American costume. 'Hello plastic person,' she said. 'You're all by your lonesome in here.' She looked at the large, beaded necklace the mannequin had on. 'So..' she dropped her voice to a whisper. 'I guess you won't be needing this.' She reached around and took the necklace off the dummy and then draped it over her own neck. Then she returned to the glass case to admire her new acquisition.

...

'I'm a person, just like you,' Doyle told the homo sapien - nodding his head in firm agreement with himself. 'Almost entirely just like you - but I've got shoes - and I can do this...' he morphed into his demon features. 'Spiky face,' he morphed back, 'normal face.' He morphed again, 'spiky face,' and back, 'normal face'. He then looked up at the homo sapien, very concerned, 'would you like my shoes?'

Down near the vault, Earl the security guard woke up, his head throbbing. He stumbled down the hallway - the last thing he remembered was Bob being held at gunpoint. 'Bob?' he called out, 'Bob!' He tripped over something on the floor, and stumbled before righting himself. He looked down at what had caused him to fall. 'Oh God -Bob!' holding his mouth so that he wouldn't vomit, Earl dashed off to find the nearest phone.

The four of them exited the elevator, back up on the basement level, and struggled to manoeuvre the heavy box out of the narrow doors. Just as they were through, Ugly dropped his corner, took out a handkerchief and began manically rubbing down the elevator doors and buttons. 'Fingerprints,' he cried out, 'we've left fingerprints. They'll find us, they'll take it away.'

'Forget him,' Angel said to the others. 'Keep going.' The three of them walked on, leaving Ugly desperately polishing every surface he could find. But now, another man down, Gunn found that he was beginning to struggle. 'I can't keep going - I need to put it down,' he said.

'Worthless humans,' snarled Spiny.

'Try to keep going,' Angel said.

But Gunn couldn't. 'My heads full of flies!' he shouted out in anguish, dropping his corner and slumping against the wall, gripping his head. 'Get away from it get away from it,' he moaned.

Spiny moved round to cover more of the box. 'I don't need any of you,' he claimed, hefting the box himself. The whispering grew louder once more, and Angel's eyes turned yellow.

Wesley came stumbling along the corridor. 'Angel? Thank god I found you in -' Angel turned to look at him, his eyes still yellow. 'Time,' Wesley finished. 'Is it in time?'

'Wesley?'

'Yes! I had a message for you. And the message was…' he stopped to think and then hit his hand with his balled up fist, as he remembered it. 'The shroud is very dangerous! It makes people bad ...although it's amazing how good I actually feel,' he concluded, grinning his wide, foolish smile once more. Angel grabbed him by the front of the shirt and pushed him down the corridor. 'Get out of here!'

'Is that Gunn?' Wesley asked, peering at the young man huddled against the wall. 'I never saw him as the museum type.'

Kate rounded the corner - gun raised. 'Police,' she pointed the gun at the group of them, 'nobody move.'

Angel squinted at her, his eyes still yellow. 'Well look at you - running in here all by yourself - you're the best cop ever.'

'There's too many humans,' Spiny snarled.

She pointed her gun between the two demons. 'Stay back.'

'OK,' Angel said, 'wooo, you got me, my life of crime is over. I'll come quietly. But just before I do…' his face vamped out. He spun round, knocking Wesley against the wall so that the British man crumpled; and then, with his vampire speed, moved over to Kate - appearing instantly at her side, and gripping her round the throat. Then he sank his fangs into her neck...

Chapter 32: The Shroud of Rahmon: Part Four

Chapter Text

The Swat team, called in by Earl, entered through the backdoor with their guns raised. They spread out and began to search the museum. Two of them crept down the basement corridor, where they could see a man knelt on the floor, bent over something. They approached with caution. 'Don't move, police!'

Wesley looked up, his hands raised. 'Oh I didn't …'

'Don't move stay where you are.' The cop leaned in, and saw that the thing on the floor was in fact Kate, completely motionless. He crept closer and saw the bite mark on her neck. 'My God.'

'Kate, come on, wake up!' Wesley called, reaching out to shake her. The second cop pulled him off her, roughly, and dragged him to his feet.

The removal van pulled up outside of the garage, crashing into one of the cars parked there. The four of them carried the coffin out of the back and into the garage, where they laid it on the table. Angel was chuckling maniacally the whole time. 'You drank her,' Gunn accused. 'You animal - you drank that cop.'

No one listened to him. Ugly motioned towards the box. 'Open it.'

'Oh that's genius. Good thing we didn't think of that back at the museum and miss out on all this swell lifting,' Angel snapped.

'There's a catch,' Ugly said, running his hands along the rim of the lid, searching for it. But, unwilling to wait, Spiny just punched his way through the glass panel, and then ripped the lid off, throwing it to one side. 'Or that works,' Gunn said.

As the shroud wrapped body was exposed, the wooshing sound and the whispering became louder. Only now it was coupled with laughter. The four of them moved closer. Gunn began to smile. Ugly was shaking. He reached out and grabbed it: 'It's mine it's mine!'

Spiny pushed him away. 'Back off - you have no idea what this means. It belongs to my people,' he thumped himself on the chest. 'MY people!'

'I didn't see any of your people doing all that lifting,' Gunn protested.

'Hey fellas, let's cool our jets,' said Angel, trying to inject some sense into proceedings. 'There's plenty here for…' the whispering murmured right in his ears, 'me!'

The four of them each snatched at the shroud and began to pull and tug on it. 'So what happens now, huh?' demanded Angel, as he continued to try and yank the sheet from the others' hands. 'The one with the biggest share gets to make a wish?'

'I got it,' snarled Ugly.

'It's mine,' snapped Spiny.

'What about you Lester? Suddenly you want it too?'

'I get this, I kill you,' Gunn told Angel.

Ugly took out his gun and fired off a shot, hitting Angel in the chest. The vampire shuddered as the bullet went through him, but it didn't slow him down. Spiny turned and knocked Ugly to the floor, with a hard right. As Ugly fell, the gun went off again, and Gunn was forced to drop and take cover.

Spiny and Angel held the shroud between them, now, and Spiny was pulling it towards himself, gathering more and more in his hands, and dragging Angel along the floor as he did so. Refusing to let go, Angel found himself being dragged straight into the coffin, and had to stick out his hand to catch himself. He ended up nose to nose with the skull of the demon Rahmon.

Shroud in hand, Spiny dashed for the door, and Angel tackled him to the ground, pulling the shroud off him. But then Gunn was back up, and he too grabbed at the shroud, yanking it away from Angel - so it was spread out between the two of them. Spiny ran at them both, but, forgotten about down on the floor, Ugly fired off yet another shot - and this one hit Spiny right in the forehead. The demon fell, and now it was only Gunn and Angel wrestling over the shroud. They fell down, crashing to the ground and rolled over. Gunn was underneath and Angel on top. 'I got it I got it,' yelled Gunn, scrabbling to maintain his purchase on the sheet.

But Angel was hit with sudden clarity. 'Wait! Gunn! I remember. You have to trust me - I know what to do with this. Have faith, kid.'

Gunn looked him in the eyes, and then let go.

'Cordelia!' Doyle wandered through the halls of the museum, trying not to slip on the tiled floors in his stockinged feet. 'Cordelia?' His head had cleared somewhat, and he remembered why he was there now; but, rather than find Angel, he seemed to have lost everyone else. He heard the sound of footsteps on the staircase and made his way towards them, 'Cordy?'

A hand suddenly shot out from behind a life size replica of a triceratops and yanked him backwards, so that he too was hidden by its bulk. 'It's the police!' Cordelia hissed, her eyes wide and scared. The two of them cowered quietly behind their dinosaur, as the cops checked the halls for anymore intruders. Once they were gone, the couple waited five more minutes and then emerged. 'Everything's not crazy anymore', Cordelia whispered 'do you think Angel got rid of the shroud?'

'I hope so.' He looked at her. 'Nice necklace.'

She glanced downwards looking embarrassed, but then her expression changed to one of confusion. 'Where are your shoes?'

Angel stumbled out of the garage door, carrying the shroud and Bob's bottle of whisky - well he wouldn't be wanting it. He threw the sheet to the ground and poured the liquor all over it. The imprint of the demon face seemed to stare up at him, and the whispering and the laughing whipped itself up to fever pitch - but Angel kept his focus. He took out a lighter, flicked it open, and then dropped it downwards. The zippo tumbled to the ground, the flame flickering in the air, and then:

WOOSH

The flames engulfed the shroud and shot straight upwards in a hushed explosion. The force knocked Angel off his feet, and he flew backwards through the air, landing hard on the cement floor. The whispering stopped, the flames died down; and Angel lay still, watching the shroud burn.

The cop couldn't believe what he was hearing. 'So you want us to believe that a magic sheet -'

'A shroud, a shroud,' Wesley corrected, impatiently.

'Right, right. It turns people into super strong lunatics, is that it? One of them rips the head off that guard, another viciously attacks Detective Lockley…'

'I know how it sounds.'

'Oh, I don't think you do ...I'm arresting you for the murder of that guard and the attempted murder of Detective Lockley… you do not have to say -'

The door to the interrogation room opened and Kate walked in, a bandage on her neck. 'Let him go.'

...

She stood in the precinct, staring out of the window, idly playing with her bandage. 'Katie!' she turned and saw Lindsey hurrying towards her. 'I got told you were in the hospital, by the time I got there they said you'd been released what happ…' he saw the bandage on her neck, 'you got bit?'

'Not really,' she replied.

'Angel.' It wasn't a question, but she confirmed it anyway.

'Yes.' She closed her eyes, and remembered being held by the vampire in the dark hallway. 'Stay down,' he'd whispered, 'or they'll kill you.' Then he'd bitten down, just for a moment, before dropping her. She'd landed with a thump and seen Ugly aiming his gun at her, then raising it when he realised she was neutralised. Angel had begun to laugh, and Kate had closed her eyes.

Wesley had returned to the Hyperion, where he found Doyle and Cordelia waiting. There was no sign of Angel. 'He's upstairs,' the Irishman said, 'I'm not sure he'll be comin' down anytime soon.'

'Hmmmm,' Cordelia sighed.

'I don't suppose recent events will have done him much good,' Wesley pondered.

'Again - a hearty hmmm.'

'We had every good intention of course.'

'Right,' Cordelia agreed. 'Sending him into the path of a crazy making one way ticket to evil town death cloth - good plan.'

'None of this was actually our fault,' Doyle pointed out. 'He chose to go, and we didn't know what it was he was stealin'.'

'But we could have realised it wouldn't be anything that would do him any good,' Wesley disagreed. 'However it's not the shroud's effects on him that worry me so much as...'

'What?' Cordelia asked, sounding guilty. 'My stealing? I swear I put everything back.' Doyle squinted at the beaded necklace she wore, he was sure she hadn't had that on when they went to the museum.

But Wesley was not thinking about pilfered jewellery. He frowned. 'Angel drank human blood, from a living person. Something he hasn't done in a very long time.'

'Not since Buffy,' Doyle agreed.

'So on top of everything else, we may have reawakened his blood lust?' Cordelia asked. 'Full day's work then.' She sighed and glanced across at Doyle. 'Walk me home?'

'Sure thing, Cordy. Just let me find a spare pair o' shoes.'

...

Wesley was the last to leave the hotel that night. It was a with a very deep sigh, and a heavy heart, that he switched the lights off and walked out.

They reached Cordelia's front door, and she turned round to face Doyle, leaning in to kiss him. 'I can't tell you how much I enjoy being able to do that,' she told him when they broke apart. 'Finally!'

'The feeling's mutual, darlin'.' He kissed her again. 'So I guess this is goodnight then?' he murmured. She continued to kiss him. 'Y'know,' he breathed as he brushed against her lips with his own, 'if I'm going to leave,' they pressed a little harder, 'we're gonna have to stop...sometime.'

She broke away from him. 'Doyle?'

'Uhuh?'

'We've always known this was gonna happen right - for months now?'

'Yeah?' he said slowly

'And we've been out for coffee and drinks, like, a gazillion times.'

'Yeah?'

She kissed him, a quick peck on the lips. 'So would you think I was a massive slut if I just.. invited you in - right now?'

He grinned to himself and looked down at his feet, then, head still hanging, raised his eyes up to meet Cordelia's. 'I dunno ...would you think I was a massive slut if I said 'yes'?'

'Totally,' she grinned, kissing him again. 'I'd have to tell everyone at the office how easy you are.' Another kiss. 'They'd lose all respect for you.'

'I can live with that.' And he put his hand up to her face and pulled her into their most intense kiss yet, slowly increasing the pressure - until she suddenly pulled back from him, a very stern expression on her face. 'You promise that you're not really a surrogate for some hideous demonic beast and I'm not gonna wake up tomorrow heavily pregnant with demon spawn?'

'Scout's honour,' he promised. 'The only demon spawn I'll ever impregnate you with will be my own.'

'Ew,' she laughed and slapped his arm. 'We are so not there yet.' They kissed again. 'But I guess we can maybe get practising.' And, still kissing, she pulled him through into her apartment.

Phantom Dennis closed the front door behind them.

Angel sat alone in his darkened room. He leaned his head back against the chair and closed his eyes - remembering her heat, her breath, her fear ...and the taste of her warm blood as it trickled down his throat...

Chapter 33: The Trial: Part One

Chapter Text

Cordelia woke up, rolled over, and smiled, as she saw Doyle sleeping in the bed beside her. She reached out and walked her fingers up his bare arm and over his shoulder. Disturbed by her tickling, his eyes, opened -slowly - and on seeing her lying there, he too began to smile. 'Hey,' he said.

'Morning.'

'What time is it?'

'Early - we have a bit of time before we need to get up - for, you know …' she crooked her eyebrow to show him exactly what she had mind.

He reached out to stroke her face, pulling her close and kissing her. 'You are insatiable, woman,' he told her. 'You're really pushing me to my limits, y'know?'

'What happened to "stamina is my middle name"?' she teased.

He grabbed her, suddenly, rolling her on top of him - she squealed, as she was pulled up into his embrace. 'Well - if you're gonna cast aspersions on my manliness…' he said, kissing her as she lay above him, 'then I'm gonna have to do something about that.'

'Oh yeah - what are you gonna do?'

'Something damn manly,' and he rolled her again, so that she was underneath now. She squealed in delight, once more…

...

...A while later, sated and breathless, they broke apart and fell back into the covers. Cordelia squirmed pleasurably. 'Mmm... that was... nice.'

'Just nice?'

'I'd come up with a better word,' she smiled, 'but I can't yet think straight.'

'I'll take that as a compliment.'

'You really should,' she replied, the satisfied grin still plastered across her face. Then she rolled over to squint at the alarm clock. 'Oh - that took longer than I thought…'

'Because- stamina - right?'

She swatted him on the chest with the back of her left hand. 'We need to really get up - head into work.'

He wrapped his arm around her and nuzzled into her neck. 'Or we could call in sick,' he suggested. He kissed her jawline, 'or injured.' He kissed her earlobe, 'or dead - stay here forever, just the two of us.'

'And miss out on a full day of Darla brooding? Are you nuts?' She wriggled around to face him, again, and gave him a quick peck on the lips. 'We need to go -people to save, destinies to fulfil yada yada yada.'

'Spoilsport.'

She threw back the covers and got out of the bed. 'I'm gonna take a shower, put some coffee on?'

Doyle yawned and stretched himself out in the now empty bed, luxuriously. 'In a minute, yeah?' he said, closing his eyes again.

Cordelia threw a pillow at him. 'Now!'

'Alright, alright,' he got up, pulled some pants on, and stumbled his way towards the kitchen. 'Y'know -' he shouted through to her as he put the coffee pot on the stove, 'I could do with stopping off at my place before work, I haven't been back there in three days - I'm running out of clean clothes at the hotel.'

'Y'want me to come with?' she yelled back, he heard the sound of the shower switch on.

'No,' he answered, 'No, it's fine. You go on in, I'll see y' there later.'

When Cordelia arrived at the hotel, she found Wesley hovering near the door to the basement - his ear practically pressed against it. 'What are you doing?' she asked, as she removed her jacket and put her purse down.

'Shhh,' the watcher hissed, 'I'm listening.'

'To the rats in the basement? Have they started up a choir or something?'

'Angel's down there,' Wesley informed her. 'And I can hear a strange sound - sort of a - chuka chuka - sound.'

Cordelia frowned, thoughtfully, and joined her friend in the doorway, pressing her ear to the wood. 'What's he doing down there?'

'I don't know! I spoke to him yesterday. We had some tea and had a really good chat about - things.'

'Oh yeah? What did you say?'

'I asked ...whether he wanted milk and sugar,' he saw the look on her face. 'It's how men talk about things in England!' he protested.

'The sound has stopped!' Cordelia said.

'He's coming!' They both scurried away from the doorway and over to the counter - making a show of looking occupied, as Angel walked up out of the basement and into the lobby, carrying a laundry basket piled with clothes.

'Hey guys -what's up?'

'Nothing,' Cordelia replied. 'You were doing laundry?'

'Yeah, there's a washer and a dryer down there. How did you think I got my clothes clean? Where's Doyle?'

'At home, getting clean clothes,' the Irishman's girlfriend told her boss, 'which it now turns out was completely unnecessary because we have laundry facilities in the basement.'

'Yes - but - there's also all those rats down there,' Wesley pointed out.

'Which is great if I need a snack,' Angel said. His two employees looked at each other in bewilderment.

'Did you just make a joke?' Cordelia asked, 'about your days as a tortured, vermin eating homeless guy? What's got into you?'

'I'm just in a good mood - that's all.'

'You don't have good moods. You have broody and broodier. We've been on the excessive end of the scale recently. What gives?'

The vampire put his laundry basket down and spread out his hands, as he talked to them. 'Look, I know things have been a little tense lately, my focus has been a little narrow…' Cordelia raised her eyebrows, as she heard his words, but she didn't interrupt. 'And I really appreciate everything you guys have done to help out with the Darla situation - I know Doyle's run through his contacts ...and it means a lot to me. But we've drawn a blank. We can't find her, and we won't unless she wants to be found. I can't help her if she won't accept it, so I just have to move on ...do other things … do laundry.'

Wesley looked very pleased. 'We had tea,' he said to Cordelia smugly. 'It heals all things.'

'It does,' Angel agreed, 'and now I'm ready to concentrate on something el…'

The front door flew open. 'I've found her,' Gunn announced.

Angel whirled around to face him. 'You did? How?'

'My knowledge of low rent motels finally paid off,' he handed his boss a folder which contained pictures. Angel began to flick through. Cordelia and Wesley exchanged an exasperated look.

'The viking motel?' the vampire asked, looking at the pictures.

'I guess she aint living off Wolfram and Hart, no more.'

'No - but they must be looking for her too.'

'What if they find her first?' the street fighter asked.

'Let's not find out,' Angel replied, grabbing his coat. 'Let's go.' The two of them marched back out of the lobby, leaving Cordelia and Wesley alone once more. She looked at the British man: 'so much for the healing properties of tea,' she said.

Darla took off her cross necklace and dropped it down on top of the dresser. She hesitated a moment, as her eyes made contact with herself in the mirror. Her reflection stared back at her, pale and haunted. She hated the woman in the mirror. As she turned away, she heard a knock at the door, and before she could answer, it opened. Lilah Morgan stepped into the room. 'Darla,' she smiled her shark's smile. 'We've been looking for you.'

Doyle arrived back at his place and switched the shower on. As he let the water run for a moment to gain heat, he stripped his day old clothes off, and bundled them into the hamper. Ten minutes later; bathroom steamed up, hair wet, and clad in his jeans, he walked over to the chair and began to sort through the shirts that were bundled up on it, trying to work out which were fresh and which were dirty. There was a knock on the door. 'Just a minute,' he called out, selecting a red shirt with a zip up the front, which he pulled on over his head. Fully clothed, he opened the door, and was pulled up short, when he saw two police officers standing across the threshold.

'Allen Francis Doyle?' one of them asked.

He swallowed nervously, 'um ...yeah?'

'We're going to have to ask you to accompany us down to the station.'

Darla sat in Lilah's office, and warily eyed the female attorney and her boss, who sat across the desk from her. 'What do you want from me?' she asked. 'To go back to him? It wouldn't matter even if I did, there's nothing between us now.' Her boy didn't love her enough to make the pain go away, she had no power over him anymore.

The two lawyers glanced at one another and Holland picked up a folder. 'You misunderstand,' he told her, 'we didn't bring you here to discuss Angel.'

'This is about you, Darla,' Lilah told her. Her voice had taken on something of the gentle tone she had used at first, when Darla had only just come back. It put the blonde woman even more on edge.

'You are not our prisoner, Darla,' Holland told her. 'But, we brought you back and so you are our moral responsibility.' Darla chuckled, ruefully. Lawyers with morals! Now she'd heard everything! He handed her the folder and she began to leaf through it. She laughed again, when she began to understand what she was reading; a bitter, mirthless laugh.

'No doubt you remember very little of when you first arrived,' Holland said gently, 'but that is when these were initiated.'

She looked up at them, she could feel her heart begin to thump faster inside her chest. Every beat was painful. 'Now, we are willing to deal with this situation anyway you see fit,' he continued, 'it's up to you - but we thought you ought to know.'

Gunn opened the door and walked into the empty room, looking around at it in distaste. 'She aint here, bro'

'No, but she was here, not long ago,' Angel told him sniffing, 'her scent is still fresh - a lot of fear.'

Gunn's face wrinkled up even worse. 'I don't envy you that particular talent. Not based on what I'm getting with my standard issue human smeller.' The carpets were sticky, the curtains and bed clothes thin and stained. There was a smell of old cigarettes and stale sweat and an underlying hint of despair. 'Man, not even for free cable, y'know what I'm saying?'

Angel entered the room behind him. 'She chose this neighbourhood for a reason.'

The street fighter did a double take when he saw the vampire inside the room, 'how did you…?'

'Public accommodation,' Angel said, 'she was never living here.' He continued to look around. 'No blood - at least nothing new.'

'You smellin' that?'

'This room's seen a lot of it.'

'No doubt,' Gunn agreed. 'Big step down from her last accommodation.'

'When you're desperate - you do what you have to.'

Cordelia looked at her watch and frowned. Doyle should have been here - hours ago. She tried his phone again - but there was no answer - again. She was beginning to worry.

Fuelled with her new knowledge, Darla went out that night, finding herself the lowest rent skeeziest demon dive bar in the neighbourhood, and selecting for herself the biggest vampire loser in the room. She bought him a drink, and led him to a table, and admired his vamp face. 'That's great,' she told him, smiling, 'very threatening.'

'It's getting to you isn't it?' the ridiculous demon leered. 'I can tell. Women always go for it. You know, when I was human I didn't have much luck with women.'

'I find that hard to believe,' she managed to sound sincere when she said it. She was a former working girl, flattering losers' egos was as much a part of her profession as the other thing; pretending they weren't pathetic, pretending you didn't hate them, acting like you cared. It wasn't difficult once you got used to it.

'I used to have kind of a skin condition,' he confessed, 'but now - must be the teeth,' he bared his fangs, 'chicks go crazy for them.'

'I bet you have a lot of girlfriends.'

'Mostly I just kill them and dump the bodies,' he confessed.

'Sounds lonely,' she began to work on her pitch. 'How long have you been …?'

'An eternal creature of the night? Since 92.'

'19 92?' Her voice became hard and irritated, but the loser didn't notice.

'I know - difficult to believe it's already last century!'

She shook her head, and summoned up the reserves of her patience. 'And in all this... time… you've never considered making yourself a mate?'

The vampire was nonplussed. 'What do you mean?'

She crept her hand across his, smiling seductively. 'Well isn't it true that some vampires choose for themselves a mortal, someone they can sire, to walk those long eternal nights with them… hunting with them, feeding with them ...joining with them?' But the vampire was weirded out - that was far too Ann Rice, this chick had no idea how it worked. 'Then teach me,' she coaxed, struggling to not let her irritation show - this 8 year old vampire telling her how it was done. 'I live close by - we could go back to my place.'

'You're serious about this?'

She nodded.

'And you'd, what? be like my immortal babe?' She nodded again.

He shook his head. 'I dunno … it kinda sounds like a commitment.'

'Then use me - for as long as you like, however you like and then leave - no strings.'

He considered her words for a moment and then - 'there's an alley out back.' Having received the answer she wanted, she slid off her bar stool and led him out.

...

Down the alley, she leaned on the hood of a car and exposed her neck for him. He looked hesitant. 'What?' she asked. He had never actually sired anyone before and wasn't a hundred percent sure on the process, having been out of it during his own making. She sighed deeply. 'I'll walk you through it,' she tilted her neck towards him again. 'Drink,' she commanded, 'and when you feel my heart begin to slow - stop.' She closed her eyes.

But he never bit, and when she reopened her eyes, the vampire was dust and Angel was standing there. 'What the hell do you think you're doing?' she demanded.

'Saving you'

'I wasn't in danger'

'From yourself.'

'Why don't you leave me alone?' she asked.

'If you do this thing - I'll never be able to leave you alone,' he warned. He held up his stake. 'Next time, it would be you on the end of this thing. And I don't want to have to do it again.'

'Don't worry - I wouldn't let it happen twice.' She pushed away from the car and began to walk away.

Angel dogged her steps. 'Where are you going?'

'Everyone in there saw me leaving with mullet - I need to find a new bar.'

'Another dive, another loser? You really want to be made by some creep in an alley?'

'I wanted you to do it,' she snapped.

'That's never gonna happen.'

She shrugged, 'anyway, you died in alley, as I recall.'

'That's not the point.'

'Then what is the point?' she whirled around to look at him again, her anger clearly written on her face.

He tried to reason with her, make his voice gentle. 'The point is: you were undead for 400 years. You've only been human again for a few months. Why not give it some time?'

'I don't have time.'

'You do, you've been given a second chance ...don't throw away your opportunity to -'

She closed her eyes, and cut him off mid sentence. 'I'm dying, Angel.' The terrible truth of what Lilah and Holland had shown her. 'Not some time, not one day ...now. Right now. They showed me the medical files, and all the tests said the same thing. I have two, maybe three, months left - if I'm lucky. So if you'll excuse me, I'm sort of in a hurry.' She stalked off down the alleyway, leaving Angel staring after her.

Chapter 34: The Trial: Part Two

Chapter Text

Doyle had been left in the interrogation room, alone, for hours. He had no idea why he was there and he was getting antsy - he knew Cordelia would be worried about where he was. This had to be some big misunderstanding - the cops would come in soon and tell him they'd make a mistake and he was free to go. Maybe Kate would find out he was there, and sort this out - vouch for him.

But it was more than just worrying about Cordy worrying about him that was making him antsy: the coffee back at her place was a while ago now - and he kinda needed to pee. But he was trapped.

He wandered up and down the small room, jigging up and down. He swung his arms back and forth to try and work out some pent up energy, and then, when the pull of gravity became too great for his bladder to cope with, he slumped back down in the chair, crossing his legs. That was when the door opened - finally!

'OK. Thank you for your time.' Cordelia hung up the phone and looked across at Wesley 'that's a 'no' from Los Angeles Community Hospital as well, I guess I'll try Kindred next.'

'But it's good isn't it?' the watcher kept his voice gentle and reassuring. 'If he hasn't been brought in anywhere then it means he's probably not injured.'

'Unless he just hasn't been found,' Cordelia fretted.

Wesley patted her on the arm. 'It isn't like the old days,' he told her. 'Doyle isn't having to dodge creditors anymore, if anything happened to him - in broad daylight - it would have been of the perfectly normal accident variety. He would have wound up at a hospital. He must have just got - delayed- somewhere.'

'Then why isn't he answering his phone?'

'Maybe he left it somewhere.'

She pushed her short hair out of her face, her expression was unconvinced. 'This is bad,' she told Wesley. 'Doyle wouldn't just disappear - without telling me - unless something serious had happened. Wherever he is, I know he's in trouble.' She picked the phone up again, ready to dial, but was interrupted by the front door opening and Angel walking in with Darla. Cordelia snorted in exasperation - just what she needed right now! She looked at the bag Darla was carrying. 'Planning a sleepover?'

'I'm dying.'

'So just the one night then?' She had neither the time nor the inclination to be polite or sympathetic. Darla was evil and Doyle was missing, and if she was quite honest she didn't think she could take much more right now.

'Dying?' Wesley asked, sounding curiously horrified.

'He doesn't want to believe it.' Darla motioned towards Angel.

The vampire shrugged. 'Wolfram and Hart showed her some medical records, saying she's only got a couple of months left to live.'

'So maybe more than just the one night?'

'And you think this is some kind of trick?' Wesley asked.

'It's Wolfram and Hart. Of course it's a trick. They're playing some kind of mind game and we're not gonna take the bait. '

'And if you're wrong?' Darla asked.

Angel paused for a moment: 'I'm not and I'm gonna prove it to you.' He looked over at his two employees. 'Would you two mind watching over her whilst I'm out? I'll be back soon.' As they both agreed, he turned to leave.

'You can't force me to stay here,' Darla called out to him.

He turned back. 'You're not a prisoner.'

That made her laugh. 'I've been hearing that a lot lately.'

'Just give me a chance - OK?' They looked at each other for a long moment, and then he left the hotel, the door banging behind him.

As soon as he was gone, Cordelia and Wesley began to circle their visitor, like sharks on a cramping swimmer. 'OK, so first up, you are our prisoner,' Cordelia told her.

'I'd have to concur with that -yes,' Wesley agreed.

'See you've got our friend all tied up in knots.'

'I can't say we like you very much.'

Darla looked on, helplessly.

'So sorry about the dying and all,' Cordelia continued, 'but if you try to escape - we will hit you.'

'On the head.'

'With heavy objects - now if you'll excuse me - I have important phone calls to make.'

BAM! Lilah's front door was kicked in and Angel stood just beyond the threshold, glaring furiously. The attorney had been sitting on the sofa, drinking a large scotch, and she raised an eyebrow when she saw him standing there, glowering. 'You know, I've been expecting you.' She got up and walked over to the door. On her way she stopped and exchanged her glass for the medical records she had shown Darla, earlier. She couldn't carry both in her one hand. 'So - you've heard all about how poor little Darla is sickening for something and you want to find out if it's true. Aren't you just a big, strong lump of hero?' She handed him the folder. 'Read it and weep, champ, it's true.'

Angel grabbed at the file and began to flick through, his prominent brow growing ever lower as he read. 'This is a trick.'

'I'm afraid not, but in case you need some more convincing, that folder includes a second and third opinion. There's even one in there from Holland Manners' own personal doctor. We're very thorough over at Wolfram and Hart - we like to know exactly what we're getting. They all say the same thing, syphilitic heart condition. It seems our girl was dying of syphilis back in the old days - before she was sired. Now obviously, in this day age, a thing like that could be cleared up with antibiotics in no time - if you catch it early enough. But I think we're a couple of months and-' she smirked, 'about 400 years too late.'

'Did you know this when you brought her back?'

'No - how could we - but Holland has known for months, he's been working to a tight schedule.'

'A tight schedule to drive me crazy? But now what? Huh? She dies - where does that leave your little scheme?'

Lilah smirked again. 'She doesn't have to die, Angel - you have the power to save her.'

'To kill her.'

'To give her eternal life.'

'And then what? She comes back to work for you? Carries on trying to turn me dark? If I make Darla a vampire again - she'll have no hold over me - and you'll have no hold over her. I'd give it two minutes before she came over here and snapped you in two.'

'I believe Holland is prepared for every eventuality,' Lilah informed him, still smirking that satisfied smile. 'But a word to the wise, hero, The Senior Partners aren't finished with you yet, and they're not finished with Darla. You have -' she raised her right wrist and looked at the watch that she had to wear on that side now, 'oh, maybe the rest of the night to decide what to do. You can save her, or you can let her die, Angel, and time is not on your side. So make your choice.'

Angel threw the medical file at her and began to walk away. She watched him stalk off, still smiling to herself. 'Oh - say hi to Doyle for me,' she called out to his retreating back.

The police officer shut the door and sat down at the table, opposite Doyle. They stared at each other for a moment and then the cop switched on the tape recorder. 'This is an interview with Allen Francis Doyle, present are Detective Randall and Detective Wells, time is 8 oh 5 pm on December 1st 2000.'

'Uh - guys - I don't know what's going on here, but I think there must have been some kind of mistake...'

Randall didn't answer him, instead he just threw down a manilla folder and indicated that Doyle should open it. He did.

There was a photograph inside; grainy, and black and white. It was a still from old CCTV footage and it showed the outside of a bank. There was a date and time stamp in the corner and Doyle glanced down at it. 11:43 am 12/18/95. He swallowed, nervously…

'OK, thank you,' Cordelia put the phone down, once more, and then made her way over to the glass door where Wesley stood. 'Still nothing,' she said.

'I know how troubling this must be for you Cordelia - but you have to believe that there is a simple explanation and everything will be alright.'

She sighed deeply, blowing her cheeks out, as she exhaled. 'I guess - how's she doing?' she nodded her head to indicate Darla, who was visible through the glass doors, sitting out in the hotel's courtyard.

'She hasn't tried to to run. Maybe she does have faith in Angel.'

'Or maybe she's just got nowhere left to go.'

The front door opened, and their vampire boss walked in. The two of them turned to look at him. 'You're back,' Cordelia exclaimed. 'How did it go?' He didn't reply, his face was set.

'Was it - good - news?' asked Wesley, not sounding hopeful.

Angel shook his head, imperceptibly. 'Would you guys just - give us a minute.' He walked through the glass door, out to Darla, and Wesley and Cordelia backed away, returning to the desk, and Cordelia's phone calls.

...

Darla sat amongst the flowers, her eyes closed. 'Jasmine,' she said, as she heard Angel's footsteps approach her. 'Night blooming - I remember what that was like.' she opened her eyes and saw his expression. 'I told you it was the truth.'

'Darla -'

She got up. 'I have to go', she tried to walk past him, towards the gate, but he blocked her path.

'We'll find a cure,' he promised. 'We'll do something.'

'You do something,' she said. 'I've been alive long enough to know a lost cause when I see one - unless -'

'That's exactly what they want us to do, Darla, we'd be playing right into their hands.'

'I don't wanna die!' she told him, her voice small and scared.

'I can't give you what you want.'

'It's what I need.'

'It's not what you need. I don't know what you need - I wish I did.' He thought for a moment. 'But I know where we can find out.'

Lilah was on the phone to Holland. 'He came sir, like you said he would.'

'And do you think he'll turn her?'

'No, sir, he's too noble for that - he's grieving. I think the caped crusader will try alternative means to save her.'

'Even better.'

Darla sat on a stool, on the stage at Caritas, and sang 'Ill wind' by Billie Holiday. Down at the tables, the Host gave a shiver: 'ooh'.

'What?' demanded Angel, 'what does that mean -ooh?'

'It means I don't know if this girl can be saved.'

'I'm gonna save her and you're gonna help me.'

The Host tore his eyes away from the blonde woman on the stage and sized up the vampire in front of him. 'I sense pain and anger.'

'Aren't you supposed to be reading her?'

'I'm a channel surfer. Look, you're a big hunk of hero sandwich. You wanna save the girl and I can see why. But you're missing the crucial point here. Things fall apart. Not everything can be put back together, no matter how much you want it.'

'She's not gonna die.' Angel was adamant.

'Why do you care so much? She's already had 400 years.'

'Before she was a vampire - she was - she never had a chance.'

Darla finished her song, and the whole bar broke out into applause. She had a much better voice than her boy. The Host took out his notebook and began to scribble something down. 'OK I might live to regret this - in fact - being prescient I know I'm gonna regret this. There is one way, and it's a bit of a quest - and it'll probably kill you.'

'I'll take it.'

'Alright big fella - you're about to face hell and high water. Go to this address - and we'll see if you're ready to take the plunge.'

Randall lay another photo down next to the first. 'That's you isn't it?' Doyle looked - that was him all right. His hair was longer, and he was thinner, he was much younger - but his eyes were already haunted. 'Have you got anything to say to explain this?' the detective asked. Doyle closed his eyes for a moment. He heard Cordelia's voice echo in his head - a question asked in innocence, a year ago - almost to the day. That night with The Scourge:

'Doyle? Where did you learn to be a getaway driver?'

'Ah, d'ya really want to know the answer to that one, darlin'?'

She laughed, 'I guess I probably don't, no.'

How could he explain this? His life had fallen apart, Harri had left him. He wasn't even human anymore - he had never been human. Everything had been a lie and he couldn't live with the shame and disgust. He'd drunk too much. He'd gambled. He'd had to move out of his nice home - the one that Francis, the third grade teacher, had got to live in - and moved into his one roomed flophouse, the kind of place Doyle, the half demon scuzz, deserved to live. But it still wasn't enough - he was getting into debt - bad debt. And then he had been offered this job and he'd figured - why not? He wasn't part of human society anymore, he didn't have to be a decent human being - he couldn't be any sort of human being, it just wasn't in his genes. So he'd done it - he'd needed the money.

He'd done more as well - after the first time it was easy - or, at least, he told himself it was easy. He told himself that this was who he was now, who he had been born to be, and he allowed himself to spiral out of control.

Until he'd had that vision that sent him to Angel. And then he'd met Cordelia. And bit by bit he'd put his life right - put it back together. But it seemed he was just sticking a band aid over a gaping wound. Sometimes when things fell apart they just couldn't be put back together - they couldn't be fixed, no matter how much you wanted to. He opened his mouth to speak. 'I think I want a lawyer.'

Angel and Darla stood at the edge of an empty swimming pool. 'I don't think this can be right,' Darla said, eyeing the tiles that made up the pool floor.

'He said I had to take the plunge,' Angel reminded her.

'Into an empty pool?'

'Sure - 'cause, in a full pool you'd get all wet - and miss out on all that skull crushing. This is a leap of faith.'

He walked out onto the diving board. 'Don't do it!' Darla shouted after him.

He looked over his shoulder at her. 'I'm either coming back with a cure - or you're about to see something kinda funny.'

He bounced on the board and then leapt up into the air, somersaulting, and diving towards the pool head first. But instead of hitting the bottom, he seemed to melt through the floor, as if there was nothing there. Up on the side, Darla saw a blue crackle as the dimension wall was disturbed, and then there was nothing. Angel was gone.

...

He landed on his feet in an underground dungeon. 'Well we certainly tested your faith,' a voice said, 'now we shall test your valour.' Angel turned to look at who had spoken, it was a man - he looked human - and he was dressed like a butler. He spoke like one too. A real Jeeves type. 'I shall be assisting you in your trials,' Jeeves said.

There was a flash, and then Darla was stood next to the butler. 'Why is she here?' the vampire demanded.

Jeeves glanced at her. 'You wish to save her life? Then she is your collateral. Should you complete all three trials she will be made - whole.'

'And if I don't?'

'She dies instantly. In the meantime - Darla you can relax with a nice, ice cold beverage in our ante chamber.' He clicked his fingers and she disappeared again.

'No!'

Jeeves looked bemused. 'Oh I'm sorry if there was some misunderstanding. I thought it was clear? Life is the bargain here, you have placed hers in the balance.' A growling sound emanated from behind the metal gateway that stood in front of them. Jeeves looked in the direction of the sound. 'Along with your own, of course,' he added. 'Anyway you had best get ready, now, sir. This is no time to be dwelling on the negative.'

Chapter 35: The Trial: Part Three

Chapter Text

'Well that's the last hospital,' Cordelia announced, putting the phone down. She grunted with frustration and ran her hands through her short hair, making it stick out on end. 'I've drawn a blank. No one fitting Doyle's description has been brought in, what do I do now?'

'Well maybe you should …'

'Oh my goodness!' she suddenly gasped, her eyes going wide with horror. 'What if he did get sent to a hospital and they found out he was half demon? The government would take him away! I'll never find out what happened to him - what do I...'

'Cordelia!' Wesley interrupted her, loudly and forcefully.

She was cut off mid-flow, and looked up frowning. 'Why are you yelling my name? I'm not deaf.'

'I just think you're letting worry take over, and you're getting a little ahead of yourself,' Wesley told her, making his voice gentle, once more. 'Now, let's assume, for the moment, that Doyle hasn't been caught up in a government conspiracy…'

'Oh my god - he's an X file'

'No, Cordelia, the simplest explanation is usually the right one. Now let's assume that the reason the hospitals don't have him is because he never went there, meaning he's probably not injured. Perhaps he got caught up in something, maybe a contact rang him with a lead… have you considered speaking to Gunn and asking him to ask around? Or - I have made contact with some of Doyle's connections myself. Perhaps I could speak to them for you...maybe Merl…'

'Merl! Of course! That's it!' she gasped. 'Wes, you're a genius!'

'I am?'

'C'mon - let's go,' and she grabbed her purse and dragged the bewildered Englishman out of the hotel.

'Your trial will consist of three separate challenges,' Jeeves said. 'I'll need your shirt and your shoes.'

'Unarmed combat?' Angel guessed, stripping his top off and throwing it at the butler.

'Well - you'll be unarmed.'

'So what are the other two?'

'That's for you to discover - shoes and socks please.'

Angel complied. 'I'm thinking you've seen this play before,' he said, 'give me something I can work with.'

'I've never given information to a challenger before.'

'How many have asked?'

Jeeves decided this was a fair question - those that faced the trials had never been this chatty before. There was technically nothing in the rules that said Jeeves couldn't disclose what he knew. 'Well in theory - the first test is child's play. Once the gate opens, all you have to do is walk through it.'

'That's it? What's the catch?'

'Now that would be telling.'

'So what about tests two and three?' Angel questioned.

But Jeeves only shrugged. 'I wouldn't know, sir, I've never seen anyone survive the first one. Best of luck, sir,' and he vanished, the way that Darla had earlier. The gate began to open, rising like a portcullis; and a big, muscular, yellow skinned demon with a bald head and an ugly face appeared. Unlike Angel, the demon wore a chainmail vest, and carried a sword, and two vicious looking hooks on the end of chains. 'You must be the catch,' Angel said to him.

The gate lowered once more, and the demon swung the chains at the vampire, trying to hook him. Angel dodged out of his way and ran up the wall, like a vampiric Donald O'Connor. He flipped off, trying to get in front of the demon and over to the gate, but the demon hooked him round the leg and dragged him backwards.

...

In the antechamber, Jeeves took out his pocket watch. 'Seventeen seconds,' he noted, sounding impressed. 'No one's ever lasted this long before.'

'Call this off,' Darla demanded, but the butler shook his head. 'Once the trials have started they cannot be stopped,' he told her.

'I need to see what's happening then - now.'

'If you wish - but remember you did ask.' He raised his hand to Darla's forehead and laid it against her skin. There was a flash of light and Darla rocked backwards, as the onslaught of the demon battle was suddenly visible inside her mind.

The demon still had Angel hooked around his thigh, and was kicking and punching him, battering and bruising him. Darla felt like she was suffering the impact of every blow herself. The demon let go of the hook and took out his sword. Angel seized the opportunity to pull the hook from his leg: now he was armed. He span the chain around and managed to catch the sword, pulling it from the demon's grip. Then he ran. The demon gave chase, but the vampire seemed to have disappeared. He fell down from the roof, landing behind the demon, and hit him with a hard right. He turned and ran again. This time, he ducked behind one of the pillars that supported the chamber; and when the demon passed him, he stepped out, slashed outwards with the sword, and cut the demon in half. He sighed with relief.

In the antechamber, Darla did likewise, but Jeeves just smiled and shook his head.

...

Angel limped over to the gate and tried to lift it, but it stayed fast. 'C'mon open up!' Angel called, heaving with all his might against the iron bars. 'I killed the demon - open up.' Behind him, he heard a growl and he turned to see what was happening. The top half of the demon was awake, and it hand walked itself over to it's legs, and held them against himself like he was putting on a pair of pants. In the dungeon, and in the antechamber, Angel and Darla watched with horror as the demon fused back together and became whole once more …

It had taken another hour for the lawyer to get there, thank god they'd let him go to the bathroom in the meantime - though he had been accompanied the whole time. It was just a legal aid lawyer, he couldn't afford one of his own, but he was thankful to have someone in the room who was ostensibly on his side - even if there was no feasible way out. Randall switched the tape recorder back on. 'Interview resumed at 9:11 pm. I am showing the suspect photographic evidence that places him at the scene of the 9th street bank robbery on December 18th 1995.'

'All you have is a photo showing that my client happened to walk down 9th street one day five years ago - this is ridiculous,' the lawyer said, not letting Doyle speak. 'Unless there's anything more…'

Randall took out another photo - it was the getaway car - and the younger version of Doyle was getting in it. 'This car was reported stolen on the morning of December 18th, not two hours before Mr. Doyle, here, got in it. This is the stolen vehicle report-' he shoved a form under their noses, and they looked at it. The reg plates matched the ones in the picture.

'This proves nothing,' the lawyer said.

'It proves that Mr. Doyle was in possession of a stolen vehicle, for a short period of time, if nothing else. That, in and of itself, is a crime.'

'And are you going to be charging my client with that?' the lawyer asked.

Randall sat back and grinned, 'oh we've got a lot more where that came from - 4 stolen cars, one of which was used in an escape from a bank robbery, and then some prints we pulled off a vault in another bank - 2 years ago. Now - we've never been able to match those prints to anyone, didn't belong to anyone in our database. But I think we have enough evidence here to compel Mr. Doyle to provide us with samples of his own prints. What do you think, Francis? Will they match up?'

'Don't answer that.'

As if he needed telling. As if he could have spoken even if he'd wanted too. His mouth was completely dry, there was a lump in his throat and his stomach had the leaden weight of dread resting inside it, like someone had dropped an anvil in there. The past - she just never let go. You couldn't escape it, no matter how hard you tried, no matter how much you tried to make up for what you did, no matter how much you managed to convince yourself that you did belong in the real world with normal people - with Cordelia- and that you did deserve to be happy. The past always came back. He had blamed the demon for everything he couldn't face in himself, let himself do some very stupid things - very dangerous things - telling himself he didn't have to follow the laws of man because he wasn't one. And now, now, just when everything was finally going so right - he was going to have to pay.

'We're just waiting for someone from the D.A's office to get over here,' Randall said, 'see what charges they think we can bring against him, but I warn you now, Mr. Doyle, it doesn't look good - and you might be better served if you just started to talk.'

The demon charged at Angel, both hooks swinging. Angel slashed out with the sword, one more time, and cut the demon in half again. But this time, he grabbed the amputated legs, dragged them across the antechamber, and used the hook's chain to shackle them up against a light fitting. He then returned for the top half, dragging that to the other side of the dungeon, and tying its hands to the light bracket. The demon twitched, but it couldn't free itself. The gate rose open, and Angel limped through.

As it closed behind him once more, Angel found himself in a long, dark corridor. The ceiling was open to the sky, and the the light of the moon revealed that the floor and the walls were covered, every inch of them, in crosses. Right at the other end of the corridor there was a pedestal with a stone basin resting on it and a door behind that, presumably leading outward. The vampire figured he had to try and make it to the door.

...

In the antechamber, Darla watched the new challenge in horror. 'If you want him dead, why don't you just kill him?' she asked.

'We don't want anything,' Jeeves replied, eating a cookie. 'In this place, the journey is all. Where it may lead is not our concern.'

...

Angel stood at the edge of the corridor, psyching himself up. His skewered thigh hurt really badly. He took a deep breath - not that it filled his lungs with life giving oxygen, but just the ritual of it - the humanity it evoked - was a help. He began to run, as fast as he could, though his thigh still stung and bled. Every step was a torment of agony. The crosses burnt his feet with every step, and steam hissed, rising into the air and punctuating his foot falls. The smell of scorched flesh rent the air. But he struggled onward.

As he ran past the basin, he gave it a sidewards glance, wondering why it was there. But the lapse in his concentration caused him to stumble. His injured leg gave way and he tumbled to the ground, his bare chest and arms now pressed against the crosses. He screamed, and forced himself upwards, making for the door. He tried the handle - but it was locked.

He glanced back at the basin, realising there must be a key. He forced himself to go back, tripping over his feet and crying out in pain as he did. The basin was filled with water and, as he had suspected, there was a key at the bottom of it.

...

In the antechamber Darla's eyes widened. 'Holy water!' she moaned.

...

He plunged his hand in, and screamed once more, as the water boiled around his arm. He fished the key out and ran back to the door. His arm was red and raw and bleeding. He thrust the key into the lock and turned it, opening the door and limping into the next chamber.

...

'He's quite remarkable,' said Jeeves, checking his watch, again.

'Yes,' agreed Darla, 'he is.'

Cordelia stood on stage, the lights in the bar dimmed and the first notes of the song began to play. 'Looks like we made it,' she crooned, 'look how far we've come my baby…'

Down by the bar, Wesley flinched as he heard her off key singing.

'Our own Miss Cordelia Chase,' the Host said, coming up next to him, 'now she's really something - face of an Angel, voice of a bullfrog - but still,' he took a sip of his ever present Sea Breeze and winced. It just wasn't the same since he'd had to sack his bartender for trying to sell Angel to Paul Lanier, the wish granter - he hadn't found a new bar man that could do a half decent job. 'She's really putting her heart and soul into this - When I think of Cordy I think of Whitney or Madonna - one of the great divas. But she's gone Shania. There's been some careful thought put into her song choice and all her emotions are bleeding through. Her aura is a treat for the eyes, even if her singing is an assault on the ears - so she's lost the little fella, I see?'

'He's disappeared since this morning,' Wesley agreed, 'we haven't been able to track him by ordinary means.'

'And she'll do just about anything to find him…' He took another sip of his drink and grimaced again. 'She's searching for that happy ending - poor kid.'

As Angel limped through into the next room, chains shot out of nowhere, shackling him to the wall. Manacles clamped on both wrists and ankles and then pulled tight, leaving him spread-eagled.

'Well played!' Jeeves said, materialising out of nothingness at his side. 'You fielded our strokes from end to end. My hat's off to you, sir. Of course there is one final challenge.'

The wall opposite the vampire seemed to suddenly spring to life, as row upon row of stakes popped out, until the whole thing bristled with pointed wooden death. 'What is this?' Angel asked, looking at it.

'I think you already know, sir'

'Stakes? You call this -' he began to cough, 'a test? The only way this can work is if you kill me, huh?'

'Exactly,' Jeeves told him - 'you do understand. This third test has no 'catch', as you put it. Death is the final challenge. We can't restore one life without taking another, you see? In order for Darla to live, you have to die.'

Chapter 36: The Trial: Part Four

Chapter Text

It was the D.A himself who had turned up. Doyle had been hoping it would be Lindsey - but it seemed fate was not on his side. The Powers had well and truly turned their back on their messenger. He had been charged with - just so many things - so many crimes, and he was guilty of all of them. He didn't have a leg to stand on, so this was it. The end.

They had taken him down to fingerprinting. Once those were run, he didn't doubt for a moment that a second count of accessory to bank robbery would be added to his rap sheet.

'You'd have to burn your way in.'

'Wait! Can we even do that?' Cordelia protested.

'I can,' Doyle answered in the affirmative. She looked at him. 'Do I even wanna know …?'

'Nope.'

At the beginning of 1998 there had been another job. Same gang, and he was getaway driver again. Only one of the guys, Lenny the Rat, had been arrested the day before - drug possession or something. So they were a man down, and Doyle had had to go inside the bank this time. He'd used the blow torch to cut through the vault. He didn't remember taking his gloves off and touching anything - but perhaps he had. He had been so past caring what happened to him at that point, he had probably been that reckless on purpose - daring the universe to make his life worse, make him more miserable. He should have known - the universe would wait for the most opportune moment. Give him the world and then take it away again - that was a much better punishment than just tossing that drunken, hopeless, depressed half demon into jail back then.

Fingerprints over, he was led over to the height chart, given a plaque with his name and a number on it, and then had his mugshots taken. One forward, one either side.

Now he had been tossed into holding to wait. He lay down on the hard, plank bed, and covered his face with his hands. He remembered the last time he had lain down, warm and snug in Cordelia's bed. How good everything had seemed, just this morning, how golden.

They would have to run that print, check it against his own, and then decide whether to level more charges. Then there would be more interviews - he'd have to decide whether to talk, or whether to keep quiet. He wondered what his lawyer would advise in the face of all this overwhelming evidence. And then he'd be held on remand until a bail hearing. That could be a couple of days away - and he wouldn't be kept in the precinct if that was the case. It would mean a couple of days in a real jail. And then at some point ...he'd have to confess everything to Cordelia...

'I apologise for any discomfort you may be feeling,' Jeeves said, looking at the spread-eagled vampire - his limbs stretched taut. 'I can't begin to imagine the pain.'

'How about we switch places and then you don't have to?'

Jeeves smiled a small smile. 'Oh, my death wouldn't balance a thing, sir.'

'I die, Darla lives,' Angel clarified. Jeeves nodded. 'Then do it,' the vampire told him.

'You're sure?' Jeeves asked. 'You could just walk away - you have earned a choice. The doors are open for you, you did that. You can save yourself.'

'And Darla?'

'Oh, she would die.'

'No deal - do it.'

Jeeves looked at him in curiosity. 'May I ask you something sir? Isn't the world a better place with you in it? You can save so many people. She - it seems - can barely save herself.' Angel didn't answer, he just stared right ahead at the stakes pointing in his direction.

'You know better than anyone that the world can be a very bad place,' Jeeves continued. 'Take yourself out, put her in - how long will it be before she stumbles? Before she falls?'

'I don't know,' Angel admitted.

'No you don't. Are you still ready to give your life when she can promise you - nothing.'

Angel looked the butler dead in the eye. 'Yes.'

'As you wish.' He released the stakes and they hurtled towards Angel's bare chest.

...

Watching in the antechamber, Darla screamed, and shut her eyes…

With her song over, Cordelia left the stage and collared the Host at once. 'Well - did you see anything? - where's Doyle? - is he OK? Will I get him back?'

The green demon led her over to a table, and sat her down. 'You know I read your path when you sing? Your future - not anyone else's?'

'Doyle is part of my path - he is my future... right?'

The Host smiled sympathetically. 'Listen, my brown eyed girl, there's a lot in store for you, coming up. I'd say just over the horizon, but it's a wee bit closer than that. You're going to have to stay strong - stay true to yourself - and look after those that love you, and hope that they look after you.'

'Does that include Doyle? Where is he?' She wouldn't be distracted. She didn't care what tomorrow would bring, just as long as Doyle was in it. And if he wasn't - then she didn't care about much else at all.

'He's safe - for now,' the Host admitted, taking a sip of Sea Breeze and wincing. 'You can't be with him at the moment - but he'll explain everything in time - he isn't lost forever ...for the moment.'

'What does that mean?'

'Like I said, Cara Mia, there's a lot headed your way. Some of that is Doyle, some of that is the champ himself. There are stormy seas ahead and you'll have to navigate safe passage. So for now, just feel safe in the knowledge that your little Irish prince isn't in any immediate physical danger, and that you will see him again soon. Anything after that ... just take it as it comes. Now skedaddle on home to that hotel of yours, crumb bun, be there when Angel gets back. He - and Doyle - are going to need you.'

'So - he's definitely OK?' She wasn't even really listening to the other opaque warnings about her destiny that the Host was doling out. Her only concern was that her boyfriend wasn't dead in a ditch, or kidnapped by the government, somewhere. And that seemed to be the gist of what the anagogic demon was saying, but she wanted it clarified.

'He's safe,' the Host agreed. 'He's unharmed - and he's thinking of you. That's all I can tell you.'

She flashed him her brilliant thousand kilowatt grin. 'That's all I needed to know.'

She inhaled a ragged, desperate breath and then Darla opened her eyes again. Angel was stood right in front of her, fully clothed once more and looking more than a little shell shocked. Jeeves was there as well, looking terribly pleased with himself. 'Congratulations!' he said. 'You've passed the third test - accepting death. I'm told no one's ever gone that far before in terms of sacrifice. Kudos.'

But Angel wasn't interested in commendations. 'Pay up,' he said, rather tersely.

'Of course.' He turned to face Darla and raised both his hands so that they rested against her temples. The pair of them closed their eyes. Angel, who had been hunched over after the pain of all his trials, forced himself to straighten up so he could get a better view. But nothing seemed to happen, and after a moment Jeeves dropped his hands. 'This is very embarrassing,' he admitted. Darla opened her eyes.

'Not to mention unprecedented,' the butler continued. He looked between the woman and her champion. 'She's been given new life before - by supernatural means, yes?'

Darla nodded her head, ever so slightly. 'They brought me back.'

'What are you saying?' Angel demanded, his brow lowered, as he glowered in the direction of the butler.

'I can't help her.'

'We had a bargain,' Angel said, his voice becoming more menacing. 'She's earned a second chance.'

'She's living her second chance, I'm afraid,' Jeeves said, he really did sound genuinely sorry to be unable to help. 'The fact of the matter is - there's nothing I can do.'

The walls began to shiver, and a set of stairs - leading out to the pool - appeared. Jeeves, himself, dissolved into nothingness - leaving the vampire and his dying sire alone in the antechamber.

'Angel -' Darla started to say, but she was interrupted by the explosion of his his silent fury. Keeping his face turned from her, he suddenly overturned the table of refreshments - sending the table flying, and food and crockery smashing to the floor. He then picked up an urn and dashed that against the wall, shattering it into pieces. He swung his arm and knocked all the candles and the tablecloth off the surface of the side table. They too clattered to the floor in a broken heap. Then he balled his fist and began to pound, incessantly, against one of the stone pillars - venting his rage. So much pain, so much torture - and for nothing, he had still lost, he had failed her.

As his hits became slower, Darla walked over to him. She could see puffs of dust crumbling off the pillar every time he punched it. His knuckles were raw and bleeding, but he kept hitting until - just as suddenly as his outburst had begun - all the fight seemed to drain out of him. His knees buckled and he collapsed to the floor, his head resting against the pillar, his face hidden. Darla looked on, hopelessly, at the sight of her defeated champion.

The door to Doyle's cell opened, the half demon sat bolt upright on the bed, wondering - worrying- about what would happen now. 'I guess it's your lucky day,' Randall said, standing in the doorway. As if Doyle had ever had an unluckier day! If anything, this was even worse than his twenty first birthday - and the beginning of his problems - the end of his life.

'The prints didn't match,' Randall told him. 'You're out of the frame on the second bank job.'

Doyle breathed a sigh of relief - he knew he hadn't taken his gloves off!

'Oh I know you were there, Paddy,' the detective continued. 'But I can't prove it. So there won't be any extra charges - for now. The tally rests at one count of accessory to bank robbery and four counts of grand theft auto. We'll organise a transfer to the county jail in the morning - your bail hearing should be in a few days. Sweet dreams.' He stepped out of the doorway and shut the iron door behind him. It made a deafening, clanging sound as it closed, which seemed to reverberate right inside of Doyle's soul and exacerbate his misery. He lay back down on the hard, narrow bed and closed his eyes - thinking about Cordelia.

Cordelia and Wesley arrived back at the hotel. 'Well - at least we know he's safe - that's what matters,' Wesley was saying.

She put her purse down and nodded her head. 'I know - but when I find out what he's been doing - why he put me through all this worry - he's gonna be in a big trouble, you'd better believe it.' She had got over her initial relief in finding out that Doyle was alive and well, somewhat - and was now beginning to be angry that he would just disappear and not let her know what was happening. This had better not be a sign of things to come, of the way he thought he could behave in a relationship. No one treated Queen C like that - no one - especially not short, badly dressed, Irish, half demons - no matter how madly in love with them she was.

'It's getting late,' Wesley said to her, 'now that you know Doyle is safe - why don't you go on home, get some sleep? It's been a long day.'

But she shook her head, 'no - the Host said we needed to be here for Angel - when he gets back - I guess wherever he is and whatever he's doing with Darla - things aren't going so good, huh?'

The two of them sat back in her dingy room, back at the Royal Viking Motel. She sat on the edge of her bed, Angel sat in the chair, right by the door. 'Maybe it would be - different,' he was thinking, hard. He had promised to save her. He had failed. And now there was only one avenue left. But he had to convince himself that this would be the right thing to do. 'We don't know. Maybe - uh - maybe because, you know, I have a soul...if...if I did - bite you…'

'No,' she cut him off. She couldn't ask that of him - not anymore, after all he'd done for her. 'Angel - I've seen it now - everything you're going through, everything you've gone through...I felt it. I felt how you care. The way no one's ever cared before - not for me.' She gave him a tiny, weak smile. 'That's all I need from you.'

'It's not enough,' he protested.

'It is.'

'How could The Powers allow you to be brought back, to dangle a second chance and then take it away like this?'

'Maybe this is my second chance,' she told him.

'To die?'

'Yes - to die - the way I was supposed to die in the first place.' They looked at each other for a moment, but then Darla turned away, drawing a shaky breath, as she did so. It was so hard to be brave - but she had to be - for him. Her boy wouldn't be strong enough to bear this if she wasn't strong for him. And she owed him that much at least - to be strong - to make this as easy on him as possible - after all he'd done for her - after everything she'd done to him - this was the least she could do. The only thing she could do for him, now. But her breath was still shaky, and she still trembled, as she contemplated the vast darkness of eternity that she was now facing. He got up from the chair and limped over to her. He sat beside her and took her hand in his own.

'I'm not gonna leave you,' he promised. She looked into his face, and bit back the tears that threatened to flow. 'Every moment you have left - I'm gonna be by your side. You're never going to be alone again.' He put his arm around her shoulder and pulled her towards him and, with her face hidden, buried in his chest, she finally let her tears fall…

...BAM the door was suddenly kicked open and and a black clad guy rushed in, tasering Angel to the ground, before the vampire was able to react. Two more men entered and grabbed Darla, holding her down, whilst the first guy continued to taser Angel. A fourth guy taped his hands behind his back, further incapacitating him.

Lilah walked into the room then, and pulled Angel's head up so she could look into his eyes. 'You made the wrong choice, Angel,' she told him. 'How did you think this would end?'

And then he saw her… she swept into the room, tall and majestic. Her dress was blood red, and velvet, and cut low. A gothic princess. Darla saw her too, and began to struggle, but she couldn't get free. And Angel couldn't help her - couldn't reach his sire. He was forced to watch as the creation of his own monstrosity, his own creature, took hold of Darla and bit down into her neck. As Darla's heart began to slow, Drusilla ceased to drink, and slashed open her own flesh - the blood dripping down her chest - and forced Darla's mouth against the wound, making her drink. And Angel was forced to watch - as everything in his life, all he had ever done - came full circle - and forced him to pay.

Chapter 37: Reunion: Part One

Chapter Text

The door to Doyle's cell was pulled open, and the early morning light flooded in. 'C'mon, Paddy, up you get,' the police officer said to him. He sat up, rubbing his face and blinked in the light. 'Transport's been arranged,' the officer was saying. 'Time to go.'

The half demon got to his feet, slowly, and shuffled his way towards the door where he was immediately handcuffed. He was led through the precinct, the whole thing seemed unreal, as if everything was slowed down and muffled. He felt like he was moving underwater.

He was taken down the backstairs and outside to where a transport vehicle was waiting. As he stumbled his way towards it, he saw Kate walking in his direction, headed for the precinct. Her nose was buried in a file, as she walked. 'Kate,' he croaked out her name, and she looked up, frowning.

Her frown only deepened when she saw the Irishman, handcuffed, and being forced into the back of a prison wagon. 'Doyle?' She approached the officer that accompanied him, 'what's happening, why is this man being arrested?'

'Bank robbery and grand theft auto,' the policeman said.

'There must be some mistake!' Kate protested. 'I know this man -' she turned to face Doyle. 'Don't worry, Doyle - I'll look into this, I'll fix it. Just go along with everything they say and don't resist.' He was stuffed into the van, and locked into place. She hurried into the precinct to start making enquiries.

There were some more men, already locked into place and, once Doyle was secured, the back doors were closed and the transport vehicle moved off. Through the small square windows, high above his head, he could see the blue of the sky and the sun shining down. It was going to be yet another beautiful day. And all over the city, people - Cordelia - would be getting up and starting on with their mornings, as if everything was normal, as if nothing had changed.

The journey was not a long one, and within half an hour, the van had pulled up outside the large, square, ominous looking building. The men were unchained from the van and then led outwards. It was with a sense of great trepidation that Doyle entered into the environs of the Men's County Jail, and left the sunshine behind...

That same sunshine was streaming through the windows into the lobby of the Hyperion Hotel. Cordelia and Wesley were still waiting for Angel to come home, the Host had told them that the vampire would need them when he returned; but so far he had not come home and now his employees were getting worried.

'This is bad,' Cordelia told her friend, drumming the tips of her steepled fingers together, as she worried. Her elbows rested on the desk and a cup of cold coffee sat just beside her, but she was too tense to stop her tapping and drink it. 'He should be home by now, something must have happened. He can't be out in the daylight like this.'

'Perhaps he went back to Darla's motel room?' Wesley suggested. He was trying to sound calm and reasonable, to try and soothe Cordelia's panic, but secretly he had to admit he was worried too. 'He might be inside.'

'All alone? All day? With Darla? That's even worse!'

'Well ...maybe they -'

The Englishman was cut off mid sentence by the front door being kicked open. Gunn entered, supporting a barely standing Angel.

'Oh my God, Angel!' Cordelia hurried out from behind the desk. 'What happened?'

'I don't know,' Gunn told her, 'he's been kinda in and out. I only got half a story, the half that don't make sense.'

The three associates gently walked their boss over to the sofa. Angel was shambolic and incoherent. He was all roughed up, cut and bruised and bleeding. He was limping and he was muttering - words that didn't make sense to his three friends. 'No time,' he gasped, as he was sat down on the round sofa, and Cordelia began to scrutinise his various wounds, 'it's no - no time.'

'Where did you find him?' Cordelia asked, looking at Gunn.

'Coming out of Darla's motel. I managed to get him into the truck before he burst into flames.'

'I should have heard them,' the vampire continued to mumble to himself. 'I was just so tired - so tired.'

'The place was a wreck,' Gunn informed the other two. 'Something went down there, and there was no sign of Darla.'

'I knew it - she did this to him,' Cordelia was indignant. 'I knew she couldn't be trusted.'

'She's dead.' Angel suddenly cut into the conversation. His three friends stopped their conversation and all stared at the wounded vampire in surprise. 'I should have stopped them,' he continued, 'they made her drink. She didn't want to, but they made her.'

'Someone made Darla drink?' Wesley asked sharply, his mind whirling with the possibilities of what might happen now, after this latest development, trying to make sense of where they would go from here.

'It was her,' Angel said, his voice full of significance.

But Cordelia was lost, 'OK way too many pronouns. Who's 'her'?'

Angel pushed himself up off the couch before he answered, just one word: 'Drusilla.'

'Drusilla's here?'

'Good lord!' Wesley exclaimed. Only Gunn was unaffected by this news, indeed he seemed rather nonplussed. 'Who's Drusilla?' he wanted to know, as the three of them tagged along behind Angel, who was limping his way into his office. Angel began to root through his desk, pulling things out and discarding them, dropping them on the floor, as he searched for something. Gunn looked at across at the other two. 'Am I right in thinking that this Drusilla has got a set of teeth on her?'

'Yes', Wesley told him, 'she's a vampire.'

'I think I'm starting to get the picture.'

Angel slammed his desk drawer shut in frustration, making Cordelia wince. He moved over to the cabinet and yanked that open, beginning his desperate search once more. 'I need to find her.'

'Drusilla?' Cordelia was confused.

'She probably aint in there,' Gunn told his boss, eyeing the cabinet.

'I can save her,' Angel said, still searching.

Cordelia shook her head. 'He's delirious,' she whispered.

'Angel? Save whom?' Wesley wanted to know.

'Darla.'

Wesley sighed, a little sadly, and went to crouch beside his friend. Angel continued to frantically search through the cupboard. The watcher made his voice gentle, but intense, trying to convey the truth of the situation so that Angel would understand it, but as kindly as possible. 'Angel, if what you've been saying is true, then there is no saving Darla. It's too late.'

'It's not.'

Wesley put his hand on Angel's shoulder and squeezed it comfortingly, 'it is! She's dead already and come nightfall she'll rise again.'

'She won't,' Angel straightened up, he spun the stake, which he had finally found, in his hand and then looked into all of his friends' faces. 'I can save her from that.'

Kate sighed deeply, as she looked through the file she had managed to get a hold of. Doyle seemed to be in deep trouble - the evidence was stacked against him, it seemed he really had done all the things he'd been arrested for. She didn't know what she could do for him, but she wanted to help. These crimes had been years ago, before he had met Angel - and Doyle was an integral part of the good fight. No one knew that better than Kate - he had saved her father's life! It was his visions that directed Angel to all the helpless he needed to save. Without the half demon, Angel would be fighting blind, which would mean innocent people would die. But Doyle was half human too. And he'd broken human laws. And it seemed like the human part of him was going to be made to pay. She couldn't argue with the evidence in front of her - or make it go away. But she knew someone who could. She reached out for the phone and dialled her boyfriend.

Doyle was going through the slow process of being booked into jail. It was taking hours. They took his name, date and place of birth, and social security number. This led to a hold up as they checked his immigration status, verifying his right to residency. Doyle held his breath over that one. He had come to the States to work - teaching in an international school which had supplied him with a work visa. Then he had met Harri, got married, and applied for a green card. Since then, he had left his job and got a divorce. Fortunately, he still had another 4 years left on his green card and so was still living in the country legally; though he began to realise that, if this went to trial and he ended up in prison, deportation was the only certainty waiting for him at the end of his sentence. A happy ending with Cordelia was looking less and less likely by the minute.

After all his details had been entered into the computer, he had yet more fingerprints and more mug shots taken. It was then that he realised this had been the easy bit; fear of winding up on a plane straight back to Ireland included. He was led through into another room, which was partitioned into separate cubicles, although they were open to the front. This was the search room, where they would check prisoners for any contraband before they entered the main part of the jail. He was shoved inside one of the cubicles and told to take his clothes off.

Wesley sat at the laptop, working away. He frowned, as he did so. He didn't know where Doyle was or what he was up to, but he was beginning to feel irritated with him. The Irishman was by far the best of them when it came to finding things on the computer, and had the most skill at accessing files and secure sites. They needed him right now - and he was nowhere to be found. Wesley had been relieved to know his friend was safe, when the Host had told them that, of course he had; but he still thought that Doyle had better have a good explanation for why he had been absent in the middle of one of the greatest crises the company had ever faced.

Gunn was pacing up and down the lobby. 'OK, I'm still trying to get this family tree straight. Darla sired Angel? And Angel sired this Drusilla? But that was before he got his soul back, right?'

'Certainly,' Wesley didn't look up from the computer screen.

'Now these lawyers go and bring Darla back as a human. And now this Drusilla vamp bites Darla, making her a vampire again?'

Wesley finally looked up and leaned backwards in his chair. He nodded his head, slowly. 'That's the cosmological upshot yes. Darla's human self has died and sometime before dawn, unless Angel can stop it, she will rise again, a soulless demon.'

'So that means…'

Wesley returned back to his typing, 'the clock is ticking.'

'No - no,' Gunn said, shaking his head. 'What I'm saying is: that the granddaughter remade the grandmother.'

'Oh - yes.'

Gunn shuddered. 'Man, that weirds me out even more than the bloodsucking thing.'

Angel strode into the office and went to the small fridge. 'Have you got anything?' he asked as he opened it, taking out a container of pig's blood.

Wesley nodded. 'Sunset is at 5:47 pm - which was…' he checked his watch, 'six minutes ago. Sunrise is at 6:15 am.'

'And she could rise anytime between then,' Angel surmised. Wesley nodded once more, and the vampire turned to his secretary, who was working at her own desk. 'Cordelia, anything?'

Cordy put the phone down and turned to her boss. 'Lilah Morgan's secretary says she is in the office, but she has been in a meeting all day.'

'Right.' Angel put the container of blood, unfinished, down on the counter top and picked up his coat. Gunn stared down at the blood in horrified fascination. Wesley watched his boss preparing to leave. 'Angel, you know you can't get into those offices undetected,' he reminded the vampire.

'And I'm not going to. That's what they want me to do. But I was at the only meeting Lilah has had all day.'

'You don't think she's at the office?' Wesley asked. 'So where are you going?'

'To her home.'

'I'll go with you,' Gunn offered.

Wesley got to his feet. 'Yes, we all will.'

But Angel shook his head. 'Not this time, I'm going alone.'

'But you can't get in uninvited!' Cordelia protested. 'What are you planning to do? Stand outside her door and make remarks? You need us'

Angel sighed in defeat, 'fine, come with me.' He suddenly glanced around the lobby, looking at them all, a confused expression on his face. 'Where's Doyle?'

Dressed once more, in a blue jumpsuit that separated him out from the orange wearing already convicted inhabitants of the jail, Doyle was taken through into the main containment facility. He shuffled along in a line, following the person in front of him, carrying his bundle of blankets, plastic plate and cup, a toothbrush and a toilet roll. The inmates were locked in their cells, so the hallway was empty but for the new arrivals, but Doyle could hear the prisoners; locked behind their doors, banging on the walls, whooping and hollering and trying to intimidate the newcomers. It was working. They were led up a flight of stairs and onto a gangway, every few cells the line would stop and one or two prisoners would be locked inside. Then the rest would continue onward until they reached their own.

It was just as Doyle had reached the front of the line and had stopped outside of a cell, which was being unlocked, that he felt the twinge in his head that always preceded a vision. BAM. The vision pain slammed into his cranium and his whole body went stiff, before he dropped to the floor - twitching. His little bundle of belongings crashed down and spilled out.

'Oh man,' the guard said, looking down at him, and then up at the other guard. 'Does this one have epilepsy or something? Was it on his file?'

'Maybe he's faking?' the other guard suggested.

Even in amidst the blinding agony of the vision, Doyle still felt the sharp pain of a swift boot to his gut. 'You faking?' the guard barked at him. Another kick. Doyle continued to twitch, as the images streamed into his mind. 'I guess we better take him to the hospital wing.'

Angel kicked open the door to Lilah's flat. A middle aged woman running a vacuum cleaner over the floor looked up at him in annoyance and switched off her hoover. 'What did you do that for?' the cleaner asked.

'Where's Lilah?' Angel demanded.

'Miss Morgan has been out all day, she doesn't tell me where she's going.'

Angel looked at his associates. 'Go in,' he told them, 'check it's empty.'

'Hey!' the cleaner protested, as Wesley, Gunn and Cordelia all streamed through the door and then spread out to search the apartment. 'I'll call the police.'

'Call them,' Angel told her. 'This is an emergency.'

'Oh - is this about her cousin?'

'Cousin?' Angel was nonplussed.

'Yes,' the cleaner said to him, 'the sweet little English girl, a bit odd though.' The three team members of Angel investigations stopped their search, and came back into the main living space of the apartment, to listen to what the woman had to say. The cleaner shook her head. 'I knew that pregnancy was in trouble the moment I saw her.'

'Pregnancy?' Cordelia asked, confused.

'She said she was going to have a baby?' Angel said.

The cleaner nodded. 'A daughter, She was so excited about it but ...I knew that it couldn't be right. That thin - thin as a rake - and that far along. I mean it can't be healthy for the baby.' She sighed. 'It seems such a shame, she was so excited about getting the nursery ready.'

The three living associates all exchanged mystified glances, but Angel nodded to himself. 'Of course,' he whispered, 'Dru would want the ritual.'

'Did she say where she was staying?' Wesley asked the cleaner, 'if she wasn't staying here with Miss Morgan?'

'Um - somewhere on the Westside I think, she said she wanted her daughter to be born near the stars.' She chuckled, ruefully. 'Of course - she's foreign - she doesn't understand that you can live your whole life in L.A and never see the stars.'

Drusilla pushed open the skylight and looked out into the blackness. 'I can hear them singing to me.'

'So this place works for you then?' asked Lilah, covering her irritation. This one was even worse than the first woman had been - she was completely sack of hammers. The lawyer couldn't wait until her days of babysitting Angel's women were through. Just go evil already!

Dru drifted over to the table where Darla, clad in a white dress, was laid out. She caressed the dead woman's cheek. 'Grandmother is very pleased with this place - I can tell.'

'Can she hear you?'

Drusilla stared straight into Lilah's eyes. 'She's dead.' She managed to make it sound like it was Lilah that was the crazy one.

'Oh - of course.'

'Shh,' the vampire raised her fingers to her lips and smiled. 'Just for now,' she whispered.

'Right.' Lilah checked the watch that she wore on her right wrist. 'Is there anything else you need? I'd love to stay for the birth - but I have a prior engagement I need to prepare for.'

'I've got preparations to make myself.'

'I'll leave you too it then.' As the lawyer left the room, she heard the crazed vampire begin to sing to Darla. 'Run and catch,' she crooned, 'run and catch, the lamb is caught in the blackberry patch.'

The team had gone back to the hotel and Cordelia was researching cemeteries. Angel was adamant that Drusilla would want to bury Darla, observe all the rituals and niceties of becoming a vampire. As she scrolled through the information, Cordelia felt her first twinge of worry, in a long time, for Doyle. She trusted the Host when he said that her boyfriend was safe, but he had been missing for a long time now. She couldn't understand why he wouldn't have contacted her by now, unless he wasn't able to. And they really needed him right now - she really needed him.

'OK here's a list of local cemeteries, funeral homes and mausoleums', she said to Angel putting it down on his desk.

'Forget mausoleums, she wants a view of the night sky.'

'So that's just the outside cemeteries then?' Cordelia said. 'Well that narrows it down.'

Gunn looked at the list and raised his eyebrows. 'You telling me we need to visit all these places and dig up every fresh grave?'

'Drusilla would want to put her in the ground - she's a classicist.' Angel informed them.

Cordelia shook her head. 'She's a loony,' she corrected.

'Angel? Are you sure about this? If it's just a burial she's after then she doesn't need a cemetery, I'm afraid, just dirt.' They all looked defeated at Wesley words.

Cordelia snorted. 'Still not narrowing. The whole world? Pretty much dirt.'

'You know maybe I'm going about this wrong,' Angel mused. 'Dru doesn't see this as death. It's a birth - she talked about getting the nursery ready.'

But Wesley was unconvinced. 'I think maybe you're looking for logic in the rantings of someone who doesn't think logically', he cautioned.

But Angel felt that he was on the right path now. 'A nursery near the stars?' he thought out loud. 'Dru loves the stars. She used to spend hours in our garden, back in Sunnydale, talking to them.'

'Does it have to be a baby nursery?' Gunn asked. 'You said she liked the garden. What about a plant nursery? You got the soil, the view - and it's more of a birthplace than a death place. Find one high up - and it might be what we're looking for.'

Cordelia scurried back to the computer. 'I'll look for one with a link to Wolfram and Hart,' she called over her shoulders. But as she began to type, she sighed again. 'Doyle, where are you?' she whispered to herself.

He had been taken to the hospital wing and checked over by the doctor. 'I'm fine,' he kept saying. 'I just have these - seizures - sometimes...it's nothin' to worry about, but I need to make a phone call.' But they didn't listen to him. Having been given a physical once over, and declared healthy, the doctor then insisted on taking blood and urine samples to check for drugs. His word that he hadn't taken anything was no longer enough - he was a criminal now, not to be trusted or listened to.

'I really need to make a phone call,' he kept saying. Still neither the guard nor the doctor answered, or even looked at him straight.

'There doesn't seem any reason to keep him here, take him back to his cell,' the doctor said to the guard, as if Doyle wasn't even in the room or couldn't understand.

It was a full hour after his vision that he was discharged from the hospital wing and taken back to the main part of the prison. And still no one was listening to his request to make a phone call.

Angel entered the plant nursery via the rooftops. He dropped down through the skylight, he appeared to be alone. On the table was a seedbed filled with dirt. He crossed over to it, and pushed some of the dirt away, revealing a shroud covered face. He pulled the thin shroud away and looked into the peaceful face of Darla. He took a moment, and then pushed more dirt away, revealing her chest. Then he raised his stake. Just as his arm plunged downwards, Drusilla hit him over the back of his head with a shovel, sending him flying across the seedbed.

Angel righted himself and Drusilla hit him again. 'That's not a fitting gift for grandmother,' she told him. 'I saw you coming… the moon whispered it to me, told me to come into the twentieth century.'

'It's the twenty first century, Dru.'

'Mmm, I'm still lagging.' she hit him again, throwing him against the wall.

Unnoticed by them both, Darla woke up with a gasp. She stared around at the room, watching the two vampires fighting, mere feet away from her. Drusilla and Angel traded blows, until Angel was able to grab the shovel away from her. He snapped the handle off and turned back to the seedbed, makeshift stake in hand, ready to plunge it into Darla's heart. But he was pulled up short. The seedbed was empty, and all that was left of Darla was the indentation where her body had lain. He stood there, feeling grief and defeat crash into him. He glanced around the room, and was suddenly seized by the throat and lifted into the air. Darla stood beneath him, holding him up with her newfound vampire strength. Drusilla looked on in delight: 'now everybody's home.'

Chapter 38: Reunion: Part Two

Chapter Text

The guard took Doyle back to the cells. They stopped in a different doorway to the one the half demon had collapsed in - they must have just shoved the next prisoner into that one when Doyle was shuffled off to the hospital wing. They were now on the gangway the next level up, and the narrowness of the walkway, the steepness of the stairs, and the height they were at were all making Doyle's head spin. They stopped outside one of the cells and the guard took out his keys and began to unlock the door. 'Please, I'm tellin' y', I need to make a phone call - it's an emergency', Doyle pleaded one last time. For the first time the guard turned and actually looked at him. The Irishman decided to press his case. 'It's really important, I have to call someone.'

It was a mistake. The guard lunged at him, and he found himself pressed up against the wall, the length of the guard's forearm cutting into his neck, choking off his breath. 'Oi need t' make a phone call.' the guard parroted, copying Doyle's accent in a derisive way. 'Listen, Mick, you don't need to do anything here unless we tell you you need to do it. You don't blink, you don't sneeze, you don't go to the john unless we say you can. You don't leave this cell and you don't tell us what you need to do. You'll get your phone call when we're good and ready to give you your phone call and until then I don't wanna hear a peep outta ya. Capiche?' He then used his other arm to deliver a blow straight into Doyle's kidneys. The half demon doubled over, and the guard released him in order to open the cell door - as if he hadn't been interrupted, as if he hadn't just viciously beaten down another human being.

'Now get in there and pipe down.' Doyle was shoved through the doorway and then the door clanged shut behind him.

The cell was small and dark. There was only one window, and that was covered with bars. Underneath the window was a small sink - and beside that, a toilet. There were two sets of bunk beds just inside the door, one pushed up against either wall. Three of the bunks were occupied, and their occupants were now staring at the new arrival. Swallowing hard, and without making eye contact with anyone, Doyle went and sat on the empty lower bunk. He rested his head against the wall, closed his eyes, and tried to stave off the waves of misery that threatened to engulf him.

Angel dangled in midair, held up by the iron grip of the newly awakened Darla. 'Oh,' Drusilla breathed in delight. 'Baby's up from her little nap.' The new vampire glanced towards the woman that had sired her, and Angel used that moment to take advantage of her distraction. He brought his arm down on her extended elbow in a swift chopping motion, breaking her grip on his neck. As he tumbled back to the ground, he threw her headfirst across the room - and then advanced on her, stake raised. Drusilla tackled him, bringing him down. The stake rolled out of his clutch, but he kicked the woman away and got back to his feet. Undeterred by her sire's violence, Drusilla threw him away from herself. He landed heavily on top of the table that Darla had rested on, and the mad seer grabbed the broken shovel handle and made to stake Angel.

He rolled this way and that, avoiding her blows as she tried to stab him through the chest with her makeshift stake. Across the room, Darla got back to her feet and began to make her escape from her birth chamber. As she passed the two battling vampires, Angel managed to kick Drusilla away from himself and grab hold of Darla's wrist, stopping her from fleeing. He pulled her back towards him, but she used the momentum to cause them both to come crashing down onto the table. For a moment they were a wild tangle of limbs, and then Darla pulled free.

'Grandmother?' Drusilla held out her hand, resting it on Darla's shoulder. The newly awakened vampire was stopped in her tracks, confused. After a moment, she tossed Drusilla away from herself and then launched herself back at Angel. They tumbled over and over and then crashed through the glass, landing on the roof outside, under the stars. Drusilla followed them out, jumping through the broken pane of glass, and the new vampire abandoned her boy in order to attack her new sire. In vamp face, for the first time in this incarnation, Darla pushed Drusilla to the floor and began to shake her. Drusilla laughed and laughed, a mad, hysterical cackle of enjoyment; as she witnessed the destruction her grandmother come daughter was wreaking on the rooftop.

She was suddenly freed, when Angel pulled Darla away from her, and threw the new vampire across the roof. Once more he made as if to stake her, but pulled up short when her saw her human features returned to her face. Darla gazed around the rooftop in confusion and then looked up at her boy. 'Angel?' her voice was small, and scared, and Angel pulled his stake back even further, retracting his weapon.

And then Drusilla tackled him once more, and he was pulled away from the woman he had come to save. Darla got to her feet and ran to the edge of the roof. She stepped onto it and peered down. They were many storeys up; the streetlamps twinkled beneath them, like fallen stars - and the cars seemed like toys, their noise muffled by the distance. She glanced back to the roof and saw Angel struggling to get to his feet, ready to stake her once more. It took only a split second to make the decision. She stepped off the rooftop and plunged down to the street below.

Angel rushed to the edge and peered over, but from that high up he could see no sign of his newly awakened sire. He turned back and looked around the roof, but Drusilla had vanished, as well.

He ran back into the lobby of the Hyperion, finding his three associates waiting for him. 'Everybody gear up,' he commanded. 'Grab something sharp, we need to move fast.' He crossed to the weapons cabinet and opened it up, selecting a weapon for himself, his favourite broadsword.

'I'm guessing it didn't got too well, then?' Cordelia asked, watching as the vampire selected another weapon and held it out to her. She hesitated for a moment and then took it.

'They're out there,' he told her, 'both of them.'

'So where are they now?' Wesley wanted to know.

But Angel shook his head. 'I don't know', he admitted, handing Gunn an axe.

'But you know exactly where they're going to be?' Cordelia clarified.

'Not exactly.'

He threw Wesley a crossbow and Wesley caught it. The watcher hefted the weapon in his hands, feeling the weight and balance of it. 'But yet you have your suspicions?' he said.

'Actually I don't.' Angel handed the quiver of crossbow bolts to Wesley, and the Englishman took them, raising his eyebrows in surprise at what he was hearing.

'So it's more like a hunch?' Cordelia suggested hopefully.

'Wouldn't say hunch.'

He eyed the sword in Cordelia's hand and then took it off her, swapping it for a stake. She accepted her new weapon without a word, resting her finger against the end of it to test its sharpness. Then she looked back up at her boss. 'Would you say inkling? Please tell me that you would at least say inkling.'

'For the moment, anyway, they're separated. If we can find one of them before they meet back up then there's a chance that we can stop something really ugly from happening.' He sheathed his sword and began to walk towards the exit. The others didn't follow him.

'Angel', Wesley tried to sound reasonable. 'I don't think the four of us driving around a city of four million people in one car is likely to yield results.'

'I know that. That's why we'll follow the one concrete lead we have - Wolfram and Hart.'

Cordelia and Wesley exchanged exasperated looks. Angel turned to leave once more, but his secretary put out her hand to stop him. 'Hitting the pause button', she said, 'Wolfram and Hart? As in vampire detectors, crack security systems and armed guards? Nice plan General Custer.'

Angel took a deep, oxygen free, breath to try and summon up his reserves of patience. 'Drusilla is insane,' he explained, 'she's deadly and not in a good mood. Darla needs to feed soon okay? And once she does she'll be that much stronger. Now, we've got two options. Either we go back to the people who brought them both here in the first place. Or we sit here - and wait for the bodies to start piling up. I've decided not to wait. Anyone wants to join me - my car is outside. If not, that's fine too.'

There was a moment's silence in the lobby as all four of them looked at each other. Then - 'you had me at "everyone gear up",' Gunn declared.

Angel nodded. 'Let's go.' He turned and walked towards the door. 'Where is Doyle?' he asked as he strode out.

Inside the lobby, Cordelia and Wesley exchanged one final glance, heavy with significance, and then they too followed the vampire out into the night.

Holland walked into Lilah's office. The young attorney was in there, working away - even though it was a Saturday night. 'Lilah,' he said. 'I thought I'd find you here...I trust you're still on for my little soiree tonight? Not working too hard to enjoy yourself, once in a while, I hope. I'm uncorking a case of 1928 Chateau Latour.'

Lilah looked up from her desk and smiled, pleasantly. 'I'm looking forward to it,' she said, 'but…' she nodded into one of the gloomy corners of her office and, as Holland turned to look, Drusilla stepped out of the shadows. 'I had Chateau Latour once,' the mad woman said. 'It tasted like lion's blood.'

'Drusilla,' Holland said, glancing at Lilah, 'my apologies. I didn't realise you were here. I trust everything went as planned?'

'I'm worried about grandmother,' Drusilla pouted, 'the building was very tall.'

'I'm sure she'll be fine,' Lilah said, dismissively. She had had enough of these vampire women, she wanted them out of her hair, gone. She had heard, through her connections at the police department, that the half breed had been arrested the day before - and that he was currently languishing in the county jail awaiting a bail hearing. She wanted to take the time to really enjoy the moment, to gloat, to imagine the misery the little mongrel was suffering and think through all the nasty little things that might befall him in prison. But she couldn't do that when she still had to concentrate on Angel's harem of demon women.

'Angelus wasn't happy in the least,' Drusilla was telling Holland.

The senior attorney looked between his associate and the vampire. 'Angel found you?' he asked, sharply. Then he seemed to reflect for a moment. 'Ah well - not unexpected. How did he fare?'

Drusilla closed her eyes and began to sway where she stood. 'Angelus is on his way here now.' She gasped and smiled, opening her eyes. 'He's very cross.'

The two lawyers looked at each other. 'Well I shouldn't worry about that,' Holland smiled, 'we've taken precautions.'

Drusilla sat down in front of the desk and took out Miss Edith, cradling the blindfolded, porcelain doll on her lap.

'The important thing,' Holland said, looking down at the crazed vampire crooning over her doll, 'is that we reunite you with your baby.'

The phone rang, and Lilah reached across her desk to answer it. It was security - there was an untagged vampire in the building. Holland opened the door, to go and look into the matter, and found himself face to face with Darla.

'Oh jeez,' Lilah sighed from her position behind the desk. 'Why do they all have to come to my office?'

Darla looked up at Holland for a moment. 'Darla,' he smiled down at her.

'Holland.' She suddenly pushed him away from herself, sending him flying across the room. Drusilla cackled in delight and held out her arms to her new daughter. Darla grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the chair, dragging her new sire behind her as she left the room, running.

Holland righted himself, picked up the phone and spoke to security. 'Let them leave the building without incident.' Then he glanced down at Lilah. 'Well - now that the two ladies have found each other, let's hope they have a constructive evening.'

The cell door opened. 'Oi, Mick,' the guard shouted in. Doyle still sat on his bunk, his knees pulled up under his chin and his head rested against the wall, eyes closed, fighting to keep calm. He didn't even react to the sound of the of the guard's voice. 'Oi Mick, I'm talking to you.'

He felt a sudden blow round the side of his head. 'On your feet when I'm talking to you, Mick.' He realised it was him that was being spoken too. Mick - Irish. Like the other policeman had called him Paddy. He'd have to remember the various names the guards gave him, and make sure he reacted promptly, otherwise he'd cop for a lot more violence.

He got to his feet, and stood up straight, shoulders back. The guard leered down at him. 'You're lucky day, Mick,' the guard said. That was twice in the past 24 hours that he'd been told it was his lucky day - when he had never, in his whole sorry and miserable life, suffered a worse one. 'Governor's decided to let you have your phone call, out ya come.'

He stumbled outwards and onto the gangway, and was led down the two flights of stairs, that were really more like ladders, and out into the main hall. There were three pay phones hanging on the far wall. The guard dug into his pocket and took out a token. 'You'll need this to make a call,' he said handing it over. Doyle took it, silently. He wasn't sure if saying 'thank you' would warrant another blow to the head or not, and decided not to chance it. 'It'll only get you five minutes,' the guard warned, 'so whatever you have to say, say it quick.'

The half demon nodded to show his thanks and understanding, and then picked up the receiver. He dropped the token into the coin slot and then dialled Cordelia's cell number. The guard was close by, well within earshot. Oh well - he'd just have to hear, and think Doyle was crazy. Maybe he'd hit him less if he thought he was crazy.

Angel drove his convertible through the streets like a madman. Gunn sat strapped in the passenger seat, clinging onto the dashboard for dear life. In the back, Cordelia and Wesley were being tossed around like ragdolls. 'There's not much good to be done if we don't get there in one piece,' Wesley called into the front, as he was slammed against the inside of the door.

'There's not much time,' Angel replied veering round a corner. Cordelia was slammed into her door, and Wesley fell on top of her. Her phone began to ring. As Wesley struggled to right himself, and claw his way back to his side of the car, she dug out her cell and flicked it open. She didn't recognise the number, and she frowned as she answered it. 'Hello?'

...

Hearing Cordelia's voice, for the first time in the most nightmarish 36 hours of his existence, Doyle felt warm tears spring to his eyes and sit there prickling; threatening to fall. His heart beat faster and his throat constricted.

'Hello?' She sounded annoyed.

He blinked back his tears and cleared his throat. 'Cordelia? It's me.'

'Doyle? Where are you? Are you Okay? Where have you been? We've been worried. We needed you.' Before he could answer, he heard her speak to the others. 'It's Doyle, he's finally contacted us.'

'Is he OK?' he heard Wesley ask.

'Doyle is everything alright? Where are you? I miss you,' Cordelia said, speaking into the phone once more. That last bit made the tears stand out in his eyes once more. But he managed to contain them, and when he spoke, he somehow managed to sound reasonably normal: 'Cordelia, listen I don't have much time.'

'But -'

'I can't explain now - I will - later. But now, I've had a vision, there's someone you need to save.'

'Doyle's had a vision,' he heard Cordelia relay to the group.

'Oh please tell me he aint seeing us wrapped around a lamp post,' Gunn groaned. Doyle didn't understand that bit.

'Look, Cordelia, I had it a while ago, and I haven't been able to phone 'til now, so it's pretty urgent...' and he gave her the name and the address of the helpless soul that needed saving. He could see the guard giving him funny looks, but there was nothing he could do about that.

'Did y' get all that?' he asked, anxiously.

'Yeah, but Doyle - what's happened?'

'I'll tell y' about it later - just save that kid for me.' He was about to hang up, when he had a second thought. 'Cordelia?' he said, just catching her in time before she clicked off the call.

'Yeah?'

'I love you.' Then he put the phone down and was taken back to his cell.

...

Cordelia frowned in confusion when she heard the line go dead. 'Cordelia?' Wesley's voice was gentle. She looked up. 'We need to turn the car around,' she said.

'We're almost there!' Angel protested.

'Doyle said it was urgent. It's in the other direction. Turn the car around.'

'If Doyle was going to have a vision then he should have done it before we left the hotel,' Angel complained, still driving at breakneck speed towards the law firm.

'Angel!' Wesley remonstrated.

But The vampire didn't listen. 'It's too late to change now. Maybe it's a false alarm.'

'Angel!' Gunn joined in with the watcher this time. But Cordelia saved her breath. She just pulled out the stake her boss had handed to her back at the hotel and held it up to his back, threateningly, a determined expression on her face. With a sigh of frustration, Angel spun the car around, causing several other vehicles to swerve and blare their horns. Ignoring them all, Angel sped back the way they had come.

Doyle sat back down on his bunk. He didn't have a blanket. He'd dropped it when he'd had his vision and no one had picked it up or thought to give him a new one. He didn't have a toothbrush either. There was no way in hell he was going to use that communal toilet, so he wasn't too worried about the lack of toilet paper, but he wanted a blanket and a toothbrush, and he had no idea how to go about asking for a new set. Especially not at this time of night.

As if to emphasise the point, the lights suddenly went out. It could only be about half past nine. If that. But it seemed it was bedtime. Lack of blanket aside, he didn't mind the early night. He could go to sleep and then it would be tomorrow and he would be a few hours closer to the end of this nightmare - for now, at least.

As he lay back on his cold, hard bed he thought back to something the guard had said to him, and another worry began to enter his mind. 'You don't blink, you don't sneeze, you don't go to the john unless we say you can.'

Sneeze.

That was the problem. Even worse than the strip searches, and the communal toilet, and the communal shower that awaited him in the morning. What if he sneezed?

He'd been arrested on a Friday, the absolutely worst day to get arrested, as it meant there would be no bail hearing until after the weekend. They'd told him at the station, that morning, before they'd sent him on to the county jail, that there wasn't a slot for him on the Monday so his bail hearing was postponed until Tuesday - the 5th. It was currently Saturday night, and it was mercifully dark. But he still had the whole of Sunday and Monday to get through. He was locked in a 10 foot by 8 foot room with three other men. If he sneezed, at any point in the next two days - and was there any chance that he wouldn't? - then the demon in him would be exposed. And how much worse would this nightmare get, then?

Darla dragged Drusilla down the crowded street, pushing her and shoving her and throwing her to the ground, without thought for the people around her who looked on. 'Did I do something to displease you?' Drusilla wept, from the ground. A man tried to help her up, but Darla tossed him to one side as well, and then ragged Drusilla to her feet, throwing her across a parked car and into the road. She was immediately hit by an oncoming vehicle. The woman driving the car, screeched the brakes on and got out, hurriedly. But when she saw Drusilla, unharmed and getting to her feet looking only mildly irritated, she scurried back into her car and drove off.

Darla came up behind Dru and slammed her once more into a parked car. 'Grandmother!' Drusilla cried out. But Darla hit her again, and Drusilla stumbled once more into the road. This time, the car headed towards her managed to avoid her, but it too screeched to a halt. Darla slammed Drusilla into the side of the car. 'Why?' she demanded.

'For you. All for you. I thought it was what you wanted - to be saved.'

Darla looked at Drusilla for a long moment. A guy in a red pickup, who was held up by their standing in the street, began to honk his horn. The blonde woman slowly took a step back, letting her hands fall from her new sire's shoulders. Drusilla began to cry. 'Alone, all alone,' she wept. 'We've lost our way and the little worm won't dance if he's told to.' Darla reached out and pushed Drusilla's long, dark hair away from her face, staring at her. Then she enfolded the crying vampire in her arms and held her, comforting her.

The guy from the red pick up got out of the truck. 'Hey ladies, you wanna move it out of the street?' The two embracing vampires pulled slightly apart and stared at him. 'Yeah, that's right sweetheart. Why don't you and your girlfriend take the make out session on home?' Darla let her arms drop from around Drusilla and approached the man. 'We've all got lives,' he said, in the same belittling tone he'd used throughout.

'Not for long,' Darla replied, and she grabbed his head and sank her teeth into his neck, draining the blood from him. Once she had gorged herself, and she could feel his warmth and life flowing through her, she dropped his body to the ground and turned back to Drusilla. The dark haired vampire had stopped weeping, and was now positively beaming. 'You're all new again!' she exclaimed.

'Mmm,' smiled Darla, relishing the moment - her first kill in years. 'Let's go shopping.' And, hand in hand, they walked off down the street, leaving the body of Darla's first victim behind them.

Chapter 39: Reunion: Part Three

Chapter Text

A kid sat in his garage, cradling a gun in his lap. There were black candles spread across the workbench in front of him, creating an altar; and a large boombox pumped out death metal at a deafening volume. 'Morgog - I worship you. Ruler of the universe - I throw out my worthless life to you.' A sound behind him made him spin his chair around to see what who disturbed his sacred space. Angel and his associates walked in through the opened door. 'What do you want?' the kid demanded.

Wesley stepped towards him. 'We're here to help.'

But the kid pushed his chair backwards, trying to get away from the intruders. 'No no,' he cried 'I have to do this. Morgog commands me.' Angel threw a dark look at Cordelia, shaking his head. He didn't have time for this kid, or any other distractions, for that matter. He didn't have patience with demon worshipping suicide cults at the best of times, now he was being really sorely tested.

'His will be done,' the kid intoned, manically. 'Morgog - ' Angel stepped towards the boom box. ' don't - stay back!' the kid cried, Angel stopped.

'Careful, Angel,' Cordelia warned, glancing at her boss and then looking back at the crazed expression on the kid's face, and the gun he fondled in his lap. 'This kid is ready to snap, crackle and pop. Doyle said this one needed handling with care, you know - delicate-'

Angel picked up the boombox and threw it at the altar, sending the candles flying and ending the music as the plastic smashed against the wall. '-ly' finished Cordelia, looking horrified.

The vampire grabbed the gun and twisted it out of the guy's hand. The kid gasped in pain. 'Listen, I'm not here to hurt you kid,' Angel told him, looking down at him, 'and Morgog's not the way.' He dumped the bullets out of his gun into his hand. 'So don't go killing yourself over him - it's not worth it. And you've got you know…' he glanced around the dank garage, taking it all in, '...a million- reasons - to live -I bet. Okay?' He tossed the gun into a barrel of oil. It made a gloopy noise, as it fell into the thick viscous liquid; after a moment there was a decided thunk, as the metal hit the bottom of the barrel. 'Got it?' the vampire asked. 'Good.'

He turned to leave, but Wesley stepped into his path, blocking him. 'Angel, we aren't done here.' He glanced towards the ground, where Cordelia was knelt, examining the kid's injured hand.

'I am,' his boss replied.

'The Powers That Be must have had a good reason for sending us here,' the watcher argued. 'Doyle has been missing in action for two days now, and they still took the time to send him a vision. This is important.'

'I don't have time to figure that out,' the vampire countered.

'Maybe that's the plan,' Gunn suggested, coming to stand next to Wesley, and helping to bar Angel's path. 'Maybe they're trying to keep you from going on this mission.'

'In any case, that young man clearly still needs our help.' Wesley's voice was forceful, but it wasn't enough to dissuade Angel from his chosen path.

'You help him,' he said, 'I got more important things to do, okay?' and he shouldered his way past them and walked out of the garage.

Wesley and Gunn exchanged a dark, and concerned glance. Over by the kid, Cordelia looked up from her examination of the injured hand and watched her friend stalk off into the night. Her forehead was creased with frown lines, and her eyes were dark with worry.

The two vampires had found their way to a small boutique. Drusilla walked her fingers along a clothes rail, until she came to a sheer black dress. She pulled it off the rack and held it up against her, turning to Darla. 'Can I have it?' she asked eagerly, 'can I?'

'Of course dear. But a little colour would bring out your eyes more. Such pretty eyes.'

'Men are drawn to them.'

'Aren't they, though?' The blonde vampire picked up a hat and placed it on her sire's head. 'Here.' She admired Drusilla for a second, but then the silence was broken by the shrill ringing of a cell phone.

'Oh,' said Drusilla in delight. 'I'm ringing - do you hear it?' She began to dance to the ringing, using only her arms and swaying in time, her feet stayed still. 'I'm ringing all over.' Darla watched her for a moment and then reached out, put her hand down the front of Dru's dress, and pulled out the cell phone.

'Oh, I forgot about that,' Drusilla admitted.

Darla flicked open the phone. 'Hello, Holland,' she said into it.

'Darla! Feeling better I trust?'

'Like my old self again.'

'Splendid. We understand that you girls have been on something of a spree.'

Darla looked down at the drained and lifeless body of the shop girl, lying on the floor. 'Is that a problem?' she asked.

'Quite the contrary,' Holland Manners assured her. 'As I matter of fact, I was just thinking, why settle for a spree when you could have - say - a massacre?'

'A massacre?' Darla smiled, and Drusilla's eyes lit up. She liked the sound of that. The blonde vampire barely listened as the attorney assured her that the full weight and support of Wolfram and Hart was behind her in whatever she chose to do. She clicked the phone shut. Drusilla stood in front of her; posed in a long, red coat with a fur trim. 'Do you like it?' she asked, 'am I pretty?'

'As a picture. Now, if we could just get some shoes to go with it - oh, excuse me, miss?' Darla stepped over the lifeless body of one shop assistant and called out to another, who had been silently weeping, as she dragged herself along the floor in a bid to escape. 'Any shoe suggestions for my friend's ensemble?' the vampire asked. The woman just kept on crying. 'Excuse me - customer with a question here!' she stepped out and placed her foot on the woman's back. Then she snapped her neck.

'Really,' Darla said, gazing down at the newly dead body, 'the service here is quite unacceptable.' Then she headed back to the clothes rails to examine more dresses.

He woke up, warm in his bed, feeling the weight of the woman he loved in his arms, as she still slept. Her curly head lay against his chest, and he kissed the top of it. She stirred, and came round, looking up at him with sleepy eyes, then she smiled a sleepy smile at him. 'Happy Birthday, Mr. President of the PTA,' Harri murmured. She stretched up and kissed him on the lips. 'What would you like for breakfast, birthday boy?' she asked.

'Mmm,' he kissed her back, 'couldn't we skip breakfast and - y'know-' he waggled his eyebrows, 'get fleshy with one another, instead?'

'No way! I only make pancakes on special occasions and I'm not missing out because you woke up on the frisky side of the bed this morning.'

'Then I guess I want pancakes, darlin'.'

'Excellent choice.'

She slid out of bed and began to wrap her robe around herself. Francis lay back, his hands behind his head, admiring the view. Then he sneezed.

And Harri screamed.

A prison door slammed shut between the two of them, and Harri only stopped screaming when she realised that the monster in her bed was safe behind bars where it belonged.

...

Doyle jolted awake, regretting the loss of his dream blankets and pillows more than the loss of Harri. His bunk was cold and hard, a far cry from the soft warmth of his marriage bed. And he loved someone else now - someone who didn't scream when they saw his other face, no matter what they were doing at the time.

He wondered, if she hadn't screamed that first morning, would he still be here in jail now? If she hadn't been horrified and terrified of the monster her husband had become, would he have coped better with the change? Might he have never trod the path of desperation and criminality that had finally led him here? If she could have just accepted him, at once, like Cordelia had?

He rubbed his face, digging the heels of his hands into his eyes. No. He wasn't being fair. The difference between Harri and Cordy was that Cordelia had already known all about demons; met them, killed them, socialised with them, long before she had met Doyle. But until that fateful morning, Harri had lived in a world without magic, monsters and demons - the same as him. And then all of a sudden, her husband had been a green skinned, red eyed, big, blue pincushion - a scary, ugly hedgehog. Of course she had freaked.

And of course, she had unfreaked - pretty quickly, as well. Much quicker than him. Though he had been unable to see it. His demon half had made no real difference to Harri any more than it did to Cordelia. She didn't leave because of the demon in him, she left because of him. And then he had chosen, of his own volition, to help rob a bank. This was all his own fault. There was no one to blame but him - much as he might want to pin the blame anywhere else. This was his mess and he had to own it, if he was going to atone.

He rolled onto his side, so that he was facing the wall, and tried to get back to sleep; hoping he could free himself from the weight of misery that pressed down on his chest, in a dreamless oblivion.

After Holland had hung up the phone, Lilah smiled at him. 'Well I guess those two should keep Angel busy,' she said.

'Yes, I have a feeling that we won't have to worry about Angel anymore,' Holland agreed.

Then there was an explosion of glass, as the vampire with a soul swung through Lilah's office window on a rope, and landed on the floor. He grabbed hold of Lilah and pinned her by the throat, so that she was lying across her desk, with him menacing from above. 'Darla and Dru, where are they?' he snarled.

Holland brushed himself down, knocking the glass dust from his suit, and then held his hand out. 'Angel, I don't believe we've had the pleasure, I'm Holland Manners.'

Still pinning Lilah to her desk, Angel glanced down at the hand the senior attorney proffered him. 'I'd be careful who you offer your hand to Mr. Manners. You might lose it. Isn't that right, Lilah?'

'There's worse things to lose, Angel,' Lilah gasped out. 'You should know. Darla's not all you've lost this weekend, is she?'

He released his grip on her, not understanding her words, and concentrated on her boss instead. 'So you're the one pulling all the strings around here?' Angel asked.

Holland straightened his tie. 'A few of them. I'm division head of special projects.'

'Special projects like Darla?'

The lawyer smiled pityingly. 'Darla's just a tool. A means to an end.' Angel began to advance on the smaller man, a look of fury on his face. 'You're the project,' Holland told him, as a handful of security guards filed into the office and surrounded the vampire.

'I can crush the life out of you before they even lift a finger,' Angel threatened, quietly, so that only Holland could hear him.

But the attorney was unfazed. 'I don't doubt it,' he replied, smiling pleasantly, 'just as I don't doubt that you won't do it.'

'What makes you so sure?'

'You don't kill humans,' Holland was confident.

'You don't count,' Angel warned. 'You set things in motion. Play your little games up here in your glass and chrome tower - and down there - innocent people die.'

'And yet, somehow, I just can't seem to care.' Holland's face was impassive, he really didn't care about the little people caught in the crossfire. 'But you do,' he said. 'And whilst you're here; making threats, wasting time, crashing through windows - your girls are out on the town painting it red red red.'

'Where?'

'Well that would be telling. So many lives hang in the balance Angel, waiting for their champion to save them.'

Angel glanced around at the group of security guards that surrounded him, their tazers and stakes pointing in his direction. 'And what?' he asked Holland, 'you're just going to let me walk out of here?'

'Actually, I am,' the attorney smiled his pleasant smile once more. 'You misunderstand us Angel, we don't want you dead. If we did you wouldn't be standing here.' He spoke to the guards, 'would you please escort our guest out of the building?' He turned back to Angel, 'I'd walk you out myself but I'm already late for a wine tasting at my home,' he smiled again, 'and - just to be clear - you're not invited.' He walked out of the room, and the guards began to push Angel away.

...

Lilah came with them, as the guards escorted the vampire from Wolfram and Hart. She knew security would call the police, and she wanted to watch Angel get arrested - two of the ragtag, help the hopeless, crew in one weekend. She wondered if she could get anything on the other three, throw the whole lot of them in jail.

'I'll send you a bill for that window, Angel,' she smiled at him.

'Yeah, you do that, and after I stop Darla and Dru -' two cops came up behind him and cuffed him, his hands behind his back, 'I might come back and pay you in person.'

She wasn't threatened, she just smiled even more broadly. 'You do that - if you make bail.' She spoke to the police officers, 'find him a nice holding cell, boys, something with a window - let him see the sunshine.' She spoke to Angel once more. 'And if you survive holding, do send my warmest regards to the half breed, when you meet up with him.' The vampire looked slightly confused, as the cops dragged him away. They pushed him into the back of a police car. When he got in, he realised he was not alone. Kate was also sat in the back.

'What's up?' Angel asked, as the car pulled off and joined the flow of traffic. 'Do I escape now, or are you going to let me go?'

'Two people have been killed at a clothes shop on Fifth and Hill', Kate told him, not bothering with a greeting. 'Two women were seen leaving the scene, one of them matches the description of your old pal, Darla. I've been tracking her since she was involved with the killing of Stephen Kramer - no luck. Now she seems to be a vampire again, which means this killing tonight was only the beginning.'

'Why are you telling me this?'

'Because if she's a vampire now, then this is your jurisdiction, not mine. I don't think I can stop her, but maybe you can.' She leaned forward to talk to the driver, 'pull over,' she told him. The car stopped and Kate unlocked Angel's cuffs. 'Good luck,' she said to him, he got out. 'Hey, Angel!' she called to him before he walked off, he turned back. 'I know you must be worried about Doyle, but I'm doing everything I can for him - Lindsey too. We'll sort this.' Then she shut the door, and the car drove off. Angel stood on the kerbside, looking nonplussed, and then he shook his head and walked away.

Wesley, Gunn, and Cordelia stood in a little huddle at the entrance of the garage. They kept throwing concerned glances back at the kid who still sat in there, weeping. 'What do we do now?' Gunn asked. 'How are we supposed to help him?'

'Angel's mission has always been about saving souls, rather than lives', Wesley told him, 'this unfortunate man is one such example of that. Whatever drove him to worship Morgog and offer his life up as sacrifice is still there. Simply taking the gun off him hasn't saved him - he will try again, unless we can reach him.'

'But how do we do that?' Cordelia wanted to know, her voice was sharp and frustrated. 'Gunn's good with the hitting, you're good at boring everyone to death with your musty old books, and I've already fixed up that guy's hand - unless he wants his accounts going over, or some acting lessons, there's nothing else I can do for him! We're the support act, not the main event - we need Angel.'

Wesley sighed, 'I fear Angel's soul is in the balance right now, just as much as this poor man's is. Until the Darla situation reaches a satisfactory conclusion, he won't follow the mission, no matter how many visions The Powers send to Doyle.'

'So we're missing our champion and our seer,' Gunn surmised, 'and until they make their reappearance we're all there is.'

'Right,' Cordelia nodded, 'we've all helped people before - we can do this…' They all turned back to stare at the weeping kid. 'Industrial strength therapy, right?' she said 'that's the answer?'

'And once we've saved this boy, then we had better head back to the hotel and be there for Angel, whatever the outcome of this evening,' Wesley finished.

It seemed dreamless oblivion was not something that Doyle was going to achieve that night.

...

Harri was out, she was always out these days. She avoided him. She didn't want to be left alone with a monster. She avoided him as much as she could, and she didn't speak to him when she was there. She barely looked at him. Not that he looked at her. He couldn't bring himself to meet her eyes, and see the disgust - and the pity - in them.

He didn't know where she was, so he sat by himself on the sofa, and drank. He'd got through half a bottle of scotch, already, and it wasn't yet noon. He tossed back another mouthful. As always, he got that warm, buzzing sensation straight away. But then it died down and it seemed, as it did with every swallow, that his anger and misery had only intensified during the moment he had been enjoying the effects of the scotch. He didn't know any other way to make the bitterness go away, so he had another slug - at least that stopped it for a moment. But as the warmth died down again, his anger returned.

There was a knock at the door, and he slid off the sofa to go and answer it. But he was too far gone, he lost his balance. With an almighty crash, he fell downwards, right through the glass coffee table. The table shattered and he hit the floor, surrounded by the fragments of broken glass. The shock of the impact brought his spikes out. He tried to go back to his human face, but he couldn't, he didn't know how to control it. He would be stuck this way until his demon features decided, on their own accord, to go away.

The knocking on the door continued. He couldn't answer the door like this. He was trapped. He was angry, so very angry. He could barely remember a time when his entire being wasn't suffused with rage. He looked upwards and saw his reflection staring back at him in Harri's antique mirror. The blue spikes covered his face, like a disease, his skin was bright green and his eyes glowed a demonic red. He hated that thing in the mirror, that monster. It wasn't him. It couldn't be him. He would make it go away.

The knocking became louder, it spurred Francis on - making him angrier, flooding him with adrenaline. He picked up a lamp from the side, and swung it with all his might into the mirror, right into the face of the horrific creature that looked back at him. The glass shattered and rained down on him, and the image of the monster was gone. But it wasn't enough. He knew the monster was still there really, even if it was banished from the mirror. So he took the lamp into the bathroom and smashed the mirror above the sink. Then he went into the bedroom and smashed the one above Harri's dressing table.

When there were no reflective surfaces left in the apartment, he limped back into the living room and collapsed down on the floor, crying. The knocking had finally gone away, whoever it was had given up. Francis wanted to give up. He wanted it all to end. He picked up the sharpest fragment of glass from the smashed coffee table and looked at it, wondering. Then, he held the tip of the shard against his skin and pressed down, experimentally, seeing if he could break the green skin. He gasped in pain, as the glass sliced into his flesh, and red blood seeped out and ran down his arm. It hurt. More than he realised it would. He was already covered in little cuts from the flying glass of the mirrors, he hadn't realised that a deliberate cut could be so much worse. But he grit his teeth and cut again.

He slashed at both wrists, four or five times, before the alcohol and blood loss caused him to pass out.

He was unbelievably disappointed when he woke up, a few hours later. He was too strong in his demon form. What would kill him as a man had no effect on the monster. It was getting dark now, and Harri still wasn't home. He reached out for the scotch and began to drink again. Somewhere between his third and fourth glass, his demon features became unstuck - and he morphed back into his normal face. Harri came home about ten minutes later. She glanced around at her smashed possessions, and then looked down at the inebriated half demon at her feet, the cause of all this destruction. Her lips went white and thin, forming a tight line. She didn't say anything, she just went into the bedroom.

Francis didn't go to bed that night. He hated lying beside her now. They both lay as far away from each other as possible, their bodies entirely rigid, as they tried not to touch in a confined space. The distance between them, the damage to their marriage wrought by the demon, was physically manifested when they were in bed - and he hated it. So he passed out on the couch, instead.

He woke up the next morning to find Harri stood in the doorway, a suitcase at her feet. He looked down at it and then looked up at her. She was leaving him. He wanted to beg her to stay. He wanted to scream at her to get out and leave him alone. He wanted to promise her that things would be different from now on, that he could be the man he once was, if she just gave him one more chance. He wanted to swear at her, yell at her for not loving him enough to accept this. He wanted to say he was sorry. But he said nothing. The words wouldn't come.

And she looked at him for a long moment, meeting his eyes for what seemed like the first time in forever. She looked like there was a lot she wanted to say, too. She even opened her mouth to speak. But then, she just sighed, picked up her case, and turned to leave. As she walked away, a prison door slammed shut in the doorway. Francis ran to it, shaking the bars, trying to open it to get out, but they wouldn't budge. He tried to call out to Harri, but she didn't look back. She just left him all alone, trapped in a prison of his own making.

...

Doyle woke up once more. For a moment, he didn't remember where he was, couldn't work out why his sleep was being so disturbed by nightmares. But then he saw the striped pattern of the moonlight thrown on the floor, and remembered the bars. He sighed deeply, and stared upwards at the underside of the top bunk.

Lilah rang the doorbell of Holland Manners' beautiful home. His wife, Catherine, opened the door. 'Lilah!' she said, sounding delighted to see her, 'I'm so glad you could make it.'

'Catherine,' Lilah smiled, 'good evening.' She stepped inside and took her coat off. Catherine took it from her and hung it up. 'Thanks,' the attorney said, 'where's Holland?'

'Oh, he's downstairs, lording it over the wine cellar.'

The two women laughed, and Mrs. Manners ushered Lilah towards the steps that led down to Holland's pride and joy.

As she entered the cellar, Holland tapped on the side of his wine glass, calling everyone's attention to himself. 'Well here she is, at last, the woman of the hour', he said, beaming proudly at Lilah. 'The Senior Partners have informed me that they are very - very happy - with the work our department has been doing. Things have been progressing nicely, and ahead of schedule, I might add. But none of this would have been possible without the hard work of our own Lilah Morgan. This time last year she worked as part of a tight knit team of three - circumstances have meant that twelve months later she is working alone, the only one of the little triumvirate left standing. The only one loyal to the firm. Certainly, things have been difficult with our manpower cut, but Lilah has put in the hours necessary to make our whole project possible. I would be entirely remiss, if I did not single her out for due praise.'

Everyone raised their glasses, 'hear hear.'

'Thank you, Holland,' Lilah said, taking a glass of wine off one of the stewards as they passed. She raised her own glass in acknowledgement of the toast.

'Now,' Holland continued, 'it's no secret that our work is but one small element in a much larger, greater plan. One which The Senior Partners hope t-'

He was cut off by the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs. He glanced towards the open door, Lilah followed his gaze. Darla and Drusilla, clad in their new clothes, stood there, smiling down at them. Holland forced a smile. 'Ladies. How…'

'Your wife was kind enough to invite us in, Holland,' Darla told him.

'Very sweet she was,' Drusilla added. 'Like cloves...' she licked blood off her fingers, 'and honey.' The smile fell from Holland's face. But Darla's only lit up further. 'Just think of it as our way of giving you what you wanted,' she told him.

'What would I….'

'I believe you said something about…' Darla looked over at Drusilla. The two women smiled each other and then vamped out '...a massacre?'

Chapter 40: Reunion: Part Four

Chapter Text

Angel ducked under the yellow police tape that cordoned off the scene of Darla and Drusilla's shopping spree. Inside the store, someone was taking photographs of the destruction. A plain clothes cop was knelt on the floor, he picked up a broken necklace in his gloved hand and put it inside an evidence bag. Then he tensed, and looked up, sensing someone stood close by. He used the mirror, in front of him, to scan the room behind him - but there was no one there. As he bent down to examine another piece of evidence, Angel - stood directly behind him - waited a moment, and then walked on through the shop to see what he could find.

'Pretty lawyers all in a row.' Drusilla surveyed the frightened humans who stood in front of her, with an appreciative grin.

Holland ignored her, speaking only to Darla. 'I'm glad you're alive Darla, I'm glad we were able to save you.' Drusilla was insane, and all the more dangerous for it, but Darla was different. He knew her. She could be reasoned with. If he was to get out of this alive, it was the blonde woman, whom he had brought back, that he needed to get through to.

But Darla seemed unconvinced. She smiled sarcastically. 'Are you?' she asked. 'I guess you really care about me as a person. I guess I owe all of you,' she laughed, 'the whole team.'

Drusilla approached Lilah, and reached out a hand to caress the young lawyer's cheek. 'You have beautiful skin', the vampire told her.

'I moisturise.'

'That was very thoughtful of you.' She turned away, and Lilah breathed in deeply. Relieved to no longer be the focus of the mad woman's attention, she sank into a chair and watched matters unfold.

Darla stepped in close to Holland. 'You - brought me back - as a human, a dying one at that. Let me wallow with a soul, and then sent me back to Angel, begging him to restore me.'

Holland tried to take a step back, but Darla just moved in closer. He smiled, trying to maintain control of the situation, 'which he should have done right away. But I miscalculated. I - I thought he cared more than he did.'

'Like you do.' She laughed again.

Kate stepped into her apartment and slammed the door behind her. Lindsey looked up from the sofa, where he was drinking a glass of wine. 'Honey,' he said, raising an eyebrow at the slammed door, 'you're home.' The detective struggled out of her coat, kicked off her shoes and went to sit beside her boyfriend. He poured her a glass of her own and handed it to her. 'Here'.

She took a long sip, closed her eyes and sighed, 'thanks - I've had the day from hell.'

'Tell me about it?' He manoeuvred himself so he was behind her and started to rub her shoulders.

'Mmm,' she moaned, 'that feels nice.' She took another sip of her wine. 'You remember DeEtta Kramer?'

'The blonde woman who was really Angel's sire turned into a human?'

'Uhuh - well she's a vampire again. She murdered two store assistants on fifth. The place was crawling with cops - but they won't find anything they can use.'

'But it's not your case? You don't have to write the report?'

'No - but I have to know about it, know there's nothing I can do for those two murder victims.'

'Well, what about Angel? She's his sire after all.' Lindsey continued to rub her shoulders as he spoke.

Kate leaned further back to enjoy the sensation. 'I told him about the murders, he's gone after the woman, Darla. Now all we can do is hope he's successful.'

'Then you did do something for the murder victims', Lindsey said, his voice soothing, 'you sent the dark avenger out to avenge them.'

'I guess.'

'What about the other thing?' He asked, 'did you bring the file, like I asked?'

Kate reached into her bag and pulled out the manilla folder that detailed all of Doyle's crimes. 'I hope my supervisor doesn't realise I took this', she said, handing it over her shoulder to her boyfriend. He took it from her and began to flick through it. 'The rubbing stopped!' Kate protested. Lindsey smiled, and kissed her on the temple, 'just for the moment,' he promised.

He continued to read for a while, and then exhaled loudly. 'What?' Kate asked, 'is it as bad as it looks?'

'It's bad', the lawyer admitted.

Doyle lay in bed, listening to the rhythmic breathing of his three cellmates. They seemed pretty deeply asleep from the sound of it, he reckoned he was probably OK to get up for a bit. He swung his legs off the bunk, breathing in sharply as his bare feet hit the cold cell floor. Then he stood up, and moved as quietly as he could towards the window. It was too high up for him to see out of, even if he had been taller. He went up on tiptoes, but it was no good. The window existed to provide them with light, not a view. A window they could reach would be a window they could climb out of. Even though it was barred. And they were high up. With a sheer drop on the other side. The prison was clearly taking no chances.

Checking once more that the others were still sound asleep, he fumbled with the fly of his jumpsuit and risked a trip to the toilet. The sound of the stream clattering against the metal of the bowl seemed deafeningly loud to someone trying to be as quiet and unobtrusive as possible. He glanced over his shoulder, in panic, but his cellmates had not been disturbed. It seemed they were far too used to living in close quarters to be woken up by the sound of one of them taking a whizz in the middle of the night. But it was with no small relief that Doyle finished up, fastened up his clothes, and returned to his bed. The last thing a small man, such as himself, wanted was to be found exposed, taking a leak, on his first night in prison.

He lay back down, and followed the creases and lumps in the underside of the upper bunk with his eyes, until he drifted back to sleep.

...

Darin McNamara looked at the pathetic creature stood in front of him. Six months ago this sorry looking mongrel had been a fine, upstanding member of the community. A good and decent citizen. How far it had let itself fall, in such a short space of time.

'I just need more time, Mr. McNamara,' Doyle said, 'I'll get y' the money, I will - but I just need t'...'

'What? Find someone else stupid enough to lend it to you? No, Mr. Doyle, you've had your chance. You knew what the price would be. Steven!' He called one of his flunkeys over, 'break Mr. Doyle's legs for him - an object lesson for him in the dangers of too much debt.'

'No, please no!' Doyle begged, backing away from the big man that bore down on him. 'Please, Mr. McNamara, I'll do anythin', it won't happen again.'

McNamara smiled to himself as he saw tears of panic spring into the little runt's eyes. He wondered if it might wet itself in fear. 'Steven,' he called off his thug, 'Okay, Mr. Doyle - I'll make you a deal. My brother, Jack,' he snorted in impatience as he thought of his brother, 'is putting a crew together. There's a job. A bank on Seventh. They need a driver.'

'Y'mean...?' Doyle looked aghast, 'Mr. McNamara, I can't do that.'

'Steven, be so kind as to break Mr. Doyle's legs for him.'

'OK, OK, I'll do it, I promise…'

And so he was inducted into the crew.

...

He went to a quiet street in Westlake, early in the morning. No one was around. He checked. He checked again. Then he smashed the window of the 1974 Dodge Charger that he had selected. He unlocked the driver's door and got inside, checking again that no one had come to investigate the sound of the smashing glass. He pulled the plastic off the drivers column, and pulled out the bundle of wires. He went demon face to strip back the ignition and battery wires. His demon form could handle volts of electricity far better, if something went wrong. He sparked them together and heard the engine begin to roar, he revved it to keep the momentum going, and then he drove off.

His heart thumped the whole time, his breathing was fast and ragged. Adrenaline coursed through him, making him feel as supercharged as if the wires had been sparked through him. But he had managed it. His first car theft.

As he drove through the streets, and his heart rate began to go back to normal, he felt his demon features fade from his face. He pulled up outside the bank on seventh and waited. The crew would not be inside yet, and he was just sitting there in a stolen car - which could be reported missing at any moment. He stalled the engine, letting it die, and then got out of the Dodge. He went to get himself a cup of coffee whilst he waited for the heist to begin. He took it outside and stood in the sunshine. He lit a cigarette, and then coughed as the acrid smoke hit the back of his throat. He had only recently taken up smoking. He had never done it before, save for a few times behind the sheds when he was a teenager. He still didn't really like it, but it felt right. It was the kind of thing a man like him, a monster like him, should do. Francis didn't smoke. Doyle did.

He heard the alarms in the bank go off. He dropped the cigarette to the floor and ground it out under his heel. He dumped his coffee in the nearest trash can and made his way back to the car.

And then everything went black and white, and still. He was frozen in time, going to the stolen car. But he was also looking down on himself. Still in colour, and able to move. This version was older, his hair was shorter, and he'd got fatter - the years of heavy drinking taking their toll on his physique. The old Doyle looked down at the young, black and white Doyle. And the young Doyle stared back up at himself. And then Detective Randall asked the old Doyle if he had anything to say. But Doyle said nothing, and the prison walls closed in around him…

Angel walked to the back of the store, and found himself in the fitting rooms. He could sense something back here - he could smell fear, fresh and sharp. Fear; but no blood. He pulled back the curtains of the final cubicle and looked down at a woman who was sat on the floor, her knees tucked under her chin, her head lowered and her hands covering her ears. Her eyes were squeezed tight shut, but she must have heard him, because she looked up and gasped in terror when she saw him there. 'It's OK, it's OK,' Angel told her, he crouched down to her level. 'They've gone,' his voice was soothing.

'They - they killed all those people,' she sobbed, she didn't look at him.

'I know, but it's alright, the police are here now. They're gonna take care of you. You were in here the whole time?'

She nodded, She had been shopping for a dress for her office party. The one she had on was too expensive, but it had looked so good. She had just stood in the cubicle, looking in the mirror - unable to make up her mind. And then they had arrived. And she had stayed hidden, convinced they were going to come in there and kill her too.

'Did you see - or hear - any of it?'

'Mostly I heard,' she told him, 'I guess I was lucky 'cause of the party.'

'You'll be OK,' he assured her, 'you'll make your party.'

'No,' she corrected, 'their party. They were in a hurry to get to it.'

Angel frowned, 'they said something about a party?'

The woman nodded her head, slowly, 'a tasting.'

'I hear the sirens,' Drusilla sniffed the air, 'they don't know if the world will be here in the morning.' Lilah stiffened, straining her hearing. She couldn't hear any sirens, but vampires had enhanced senses. Maybe the police were on their way.

But Holland knew better, 'you're sensing what this place once was?' he asked. 'You're quite right, Drusilla, this cellar was originally built as a bomb shelter, in the fifties. I had it converted, wine has always been my passion.'

'People huddled together in fear,' Drusilla said in wonderment, her eyes shining, as she looked around.

Holland nodded, maintaining his calm. 'Yes, I suppose that's what it would have been like in war.'

'No,' Darla corrected him, 'now, she means now.'

'Ah,' he chuckled, showing he was still in control of the situation, 'I guess I walked straight into that one. Listen, Darla, I'm sorry you had to suffer, but look what's come out of it. You've been restored - you're a superior being. You can have anything you want. And there's not a person in this room who won't work -' he glanced around at his room-full of lawyers, and then back at Darla, 'round the clock, to see that you get it.'

Darla smiled at him, 'Hmm, gung-ho are they? Because all I'm sensing right now is big, stinky fear.'

'There's nothing to be afraid of,' Holland said, to her, as well as to his lawyers. 'This is just a friendly get together amongst colleagues. We're all on the same side.'

Darla looked around the room, smirking. Drusilla was dancing. 'I love this room,' the blonde woman told Holland; he smiled at her graciously, it was his pride and joy. She went over to Drusilla and put her arm around her. 'Dru, honey, in our new digs were just gonna have to put in a people cellar.'

The smile drained from Holland's face.

...

Angel approached the front of Holland's house. The door was open and he could see Mrs. Manners lying face down in the hallway. Her neck was a bloody mess. As he approached, she looked up suddenly, 'help us,' she moaned. Angel stepped over her body and into her house.

...

Down in the cellar, Drusilla suddenly looked upwards, sensing something. 'Daddy's home,' she said.

They had spoken with the kid, taken him back into his house, made him a hot drink and asked him about himself. It was like a floodgate opened, once he started talking he just wouldn't stop - as if all this had been bottled up inside him for years, waiting to spill out - but no one had bothered to ask him, before. As his story had continued, Cordelia had edged away and found his computer. She connected to the internet and searched for therapists in the area. Having taken down the details of a likely looking one, she headed back to the small group, where Wesley and Gunn were still listening. 'Here,' she said, holding out the piece of paper, 'a therapist, someone actually qualified to listen to this stuff, and help you. I think it'll make a big difference.'

'And as you already know about demons,' Wesley said, taking the notepaper, before the kid could reach it, 'there's another name I think we can give you. There will be some things you can't tell your therapist - your belief in Morgog, for example. But if you ever find yourself in need of more than the doctor can give you, if you can't find your path, then this place - Caritas - can set you straight.'

'If you don't mind karaoke,' Gunn added.

'This isn't a joke,' the kid sniffed indignantly.

'Neither is Caritas,' Wesley assured him, 'the Host is an anagogic demon who can read people's auras when they sing. He'll put you on the right path.'

'And here's our business card,' Cordelia said, handing him a card, 'for if you ever need to contact us again. We offer big help for a small fee.'

The kid took the notepaper with the two addresses, and the business card. He looked at them both. 'Thanks,' he said.

'No problem,' Cordelia told him. 'Are you feeling better now - are you ready to be left alone?'

The kid nodded.

'Well, call that therapist first thing tomorrow,' she said. He nodded again, and the three associates walked out of the door.

'Well that didn't go too badly,' Wesley exclaimed, sounding rather pleased. 'Now, we had better get back to the hotel, and wait for Angel.'

'D'ya think he'll find Darla?' Gunn asked.

'I'm sure of it,' Wesley said, 'I just don't know what will happen, then.'

He had just stolen another car, and sold it on. It was easy, he told himself, as he opened his door. He didn't get caught. He didn't care about whoever it was he'd stolen from. They were a human, let their human police deal with it. He was above all that. Or beneath it. Whatever. Besides, he only stole cars when the ponies weren't working for him. And they weren't at the moment. He'd gambled, and lost serious money over the past few months; Darin McNamara, Ernie Snellins, even Frankie Tripod, were all nipping at his heels, wanting a piece of him. So he took another car. He didn't even imagine Harri's face, her expression, if she saw what he was doing. Or that's what he told himself. He wasn't thinking about her, he thought, thinking about her. He wasn't her husband anymore, he wasn't Francis. He didn't care about the law and he could break it if it suited him. And Harri had no hold over him. Nope. None at all.

He eased open the door, cigarette hanging out of his mouth, and then turned to close it behind him, putting the chain on. He couldn't risk any of his creditors breaking in whilst he was in there. He took his pack of cigarettes out of his pocket and threw them down on the table beside the door. Then he struggled out of his jacket. He tensed up. He could sense someone in the room with him. Pretending not to notice anything, he took the cigarette from his mouth, stubbed it out in the ashtray and then picked up the baseball bat he kept handy, ready for occasions such as this. He held it over his shoulder, ready to swing.

'Who's there?'

'A friend.'

'I don't have any friends.'

'Well, then, more like a relative.'

A monster, in a plaid shirt, stepped out of the shadows. It was the same kind of monster that Doyle was - green, with those hideous blue spikes marring his face. A Brachen demon. It wanted his help. 'I don't know what you think I can do', Doyle told him, 'I've got problems of my own.'

They were being hunted by a pure blood army of demons, and this demon wanted Doyle to help him and his family to hide. They weren't asking him to help them fight, just asking him to help them hide. He shook his head. 'You've got the wrong guy, pal. You want to set up a little off track betting, then I got the know how. But demon hiding? It's not my line.'

Bank robbery was his line, now. Car theft. And gambling. Whatever this creature wanted, Doyle couldn't give it to him. He was a monster, he didn't help. But he wanted to be human - and so he didn't want to see any commonality with the demon in front of him. He wasn't one thing or the other. A half breed, a mongrel. Humans didn't want him. Harri didn't want him. And he didn't want to be with the other monsters. So it was just him, all alone. And that was the way he planned to keep it.

'You're one of us,' the demon told him.

That annoyed him. 'No I'm not,' he protested, 'I was raised human - and I'm not looking to explore me roots.'

'Raised human' - like he'd been 'raised Catholic', like it was a choice. Harri hadn't been 'raised human'; neither had Darin McNamara or Ernie Snellins or even Frankie Tripod. They just were. But for him, there could have been another way. And that hurt. He blamed his father for this. The man, the monster, he'd never met. It wasn't his mother's fault. No way had she chosen to get pregnant with a thing - a creature, like him. This must have been forced on her, and he was the result. He wondered if the demon in front of him knew his rapist father. How else would he have known where to find Doyle?

'We don't have anyone else to turn to', the demon said. His voice sounded choked up, like he was fighting back tears. Before he'd turned into a demon, Doyle had never realised that monsters could cry. He knew, now, that they could. He'd done enough of it, himself, since his 21st birthday.

He sat down on the arm of his chair, balancing. 'Look, man, I don't know what to tell y'. You're up against something real big, here. Anyone who helps y' - well, they're taking a chance. And I'm not - dying -to take chances.'

'If you don't believe we share a common family, believe that we share a common enemy. Doesn't that mean anything to you?'

Doyle just looked at the demon, he didn't say anything.

'I guess not,' The demon left. And Doyle began to chain smoke.

He was a monster, he told himself. His father was a rapist, and he was a car thief, and all that was fine because the pair of them were monsters. Creatures like him didn't help. Not even other creatures like him.

But he knew Francis would have helped. And so would Harri. Francis wouldn't even have had to have believed he shared anything in common with someone who came to him, begging for help. He would just do it because it was the right thing to do. Because he believed in helping people, in making the world a better place for the people around him.

But he wasn't Francis, he told himself. He never had been. He was Doyle, and Francis was a lie - had always been a lie. Doyle could cheat and steal and smoke and drink and gamble, because he was a half demon lowlife, who did half demon lowlife things. But he didn't help.

But no matter how much he told himself this, there was still a little part of his brain, where Francis still lived, that niggled away at him. Making him worry. Making him regret sending that demon away. Making him feel guilt. So he chain smoked.

There was a knock on the door. He got up to answer it and BAM he was hit by a sudden migraine. He collapsed under the force and lay there on the floor, twitching with pain. Images swarmed into his mind - a policeman at the door, a holding cell, a black and white photograph, and the clanging shut of his cell door. The images died away, and Doyle woke up again.

Angel walked down the steps towards the cellar, stopping at the open door. Darla smiled up at him, 'Angelus, here for the tasting?'

Drusilla took hold of Lilah's elbow and dragged her to the front of the crowd. 'Look what we have for you,' she told him. Angel just looked down, impassively, not reacting. 'It's not Daddy,' Drusilla said sadly, 'it's never Daddy.' Her voice became a hiss. 'It's the Angel beast.'

'Come to punish us?' Darla asked him.

'Yeah yeah,' Drusilla agreed. 'Spank us til Tuesday. Wrraf! We promise to be bad, if you do.'

'Angel,' Holland began to plead.

But the vampire ignored him, and he ignored Drusilla. He spoke only to Darla. 'I'm sorry I didn't get to you in time.'

'I'm not. I never did get that goodbye kiss.'

'You will,' Angel promised, 'but not tonight.'

'For god's sake,' Lilah said, stepping forward and fixing Angel in her gaze, 'help us!'

'Angel - please,' Holland said, 'innocent people are going to die.'

Angel looked Holland dead in the eyes, at that moment. His expression was stony. 'And yet somehow, I just can't seem to care,' he replied. He shut the doors of the wine cellar then, as the lawyers stared on in horrified disbelief. Darla and Drusilla stared upwards, their vampiric faces lit up in delight, as they realised Angel was not there to stop them.

'Daddy!' Drusilla breathed, looking awestruck.

Angel slid the bolt home, locking the attorneys in with his own two vampire women, and then he turned and walked away, ignoring the screaming that now emanated from the cellar.

He was watching T.V - the news, something about a high school blowing up just up the coast, when he was hit with another vision. This was only the second one he had ever had, and it was years after the first one - when he had found those Brachen demons dead in their hideout. He fell to the ground once more, and felt the images swarm painfully into his mind. A vampire - with a soul - in love with a slayer - but cursed, never able to experience a moment's perfect happiness. He turned evil once more - and the slayer sent him to hell. Then he was returned, his soul intact again. He had to stay away from the slayer - but it was hard. He drank her. Then he ran away to L.A - to fight evil - and atone for his crimes.

It was now Doyle's mission to help him - his own atonement for his own crimes, for letting his own kin be killed - amongst everything else. A chance to put it all right. So he had met up with Angel. And there was that first botched mission. And then there was Cordelia. And then he was happy. Truly happy. Something he hadn't felt since he was twenty years old. There was a wonderful year of fleeting touches, and lingering glances, and walking home together in the moonlight. And then he had kissed her, and she had taken him into her home, into her bed. And he'd known heaven, true heaven, for three days and three nights.

But then he had left her side, and there had been that fateful knock on the door. And his image of Cordelia crumbled to ash, and blew away on the wind. BAM he was woken up by another vision - of his friends - sitting in Angel's office, looking shocked. Something bad was happening to the people he loved, and he wasn't there with them to face it...

Angel sat behind his desk, his three associates sat on the other side, facing him. 'And - you just walked away?' Wesley asked, his voice incredulous, disbelieving.

'No,' Angel said, 'I walked to my car and then I drove away.' His voice was as impassive as his face.

The three of them all looked at each other, aghast at the callousness of his words. 'You didn't do anything?' Cordelia questioned.

'You allowed Darla and Drusilla to have free reign?' Wesley still needed the full situation clarifying. This couldn't have happened. Angel couldn't have done this.

'I didn't bring either one of them into this,' Angel said, this was his defence and he believed it, 'they did.'

'But you could have stopped them.'

'And I will.'

'When?' Cordelia wanted to know. She was angry. 'After they've finished off all the people you don't like?'

'Angel,' Wesley said to him, 'whilst it's true that the lawyers brought this on themselves … what you did is -'

'Is wrong,' Cordelia interrupted, not mincing her words.

'You went too far,' Gunn chimed in, agreeing with his human friends. He was all up for violence. He was all up for teaching evil lawyers a lesson. But what he wasn't up for was leaving humans, no matter how awful, to be massacred by vampires. It was important to remember who the real enemy was.

There was silence in the little room, for a moment, and then Wesley spoke up once again. 'We've all been worried about you, and I guess it's fair to say we all share some of the blame. We should have spoken up sooner -'

'- and louder,' Gunn agreed.

Cordelia nodded her head, her short black hair bouncing up and down as she did. She leaned forward to press her point home. 'You have to change the way you've been doing things. Don't you see where all this is taking you?'

'Listen to her!' Wesley exclaimed. He too leaned forward, his blue eyes blazing with fire behind his spectacles. 'Right now, we, your friends, are the only thing that's standing between you and real darkness.'

'Best believe that, man,' Gunn added.

'I do,' Angel told them quietly. He paused for a moment and then - 'you're all fired.'

He got up and left his office, leaving his three former employees sat in their chairs, frozen in shock.

Chapter 41: Redefinition: Part One

Chapter Text

Doyle lay on his bunk, staring straight upwards, and worrying about Cordelia. He didn't understand his latest vision - but she had been in it. It hadn't appeared that she was in any immediate danger, she wasn't hurt or being attacked - but still - he'd had a vision. Which meant something must have happened in Angel's office that night. Something big. Something bad. And here he was, uselessly locked up, and unable to be there for her; unable even to contact her.

He closed his eyes in a futile attempt to get back to sleep. But he was still fretting. In the darkness, he replayed the vision to himself over and over. Angel was sat behind his desk. The others were sitting opposite him - talking to him. Then Angel got up and walked away, and the rest of them just sat there - frozen - like statues. He hoped against hope he would be given another chance to make a phone call the next day, to ring Cordelia and ask her what had happened - but he wasn't hopeful. He'd already had one call, he probably wouldn't get another so soon. So all he could do was lie there and worry...

Cordelia and Wesley each carried a box; Wesley's filled with books, Cordelia's with the stapler, the hole puncher and the file dividers. Well, she was the officer manager and she was damned if she was leaving Angel any office supplies. Gunn carried nothing, his hands were shoved in his pockets, as he walked with the other two through the courtyard, out of the gates, and onto the street.

'What just happened?' Cordelia asked, looking at the two men. 'Can someone explain to me - just what happened here?'

'I believe we were fired,' Wesley told her, re adjusting his box under his arm.

'Canned,' added Gunn.

'Let go.'

'Axed.'

'Shown the door.'

'Booted.'

'Okay, okay,' Cordelia interrupted the competitive synonym game. 'I get it! But what just happened? Fired? Angel fired us?'

'It looks that way,' Wesley agreed.

Cordelia set her box down on the sidewalk, and sat down on the kerb. 'I can't believe this - how could he do this? This isn't like him!'

'He locked twenty lawyers in a room with a couple of psychotic vampires,' Gunn pointed out, 'i think it's fair to say he's acting out of character right now, know what I'm sayin'?'

'Maybe if we just give him time, he'll come around,' Wesley hoped, 'see how wrong he was and bring us back.'

Cordelia shook her head. 'Where is Doyle? This would never have happened if Doyle were here - he would have talked Angel round. Maybe he would have stopped him going all psycho in the first place. We need him.' She looked up at her friends, 'what are supposed to do, now?'

'Well I'm thinking I might stop off and get a burito', Gunn pronounced, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he spoke, his hands still buried in his pockets. The other two stared at him. 'What?' he asked.

'No no,' said Wesley, 'by all means, if you're hungry…'

Gunn shrugged. 'Look this was only ever a side gig for me. The extra money was nice whilst it lasted, but if Angel wants to go all commando? Aint no skin off my nose.'

'Well my nose skin is angry,' Cordelia said, 'and hurt.'

'I won't pretend to understand Angel's reasons,' Wesley told her, 'but maybe he needs to be alone right now. In that case the best thing we can do for him is let him be.'

She thought for a moment, and then she nodded. She picked up her box and stood up. The three of them all looked at one another for a long time and then, without a word, they turned and went off in their separate directions.

Down in the basement, Angel had switched on the incinerator. He took a box and carried it over to the fire. On the top lay one of his sketches from the weeks before: Darla. The box was full of them. And, one by one, he fed the images of his sire into the flames.

Then he began to prepare.

He trained. Physically. But his preparations had to be mental as much as anything. He had allowed himself to become complacent, weakened himself - spending too many years sleeping in soft beds. Living in a world in which he didn't belong. This domesticated, humanised version of himself could not fight them. Could not win. He did not yet have the strength to do what must be done. He wasn't ready. But he would be.

The paramedics were down in the wine cellar, staring aghast at the scene in front of them. They were no rookies. They'd been on the job for years, seen things - awful things, some things that just couldn't be explained ...but this …

There were about twenty people down there, their throats ripped out, their mouths opened in silent screams, their eyes glassy and staring. This was a massacre. Twenty people, just lying there - dead. Murdered.

The paramedics moved through the bodies, desperately checking for signs of life. But skin was cold, bodies were stiff, heart beats were stilled. And then - 'we've got a live one here!' It was a miracle. Here, in this room of death, was one survivor. A young woman. The paramedic helped her to her feet.

Lilah.

They took her pulse, and checked her vitals. She just sat there, staring around the room, looking at the death and chaos. They were sure it must be the trauma, or perhaps they were mistaken, but the paramedics could have sworn that this woman just looked on at the destruction in front of her - and smiled.

'You've got to be kidding me!' Virginia said, sitting on Wesley's bed, watching him put his books away. 'He fired you? He can't fire you - you're on a mission to protect the innocent. You can't fire someone on a mission. What did he say exactly.'

'You're fired.'

'Oh - you know what ? I bet he's jealous.'

'Of what?'

'You. You pretended to be him in order to protect me and you did too good a job - he can't handle the competition!'

Wesley smiled at her kind words. 'I don't think so', he told her, 'he fired Cordelia and Gunn too.'

'He fired the three of you? what about that other guy, the short one?'

'Doyle? We don't know where Doyle is. He wasn't there this evening, though, so I suppose his employment status is rather up in the air. If and when he ever makes his reappearance, Angel will have to decide whether he wants him around. Though that might well split his loyalty between Angel and Cordelia - I don't know what will happen.'

'So, why has Angel decided to get rid of all of you?'

Wesley sat down on the bed, removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. 'It's to do with - Darla becoming a vampire again - and hooking up with Drusilla. The three of them have a very tangled past. I suppose that, whilst he's hunting them down, he doesn't want anyone getting in the way.'

Virginia refused to be defeated, she was full of optimism. 'Well,' she said, 'Angel's loss is the world's incredible gain. You'll get a new job just like that.' She snapped her fingers to show just how instantaneous Wesley's re employment would be. 'What else are you good at?' she asked him, smiling encouragingly.

He thought for a moment - 'Not much.'

Cordelia got home, feeling depressed. The house was dark. She hadn't been here for the past two days. Not since she was here with Doyle. 'Dennis - lights,' she called. The lights switched on, seemingly by themselves, 'thanks, Dennis', she mumbled. She walked into the kitchen to fix herself a glass of water. The two coffee cups, from that last morning with Doyle, were still sitting on the side, waiting to be washed up. Her eyes blurred with tears. 'Dennis!' she called again, 'can you get rid of those for me?' She pointed at the cups. The faucet switched on, and warm water began to fill the sink. She walked away, into her bedroom, and crawled under her duvet, fully clothed.

She wrapped the sheets around her, as tight as she could, trying to make up for the lack of Doyle's warm arms. She was glad he was OK. She was glad he had rung her earlier, and that she had had a chance to hear his voice. But she wanted him back with her, right now. She wanted him to tell her that everything was going to be OK. In a state of misery, she fell into a fitful sleep.

...

When she awoke, it was morning, and the light was streaming through her windows. She didn't get up. There was no point - she had no job to go to. And there was still no sign of Doyle. She just lay there in bed, feeling sorry for herself, until her brooding was interrupted by the phone ringing. She grabbed at it: 'Doyle?'

But it was her agent. Ringing to talk to her about her 'Stain Be Gone' commercials. She just listened to what they had to say, in a state of numb disbelief.

The lights switched on by themselves, glaring and harsh. And then a siren sounded throughout the jail. Their early morning wake up call. Time to start another day in hell. Doyle lay on his bunk and watched as his three cellmates got up, put their shoes and socks on, and took it turns to use the bathroom. 'Hey, new boy', one of them said to him, 'better get up.'

He rolled off his bunk, put his own shoes on, and then went over to use the toilet; trying desperately to keep his back to all three cellmates, and every possible angle, at once. The three men all grinned at each other: if he got convicted, that modesty would soon be knocked out of him.

As he was washing his hands, the cell door was unlocked, and the three others walked out. Doyle didn't know what else to do, so he followed them. The problem, he reflected, was that no one actually told you what was going on - or what you were supposed to do. Everyone just assumed that you knew. And if you opened your mouth to ask, there was a good chance you'd take a beating for it. He just had to follow along and pray that he didn't make a mistake, that he didn't draw attention to himself.

They filed downstairs and into the main hallway. A screen had been rolled up and an industrial style kitchen was visible behind it. One convict stood behind the counter, doling out breakfast. Following the example of the man in front of him, Doyle picked up a tray, a bowl and spoon, and a plastic beaker. He slid his tray along the counter, until he reached the front of the line. The man behind the counter dolloped a ladle full of oatmeal into his bowl.

'Thanks.'

He turned around and scanned the dining tables for an empty space, away from anybody else. Finding one such spot, right at the end of the furthest table, he took his tray, sat down and began to eat his breakfast - refusing to think about what the day might bring. He kept his eyes down and his mind blank.

He had practised with his sword, fencing and parrying against an imaginary foe. He had beaten and kicked his punching bag until it fell off its chain. And now he was ready. He put on his coat, left his apartment, crossed through the lobby, and went down into the basement. Once there, he opened the trap door and dropped down into the sewer. He wasn't on their level yet, but he was willing to get there.

Chapter 42: Redefinition: Part Two

Chapter Text

Lilah walked through the Lobby of Wolfram and Hart. She stopped off at the front desk to ask if there had been any messages for her - there were none. She made her way towards her office. The other lawyers, who passed her by, stared after her as she walked down the hallways. She tried to not let it bother her. She held her head high and tried to not let the fear show. But she was afraid.

She was the only survivor of the massacre, and when The Senior Partners wanted answers, she was the one they would turn to. When they decided they wanted somewhere to place the blame, she was the only one left standing. If she wasn't clever, if she wasn't careful, she would find herself the scapegoat for the whole Darla project fiasco. And damned if she was going to be anyone's sacrificial lamb! She had sacrificed her hand to this project - it had never been her idea, and she already given her own flesh and blood to make it happen. She was not going to give anymore.

The plan had been to turn Angel dark. He had locked her and her colleagues in a wine cellar and let them be slaughtered. Was that not dark? Was the project not a success? Plus, she had separated him from his link to The Powers that Be. The little half breed was useless to him now, languishing in jail, hopefully making special friends with Roscoe the weightlifter. Angel wasn't a threat to The Senior Partners, he was no longer a champion of the people. She could ride this one out - if only she held her nerve.

She opened the door. She nearly swore out loud, and only just managed to bite her lip in time. Drusilla and Darla sat in her office: bold as brass. 'Close the door,' Darla said to her. Lilah didn't move. The blonde vampire sat, perched, on the edge of Lilah's desk, whilst the mad one sat in her chair. Darla smiled, condescendingly, when she saw the lawyer's hesitation. 'Sweet pea, if we wanted you dead, you would never have made it out of the cellar - now close the door.' So Lilah did as she was told, and stepped further into the room.

'You've put me in a difficult position, Darla,' she told her.

'Mmmm, have I?' the vampire asked. 'Hungry young lawyer, ready for her big break and - whoops - the boss gets eaten. Seems to me I did you a favour. Someone has to step up to the mark. And that's why you're here - I've decided to keep our line of communication with Wolfram and Hart open, for the time being. '

'What for?'

'I believe we can help each other.'

Lilah was confused. 'I don't understand. What exactly is it that you want?'

Darla glanced at Drusilla, and the two vampires smiled at each other, before the blonde woman turned back to speak to Lilah. 'Power,' she told her. 'You see, during my time as a puppet of Wolfram and Hart I came to a conclusion - I loathe being used. I believe I sent you a fifteen body memo to that effect. We plan on being big players in this town, Dru and I, and whilst you can't give us what we want, you have the things we need to get it. Money. Connections.'

'The Senior Partners are looking for someone to blame for your massacre,' Lilah told her, 'I'm the only one you left standing - I'm no good to you dead.'

'No,' smirked Darla, 'you're not. I guess you'll just have to find a way to convince The Senior Partners to keep you alive. We want you to be our liaison to the world above. In the meantime, we'll focus on the world below.'

'And what will your target be?' Lilah asked, 'Angel?'

'Not everything is about Angel!' Darla snapped, 'I spent 250 years without him. You think, what? I go through a human phase and go all gooey?'

Lilah shrugged, 'If you want me to survive, in order to be your liaison, then it wouldn't hurt if you agreed to continue playing a little bit of The Senior Partners game. Turn him dark for me, and I can give you everything you've ever wanted.'

Darla nodded, slowly, 'I can live with that.'

Drusilla grinned, her eyes shining with happiness, 'Daddy's coming home!' she giggled.

Angel waited at the intersection of two sewer tunnels. He was hidden, overhead, in the pipes. As he lurked there, a gang of four vampires came into view, talking. They had just knocked over a fast food joint, killing the people who worked there - and they were buzzed with the blood rush. Angel dropped down on them. He took all four at once, charging them down. He staked one and kicked another, sending it flying against the wall. Triggering his wrist halter, he staked his second vampire and watched it turn to dust.

He grabbed hold of the third, but it tried to throw him off. Instead, he ran up the wall, keeping tight hold of the vampire's neck. As he reached the top, and flipped off, he plunged his wrist stake into the third vampire's chest. The final vampire - the one he had kicked, tried to run away. But Angel tackled him to the ground and then took out his sword. He beheaded him with one fluid movement. As the dust cleared, he reflected that he was ready. He had the moves to do this, now he only had to find out what their's were.

In the afternoon, Doyle was allowed out into the exercise yard. It felt good to be outside, in the sunshine, but it had to be said that the yard was a depressing place. The walls were high, and topped with barbed wire, and there were gun towers at two of the corners. Guards stood around the edge of the yard, toying with their nightsticks. In the centre of the yard, the prisoners lifted weights, or did pull ups. There was a basketball game going.

Doyle sidled round the side and sat down on a bench, still not talking to anyone or making eye contact with anyone. He had no intention of actually exercising. He didn't exercise as a general rule - unless he was fighting demons, or recently doing much more intimate and pleasurable things with Cordelia. He never did exercise for exercise's sake - and he wasn't starting now. He just wanted to stay still, outside in the sunshine, for as long as he could - and then go back inside, without attracting anyone's attention.

It was not meant to be. 'Hey, new boy,' one of the prisoners approached him.

Doyle decided he had better look him in the eye, now he was being spoken too, he couldn't afford to show any fear. 'Yeah?'

'You got any cigarettes?'

Doyle shook his head. 'Don't smoke,' he told the prisoner.

The other guy laughed, 'everyone smokes in here', he told him, 'here you go -'. He reached into the pocket of his jumpsuit and took out a three cigarettes, 'get you started - they're like currency. You can use them to get other stuff.'

Doyle reached out to take them, not sure why this man was being so kind.

'Don't take them!' another prisoner, on the next bench, interrupted. It was one of his cellmates. Doyle flinched, and retracted his hand, looking up.

'Yeah, what's it to ya?' snarled the first prisoner to the second, looking outraged.

'Just a tip for you, kid,' his cellmate told him, 'don't ever accept anything that you're offered for nothing. You take those smokes and you owe him, see? He'll make you repay him, and you might not like his payment plan.'

Doyle nodded, relieved to have avoided such a rookie mistake. But the first prisoner was furious at having the chance of holding a debt over someone taken away. 'Sonuvabitch,' he growled at Doyle's cellmate, swinging a punch at him. The man sprung up from the bench, and returned the hit in kind. Over by the walls, the guards, looked on - hefting their nightsticks, getting ready to intervene.

'Guys, hey guys!' Doyle shouted, glancing over his shoulder at where the violence happy guards were approaching. 'Break it up, yeah? The screws are comin'.' He got to his feet.

That was a mistake, He should have stayed still. Stayed out of it. By the time the guards got there, the two prisoners were brawling, and a crowd had begun to gather, cheering them on. The guards used their sticks to beat their way through, and then began to haul at the two prisoners, separating them out. And then there was Doyle, stood in the middle of it all - looking like the instigator.

'It's the mick,' the guard said looking at him, 'I might have known.' He swung his baton straight into Doyle's face. His nose seemed to explode with pain, tears sprung into his eyes. But before he was recovered, the guard swung again.

He felt the spikes. They just pushed their way right through his skin. They always did in reaction to sudden pain. It was his automatic defence mechanism: to transform into his stronger self. He tried to cover his face, to stop them from seeing, but his whole body, hands included, was green now. He morphed back as quickly as he could. But they'd seen. He knew that. They'd all seen.

There was a moment's shocked silence. He looked up at the crowd, blinking, and then the guard swung his baton again. The others joined in, battering away at the small half demon until everything faded to black...

Wesley stepped through the metal detectors at Caritas and walked up to the bar. The Host was on stage singing 'Lady Marmalade', his smile broad, his performance electric. 'A Bloody Mary, please,' the watcher said to the barman.

'You want blood in that?' the barman asked.

Wesley grimaced, 'bloodless, thanks,' he said. The song came to an end, and The Host addressed the crowd, he was taking a break, and would see who wanted to come up next. 'Steady on, Wesley,' Wes muttered under his breath, 'maybe something by Cat Stevens?'

He took his drink from the barman and turned to go, almost bumping into a woman who was marching past at a furious pace. 'Gah!'

The woman spun around and stared. It was Cordelia. 'Wesley!'

'Cordelia - how - odd - seeing you here!'

'What are you doing here?' she demanded.

'I wanted a drink,' he held up his Bloody Mary as evidence.

Cordelia raised her eyebrows, 'because only demon karaoke bars have those,' she hit him in the shoulder, 'you were gonna sing!'

'Well, what are you doing here?' he countered, defensively.

'I was in the neighbourhood.'

'You live fifteen miles away,' he pointed out.

'Well - you know L.A', she blustered 'it's like - one - really big -neighbourhood.'

He smiled slightly, 'I see'. She huffed, and they both sat down at the bar, together. 'So you've come to find your destiny have you?' Wesley asked, 'and who's going to help with that.'

Cordelia rested her elbows on the bar top, 'maybe Shania again,' she said, 'she did well for me last time. Or perhaps Madonna. I haven't decided.'

Wesley nodded, 'I suppose we're both at a bit of a loss since Angel …'

'Pulled a total wig?'

He nodded again, 'I must say I'm a little embarrassed.'

'Well how do you think I feel?' A voice asked behind them. They turned to look, and there was Gunn standing there, hands in pockets, looking sheepish.

'Gunn!' Cordelia was surprised, 'what are you…?' Gunn looked down at his feet. 'What happened to 'this is just a side gig'?' Cordy asked, her voice sharp but amused.

'Hey! I got a rep to maintain, alright? I can't have you all seeing through my brusque and macho exterior!'

'Oh heavens forfend!'

'So I'll assume it's not Madonna,' Wesley said to Gunn, 'but what song were you planning to sing?'

The street fighter patted him on the shoulder, 'you wouldn't know it,' he assured him.

'Well, I for one, would just like to point out the patheticness that is us.' Cordelia said. 'This is all Angel's fault. I hope he's happy now. All alone in the demon world with no one to talk to.'

Angel had tracked down Merl, the stool pigeon, and had him tied at the ankles, upside down. He pulled the rope and plunged the demon headfirst into a pool of water. 'I'll talk!' Merl shouted. Angel waited. 'But I'm tellin' y' man - I don't know where-'. The vampire pulled the rope again and Merl's words were subsumed by water. He dragged the demon back out. 'Is that how you get your rocks off?' the demon demanded, 'you're one sick-' he was dunked again. 'Alright, alright' he said once he had re emerged. 'I've heard about your girls. Godzilla Darcilla - whatever. The're hitting demon hotspots - looking for demons to join some crew their running, but that's all I know, I swear.'

Dunk

'OK OK, but you didn't hear this from me. You know that little Bar and bite club on La Cienega and Washington? Well that's the only place they haven't hit yet.'

Angel turned and stalked away.

'Hey!' yelled Merl after him, 'you gonna cut me down? Hey! I'm spinning here, man ….freaking vampires.'

A fight was taking place at the bar and bite club. A demon and a vampire were in the ring, surrounded by a cheering crowd. The demon got hold of the vampire, round the neck, as if he was going to rip his head off. The vampire beat the floor with his left hand - and the demon released him, holding his arms aloft as the winner.

Darla and Drusilla walked through the crowd and stepped into the middle of the ring. 'That was really something', Darla said, 'but violence without victims, see that's where you lose me.'

'Who the hell are you?' the victorious demon snarled.

Darla smiled. 'Darla and Drusilla. We're new in town - though some of you may have heard of us by reputation.'

'I aint never heard of ya,' the demon said. Drusilla ripped his ears off, casually.

'And now you never will,' Darla smirked. She turned to the rest of the crowd. Drusilla played with her newly acquired ears. 'I trust we have everyone's attention?' the blonde woman asked. 'Good - we come here with a little proposition...'

...

At the back of the crowd, his face obscured by the hood of a grey sweatshirt, Angel stood; watching and listening.

Chapter 43: Redefinition: Part Three

Chapter Text

Darla addressed the crowd, outlining her plan. Her's was a crusade of malevolent joy, and she and Drusilla were in the market for some muscular slaves to help them achieve their vision - but only the best would do. Angel began to move through the gathered demons. Drusilla, attuned as always to the vibrations of the unseen, gasped as she felt him. 'Eyes like needles.'

Darla whipped around, irritated at the interruption, 'Dru! I'm working here!'

'He sees you', the mad vampire told her grandmother, 'sees what you were.' She stepped towards Darla, 'you'll never be alone again.' She echoed the last words that Angel had said to his sire, moments before Wolfram and Hart had burst through the door. Somewhere deep down, this repetition struck a chord with Darla, resonating inside her core. She remembered those words, remembered what it felt like to hear them, what if felt like to be loved.

'Stop!' she cried, shaking her head, trying to gain control of herself once more, 'just don't.'

But Drusilla never knew when to stop, she could see more and so she said more. 'He's watching you, my sweet, right now.'

Darla spun to scan the whole crowd, 'Angel,' she whispered to herself. She pushed through the demons, searching him out.

'He wants to punish us,' Drusilla said, 'he thinks we've been naughty. He remembers when you were warm.'

'Shut up!' Darla's voice was sharp, and she made a concerted effort to ignore the words of her insane friend. Getting a hold of herself, once more, she began to take charge of the situation. 'Now, as I was saying,' her words were hurried, 'if you think you have what it takes to join us, then auditions are tonight,' she took a business card out of her cleavage, 'at this address. Winners will have the opportunity to ferment mass destruction. Losers will be gutted and left for dead.' She dropped the card to the ground, 'have a nice evening,' and then she grabbed Drusilla by the hand and dragged her away from the club.

...

In an alley, behind the bar, Angel took down his hood and rested his head against a lamp post. He wasn't ready. He could still feel her, he could still remember her warmth. He remembered the look on her face as she searched through the crowd for him, and her whisper: 'Angel'. He could still feel her pain - her need - her hope. He was too close, still. Too close to fight her.

When Doyle woke up, he was back in the hospital wing. It was where the guards had taken him after they had pulverised him. He winced, as he felt all the pain of his beating flood into his body. He felt like tenderised meat, and it was all he could do not to morph into his demon face and let his stronger form heal him more quickly.

The doctor noticed him wake up, and appeared at his side, clipboard in hand. 'Well, well, well,' the doctor said, 'you're awake I see, and what did you do to deserve this?'

Doyle shrugged. The answer was 'nothing', really, but he couldn't imagine that would be taken with anything but a grain of salt. And, of course, he couldn't admit the guards had beaten him because they'd seen his other face. The fact that he had woken up still in the prison, and not locked up in some secure government facility, came as something of a relief - if such a thing were possible. It meant the guards didn't really believe what they had seen. They had explained it away, or chosen to forget. Selective amnesia - the demon's friend. But he knew he'd have to be extra careful from now on.

'You know you've only been here for a day, and this is the second time you've ended up in my infirmary,' the doctor said to him, shining a little torch into Doyle's eyes - checking his pupils for responsivity. 'You need to clean up your act, Francis, otherwise you won't last long at all in here.'

'My bail hearing is the day after tomorrow', Doyle replied.

'Uhuh - stick your tongue out and say 'ahh'.' Doyle complied. 'And you're absolutely sure that tomorrow will be your last ever day in prison? That there's no chance of you returning after trial?'

Doyle looked down, how he wished he could tell this doctor that that was the case. The doctor smiled, sympathetically. 'Prison is a difficult place to acclimatise to,' he told the Irishman, 'there's a whole lot of rules and no one really ever explains them satisfactorily. And that's only the rules that the guards set. The system between prisoners is even more complex. And you just get dropped right in the middle of it - sink or swim. The absolute best thing any one man can do is keep his head down and his nose clean. But two trips to the hospital wing in two days will get you a reputation as a troublemaker - you don't want that.'

This seemed horribly unfair - Doyle had protested against going to the infirmary the day before, and he had been taken there today whilst he was out cold. And he had asked for neither the vision nor the beating. But he knew better than to argue his case - even to the doctor. As mystifying as the jailhouse rules were, he had least worked out not to answer back.

'Now, nothing seems to be broken,' the doctor was telling him, 'and I hope the bruising and swelling will go down before your bail hearing - not a good look in front of any judge. So, I'll just give you a couple of aspirin for the pain, and an ice pack to put on your bruises and send you back to your cell, alright?' Doyle nodded, though he was apprehensive about that last part. It wasn't just the guards that had seen his demon face.

The doctor bustled off to get some aspirin, and begin filling out the paperwork to record that he administered the prisoner with medication.

BAM

A vision slammed straight into Doyle's skull, and he fell back on his hospital bed, twitching. The doctor turned around, and looked at him. 'Oh no, not again.'

Wesley, Cordelia and Gunn sat around a table at Caritas, a ¾ empty bottle of tequila sat between them. 'But see - tha's wha 'm sayin',' Cordelia slurred. 'If Wesley hadn' been all shaking his finger…'

'No, no, no,' Wesley protested, blearily,

'And "no no no",' Cordelia continued, as if Wesley had been supporting her argument, 'this whole Darla thing would've just - blown over.'

'Blown over? Angel is obsessed with Darla. Obsessions don't just blow over.'

'Right,' Gunn agreed, nodding his head. The motion made him feel a bit sick.

'But you didn't help,' Cordelia drove home her point. It felt good to place the blame, and the more she thought about it, the more she was sure that it was Wesley at fault. 'You made him feel guilty about it. You shamed him into firing us.'

'You're putting the blame for this on me?'

'No - yes - I'm blaming you. You get the blame.'

But Gunn wasn't sure that all the blame lay at Wes's door - after all, they had all been quite supportive of Angel's obsession. And there were definitely other factors that made working at Angel Investigations less than a barrel of laughs. 'I don't know', he said, 'If I had to listen to you two day in day out - snipe snipe snipe, bitch bitch bitch - I figure you got off easy - I would've killed you.'

Both Wesley and Cordelia looked affronted at this. 'Ha!' laughed Cordy, 'that's a bit rich coming from 'Mr. I don't take orders - now where do I stick my axe?'.'

'What is that supposed to mean?' Gunn demanded.

'Well, Gunn,' Wesley slurred, happy that the blame was now being pushed onto someone else and keen to keep it that way. 'You have always had a problem with following orders. I remember a certain shroud … how is Angel supposed to run a business if his employees won't follow his directives.'

'Was one of his directives hire a pansy-ass British guy?'

Cordelia snorted with laughter.

'My arse is not pansy!' Wesley cried, heatedly.

In amidst of this, the Host approached the table. 'Can I get someone to bring another round of drinks to you three?' he asked pleasantly.

'Yes!' they exclaimed in unison. They weren't done here. This was all someone's fault and they were going to get to the bottom of it.

'What about her?' Gunn gestured at Cordelia, eager to move the blame off his own shoulders. 'She's supposed to be our business manager. Couldn't she run the business better - get us more clients? Or what about Doyle?'

'Don't you bring Doyle into this,' Cordelia said, jabbing her finger at Gunn.

'Yes, what about Doyle?' Wesley asked, 'he's supposed to be Angel's guide and he isn't even here!'

'Not to mention a few more visions and Angel might have been to busy to obsess over Darla,' Gunn added.

But Cordelia shook her head, vehemently. 'No no no. nahah. Nope. Doyle did everything he could for Angel. This definitely feels like it's you guys' fault.'

'No way.'

'How's that? If the two of you had kept Angel more busy this never would have happened,' Wesley told her.

But Cordelia was having none of it. 'This is so not on us - if you have an obsession, you pretty much find time to squeeze it into your schedule no matter what.'

'So you admit it's an obsession?' Wesley pressed.

'No - I mean yes,' Cordelia had confused herself, 'but no.'

'Hypocrite.'

'Ass pansy.'

'You know you two are driving me buggy,' Gunn interrupted the sniping. 'All you talk about is ' this is his fault, this is her fault' you know you wouldn't last two minutes on the street?'

They all fell to arguing at once - their voices rising higher and higher as they strove to be heard over one another...

Doyle sat back up, rubbing his face. He had to ring Angel. But he knew he wouldn't be allowed - there was no point in even asking. But a girl's life was on the line. The doctor looked at him, his lips a thin line of disapproval. 'That's your second seizure Francis, if you think this is a way of avoiding being sent to your cell -'

'I don't! I can't help having them.'

'There's nothing on your file about epilepsy.'

'It's not epilepsy.'

'Then, with all due respect, Francis, what exactly the hell is going on?'

What could Doyle say to that?

The three of them stood on stage, their arms wrapped around each other. Cordelia was in the middle and Wesley and Gunn both held a mic in their spare hands. 'We are the champions, we are the champions,' they screamed out drunkenly, 'of the world!' As the song came to an end, they embraced each other in one big, group hug.

The doctor was making a phone call - and Doyle sat on his hospital bed, worrying about his vision. The demon he had seen was green and big and spiny, with razor sharp teeth. And it was dragging a young woman down an alley. She was bleeding. She was going to die and there was nothing Doyle could do to save her, because not only was he trapped inside jail, he wasn't allowed to contact people on the outside who could help her.

He hoped that, if his sentence proved to be a lengthy one, The Powers That Be would take pity on him for the time being and remove his visions - because seeing people in trouble and not being able to help them - because of crimes he had committed himself - was by far worse a punishment than the skull cracking, head wrenching pain could ever be.

The three of them were back at their table. The bar was empty now, save for themselves. They were quieter now, more reflective. 'Well well well,' The Host said, walking over to them, 'I see the maudlin segment of this evening is now in full swing. I was very impressed with your musical recitation of pain earlier. And when I say "pain" I mean mine. Although props for singing your little hearts out.'

'Yeah' Cordelia agreed 'our hearts were out. You, Mr big - mojo guy, you're supposed to give us, uhmm, guidance now.'

'Yes,' said Wesley, 'we came, we sang,' he pulled a face at the tequilla, 'we fought the urge to regurgitate.'

'So spill,' Cordelia said to the Host, she turned to Wesley, 'not you. What are we supposed to do with our lives? what are we supposed to do now?'

The Host smiled and pulled up a chair. 'Destiny is a funny thing folks. Sometimes it's a big flashing neon sign, sometimes it's a quiet whisper - a little, subtle moment that changes everything. Big picture? Your destinies are still on track - you know what you're here for, and you're doing it. What you were each born to do. All you need to do is to keep it up. Little picture? I see your destiny taking the three of you to a dark alleyway this evening, isn't it always? Not far from here - there's a demon - and a girl. See if the three of you can't be heroes, even without the studmuffin.'

The three of them looked at each other for a long moment, sobering up at the call of the helpless. 'Let's go', Cordelia said.

Angel was in the basement. He checked his wrist halters and then began to fill a gym bag with assorted weapons. Finally, he went back up the lobby and retrieved an axe. Then he headed out.

There was no sign of the demon or the girl. 'I don't get it,' Cordelia said, 'are we late? Why would the Host send us out to our destiny late?'

There were blood splashes on the ground - the girl's blood. Gunn pointed them out. 'If we had Angel here, he could track her,' he said.

'He'd also kill the big demon for us - we're on own, here,' Cordelia told him. 'The three of us, against a big, hideous, spiny demon - that's already shredded one girl this evening.'

'And us with no weapons - man I wish Angel was here!'

'Well he's not!' Wesley pronounced loudly, his voice forceful. He looked them both in the eye as he spoke, and his gaze never wavered. 'We have no Angel, we have no Doyle. It's just the three of us. Angel has walked away from his duty, but we're not going to.'

'So how do we find her?' Cordelia nodded at his words, but she was still concerned. Some things were easier said than done.

Wesley thought back to his days at the watcher's academy, and the rigour with which they had pursued their studies - the lessons he had been taught on how to guide a slayer. His slayer might be in prison now, but he still had his knowledge. 'We start with the basics', he told his friends. He crouched down by the blood spatter, he put his hand against the wall to brace himself. 'First we examine the areas for different kinds of ...ew.'

'There's different kinds of yeuch?' Cordelia asked incredulously.

'No. Look.' He showed her his hand where he rested it on the wall - it was covered in blood. The blood streaked all the way up, running parallel with a drainpipe and leading up to a busted window. The three of them stared upwards, 'he took her up there', Gunn concluded.

'But the building's abandoned,' Cordelia pointed out, 'the front door is chained up, how are we supposed to ….' she trailed off, and they all looked upwards once more.

Darla and Drusilla walked out of yet another demon bar. 'I didn't like the bar keeper,' Drusilla complained, 'I couldn't get his eyes off my fingers'. She licked them.

'That was the last one,' Darla told her, 'it's nearly midnight we should get to the factory.'

'My little bird is anxious.'

Darla agreed she was, recruiting a demon army was quite stressful. But that hadn't been what Drusilla meant. 'He won't leave you, you know. We could have a thousand warriors and still he'd come galloping galloping galloping, he'd come.'

'Why is everyone making this about Angel?' Darla snapped, 'can't a girl wreak a little havoc without there being a man involved?'

'You miss him,' Drusilla told her, 'like your heart beat.'

'I don't miss my heart beat, Dru. It was a symptom of a disease that I've since been cured of. You know in a perfect world Angel would be with me right now - helping me burn this city to a ground. But where he is? Probably flogging himself in a church somewhere.'

'Ooh flogging,' Drusilla shuddered with enthusiasm, 'eww churches,' she shuddered with revulsion. 'I see such pretty fire,' she said, her prescience setting in.

Darla nodded, 'in a perfect world there'd be nothing left here but ashes.'

'And pain. And suffering.' Dru began to sway, 'the flames are lovely. They dance, and the fire licks like a cat. And the screams. Oh, it's like star music.'

'That's nice,' said Darla, not really listening...

Angel arrived at the factory. He slid back the door and saw the assembled demons that waited there. He dropped his bag of weapons to the ground, and twisted his axe in his hands.

Wesley dropped into the building, Gunn followed and then turned to help Cordelia through. She brushed herself down. 'Ugh it's always the same - smelly, old, abandoned building. Aren't there any demon hideouts in Beverly Hills?'

'Several actually,' Wesley told her. 'Look! Over there.'

A crumpled body lay on the floor, in the corner, completely motionless. 'That must be her', whispered Cordy, 'but where's -' she glanced upward, just as the gigantic spiny demon fell on her from above.

Chapter 44: Redefinition: Part Four

Chapter Text

Cordelia fell to the ground, and the demon bounded over her and knocked Wesley to the floor. Then it turned on Gunn. 'Cordelia, get her out of here,' Wesley hissed, nodding towards the prone woman, but Cordy did not need telling. She crept over to the corner, keeping her body low the whole time and began to examine the demon's victim. There were some nasty gashes all over her body, and Cordy didn't have her medical kit with her. Still, she did what she could, applying pressure to the worst of the wounds and helping to keep the victim conscious by whispering questions to her.

It was a risky strategy, the demon was attracted to the sound of her voice, but Gunn jumped on its back. Wesley hit it with a two by four. The demon threw itself against the wall, smashing Gunn in between, and the watcher swung his makeshift weapon again, this time hitting the demon in the stomach.

It retaliated by hitting Wesley a hard slug in the jaw, the British man crumpled. Then Gunn was thrown off the demon's back and hurled against the opposite wall. As the street fighter slumped down, Wesley got back up, whacking the demon across the back and forcing it to the floor. But the demon grabbed his legs and dragged him down, then it jumped on top of him and bit into his shoulder. Wes screamed out in pain.

Gunn grabbed a chair and thwacked the demon with it, forcing it off Wesley. The chair splintered to pieces and Gunn drove one fragmented stump of it into the back of the demon's head - killing it instantly.

Cordelia helped the woman to her feet. 'Come on, I've got you'.

Wesley looked across at them, 'we need to get her to a hospital.'

'What about you?' Gunn asked.

'I'm fine,' he glanced down at the hole in his shoulder, 'but we should go before I pass out, or possibly during.'

'That thing nearly tore us to shreds,' Gunn said, looking at the slain demon

'Yeah,' agreed Cordelia, 'but of everyone here, who's the one that's dead?'

The governor of the prison had been called to the hospital wing, and he fixed Doyle with a hard stare. 'Now you've only been here 24 hours and already you're causing us a lot of trouble. This is your second trip to the infirmary - and the guards say you've been fighting.'

'That wasn't my fault,' Doyle mumbled.

'If the guards say it was your fault, then it was your fault,' the governor told him evenly, 'we don't go in for brutality or unnecessary violence against prisoners at this jail.'

Doyle managed to stop himself from snorting derisively at that, but only just. He struggled to keep his pulverised face impassive.

'Now, I understand that this is your first time in prison, and that can come as something as a shock; but your not special, son. You're accused of some pretty serious crimes and, if you're found guilty, then you will be no better than the rest of the inmates. If you were going to be in here for longer, then we would have you assessed - as a matter of course - an interview with a prison counsellor. But for three days, that shouldn't be necessary. So tell me, Francis, why these attention seeking seizures? Your labs say there's nothing wrong with you, and you're not on drugs - you must be putting them on, son. It won't get you anywhere.'

'I'm not!' Doyle protested, 'I just have - them - sometimes. I have for years.' He was struck by a sudden thought, 'my medical records - check them. In May I was hospitalised with a sudden psychotic episode - it was my vis... seizures, they just wouldn't stop for hours. There's nothing anyone can do when I have them. I've had three since I've been here.'

'Is stress a factor?' the doctor asked, as he pulled up Doyle's medical record on the computer, but Doyle shook his head. They weren't stress related, no.

'He isn't lying,' the doctor told the governor, sounding mildly surprised. 'Hospitalised in May with a severe psychotic episode that lasted several hours. No drugs in his system then either.'

'So how did he get better?' the governor wanted to know. He spoke over Doyle, not bothering to ask him, the way the doctor and the guard had spoken over him yesterday.

The doctor frowned, 'seems it just stopped - all by itself.'

'I told y'.' Doyle said.

The governor looked at him, irritated. 'Send him back to his cell, then,' he told the doctor, 'if he's fine.' He then looked at the half demon, his expression stern, 'But I don't want any more attention seeking from you. You've got everything you need -'

'I don't have a blanket,' Doyle interrupted, seeing his chance to tell someone, 'or a toothbrush.'

'You were given those things when you were booked in,' the governor told him, frowning down at him.

'I dropped them when I had my first vis-seizure. I never got them back.'

'Is this what all this fighting and nonsense has been about?' the governor asked him, incredulously, 'a damned missing toothbrush?'

Doyle shook his head, no. Of course not - he hadn't been fighting, and his visions were real - and he kept telling them they didn't warrant a trip to the hospital wing. But he'd managed to make a name for himself as a troublemaker, in just one day. The prison staff, already disinclined to listen to an inmate, had marked his card - they wouldn't care for anything he had to say, or any excuse he had to make. They weren't interested in fair.

'Doctor, do you have spare kit here in the hospital wing to give to the prisoner?' the governor asked. The doctor tutted, but he went to a supply cupboard and took some things out. 'Right,' the governor said, 'now you've got everything - let this be an end to your trouble making.' He called a guard over, 'take the prisoner back to his cell.'

...

Doyle was led out of the infirmary and back to the cells. He was locked inside once more. His cellmates looked at his bruised and battered face, but they didn't say anything. That suited the Irishman just fine. He used his new toothbrush to brush his teeth. It was the first time since Friday -and it felt unbelievably good. He got onto his bunk and pulled the blanket over himself, just as the lights went out. Huddled under his blanket, he lay in the darkness and worried miserably about the girl from his vision.

The two vampire women walked towards the factory. 'Let's make this quick, OK?' Darla said, 'I have precious little patience left.'

'I like it here,' Drusilla smiled her crazed smile, 'it reeks of death.'

'That's motor oil, Dru.'

'Can we live here?' Drusilla asked, 'can it be our castle?'

'We're broke,' Darla reminded her, 'we don't have any money. Though Lilah might be able to help with that - if they haven't killed her yet.'

'I like that girl,' Drusilla nodded, 'she's wicked.'

'She's a sweet kid,' Darla agreed, 'but she's only human. I doubt she even knows what Wolfram and Hart's real plans for Angelus are, but I must confess - my interest is piqued.'

As Darla put her hand to the door handle, Drusilla raised her hands to her temple. 'Ten little soldiers all in a line,' she said quoting the old nursery rhyme, 'a shot rang out,' she clapped her hands together to make the sound of a gunshot, 'and then there were nine.'

'Ten?' Laughed Darla, 'I'd be happy with three.' She pulled the door open. They stood on the threshold and looked down at the piles of demon corpses. 'Dead already? Bad soldiers!' chided Drusilla.

...

Inside the building, Angel sat leaning on the hood of a car. He smoked a cigarette. Darla smiled. 'I should have known,' she said. 'Why so far away my love? Why not come up close and stake me?' Angel said nothing, he just continued to smoke. 'Angel?'

He took another drag, showing no reaction.

'Angelus?'

At the sound of his other name, Angel threw down his smouldering cigarette butt. The two female vampires watched as it arced downwards, almost in slow motion. It hit the ground and ignited the trail of gasoline Angel had spilled there. Darla and Dru stood, frozen, watching, as the flames sped along towards them and then lit up the puddle of gasoline they stood in.

As the conflagration took hold of them, licking up their clothes and burning their skin, they began to scream.

Angel stood up from the hood of the car and walked away. He didn't look back.

...

The two vampires ran outside into the street, still on fire, screaming in agony. They knocked the top of a fire hydrant off and the stood there in it's spray - as the cold water extinguished the flames. Their skin stung. It felt raw. It bled.

As the last of the fire died down, they slumped onto the ground, sitting on the kerbside - the water still spraying over them. Darla put her arm around Dru.

'I'm burning, make it stop, make it stop!' screamed the crazed vampire.

'Shh shh. That wasn't Angel.'

'He's gone! He's all gone. It hurts - it hurts!'

'Wasn't Angelus either.'

'Darla! Please! Help me!'

'Who was that?' Darla wondered.

Lilah sat outside the boardroom. She was nervous. If her contacts were correct - Angel had set Drusilla and Darla on fire the previous night. They were still alive - but they were missing. A bit grimmer than what they were used to with the dark avenger - it seemed that Holland Manners' vision lived on.

The door opened. 'Lilah,' the senior attorney opened the door, and called her in. He wasn't her own division head, of course. That was Holland. Her division was dead in a cellar. But she had been put under the jurisdiction of another department whilst The Senior Partners decided what to do with her.

'I'm sure you know why you're here,' the lawyer told her, she nodded. He spoke again. 'The Senior Partners have decided that this should be a time for grief and reflection. We will never be able to replace Holland Manners - he was a man of extraordinary talent. But the bottom line is that this now leaves an opening in our roster.' He inhaled sharply, 'Ms. Morgan - your record so far has been spotty at best. You drove away the telekinetic, Bethany Chaulk, losing us a valuable asset - you were involved in the unpleasantness with the rogue slayer - you acquired a valuable artefact in the Scourge's beacon - at great expense to the company- only to tell the demon who was destined to destroy it exactly what he had to do - letting him destroy it.'

That idiot half breed. It wasn't her fault he'd destroyed it - that was on Lindsey, letting him into the vault. But somehow she was still going to get the blame for what that little mongrel did. She hoped he'd get shanked in the communal showers, and left to bleed out on the floor.

'On the other hand,' the man continued, 'you have shown unusual dedication to the project.' He gestured to her prosthetic hand. 'And we like to reward loyalty and dedication, here at Wolfram and Hart. You are not yet qualified to be a division leader, but you have the expertise necessary to guide special projects forwards. Therefore we have decided to appoint you vice president of the division. A suitable replacement for Holland will be found in time, and we hope you will show the same loyalty and dedication to them. Congratulations, Ms. Morgan - this is a big step.'

It was daytime again - Monday. His bail hearing was the next day. When the guard told him he was entitled to another phone call - that he could contact his lawyer, if he so wished - Doyle knew it was time to ring Cordelia and tell her the whole truth...

Angel was in the basement of the Hyperion, he had set up a target and was throwing knives at it. He hit bullseye every time. He threw his last knife, and went to retrieve them. Wesley came down the stairs. 'I thought you'd like to know - we're keeping the agency open - with or without you.'

Angel said nothing. He kept his back to the watcher and faced the target.

'You may have turned your back on the mission,' Wesley told him, 'but we haven't.' There was still no reaction from the vampire. So Wesley climbed back up the stairs. He turned around when he reached the top. 'Someone has to fight the good fight.'

Angel threw his knife. He missed, barely hitting the target. He closed his eyes. Let them fight the good fight - someone had to fight the war. He opened his eyes and threw again - bullseye.

Chapter 45: Blood Money: Part One

Chapter Text

'All rise', the judge walked into the courtroom and everyone stood up. The judge settled themselves down, adjusted the glasses on her nose and then peered at the small man on the defendant's bench. 'This is the bail hearing for Allen Francis Doyle - charged with one count of accessory to bank robbery and four counts of grand theft auto,' she squinted at Doyle's lawyer, 'do you have anything to say?'

The lawyer stood up, straightening his tie before he spoke. 'Your honour, we request that the defendant be released on his own recognisance.'

'He is charged with a series of felonies,' the judge reminded him.

'We are aware of that, your honour,' the lawyer replied, 'but these are historic crimes. Since the date of the last one, Mr. Doyle has been a model citizen. He is employed, he has a home, he is in a relationship. In short - he is no flight risk. This is the first time he has ever been arrested or charged with any offence. There is no reason to assume he will offend again or fail to attend his trial.'

'Very compelling Mr. Lezumo,' the judge told the lawyer, 'But isn't it true he is a foreign national? Might he not simply - go home?'

'My client would be willing to relinquish his passport,' Mr. Lezumo answered.

'Hmmm,' she scrutinised the defendant. He was wearing his jeans and red zipped up shirt; the clothes he had been arrested in. He had, fortunately, been allowed a shower and a shave before his hearing, so he looked more or less presentable. She quite liked the look of him. He didn't necessarily look like an upstanding citizen, but he didn't look dangerous either. She prided herself on being a good judge of character and she felt that this man was probably a bit of a rogue, but essentially goodhearted. 'I'm afraid his crimes are too serious for him to be released on his own recognisance,' she decided, 'however, I am minded to keep his bail payment low - if he is no flight risk, and there is no risk of recidivism - therefore I will set his bond at $3000.' She banged her gavel down, 'payment can be made out front -next case.'

Doyle closed his eyes, there was only one way he was going to get $3000. And he'd just finished paying her back, had just earned his right to date her - debt free. Now he was back to square one.

Of course, Cordelia paid the money over no hesitation - glad she had thought to save some of her 'Stain Be Gone' money and not spent it all on shoes. She, and Gunn, and Wesley had been sitting in the spectators benches, watching, and he met up with them in the lobby of the court building. Cordelia threw her arms around him. 'I've missed you,' she told him, kissing him on the lips.

He pulled away from her. 'Me too,' he mumbled.

She frowned at his standoffishness, but then shrugged it away, and dragged him over to the cashier's window where payments were made. She wrote out a personal cheque and handed it over - and just like that - Doyle was a free man. Sort of. He had to return to his nearest police department with his lawyer, the next day, and hand over his passport. And his trial was set for the end of March. That was a long time to wait, but he would have to enjoy every moment of his freedom - as too soon it would be taken from him again.

'Let's get you home', Cordelia said, sliding her arm through his, 'we have work to do.'

But he disentangled himself and shook his head. 'I'm not ready to go back to the hotel yet,' he said.

Wesley and Gunn glanced at each other, 'on the bright side that aint a problem', Gunn told him. Doyle looked confused.

'Over the weekend - Angel's circumstances have changed somewhat,' Wesley told the Irishman.

'What happened? Is he OK?'

'No!' Cordelia said vehemently, Doyle looked even more worried, and she shook her head. 'He's gone crazy. Darla got turned into a vampire - and he fired the lot of us!'

'...so that bit where your lawyer said you had a job?' Gunn told him, 'not exactly true.'

'He fired you?' He thought back to the vision he had had on Saturday night, as he'd lain in his prison bunk. That was what he had seen.

'But we've decided to keep the agency open!' Wesley said brightly, 'and now we have your visions back - we'll be up and running in no time.'

'So like I said,' Cordelia finished, 'we have work to do - we're working out of mine right now -but..'

'I want to go home,' Doyle interrupted her, 'I just...need some time, yeah?'

She looked hurt, and he felt like such a jerk. But he needed space and time to work up the courage for what had to be done. And to recover from his ordeal. 'Thanks for bailin' me out, Princess. I'll see y' all later, yeah?' and he walked away from them - out of the courthouse and into the street.

Cordelia stared after him, her face a mask of hurt and shock. 'What just happened?' she asked her friends.

'I think maybe Doyle just needs space after what has happened to him -you know, to process...things,' Wesley told her, gently.

'Man, first Angel, now Doyle's acting Loco. I guess this helping the hopeless biz really is gonna be down to the three of us', Gunn said.

A week or so later, Doyle plucked up the courage to go and see Cordelia. They had spoken on the phone a few times, she had kept ringing and he didn't have the heart to freeze her out. But he had kept things short and perfunctory - yes he was fine, yes he'd see her soon, no there was nothing wrong - no of course it wasn't anything she had done. But he couldn't dodge her forever, and he couldn't live in this state of limbo forever. He needed to move on with his life. His new life. The one where he would be going to prison at the end of March.

He arrived at her front door and raised his fist to knock. He remembered the last time he had been here - with her. He'd been so happy. And she'd just pulled him through the door, no secrets - nothing to hide, nothing to cause them pain. That was over now.

She was wearing her robe when she answered the door, like she was ready for bed, but her face lit up in delight when she saw him. 'Doyle!'

'You cut your hair again!' he said to her. Her hand sprung up to touch the ends of her new short bob. She'd lightened it too - taken it back to its natural brown and put in some blonder streaks. 'Yeah,' she smiled, 'I guess the rock chick look wasn't working for me.'

'You look beautiful, no matter what,' he told her. Her smile grew even wider, and he realised he shouldn't have said that.

'Listen, Cordy, can I come in? I need to talk to y'.'

'Of course, of course,' she opened her door wider and ushered him inside. 'You two,' she barked at Wesley and Gunn, who were sitting on her couch. 'Out!'

'But it's still earl…' Wesley looked up mid protest and saw Doyle standing there, 'Oh, hello Doyle.'

'Wesley, Gunn,' he nodded at each of them.

'Man, where you been at?' Gunn wanted to know.

'Around - there was just some stuff I needed to do...before ...how come you guys are here?'

'We're helping the hopeless!' Wesley told to him. Helping the hopeless looked an awful lot like an ongoing game of Risk.

Cordelia rolled her eyes. 'Our new agency doesn't have a place yet, and for reasons unknown I got volunteered as our temporary headquarters.'

'And are things going well?' Doyle asked the three of them, 'I'm sorry I've not been around - I will… be around ...more.'

'Things are great!' Cordelia smiled.

But the two men on the couch looked unconvinced. 'They're great,' Gunn agreed, 'we got no plan, no office, no business cards of our own...we just sit around all day - waiting for Angel to call.'

'No sign of him?' The three of them shook their heads. 'Well maybe I could talk to him', Doyle suggested, 'he didn't fire me - I could try.'

'You try,' Wesley told him, 'but we're a separate unit now. On our own. Fighting the good fight.'

'With no plan, no office and no business cards of our own,' Gunn repeated. They all looked downcast for a moment.

Then Wesley brightened up, 'well, first things first, let's get rid of these stupid business cards.' He tore one up.

'Hey!' protested Cordelia, 'they're not stupid. I designed them myself - right at the beginning, when it was just the three of us. They've got an Angel on!'

'That's an Angel?' Gunn asked, looking at another card.

'That's why it's so brilliant,' Doyle explained, thinking back to that night in their old office, long ago. 'It's so clever on so many levels - and in no way is it a butterfly, a bird or an owl.' Just as he had been on that September evening, he was hit by a vision just as he finished speaking. None of the others seemed to notice, as he brought his hand up to his forehead, and braced himself against the wall.

'I was gonna say it looks more like a lobster', Gunn said, still eyeing the card, 'with a growth. We'll make new cards.'

'Something sleek but edgy,' Wesley agreed.

'Something that says danger is our business,' Gunn added, 'you need help - we'll be there'

'We'll catch you when you fall.'

'Uh, guys!' Cordelia had spotted Doyle pressed against the wall, twitching, 'I think we have an incoming!'

Doyle took his hand away from his head and looked up at his friends. 'Man! That thing has two heads! And it breathes fire. It's gigantic. And it's rising up in the sewers beneath Kenyard school for girls.'

The four of them looked at each other, and then Wesley crossed to the hall closet and took out the weapons Cordy kept there, handing one to each of them. 'Let's go to work', he said.

Angel walked down the street. A blonde woman was walking towards him, carrying a large box. She couldn't see over the top of it and she was hurrying. She crashed straight into the vampire, and her box flew out of her hands, spilling its contents over the sidewalk. 'Oh jeez,' she sighed, 'I'm sorry, I didn't hurt you?'

'I'm fine.' He crouched down and helped her pick up the fallen items. They were old clothes. 'East teen hills centre,' Angel said, the woman stared at him, 'it's on the box,' he told her, 'you work there?'

'Yeah,' she finished putting things back in the container and stood up.

'With runaways?'

'Some of them. Some of them are from around here, but don't have any place else to go.'

'Well that's good,' Angel said 'it's good that someone …'

She smiled at him, 'I'm late.'

'Right'

'See you around.'

...

He entered his apartment and took out the wallet he had swiped during his encounter. He looked at the driver's license that belonged to the woman. On the wall there were many black and white pictures of her; in different places, with different people. The picture he was most interested in was the photo of the woman from the teen shelter with Lilah Morgan...

The four of them crept along the sewer tunnels, each gripping an axe firmly in their hands. 'So this thing is big?' Gunn asked. Doyle nodded. 'And fire breathing?' Wesley checked. Doyle nodded again.

'So it's a big, two headed, fire breathing …'

'Look, bud,' Doyle interrupted Gunn's recitation of the demon's features. 'It was all those things and then some, pretty damn terrifyin' in my vision and you're not makin' it any less terrifyin' by remindin' me o' the pertinent details, It's big, it's deadly and unless they're admission criteria has vastly expanded in recent years - it probably shouldn't be attending the Kenyard School for girls.'

'Ha!' laughed Cordelia. 'This snooty, prep school only has one demon lurking underneath it? I went to high school on the mouth of hell itself, these girls don't know they're born.' There was a distant rumbling roar, Cordy flinched and held onto her axe tighter, 'then again, we had a resident slayer - maybe this won't be such a cinch.'

Gunn shook his head, 'You know right about now, I wouldn't mind havin' …'

'Don't say it!' Wesley cut him off. 'We don't have him and it will do us absolutely no good wishing that we did.'

'I was gonna say havin' some dynamite.'

'Oh - Dynamite - maybe it's not too late to go back and get some?' the watcher nodded.

Cordelia was enthusiastic too. 'High explosives worked really well that time we blew up the mayor, remember Wes?'

'I was rather paralysed with pain and waiting to be stretchered into the back of an ambulance at the time.'

'Oh yeah, I guess you kind of sucked at fighting back then. But I did really well,' Cordelia told the others, 'that was when I staked my first vampire solo -poof, straight through the heart.'

'And very impressive I'm sure y' were too, darlin' - but this wee beastie is a bit bigger than a vampire. Gotta say, I'm another vote for dynamite.'

They heard the deafening, thunderous roar sound out again. The ground trembled beneath their feet and they peered round the end of the tunnel. They looked up...and up, and as their eyes tracked ceilingwards, their mouths fell open. They pulled their heads back round the corner.

'Oh God,' said Wesley

'Man!' Doyle whistled, 'that's even worse than it looked in my head.'

'That tunnel is twenty feet tall,' Gunn pointed out ' and it was crouching.'

'I don't think even Buffy ever took on anything like this,' Cordelia told them, her eyes round in shock, 'what are we supposed to do? The only superpowers we have between us are Doyle's unbelievably lame visions and his neck breaky thing. This is ...maybe we should…'

But Wesley took a deep breath and decided to assert some authority to the situation. He may not have the powers of a slayer, but he had trained his whole life to be the guardian and mentor of slayers- to prepare them for battles such as these. Admittedly, his performance in that role had been less than stellar - but in principal, he was more than equipped to face off against a demon, even a massive fire breathing one - brains were just as important as brawn in the vampire slaying business. 'Right, well we'll take another look at it and then we'll-'

'Die!' Gunn suggested. They all peered back round the corner, taking in the height and bulk of the creature. The street fighter made ready to leap into the fray, but Wesley held him back, 'no no - we'll wait until it's back is turned...Now!'

The four of them jumped out into the next sewer tunnel, but were forced immediately back by a sudden blast of flames. 'I thought you said it breathed fire!' Gunn hissed at Doyle, accusatorily. The Irishman just shrugged.

Then, gripping their axes firmly in both hands, the four of them ran out into the tunnel, screaming a battle cry as they went.

Angel found Merl just as the small stool pigeon was about to leave his lair. The lizard like demon was not happy to see the vampire - and made his displeasure known. Angel wasn't interested. 'Are you avoiding me, Merl? You know that's impolite.'

'Yeah well, nearly drowning me, leaving me tied upside down dangling from the sewer roof aint exactly Emily Post.'

'OK' Angel shrugged 'we're both rude. Do you have the information I need? Or do I have to see what the inside of your head looks like?'

Having spent 2 days dangling in the sewer tunnels, after his last encounter with the vampire, Merl wasn't taking any risks. He told him what he knew. The girl was clean - a few name changes, but no record. She ran a shelter on Crenshaw and had become linked to Wolfram and Hart a few months ago, when she had almost lost the lease on the place. The law firm had stepped in and cleared it all up - pro bono. As shady as Wolfram and Hart were, the teen centre itself was legit. Angel nodded as he accepted what he was being told.

'Hey, what about my hundred bucks?' Merl yelled after his retreating back.

'You know? I'll just have to owe you.'

...

It was time to go to the shelter itself - make real contact, check it out. He appeared there, late in the evening, carrying a box of donations. The woman smiled when she saw him, 'hey guy I ran over.'

He smiled back, personably, 'hey girl who ran me over.'

'Just call me 'Anne',' she told him, 'it's shorter'. It was shorter than Chanterelle and Sister Sunshine, as well. And came without the painful memories of Lily. Her name was the best gift she had ever been given - and it allowed her to help out kids who were still where she once was. The slayer had saved her three times, twice she'd saved her life - but in this final way, she had saved her soul.

Angel shook her hand, 'I'm Angel… uhm, I brought some… I don't know if they're any good.'

But Anne was both grateful and enthusiastic, as she took the donations from him. Her expression changed to one of mild surprise as she surveyed the first item - a flowery blouse. 'Not what I'd expect,' she smiled at him, 'what's the matter? Doesn't it fit you anymore?'

'Cuts me across the bust,' he replied, deadly serious. Then he explained better. 'A friend...left some things at my place… I won't be seeing her for a while, so I figured…'

'Girlfriend?' she asked - this sounded like a bad break up, if ever she'd heard one. But Angel seemed horrified at the very thought. 'God, No!'

'Well I appreciate it - we appreciate it - every little helps.'

He put his hands in his pockets and glanced around the room. 'So this whole place runs on donations?'

'Every last penny.'

He sympathised, that must be tough - trying to stay ahead. She agreed, it was. But - unbelievably - they had recently acquired a guardian Angel. Wolfram and Hart had bailed them out of eviction, defended some of the kids - free of charge, and were now donating everything that was going to be necessary to hold a big charity ball - from music to food. 'It's a hold-up,' she explained to Angel, 'T.V celebrities dress as outlaws and hold up rich people for their money. It's a pretty dorky theme but - whatever it takes, right?'

'Right'. He couldn't disagree with that sentiment. He left her too it, then. Merl was right, Anne and her shelter were legit. Wolfram and Hart were up to something.

As Merl was attempting to leave his lair for a second time that night, he was accosted by a second demon. He was huge, and blueish grey, with deep scars running down his face. 'You're Angel's lackey,' the demon accused.

Merl protested, 'independent contractor, independent contractor!'

'Yeah - and what do you do for Angel?'

Merl told him - he'd be crazy not to. This guy looked like he could twist the small demon's head off with his bare hands. He'd been taking photographs and gathering information on some girl, but if truth be known it wasn't really about the girl. It was about Wolfram and Hart.

'What's a Wolfram and Hart?'

So Merl told the demon everything he knew.

It was very late when Lilah walked to her car. She unlocked it, as she approached, and got inside. She adjusted her rearview mirror - nothingness was reflected back at her. Then she turned her head in order to reverse out of her space. She jumped. Angel was sat in the back seat.

'Lilah', he smiled pleasantly, 'I just had to drop by and congratulate you on your big promotion. Vice president of special projects - that's really something. And you know what really makes me warm inside? The feeling that I - in some way - contributed to that.'

She tried to open her door, but his hand shot out and stopped her. She froze. 'Angel -I can assure you - now I'm in a position to affect policy -things will change.'

He laughed, a bitter and hollow sound. Things were going to change - because he got it now. The game they were playing. There were no rules. She had screwed with him and screwed with him and now he was going to screw with her.

'Angel, please.'

He leaned forward, so that she could feel the air against her neck as he spoke. 'No, no, no - the begging - that comes later.' Lilah closed her eyes, and when she opened them, the vampire had gone.

...

The next day she sat in her office, worrying. Perhaps the plan had worked too well. Perhaps this dark version of Angel, whilst better suited to The Senior Partners plans, was a severe miscalculation on the human lawyers' part. She had already seen what he had allowed to let happen to Holland Manners and the rest of her department. It was only by the grace of Darla that she was still here at all. He was already willing to stand aside whilst bad things happened. Surely it was only a matter of time before he became willing to perpetrate the bad things himself. And she was pretty sure who his first victim would be.

As she sat there fretting, her intercom buzzed. 'Ms. Morgan, your ten o'clock is here.'

'I don't have a ten o'clock.'

'Well I'm not telling him that.'

The door opened and the demon who had visited Merl walked in. 'Call me Boone', he said, 'I'm here because I believe we have a common enemy.'

Chapter 46: Blood Money: Part Two

Chapter Text

It was an intriguing proposition. Boone had a longstanding vendetta against Angel - going way back to the twenties. They had fought for hours, but the demon had let the vampire go when the sun came up. He had wanted a fair fight. Now, he had discovered Angel was in town and wanted to finish things off - see who was best. That really seemed to matter to him - wanting to know which one of them was best. He'd waited eighty years for a fight to the death. There was just one problem - one fly in the ointment, as far as Lilah was concerned.

'I'm afraid that, much as it would personally please me no end to see the vampire nothing more than a pile of dust blowing in the wind,' she told Boone, 'The Senior Partners want Angel alive. And - intimidating, as you are - I'm more afraid of them than I am of you. The party line is - I cannot help you.' She got up and closed the door. 'That's the party line,' she smiled, conspiratorily. 'Whilst I cannot help you in any professional capacity - in a personal one I can give you all the information you need to find and defeat our friendly neighbourhood vampire. So what is that you want?'

He had shaken her up badly, appearing in her car like that. She wanted him gone - dead. She just couldn't have a hand in it herself. But if Angel were dead, and with his half breed rotting in jail, Lilah was sure she would find that her own personal happiness would increase tenfold.

The four of them sat in Cordy's living room. Wesley, Gunn and Cordelia were full of high spirits, reliving the fight of the night before. Doyle sat with them, but was much quieter. He smiled along, clinked his can with the others when they made a toast - but the heaviness of his heart made it too difficult to join in with their jubilation. Luckily, they were still too high from the kill to notice.

'Man that was the biggest thing I ever saw - there we were gettin' stomped, duckin' flames…' Gunn recalled, his face split from ear to ear in a broad grin.

'When I got hurled into the out flow drain...' Wesley reminisced.

'And then you crawl back out - screaming and cursing - damn! the mouth on you, English!'

'And me and Doyle, ducking between his heads, trying to get right in the centre!'

'And then it threw Doyle half way across the tunnel - and he slammed into the wall and went demon face! Man! If it was any of us that took that hit we'd be dead for sure!' Gunn saluted the Irishman by raising his can, they all clinked, though Doyle's smile was halfhearted.

'And Gunn hitting it from behind screaming 'look at us when we kill you' and it turned - '

'And - shonk - you sliced off it's first head!'

'And there you are running him through, pulling intestines out the size of your leg!' Wes and Gunn continued to praise each other's performance.

'But then stick figure barbie gets his second head down - damn, girl, that's one mighty arm you got there!'

Cordelia beamed at the praise - 'and then Doyle headbutted it - and it screamed because all the spikes on Mr. Scary Ugly Hedgehog blinded him in one eye!'

'That was a nasty scream!' Gunn remembered 'and then boom - both heads down and you two are taking it in turns, axing into its heart.'

'We dismembered it completely', Cordelia enthused.

'We annihilated it,' Wesley said.

'And I didn't even have to patch anyone up afterwards! Who needs superpowers?' Cordelia wanted to know. 'To us.' She raised her can again.

'To us' the men echoed - Wesley and Gunn laughing and grinning, Doyle forcing a smile.

'You know…' Cordelia said, reaching for a piece of paper that she had been keeping on the side. 'There was something I've been looking into -but I wasn't sure. But we just did such a great job -'

'That we did!' clink clink clink

'I found this for our new agency,' she told them, showing them the address.

'Our new agency', clink clink clink.

'It's only small - but its not far from here….'

'Then why are we still here?' asked Wesley, 'let's go and see the place.' They all got up and headed for the door. Doyle was the last to his feet. 'Y'know, guys - you go on ahead - I'll...I think I'm done for this evening...I'll see y' tomorrow though, yeah?'

'Are you going to stay here and wait for me?' Cordelia asked, frowning a little bit. He shook his head. 'No... no, I wanna go back home. I'll see y' tomorrow, princess.' He made to leave. As he passed her in the doorway, she leaned in for a kiss. With a deep, internal sigh, he submitted to a quick peck on the lips; before heading off. He hadn't managed to speak to her, either last night or today, which meant he had just put off the inevitable - the heartbreak - until the next day. As he left, he could hear the three of them squabbling about what to call their brand new agency - now they could no longer be Angel Investigations. Angel. There was another conversation to be had - and this one he wasn't going to put off.

Angel was up in his room, looking at his photographs of Anne, especially the one with Lilah. Now he knew she was clean, he decided to bring her in on this. He pulled down all the photos - and walked out.

...

As he walked down the main staircase into the lobby, his vampire senses told him he was not alone. He tensed. The intruder was a demon. But it wasn't danger that made him wary, it was the fact that this was a scent he knew - well. Wherever he had been for the last week and a half - Doyle had finally put in a reappearance.

Sure enough, as the round sofa came into view, so did the Irishman. Doyle was sitting there, shuffling his deck of cards and waiting. He looked up, as he heard the footsteps coming down the stairs. 'Hey, man.'

'Doyle.' Angel nodded to him, and then continued walking through the lobby.

'Is that it?' Doyle asked him, 'y' not gonna ask where I've been?'

'I don't have time for that.' Angel stopped, but he didn't turn around. He was still ready to leave.

' 'cause you're on a new mission now, is that it? Too busy to care about your friends, 'cause it's all about Darla.'

'This isn't anything to do with Darla.'

'No? Then why the hurry? I had a vision last night….

'Yeah?' Angel whirled around then. 'Where were you and your visions when Darla was dying, huh? Or when she'd been sired and I was trying to find her before she rose? But oh no - all I get is a phone call, part way through trying to bring this thing to an end, telling me to go the opposite direction and save some suicide-cult demon worshipping kid. By the time I got back - Darla had killed two people. She's killed even more now. I can't save Darla, there's nothing left to save. You weren't there, Doyle, and your visions do me no good - so don't come here expecting me to jump in and save the day …'

'We killed the demon', Doyle interrupted. 'The four of us. It was big, scary, way out of our league - but we did it.'

'Great. I know Wesley said they were continuing the good fight. You wanna join in on that then that's great too. But I'm done.'

'Angel, man, think what your sayin'! Your mission, your redemption …'

'Mean nothing to me anymore. I don't work for The Powers anymore, Doyle - you do. There's nothing left to talk about.'

'It's not that simple.' The Irishman shook his head, trying to make Angel see that he didn't have a choice - he had to do the right thing. He had to give up this vendetta and return to The Powers as a champion, once more.

'I'm making it that simple,' Angel told him.

The half demon took a deep breath. 'Well, OK, man - but I want y' to know - our door is always open. You need us and we'll be there. We're not turning our backs on you - even if you're shuttin' us out in the cold. But we will be gettin' on with stuff in your absence. Do what y' think y' have to - but don't leave it too long, yeah?'

Angel said nothing, he just turned on his heel and walked towards the front door. 'Are y' really not gonna ask where I was, bud?' Doyle called after him.

'No.' Angel replied, without looking back. The door swung shut behind him; and Doyle was left alone, in the cold and darkened lobby of the Hyperion hotel.

Even though it was so late, Anne was still at the shelter. The kids who were staying there that night had long since gone to bed, and she was all alone downstairs. It was dark, and the emptiness around her made the place all echoey. She jumped, as she thought she heard a sound - and then went to investigate. 'Hello?' she called, 'is there somebody out there?'

'Anne.' It was Angel.

She was surprised to see him. 'You startled me', she said to him, surprised he was there.

'I had to talk to you.'

That sounded bad - kind of desperate - in a creepy way. 'Oh God, you're not stalking me are you?'

'Actually I am.' He threw the photographs Merl had taken of her down on her desk. She picked them up and looked through them, her face creased with consternation.

'These are pictures - surveillance photos - that I've taken of you. And this is your wallet,' he held it out to her. 'I took it off you when we 'accidentally' ran into each other the other night. It wasn't an accident.'

'I'm calling the police.'

He put his hand out to stop her, convinced her to wait a moment. And then he explained. It was Wolfram and Hart. They were not the guardian angels she thought them to be and they didn't care about her shelter. They were using her - a homeless teens centre was good publicity - promoting an image of a corporation who cared. They would organise the fundraiser and the money would start rolling in. But it wouldn't be Anne counting it, it would be them. Who knew how much they would cream off the top, right from the get go? And then they'd present her with a list of expenses - all proper and correct - and by the time they were done, she'd see five percent of the money - tops. And who knew where the other 95% would end up? How it would be spent? Who it would hurt?

She shook her head when she heard this. 'You follow me - take my picture - steal my wallet. Why should I believe anything you have to say?'

'I have proof. Wolfram and Hart are not what they say they are. They show the world one face but it's not the truth. I have tapes that detail everything they're up to.'

They looked at each other for a long moment, and then Angel broke his gaze. 'I just didn't want to lie to you anymore. But you talk to Lilah Morgan - tell her what I've told you. See what she says.'

Then he left, and Anne was left alone in the shelter, wondering.

The three of them had perused the new office, and declared it adequate. A little dark perhaps, a little small - but it would do for now, as a base of operations. For all its faults, it was more professional than Cordelia's living room. It was a place the helpless could find them, and seek their protection. And it announced to the world, once and for all, that yes, they had moved on from working for Angel. They were no longer sat at home, pretending to run an agency and secretly waiting for the vampire to call. Theirs' was a new company now. In a brand new premises.

Once the lease was signed, Cordelia had gone on home. And it was there that she began to worry about Doyle. She knew things were bad - she got that, she wasn't stupid. His weekend in prison must have been awful, and terrifying - and he had the trial hanging over him until March. That must be a huge weight on his shoulders. She really did get all that - she could allow for a little weirdness, and a lot of misery. She was even braced for a recurrence of his drinking…

What she didn't get was the distance between them. It had started straight away, as soon as she had bailed him out - he shrugged off her embraces and then disappeared for a week. She didn't regret bailing him out, no matter how weird he was being - she would pay that money over again in a heartbeat, if it meant freeing him. She could hardly leave the man she loved to rot inside county jail for the next three months. But she had to admit that she still felt hurt at the way he was treating her.

She didn't feel used, she didn't think. Whatever was happening, Doyle hadn't just taken her money and then left her alone because he didn't care for her beyond what she could give him. He hadn't used her. But there was still this distance - this weirdness...like they weren't really together anymore.

And she got he was miserable, she did. Unhappy and scared and probably a fair bit ashamed. But what she absolutely didn't get was why he was pulling away. They were in a relationship. They were in love. If he was unhappy, it should be her he went to for comfort - wasn't that the way it was supposed to work? Her role, in all this, was supposed to be to support him, to comfort him, to look after him. So why wasn't he letting her?

She got into her pajamas, made herself a herbal tea and then climbed into bed. She wanted him there, beside her. She wanted a chance to tell him everything was going to be OK, and that she loved him and supported him no matter what. But instead, he'd fled home, to hide from her. Again.

He couldn't have just used her for the money. He couldn't have. He loved her, she knew he did. Or at least - he'd seemed to before he went into jail. But now … she didn't want to doubt him, but he kept pushing her away; and, as she sat in bed, sipping her tea and brooding on matters, it became harder and harder to push away the thought that he had stopped caring about her, and was only hanging around because she had paid his bail and he felt like he owed her...

Doyle arrived back at his apartment. He'd stopped off on his way home, bought himself something, and he placed it on the coffee table as he took off his jacket and shoes. He sat down on the sofa and looked at the brown paper bag he had just put down. The neck of the scotch bottle stood up higher than the top of the bag.

He reached out and pulled the rest of the bag away, revealing the whole bottle of the amber liquid. It sat there looking at him, so inviting. He rubbed his face. He'd come so far in the past year. Really turned his whole life around. And he'd done so well, in the past six months, on giving up on the hard liquor. But how far he had fallen. The good life he had built for himself was not meant to be - it had been built on lies - similar to the way Francis' life with Harri had been a lie. There was always a dark secret buried underneath, waiting to destroy everything. The first time around it had been his demon heritage. The second time around it was his criminal past.

And he was so weak. Both times things went wrong he did exactly the same thing: pushed away the woman he loved, and hit the bottle. It's not that he didn't learn - he knew how destructive this would be - it's just he couldn't help himself.

He was convinced, however, that this time it was right to push Cordelia away. Perhaps shutting Harri out had been a mistake back then, perhaps things could have been different. Perhaps, if he'd just listened to her, he wouldn't have crumbled. Perhaps he could have remained Francis, if he'd just been willing to let her in.

With Cordelia, it was different. His path was no longer in his own hands. Francis could have offered Harri a future, even as a demon, if he had just been stronger and accepted himself. Doyle could not offer any kind of future to Cordelia; and eventually she would realise that. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but soon... And then she would leave him, it was inevitable. And he would be heartbroken, and she would feel torn up with guilt and remorse. He could save her from that. And he could be in control of his own heartbreak, ripping the Bandaid off now, rather than waiting - perhaps for years - for the pain to come to him.

She had been so good to him, when he had rung up and told her what had happened. She hadn't yelled, she wasn't mad - she was just a pillar of unyielding support, right away. And she'd handed over her money to him, again, no questions asked. God, the money.

She must know something wasn't right between them. She must be wondering why he was being so distant. He had stayed away that first week because he was too cowardly to talk to her, and to weak to deny to himself forever his best possible source of comfort. Now he had summoned up the nerve to speak with her, he kept missing his chance - like in the old days, trying to come clean about his demon half. So she tried to pull him towards herself, not understanding that it was over between them, and he was having to pull himself away.

She must be beginning to think he had only used her for the money - paying off his debts and bailing him out of prison. She must be beginning to wonder if he'd ever cared for her, or if he'd just been using her all along. He couldn't bear that - not her thinking badly of him, he deserved that - but the pain it must be causing her. He would speak to her - as soon as he could.

But until then - he had his bottle of scotch. He reached out, picked up the bottle and unscrewed the lid. He didn't even bother using a glass.

When Angel arrived back at the hotel he sensed, once more, that he wasn't alone. A demon. But not Doyle, not this time. This one was dangerous. 'Whatever it is, I don't care, and I don't have time.'

Boone stepped out of the shadows. 'Surely you'll make time for me - won't you, Angel?'

The vampire looked at him. 'It's been a long time,' he said.

Chapter 47: Blood Money: Part Three

Chapter Text

Anne rang Lilah. The lawyer's greeting was warm and effusive. 'I've been talking to a man called Angel', Anne interrupted her, 'he says you're planning on stealing all of the money from the fundraiser.' There was a moment's silence, as Lilah was caught unawares, and that told Anne all she needed to know. 'So it's true.'

'Anne,' the other woman forced a laugh, 'of course not… I mean there are - expenses, of course there will be, but Wolfram and Hart don't steal. We are committed to helping your teen shelter, as were are to countless charity projects across the city. We are in this to give something back.'

'He says he has proof.'

Another, very telling, pause. 'He's lying,' Lilah recovered. 'I don't know how you came into contact with this man, Anne, but I can assure you that he is unstable and dangerous and has a vendetta against the firm. You can't trust him...and with a little bit of luck, I've set things in motion that will clear up the Angel problem for good.' With a little bit of luck - as if she had ever had any luck when dealing with the vampire. Boone had better be as good as his word. Though she had learned from previous mistakes not to have anything in writing - and nothing that could link the monstrous demon to the company.

'So he definitely doesn't have proof?' Anne clarified.

Lilah paused one last time, 'he can't have'. Then she hung up the phone and began to fret.

Boone left the hotel. The terms and conditions Angel had lain down were satisfactory. He'd get his fair fight. He'd find out who was best.

Angel returned, one last time, to the teen shelter. He found Anne in her office, sorting through donations. She looked up as he entered the room. 'I sort of thought you'd show up again', she said to him. 'I rang Wolfram and Hart. Spoke to Lilah about you.'

'Yeah? And what did she say.'

'That you're dangerous and unstable. You have a vendetta against Wolfram and Hart and that you can't be trusted.'

'Is that right?'

'She also said she had put things in motion that would hopefully get rid of you for good.'

He thought of his recent visitor to the hotel. If that was all Lilah was pinning her hopes on, then she was in way over her head. But he was pleased to know that she was rattled. 'Well, you know what they say - a law firm that's trying to kill a private citizen is a law firm you can trust.'

That made her smile, and he pressed home his advantage. 'They're not to be trusted, Anne, they're using you. Will you help me?'

But she shook her head. 'I'm not interested in your vendetta Angel, or Lilah's crusade against you. Maybe you have good reason, maybe she does. Maybe you both do. Whatever. I care about the shelter. If they're an evil law firm, then they're an evil law firm that's gonna help me raise two million dollars.'

'Of which you'll only see about 5%.'

She put her sorting down then, and looked at him, irritation clearly visible on her face. 'You know what? I did the math. 5% of two million dollars is still a hundred thousand dollars. That's more than we could raise in two years.'

'And what about the other 95%, huh?' Angel wanted to know. 'You don't care about where that might be going? Who it might be hurting?'

Anne paused for a moment - and then, 'I can't.'

'There is blood on that money, Anne,' Angel warned her, 'are you a person who can just ignore that? Have you become that yet? Because I don't think you have.'

'You don't know what it takes to run a shelter.'

'Help me,' he pleaded. He pulled out a video tape and showed it to her. 'Get me into the party. I put this on...and the whole world sees another side to Wolfram and Hart.'

She glanced at the tape in his hand, 'why should I?'

'Because it's the right thing to do. Because in the long run - it's better.'

That was the wrong thing to say. Her face took a determined look. 'Most of my kids don't have a long run,' she said, shaking her head. 'No - I'm saying no.'

He was going to have to find another way into that fundraiser...

Lilah flicked open her cell phone and spoke to her assistant. In the hours since she'd spoken to Anne she had run through all the possible scenarios in her mind: what proof Angel had and how he was going to use it. Her first thought had been that he would send it to the news - humiliation on a national scale. But then she realised it wasn't personal enough. This was the man who had appeared in the back of her car to threaten her. He liked to see her fear. He liked to see it up close. He was in this for the personal touch. Whatever he knew about her scheme to rob the teen homeless shelter of 2 million dollars, he was going to reveal it at the fundraiser itself - in front of her boss and all their clients and patrons. And he wanted to be there when it was uncovered. To see her face. Well, she was going to make sure that he wasn't able to set foot in the door. 'I want all the security for the fundraiser doubled,' she told her assistant. 'And make sure we have vampire detectors.'

Doyle had just arrived at Cordelia's, and sat down on her sofa, when his cell phone rang. He looked at the caller id - it was Angel. 'Sorry, Princess, hold that thought. I better take this.' He flipped his phone open. 'Yeah, man?'

'I need you to come over to the hotel, right now. Just you. There's a job that needs doing.' The vampire hung up and Doyle frowned down at his phone.

'Who was it?' Cordelia asked.

'It was...him.'

'Angel?'

Doyle nodded. Cordelia looked irritated, 'well, why is he phoning you?'

'I went to see him yesterday. He just told me that there's a job he wants me to do.'

'Are you going to go?'

The Irishman looked awkward, he shifted slightly on the sofa. 'I have to go, Cordelia.' Cordelia looked outraged, her boyfriend took a deep breath and tried to explain. 'The thing o' it is, Cordy, me and him - we both work for The Powers - we're not free to make our own decisions, we gotta do what the big guys tell us. He's turned his back on that, and it's part o' my mission to make him change his mind - see the light. So I gotta be there for him when he needs me. At least ...as long as I'm able to be.'

'But he fired us! He hasn't done anything to help with any of your visions since Darla got turned. Its us that are working for The Powers now - me, and Wes and Gunn.'

'And I appreciate that, Cordy, I really do', he told her, gently. 'And as long as Angel's off being the darkest avenger ever, you are the people I'll tell about my visions. I work for you guys now, not him. But I gotta do everythin' I can to change his mind. If I go to him when he needs me ...then maybe ...look, as long the lines of communication are open, there's a chance he'll come around.'

'We don't need him.'

Doyle gave her a sympathetic look. 'You're doin' great, y' know y' are. But we can all save more people if Angel's involved. We both know that,' Cordelia folded her arms and looked like she wanted to argue. 'It's true,' he told her 'and that's what really matters - not our hurt feelin's - savin' people. Besides...' he shifted uncomfortably again, 'come the Spring I won't be around to help y' anymore. I'd feel a whole lot better knowin' you had Captain Forehead back in your corner.'

'Doyle...' Cordelia's voice was soft, and entreating. 'We don't know that…'

'We do.' He cut her off. She was going to try and tell him that they didn't know for sure that he would be in prison by April, but there was no point in going down that route. He could understand why she wanted to believe it - but it wouldn't help - and it wouldn't change anything. He was on a tight schedule. He had until the end of March to sort out everything that would need to be sorted - and to make sure that Cordelia would be OK without him. Lying to himself, or to her, about the inevitable would just make things harder when reality finally bit. 'I'd better go to him - see what he needs. I'll come back later if that's OK? There's still somethin' I really need to talk to you about.'

She nodded. He kissed her on the forehead, and then grabbed his jacket and left her apartment. Cordelia switched the T.V on, her mood dark. Seeing Doyle turn up at her place had suddenly, and immediately, allayed all her fears; about him using her, about him only needing her for her money, about him no longer loving her. She had felt happy again, for one fleeting moment - and then his phone had rung, and summoned him away. Stupid Angel. How dare he fire them all and then call back Doyle when it suited him? How dare he interrupt her evening with her boyfriend - alone - the first they'd had together since the night before he was arrested? And whatever it was he wanted the half demon for - Cordelia was willing to bet it was about one of only two things - either Wolfram and Hart - or Darla.

The Highway Robbery Ball was in full swing. The fabulously wealthy, the grandees of L.A society, were all gathered, in their finest attire, anticipating the feel of the warm glow they would get from donating a tiny, unmissable portion of their vast wealth to a good cause. How nice that they got to do this in a swanky hotel, surrounded by other well heeled, finely dressed, wealthy people and by attending a soiree - and that they didn't have to get their hands dirty, or come into contact with the untermensch they were here to help. Conversation buzzed and champagne flowed.

A short, dark haired waiter worked his way through the crowd. He was holding a silver platter with champagne flutes on it - and as he passed, the guests would deposit their old glasses and pick up a new one. They always smiled gratefully as they took their champagne - but they never really looked at him. He was counting on that.

Up on a big screen, Holland Manners smiled down at everyone, addressing the crowd. He was dressed casually; wearing a shirt, open at the collar with no tie, and a chunky knit cardigan. He sat on a park bench. 'The world can be a dangerous place, especially for our most vulnerable citizens: our children.' He petted the collie that sat at his feet and then he stood up. 'Far away from home, with little money, and even less hope; too many runaways find themselves on the streets. In over their heads, and under societies radar.'

Down amidst the crowd, Anne took a sip of her champagne, and glanced around at the rich people who had come out tonight to help the shelter. She felt nervous, surrounded, as she was, by Wolfram and Hart lawyers and the people who used them. She may have turned down Angel's request for help, but that didn't mean that she didn't believe him when he told her that the law firm was not what it pretended to be - that it hurt people. Who else here knew the real face of Wolfram and Hart? Who here used them precisely because of what they really were? She wanted the night to be over. And she wanted to cut any further contact with the lawyers.

Up on the screen, Holland came up next to a dishevelled looking teen, sitting on another park bench. 'But there is a place, right here in Los Angeles, that can help these troubled kids,' he told the crowd below, 'the East Hills Teen Centre.' He held out a hand and helped the teen to their feet. 'It's a terrific refuge that we at Wolfram and Hart are behind one hundred percent.'

...

Lilah stood in the crowd with her new boss, Nathan. 'This is going well', he observed to her, 'you've done a good job.'

'Thank you, sir,' she smiled. On the outside she looked calm, but inside she was in turmoil. She glanced around the room, trying to keep her movements casual. She was searching for the vampire. But there was no sign of him, and the vampire detectors remained silent. It seemed like, so far, she had been successful in managing to keep him out.

The waiter passed her by and she grabbed a champagne flute from him, barely looking at him as she did. He disappeared back into the crowd; and Lilah turned back to her boss. 'It's true what they say,' she told him, 'charity work just gives you this warm glow.' She spotted Anne, stood a little distance away all by herself. 'Anne!' she called her over. As Anne appeared at her side, Lilah made the introductions. 'Anne, I'd like you to meet one of my bosses at Wolfram and Hart, Nathan Reed. Mr. Reed this is Anne.'

Nathan reached out to shake Anne's hand. His own was limp and slippery, like a wet fish. 'So, this is the woman whose dedication and hard work brings us together tonight.'

'Well I - try to help - where I can. Thank you for everything, sir.'

He smiled. His smile was cold and fish like, as well. 'I like to think of my job as underlining the 'heart' in Wolfram and Hart.'

...

Lilah walked away to check with the security people, upstairs. But there was no sign of the vampire, no sign of disturbance - and the vampire detector remained silent. 'I've got men on every possible entry point - and if he gets within a hundred feet of here - Zorn will let us know,' the guard nodded down at the hooded creature that could sense the undead. Lilah smiled to herself, although her smile was grim. He wasn't inside yet. He couldn't get inside without being found out. Maybe he wasn't coming. Maybe Boone had found him and killed him already. That would be - pleasant. She looked down at the crowd of guests beneath.

...

The dark haired waiter wended his way in and out of the groups of people, delivering champagne, and working his way towards Anne.

...

Up on the big screen, Holland was now wearing his suit and tie, and was stood in front of his desk in his large, seventh floor office. 'Can we really change the world?' he asked, 'at Wolfram and Hart, we're counting on it.' As his video message ended, the last frame of him standing there, smiling, was frozen; 'Holland Manners 1951 -2000' was superimposed on his image.

As the applause died down, the image on the screen changed to show Lilah, who was now stood at the podium, waiting to address the crowd. 'Holland Manners is gone, but I feel like he's looking down on us tonight', she smiled in an affirming sort of way - like a preacher asking his congregation if they could feel the holy spirit, 'don't you just feel it?' The crowd all nodded and smiled at each other: yes, he was there with them in spirit. 'The truth is, Holland had a vision for the future that most of us can't even imagine. Let's make it come true together.'

There was more applause.

'Now, let's get things started - but not with a plea for money. No no, we're not here to ask for money, we're here to take it - at gunpoint.' The crowd laughed. 'Please welcome our celebrity bandits, from the hit show 'Life Lessons': Serena Tate, Holden Rayne, C.J McCard and Jordan Johns.' The crowd began to applaud as the T.V stars, dressed up like something out of the Wild West, rushed into the room, wielding guns.

They circulated through the crowd, holding up the guests in pairs - the male T.V star holding the gun and dressed like a cowboy; the female t.v star holding a carpet bag to collect the takings, dressed like a honkytonk saloon girl. The pickings were rich; cash donations of up to $30 000 and jewellery - diamonds and precious gems. All were dropped into the carpet bags, until the bags were overflowing.

...

The waiter continued to circulate. As he came up to Anne, he took her empty champagne flute from her. 'Thanks,' she said, without really looking at him. She was surprised when, instead of just walking off, he took something out of his pocket and handed it to her. She looked down at the small, black, plastic object she held in her hands. He walked away without saying a word, collecting more empty glasses as he went.

...

The T.V stars took the overstuffed carpet bags to the back of the room, behind the crowd, and dumped them on the trestle table set up there. Two employees of Wolfram and Hart sat behind the table, and they began to take the money out of the envelopes and count it all up. The waiter passed by, he stopped near a potted plant and watched them count.

Lilah walked up to the counting table to oversee proceedings. She smiled, broadly, when she saw the generosity of the takings. As she stood watching the counting, she felt like someone was stood behind her, watching her. Ever alert for the possibility of Angel, and more than a little paranoid, she glanced over her shoulder to see if anyone was there. She frowned in annoyance, it was just one of the waiters, she assured herself - catching the glimpse of a short man in a cheap tux, out of the corner of her eye. When he saw her looking at him, the waiter moved on again.

...

Hidden away in the shadows of an alcove, Boone watched the whole scene unfold -waiting for his moment.

...

Outside the hotel, Angel stood up on the opposite rooftops; lurking, watching, waiting for the exact right moment to go inside.

Chapter 48: Blood Money: Part Four

Chapter Text

The Wolfram and Hart employees, at the table, finished counting up the cash and put it into one, large bag. Lilah reascended the podium and began to address the crowd once more. 'Once again I'd like to thank our stars from Life Lessons for giving so generously of their time,' she said into the mic. The crowd applauded the celebrities, and the stars all waved, rictus grins plastered onto their faces. 'I'm gonna kill my agent,' one of them muttered through his smile.

'And to you, our benefactors,' Lilah continued, 'let me just say that we can change the world.' The applause that followed the end of her speech was interrupted by the sudden screaming of Zorn, the vampire detector. Everyone looked around, confused. The T.V star glanced at his watch, 'what is this? This is gonna take forever.'

From the stage, Lilah looked over the heads of the crowd towards the door, where Angel was caught in the grip of two security guards. The dark haired waiter took this as his cue to leave, and head back to Cordelia.

The young lawyer left the podium and approached the struggling vampire. Her grin was broad and triumphant. 'Did you really think that you could get in here and cause trouble, Angel?' she asked, 'did you really think I wouldn't be waiting for you?' She began to pat him down, 'where's the tape?' she asked, 'what have you done with it?'

'I don't have it,' the vampire shrugged.

'So what? You expect me to believe you just came here to create a disturbance?'

He shrugged again and then nodded towards the big screen, 'Me? I'm just here for the show.'

Lilah looked around and saw Anne headed towards the podium, as if in slow motion. 'The tape!' the lawyer gasped, 'she's got the tape.'

For a brief moment, she shut her eyes in defeat. And that's when she saw him, in her mind's eye. The short waiter. With dark hair. Taking her champagne glass, approaching Anne, and watching her, Lilah, from behind the potted plant. It was the half breed. He had been here all along. The mongrel must be out on bail and already he was causing her trouble. He'd walked past the vampire detectors unnoticed, by virtue of not being undead, and he'd handed the incriminating tape to Anne as he pretended to work. She wasn't going to let Angel's tiny little seer mess things up for her again.

Galvanised by her hatred for Doyle, and her anger towards him, she rushed into action; throwing guests out of her way, as she ran towards the stage, trying to stop Anne from playing that tape.

But she was too late. Anne pushed the video into the recorder and pressed play. The live feed of the crowd was interrupted by the fuzzy grey of the beginning of the tape. Lilah froze in horror. And then - the half breed was up on the screen; looking twitchy, and weasel-like, and nervous. 'If you need help - and you're at the end of your rope…' he was suddenly replaced by Cordelia and a handsome man, with a stain on his shirt: 'Don't worry sweetie, 'Stain Be Gone' gets rid of even the toughest stains…' Jump cut. Cordelia on 'late nights with Billy Cassidy' - 'Stain Be Gone gets rid of the stubbornest, spunkiest stains.' Jump cut. Back to Doyle: 'Is that it...am I done?' jump cut. Cordelia's next commercial.

The crowd watched in bemusement as the tape ran through the recordings of Cordelia's every commercial. Their silent confusion turned to laughter, as the last advertisement finished, and Cordelia was replaced by Wesley, who was dancing in front of the camera, snapping his fingers.

'Isn't that the guy that's dating Virginia Bryce?' asked one of the actors. 'I didn't know he knew the 'Stain be Gone' chick.'

'i don't know,' his co star said to him, 'wasn't the first guy the waiter this evening?'

Anne's eyes were riveted to the screen. Unlike the rest of the crowd, she wasn't laughing. Angel came up to stand beside her. Lilah pushed her way over, 'what's going on?' she demanded.

'Price, Wesley Wyndham Price,' the recorded Wesley pronounced, doing his best James Bond, to the delight of the crowd.

'You never had anything on tape? Did you?' Lilah questioned, forcefully. Angel shook his head.

Up on screen, Wesley began to do a strip tease. The crowd roared with laughter. But not Anne. And not Nathan Reed either. In fact, he was looking distinctly unimpressed.

'I got nothing,' Angel admitted, 'do you have any idea how hard it is to secretly record someone as paranoid as you?'

On screen, Wesley heard the sound of someone approaching the closed office door. He leapt over to the camera, ducking to the floor and placing his hands on the lens. The watching crowd guffawed.

'You set me up, you son of a…'

'And you went against company policy and sent a mercenary out to assassinate me. You know the trouble with mercenaries, Lilah?' she just looked at him. 'They work for the highest bidder', Angel told her.

'The money!' She ran back through the crowd, pushing people out of her way once more. But once again, she was too late. The staff at the table had been knocked unconscious - and the money was long gone. Not only had Boone not killed Angel - he'd double crossed her and taken her money. 'Dammit!' she exclaimed.

'What's happened?' Nathan Reed asked, coming up beside her.

'He's taken the money.'

'Who?'

She didn't have an answer she could give to that question.

As Angel left the venue, Anne came up behind him. She put her hand on his arm to stop him, and when he turned back to face her she slapped him across the cheek. 'How dare you?' she asked him. 'I risked everything in there. I risked my kids. You never planned to expose the scheme.'

'They would have covered it up, anyway', Angel replied. 'I just wanted to shake them up a bit - it's not much, but it's a start.'

'And the money?'

'It was tainted.'

Anne sighed in frustration. 'I don't care about that.'

'Yes you do,' Angel told her, 'that's the difference between us - you still care.'

Doyle had arrived back at Cordelia's. She had made them both some tea, and now they were sitting on her sofa. It was time. But, God, did he not want to have to do this. It might be the hardest thing he had ever had to do. He reached out and took her hand, 'Cordelia…' She smiled at him. He sighed. 'There's something that we really need to talk about,' he said to her.

Her smile faltered a little. 'What is it?'

He took a deep breath, 'the future… or more to the point ...how I don't have one anymore.'

'Doyle that's not…'

'Cordelia, listen to me', he interrupted. 'All those things I'm charged with? I'm guilty - I did 'em all. I don't have a leg to stand on when it comes to my defence and we have to accept - as a certainty - that I'm gonna be doing some serious jail time - soon.'

'But -'

'I could get up to ten years, Cordelia.'

She pulled her hand out of his grasp and stood up. She turned her back on him and folded her arms across her chest. 'So what are you saying?' she asked, Her voice sounded cold and even.

'You know what I'm saying…' he said to her, his voice gentle.

She turned back round on him, then, her voice and eyes furious. 'You're breaking up with me? Is that it? Get me into bed - take my money and then - see ya later, Cordy - I'm off to prison now!'

'You know that this isn't what I want.'

He voice became softer, more pleading - 'then why? Why can't we just... '

'Ten years, Cordelia', he reminded her, his voice still just as soft. 'You'd be nearly thirty by the time I got out - and then… they'd send me back to Ireland anyway - my green card will expire and I won't be given a new one! There is no future in this relationship for you - so we might as well just...'

'Don't you think I should get to decide?' she raged, 'don't you think it's my choice if I want to keep on dating?'

He looked at her, and his eyes were flooded with sympathy and understanding. 'It is your choice if you wanna wait for me. And if you wanna move to Ireland with me. That's all your choice. And believe me, nothin' would make me happier… but whether we keep on dating throughout? - That's our choice. And I'm sayin' 'no'.'

'And this is for my good is it?' she sniffed.

He reached out and pulled her back down onto the sofa, keeping hold of her hands in both of his. 'I truly believe that this will be better for you in the long run - but - no. it's not for your good, it's for mine.'

She looked confused. 'You don't wanna be with me?' she asked in a small, sad voice.

He smiled; a trembling smile, like his heart was breaking, and reached out to brush some of her short hair out of her face. 'Of course I want to be with you!' He kept on playing with her strand of hair, gently pushing it back, as he spoke to her. 'Look, Cordelia, I can't tell y' to forget about me and move on - even if I know in my heart it's the right thing for you to do. Only you can decide to do that. But I also have to think about what's gonna be best for me in all this...and...I can't live with the guilt of knowin' that I'm holdin' y' back from havin' a full and happy life. And I can't live with the fear of waitin' for you to realise it… every phone call, every letter, every visit I'll be thinkin' 'is this it? Is today the day she leaves me?' I can't live with that for 10 minutes, never mind ten years.'

'But I won't!' she protested, 'don't you trust me?'

'Of course I do. But you're still very young - and things change fast when you're young - believe me, I know. When I was your age I was happily married to Harri and workin' as a teacher. 2 years later and I was separated, a demon, and ...well, y'know the rest.'

'But that's different!'

He nodded. 'Of course it is, it's a different situation. Every situation is different. But the fact is, you're gonna be goin' through your twenties - growin' up, movin' on with your life - all without me. And we have to accept the possibility that... maybe...as you get older...you'll meet someone else, or at least realise you don't wanna be tied down to a half demon chronic loser with a criminal record.'

'Doyle!'

He smiled his heart broken smile, again. 'Like I said. If you're convinced that in ten years nothin' will have changed - I can't stop you choosing to wait for me - believe me - I won't be turnin' you down. But for now, I think it's best if we just go back to being friends. I'm gonna need friends, Cordelia, way more than I'm gonna need a lover. I won't have to live with the fear that you'll find new friends and forget all about me...so that's what I need you to be right now. If you're willin' to still be my friend.'

'You know that's not even a question', she told him, 'but', she smiled, and made made her voice as persuasive as she could, 'ten years is a worst case scenario. Couldn't we - wait to see how things go at the trial - and then decide? We could be together until then - we could have more time…' her voice wobbled and her eyes grew watery.

But Doyle still shook his head. 'No', he said, simply.

'Why?'

He took another deep breath as he marshalled his thoughts, trying to put into words why he couldn't grant her reasonable request. 'Last weekend was the worst in my life,' he told her, 'and believe me, I've had some bad ones - but the thing that made it so awful, worse than just how scary it was- was knowin' that I have to go back. Havin' been there, I'm more afraid of goin' to jail now, Cordy, than I was when they first arrested me - 'cause I've seen how bad it is. I can't … I can't go into that courtroom knowin' that I'm goin' back there, that I'm gonna lose my freedom and you all in one day. And I can't live with the hope that it might be a short sentence and we can stay together - only to have it dashed and be given ten years. I need to manage this as best I can, be in control of as much as I can. I can't be with you now, 'cause that will just make giving it up that much harder in the long run. And I will have to give you up - this isn't going away. So I need us just to be friends. I need to pretend that those few nights together never happened.'

'But they did!' Cordelia protested, her tears flowing freely now, 'they did happen! You want me just to forget?...'

He took her in her arms and held her, 'I'm so sorry, Cordelia.' She continued to cry and he continued to hold her, for a long while. When she was done, he disentangled himself from her and went home. As the door shut behind him, he contemplated it for a few moments - remembering everything that had been between them, and imagining everything that might have been. '...night, princess.'

Lilah was in her office. The night time lights of downtown L.A shone through her window, but she wasn't looking at the breathtaking skyline. Nathan was in the room with her, and he was not happy. 'You embarrassed us', he told her. 'You allowed two million dollars, earmarked for this firm, to be stolen, and you made a fool of yourself - in public. In front of some of our most valuable clients.'

'I'm very sorry, sir.'

'Sorry isn't acceptable.' His lips thinned, as he thought about her failures. 'Holland Manners was a brilliant lawyer - he had a tremendous mind - but I think he had a soft spot for you, which I believe clouded his judgement. I won't be making the same mistake.'

'Understood.'

'My advice to you - start piling up wins - fast.'

She already had one underway. The half breed might be out on bail now, and causing damage in that irritating way that he did, but he would be locked up in jail for a considerable amount of time, soon enough. And an Angel separated from The Powers That Be would have a much harder time getting back to his mission - should he grow weary of the vengeance kick. Eliminating a messenger for The Powers, even if only in a legal capacity, would go down a treat with The Senior Partners. That he happened to be Angel's messenger was even better. That it happened to be Francis Doyle, in particular, was very gratifying for Lilah, personally.

'And remember, Lilah, no harm must befall the vampire. Whatever you plan to do next - he must be kept safe, for now. He is a major player.'

Lilah didn't understand. 'In business?'

'In the apocalypse.'

'Oh. That.'

Nathan nodded. 'The prophecies all show that Angel will be a major player in the apocalypse. What it doesn't tell us is which side he will fight on. That's a bit of a grey area. We intend to make it as grey as possible.'

'I can live with that', Lilah smiled. His separation from Doyle and The Powers would be worth even more than she realised, if the plan was to have him fight against the higher powers in the coming battles.

'Until then,' Nathan said, 'his growing obsession with you, the increasing possibility that to scratch that itch - he'll go as far as to kill you, well that could actually play in the firm's favour.'

Lilah frowned.

'It would be a sign that Angel is on the path to joining our team', Nathan explained. 'And whilst it's always hard to lose good attorneys, well the truth is - you are expendable.' He smiled at her pleasantly, as she stared at him. Then he went dead serious. 'Angel is not.' He walked out of the office, leaving her alone with her own thoughts.

Doyle arrived home, slid on the deadbolt, wriggled out of his jacket and switched the t.v on. He sank down on his own sofa. His thoughts were in turmoil - his feelings ...complicated. In one respect, he felt lighter than he had since he'd been bailed out. He had been waiting, all that time, to have this conversation with Cordy. And now it was done. And it had gone better than he had expected. He had broken her heart. He had broken his own heart - but she had agreed to support him as a friend, to dial back their relationship and whitewash over their complicated past. It had been a conversation he was dreading, and now that it was done, he felt better for it.

However, it was real now. He had lost his girlfriend because he was going to prison. It was just a matter of waiting, now. And he had chosen, of his own volition, to cut himself off from the best support he could have. He wanted to crawl back to her, tell her he'd changed his mind, let her comfort him - have her tell him that everything was going to be OK. It hurt to be alone in all this. And it hurt to know how much she was hurting, right now, because of him. But he couldn't change any of that. Not without making things ten times worse in the long run.

He wanted to be with Cordelia - and he couldn't. He was better off without her - but he felt worse. She was better off without him, but she was heartbroken. There was nothing he could do to make this situation better - for himself or for her. So he reached out for the bottle of scotch, left over from the night before, unscrewed the lid, and drank deeply...

Angel walked up the staircase, making his way back to his own suite of rooms. He stopped when he reached the first landing, and turned around. 'I thought you'd be halfway to Brazil by now.'

Boone dropped the bag of money on the floor. The money was nice - but it wasn't what he was after - it was just a bonus. But Angel had told him that he wouldn't fight back unless Boone helped him steal the money from the fundraiser. Boone wasn't interested in a one sided fight. 'I needed to know,' he said. 'You knew I'd be back.'

'Yeah, I did. How much is there?' he nodded at the bag.

'Including jewellery? North of two and a half million, I'd say.'

'That's a lot to lay on the line.'

'Yeah, but I gotta know.'

They looked at one another for a moment, and then launched towards each other.

Angel dumped the bag on Anne's desk, 'a little bit more than five percent', he told her. She reached in and began to take bundles of notes out. Angel's face was badly bruised, his lip was split. She could tell he'd had to fight for this money. 'If Wolfram and Hart find out you have that money …' he told her, as he turned to leave,

'I can find a way to hide it,' she assured him. She looked down at the bundle of notes. There was a dark, thick liquid on it that was oozing onto her fingers. 'What's this?' she asked.

'Blood.'

Anne looked at the vampire, then down at the money. She hesitated for a fraction of a second - and then: 'It'll wash.' And she continued removing and counting the money from the bag.

Chapter 49: Happy Anniversary: Part One

Chapter Text

Angel stood out on his balcony, alone, looking down at the city beneath him. It shimmered and sparkled - a sea of lights, spread out beneath his feet. Down there, the people went through their lives - moving forward, striving towards something - whatever goal gave their existences meaning. Hoping, praying, trying to make the best of whatever situation they found themselves in.

They were lying to themselves. There were forces out there, forces of darkness. More corrupt and more powerful than the little people could ever imagine. And those forces were striving too; striving to bring about ruin, and decay, and death. Striving for money, and power, striving to dominate the whole world - and swallow the little people up in their wake.

Angel didn't have time for the little people anymore; couldn't have time for them. Fighting to protect them, one soul at a time: that was small picture stuff. Let Wesley and the others fight the little battles. When it came down to bringing down the forces of darkness; he could not afford to be distracted by helping the helpless. He was concentrating on the big picture. He was fighting the war.

He stood out in the night air for a long time, gazing down at the lights, feeling separated, cut off from the world. This was how it needed to be. As the hours lengthened, and the lights from the traffic below died away, he left the balcony. Returning back inside, into his apartment - he lay down on his bed and shut his eyes.

The new office was a mess. Although they had signed the lease before Christmas, it was only now, in the new year, that the gang had taken possession of their new premises. And it needed a thorough clear out. Not that Cordelia was complaining, anything was better than having her home used as their headquarters; and having Wes and Gunn at her place all hours playing Risk. Plus, cleaning kept her busy. And busy was good. Busy meant she didn't have time to brood over her fractured relationship, and her broken heart.

Wesley was crouched down on the floor, sorting through piles of papers. 'When they went out of business they just left these?' he asked, sifting through the pile.

Doyle was sitting in the corner on one of the battered chairs. His feet were up on another of the chairs, and he was shuffling his ever present playing cards. He craned his neck to peer at what Wesley was looking at. 'I guess when you go out of business - stuff like that just doesn't matter anymore. Just leave it all behind.'

'They also left the desk', Cordelia told them. Taking boxes down from the shelf and sorting through them. 'We'll have to share.'

'Well, that looks professional!' Doyle said. She glanced over at him, and quirked an eyebrow to show her irritation.

Wesley exhaled in exasperation, as he turned to yet another monumental pile of papers. 'I wonder if we'll leave so much mess behind when we go out of business,' he mused.

'Hey!' Cordelia chided, 'enough negativity, guys! With all our money pooled together we can stay here a long time.'

'Hmm.. twenty minutes,' Wesley agreed.

'At least!' she said, brightly.

'Look on the bright side, Princess - at least you've still got your commercial work to fall back on.'

Cordelia glanced down at her shoes for a moment, 'uhm - yeah...And we've got your visions. They should keep us busy sometimes.'

'You've got them - for now,' Doyle reminded her.

She blew out her cheeks and pushed her hair out of her face, 'everything's gonna be OK' she told the two men, with her emphasis placed on the first word. She knew Doyle was resigned to spending the next ten years in jail - but she refused to believe that was going to happen. He was a messenger for The Powers That Be. He was important. Something would have to turn up to save him - it just had to. The alternative was unthinkable.

Wesley and Doyle exchanged a glance at her words. She was fooling herself about the future, and that worried them - both of them. The two men both knew enough of the world to know that there was little hope for Doyle. But Cordelia was still so young. Plus she was in love. She was making herself believe what she wanted to believe - and that would only make things harder for herself in the long run. Doyle knew he wouldn't be there to pick up the pieces, when reality came home to roost, and Wesley knew that that role would fall to him.

She caught the look that passed between them. Very little got past Cordy. 'Everything's going to be fine', she repeated, sternly.

'Well - we're going to need more than Doyle's visions to keep this place going,' Wesley told her, 'a steady, outside clientele.'

'It'll happen,' she told them. 'This is our future,' she encompassed them both in her gaze, making sure Doyle knew that she considered him a permanent and ongoing feature of their little venture. 'And I personally think it's pretty bright - ow!' she stepped back and hit her head on the planter that hung from the shelf.

Doyle chuckled, 'you OK, darlin'?'

'Stupid dead plant,' she muttered to herself - and then looked back at the men, 'Not symbolising our future - really!'

Gunn walked through the door. 'OK', he announced, 'everything parked within ten blocks has a flyer on their windshield. We've just slightly irritated almost a hundred people.' He wrinkled his nose up. 'Does it smell funky in here to you?'

Doyle sniffed and nodded. 'I'm gettin' a mixture of sweaty socks and damp.'

'It'll air out,' Cordelia told them. 'Now all we have to do is sit back and wait for the calls to start rolling in.'

Gunn picked up the phone and held the receiver to his ear. 'They better call in through a bullhorn', he said. 'We've got no dial tone.'

'What?' Cordelia snatched the phone out of his hand and held it to her own ear. 'They said it would be on by now.'

'Perhaps it's the wires?' Wesley suggested, and he crawled under the desk to go and look at the wiring.

Gunn followed him with his eyes, and then his gaze rested on the desk itself. 'Only one desk?' he asked, in disbelief. 'We're sharing?'

'It's cosy', Doyle told him, still shuffling his cards.

'Aha!' Wesley's voice called out from under their one, shared desk. 'Things are looking up. I think I've found the right wire.' He fiddled with it. All the lights went out. In his corner, Doyle rolled his eyes to heaven.

'I'm so glad I met you guys,' Gunn told them all, 'it's entertaining, really.'

Angel awoke to the sound of The Star Spangled Banner being belted out in his lobby. He went to investigate. He stood on the first landing and looked down at the green skinned demon singing in his hotel. He folded his arms and frowned. The Host looking up and, noticing him, stopped his song in order to greet the vampire. 'Hey big fella. You got be singing in here all the time - with these acoustics - am I right? And the rocket's red glare! You hear that resonance?'

'No, what I hear, and hopefully I'm still dreaming, is The Star Spangled Banner being belted out by a loud, green demon.'

'We're all brothers under the skin, mi amigo,' the Host told him. 'Although the garden hue and the horns have kept me out of a few public performances. Just once I want to ring in a Lakers game with our nation's anthem. Is that too much to ask?'

'Yes!' pronounced the vampire, both bewildered and annoyed. 'Is there a reason that you're here?'

The Host seemed to remember himself and nodded. 'There is. What's today? Thursday? Tomorrow night - the world's gonna end. Thought you might wanna know.'

So ... it seemed like the big picture had found him.

Late as it was, Lilah was still up in her office, working away. She was taking a few brief days away from driving Angel crazy in order to deal with a real client - one that needed actual representation, courtroom appearances - the whole nine yards. She had some dirty tricks up her sleeve and was filing a deposition that would ensure that the key witness for the prosecution had to give evidence that would support her defence. She smiled to herself as she worked. It felt good to get back into the nitty gritty of the law, once in a while - to get down and dirty; spinning lies, and bending rules, and setting precedents that would work against the DA's office for years to come. She would have to go downtown and drop her deposition off tomorrow. She wanted to make sure it got there, so she would take it there personally. As she signed the paperwork off, she began to hum.

'So the world's gonna end?' Angel asked. His face was blank, his voice likewise. The end of days couldn't be heralded in by the the Host singing the star spangled banner. Whatever this was, this wasn't the real apocalypse, it wasn't the real battle. But it would have to be sorted if he was going to get to the real battle. But it didn't mean he had to be happy about it.

'Brings you right down, doesn't it?' The Host said to him, 'don't feel the need to offer your guest a frothy cappuccino or a hot cinnamon roll.'

'I don't,' Angel told him, plonking himself down heavily in his chair and folding his arms.

'Man, you just get darker and darker,' the Host commented. He cocked his head to one side, 'and the weird thing is - your aura - beige.'

'I don't have coffee.' He didn't have time for this. He was irritated. And yet there was something about the Host's chit chat that was getting under his skin.

'Or a duster, buster,' the Host added, running his finger along the surface of the desk and then checking his fingertip. 'I don't know why you fired all them plucky kids. They were good company. Not to mention, Cordelia? Uh! Hot-o-rama, in a 'oh my sizzling loins kinda way', though, wouldn't you know it? The only green she has eyes for is the little guy. And he's got all those troubles going on... And the British boy? He's gonna be playing a huge - well…'

'Are you gonna get to the world ending, or are you just gonna chat until it does?' Angel interrupted. Just like the Host's comments on his aura and coffee arrangements, this talk about his erstwhile friends was getting under his skin. He didn't have time to care about that. He needed to stop this apocalypse - quickly - so he could get back in the game.

'All right, all right. Although my buoyant goodwill falling on your deaf ears is something we'll need to look at in the future. The world ending? Huh! It's kind of a funny story….' and so the Host began to tell his tale.

...

It had been a typical Wednesday night at the club. A Tonto demon and his parasite had been murdering The Everly Brothers...demons had been watching. And then this man had got up to sing - a human. The Host had never seen him before. The only remarkable thing about him, that the Host had noted, was that was literally nothing remarkable about him. The anagogic demon had been expecting to hear the usual: a mangled version of a bland tune, that would open a window into this sap's bland future. The song chosen was 'All by myself'. So far, so blah.

...

'But when he started singing - man! He knocked me out!'

'He was good?'

'No Angel-face, he knocked me out.'

...

The Host had hit the deck, and by the time he'd woken up - the mystery singer was gone.

...

'So what knocked you out?' Angel wanted to know.

'I looked into this guy and I saw - he has no future beyond ten o'clock tomorrow night - and neither does anybody else.'

The vampire remained unconvinced. 'Let's say I believe you...'

But the Host interrupted him, 'Oh honey, let's say a lot more than that. We've gotta find this guy. This is the big blackout we're talking about. This guy is gonna do something between now and tomorrow night. I don't know what - but it's gonna cancel everyone's summer plans. We've got to find him and stop him.'

Angel nodded, thoughtfully. 'OK so this guy came to your bar and left before he got his reading. Maybe he wasn't there for a reading - maybe he didn't know anything about you. Maybe he just likes karaoke bars.'

'So what? We hit the other karaoke bars? See if we can get a lead on him?'

The vampire agreed, and the two demons went out to track down this unassuming horseman of the apocalypse.

Gene stood in his lab - perfectly still - lost in thought. He was close, so close - he could feel it. Newton had believed that space and time were separate entities, whereas Einstein considered them to be one. If you altered one particle in an entwined pair, the other would be affected - even with no communication between the two. But you couldn't separate an entwined pair - it was impossible - you probably shouldn't even try. Instead, you should try and carve out one instant at a time - remove one tiny space-time aggregate from all that surrounded it, creating an impenetrable bubble that would last for all time. If he could only get the math right, he could prove it. He would be able to pass liquid mercury through a focal point of his accelerator beam and suspend it - snatching it out of the time space continuum - freezing the moment - forever.

He was interrupted in his reverie by his girlfriend, Denise, entering the lab. He looked up at her, 'Hi, sweetie.'

'Hi.'

'How are you?'

'Good, you?'

The conversation was stilted, as if they were awkward strangers. But Gene didn't notice - didn't realise anything was amiss. Though he couldn't really think of anything to say to her. He just didn't realise that was a problem.

'I guess we're on for tomorrow night?' he asked.

She shrugged, 'I guess.'

'Big night.'

'One year anniversary and all.'

They ran out of things to say, and just stood for a moment. And then Denise took her leave, telling him not to work all night.

Doyle and Cordelia walked down the street together. Things were a bit awkward between them, right now. Doyle had asked Cordelia to take a step back in their relationship, to revert to just being friends - and she had agreed because that was what he said he needed. But now she wasn't sure where that left them. She and Doyle and never really been friends. They had always been lovers in waiting. And therefore she had never treated him the way she would treat Wes or Gunn...or Angel.

Ever since way back when, she had been finding any excuse she could to touch him. She had always slid her arm through his whenever they went anywhere. He had always walked her home after work - it had always been more like a really old fashioned courtship, than a friendship. 'A passionate celibacy', Wes had once called it. He had been quoting Oscar Wilde, and Cordelia bet that he didn't know that she knew that - but she did. But all that was over. So what did she do now? How should she treat Doyle now they were only friends - and nothing else?

It felt weird to walk along beside him, and not touch him, not to link herself to him in someway. But since the beginning of their quickly aborted physical relationship - would that seem too coupley for him? Would he interpret that as her pushing herself on him, still trying to be his girlfriend? She didn't want him to think that - she respected his decision, even if it broke her heart. But equally - was he noticing that she was no longer touching him? Would he interpret that as her cutting herself off from him? No longer caring? She didn't want that either. So everything was awkward and Cordelia was confused. Perhaps she should just avoid being alone with him in future...

...As it happened, she had no reason to worry. Yes, Doyle could feel the weirdness, and yes he both noticed and missed her not linking her arm through his. But he got it. They were friends now. In a way they'd never been before. Friends who weren't waiting to date - just friends. But their feelings towards each other hadn't changed. And so there was weirdness. As with everything, it was entirely his fault, and he had no right to comment or complain. It was him that had demanded they reset their relationship, she was complying with his request - she would do that the best way she knew how. It wouldn't be easy. But however Cordelia treated him, he would accept that as the way it had to be now. It was her right to take that extra step away.

So...for the first time in well over a year, they walked down the street together, just the two of them - without making any physical contact. There was at least a 6 inch gap between them; but for the pair of them, each locked up in their own thoughts, it might as well have been a 6 mile gap.

...

They arrived at the seven eleven, and Cordelia wandered down the aisles until she found what she was looking for. Doyle stopped at the coffee station and picked up four coffees. When Cordy got back to the till, they paid, and headed back to the office. Their round trip took twenty minutes, and they barely spoke twenty words to each other the entire time...

Angel and the Host entered a dingy karaoke bar. It was their seventeenth of the night and Angel wanted to go home and scrub the inside of his head out. He was beginning to think they might be on the wrong trail. But the Host got talking to the bartender, and the guy told them that they got a lot of grad students in. The green demon reckoned that sounded about right.

'We're looking for a guy,' Angel explained, 'early twenties, medium build. Sings sad songs, like 'All by Myself'.'

'Yeah we got a kid like that,' the bartender agreed. 'Comes in every couple of weeks - sings through the whole sad song book. At first I thought someone had died, but now I figure he's just depressed.'

'You got a good picture of this guy in your head?' The Host asked. The bartender shrugged. 'Well why don't you sing us a few bars of 'for he's a jolly good fellow' hmm?'

The barman looked confused, and glanced at Angel.

'You better do as he says,' the vampire told the guy, 'otherwise he might ...talk your ears off.'

The bartender began to sing. The Host nodded, 'that's him. It's our boy… so - grad student? What university would that be?'

Gene was still in the lab, alone, working on his equations. 'Nine to the eleventh where p is invariant', he muttered as he scribbled. 'X, y and z are zero and time is orthogonal to the other three axis. Given A and A slash zero equals momentum and energy…' he went over to his laptop and began to type in the calculations. 'And the conservation of p-x, p-y and p-z ...here goes nothing.' He watched as the machine fired up, and created a field where its four laser beams intersected. He dropped the mercury and watched it fall ...right through the field and out the other side. He sighed and switched the machine off, 'there went nothing. This is never gonna work.' He left his lab, frustrated and despondent.

...

As the lights went off, and the lab was left empty; a grey skinned demon, with pointy ears and raccoon rings under his eyes, stepped out from its hiding place. It looked up the steps, where Gene had just left. 'He is the one,' it said, in its own language. 'He doesn't know it yet, but he is the one.' It stepped over to Gene's whiteboard, and examined the equations that the scientist had scrawled there. 'Out of nothingness, the human pestilence came. Into nothingness it goes.' He waved his hand, and the equations on the board shimmered and changed...

Chapter 50: Happy Anniversary: Part Two

Chapter Text

Cordelia lit the candles she had just bought from the seven eleven, and placed them around the office. 'See', she told the men, 'we'll work without the harsh glare of fluorescent lights and all the distracting information on the computer.'

Doyle watched her, as she walked around the room, setting the candles down on the shelves and surfaces. He smiled to himself at her bravery. She was always so strong - he hoped that her unusual reserves of inner resilience would be enough to get her through everything that was coming. He wished he had even half her strength and optimism - he was really going to need it - and soon.

Wesley and Gunn were making no such similar attempts to be upbeat. They just sat behind the shared desk, listless and unmoving. 'Cordelia,' Gunn said, also watching her set down the candles, 'stop trying.'

'Really?' she glanced around at her male colleagues, she had had just about enough of being the strong one for one evening.

'Join us,' Wesley told her. And with a deep sigh, she also sank down onto a chair, and began to dwell.

'I like the candlelight, Cordelia', Doyle told her, 'it makes everything look - rosy.'

She sighed again - and Wesley shook his head, telling Doyle to give up, as well. 'Sometimes you just need to wallow', the Englishman told them. 'Let the depression settle in - silently.'

The door opened, suddenly; and Virginia blew in, carrying a gift basket and a bottle of champagne. There was a bright smile on her face. 'Hey! Wow - this place looks great!' she enthused, glancing around at the candles. Doyle was right, they did suffuse the room with a rosy glow. 'You guys must be so excited!' Then she actually looked at them, sat immobile in their chairs, their expressions heavy and defeated …'in that really dry, suicidal way,' she finished up, uncertainly.

Wesley forced himself up from his seat, and went over to her - giving her a quick kiss. 'Sorry sweetie - you just caught us in a moment of…'

'Reality.' Cordelia cut in, taking the bottle of champagne off the new arrival.

Virginia nodded in understanding - 'oh that. I try to avoid that.'

As Virginia and Wesley stood near the door, Wes's arm wrapped around his girlfriend's waist; Doyle couldn't help but notice the way that Cordelia avoided looking at them. She kept herself busy fiddling with the champagne bottle. It was like she wasn't ready to be around a happy couple when her own heart still felt so bruised and raw. The Irishman could only hope that - once he was gone - Wesley would have enough tact not to be too happy and coupled up in front of Cordelia. And, much as it would hurt him, he had to hope she got over him pretty fast - and just moved on with her life. Maybe she'd move onto Gunn, he thought. After all, the street fighter was young and handsome - and tall. And they already had lots in common - being monster food every other week, for instance.

But the idea of Cordelia moving on with their friend - and becoming one half of an insanely good looking, monster hunting couple - felt like a knife twisting into Doyle's heart. OK, so he hoped she'd be alright, and not too lonely, without him...but maybe he wasn't quite ready to hope she'd move on - not yet, anyway.

Speaking of Gunn, he was curious as to how one avoided reality. For Doyle, it was mostly done with a bottle of scotch - especially recently. But Virginia did it with money - a much more sustainable method. 'Money cures everything except boredom,' she told them, 'and food cures boredom'. She held up the basket, 'so here you go, imported chips and packets of cheese.'

'Thanks,' Gunn said.

Doyle also nodded his thanks. 'It's much appreciated.'

'We'll enjoy them huddled around our pathetic candles,' Wesley assured his girlfriend.

'We can make pathetic nachos.' Cordy popped the cork off the champagne, and took a swig directly from the bottle.

Doyle raised his eyebrows. 'Y'know if I did that, princess, you'd have something to say about my drinkin' habits.'

'Well - unlike you I don't have a "drinking habit" - if that's the euphemism we're going for - so I'm fine.'

'You're depressed and drinkin' straight from the bottle,' the half demon pointed out, 'how do y' think these things start?'

'Fine.' She put the bottle down and looked at Virginia, 'Virginia, did you happen to pack any champagne glasses in that hamper of yours?' The other woman shook her head. 'See?' Cordelia shrugged at Doyle, 'there's nothing I can do about it', and she took another swig.

'Well in that case…' he pulled the bottle out of her hand and took a swig of his own.

'Hey!' Cordelia protested.

Virginia stared at them both. 'Boy, you guys are really down.'

'And don't tell us the only way is up', Gunn told her, 'because the truth is - there's always more down.'

'Amen to that, brother!' Doyle saluted him with the champagne bottle, and Cordelia seized the opportunity of his distraction to snatch the bottle back. 'Hey!' it was the Irishman's turn to protest, this time.

'Oh! And that was really poetic of you Gunn, but I found you guys a case!' Virginia told them all. 'A client. A rich one.'

'And this isn't the first thing you said when you came in the room?' Cordelia demanded, putting the bottle down with a firm clunk, as she eyeballed Virginia.

'Well, I got sidetracked by your waves of desperation', Virginia explained, 'But it's true. My friend Patricia, her family, they've got this big guy that's been harassing them, hanging round their house getting scary, and they'd be really grateful if someone got rid of them.'

'That sounds easy,' Gunn mused.

Cordelia narrowed her eyes, 'by 'big guy' do you mean demon?'

Virginia nodded vigorously, her red curls bouncing with every movement, 'uhuh - and by 'house' I mean 'palatial estate' and by 'grateful' I mean 'they will pay you big tubs of cash'. Their family are really rich, they invented - like, uhm - chairs - or something.'

'We'll do it!' Cordelia announced, 'we'll do anything.'

'Oh - that's - so sad. Anyway, he's a Wainakay demon, and he got the eldest son already.'

'Got?' questioned Doyle, lowering his brow in confusion, 'you don't mean…?'

'Uhuh.' Virginia nodded her head again.

'There's already been a death?' Cordelia clarified, making sure she had understood exactly what was going on. Virginia answered in the affirmative. 'Boy! You just let these facts kind of dribble out, don't you?' Cordelia said, beginning to sound more than a little exasperated.

But the other woman didn't seem to notice Cordy's tone. 'That's great!' She enthused 'I'll just ring Patty and tell her you'll take the case…' she headed towards the phone.

'Uhh sweetie - no phone,' Wesley told her.

'Also, no lights,' Cordelia added.

'In fact - we got no electricity, whatsoever,' Doyle pointed out.

'And there's a funky smell', Gunn finished up.

The four of them got up, and began to leave the office. Virginia glanced around the room, 'I wasn't gonna say anything', she said.

Gene entered his lab the next morning and squinted at the equations on his board. They seemed different to last night, he must have misremembered the evening. He must have changed his working just before he left to go home. 'Nine to the seventeenth,' he muttered to himself, as he read the altered formula. 'Where C squared and E squared are obtained by differentiating them ...four velocity! Four velocity termination?'

He wriggled out of his jacket, and threw it down on the chair, before entering the changes onto his laptop. The machines whirred into action, and he watched as the mercury dropped down - and then - stayed there - suspended in the field. Frozen. 'I did it!' he breathed in wonder - just staring at the drop of mercury that defied gravity and remained floating within the intersection of the laser beams. 'Oh this is a yee-ha moment! I definitely think this is a yee-ha moment!'

He ran out of the labs. 'Ye -ha-ha!' he screamed out as he went. He ran across campus to try and find Denise.

Angel and the Host entered the campus library through the basement. Angel was put out. 'Where did you learn to drive?' he asked, crossly, as they went up the stairs.

'Just now - in your car,' the Host admitted, happily. 'Not bad for a beginner huh?'

'Are you kidding? You nearly got us killed - four times!'

But the Host was unapologetic. Someone had to drive, and it could hardly be Angel - huddled up in the back, as he was, with a blanket over his head to prevent instant immolation by sunlight.

The pair of them entered the library, and the Host immediately turned to face the book shelves as a student walked past them. 'I better stick to the shadows,' he said, 'and think of something to say should we happen upon a comely co-ed.'

'Just tell em you're the new mascot,' Angel advised. 'Wait here.'

The vampire walked over to the information desk, and the Host, left alone, pulled open a book and opened it; hiding behind it in order to keep most of his face covered. He peeked over the top, though, and watched Angel's progress.

Another student passed by, and he ducked behind the book, obscuring his face completely. When he reemerged, it was to see the guy behind the book counter handing a whole stack of books over to Angel. The vampire returned to him, and handed over half the stack. 'Student yearbooks and faculty publications going back five years,' he informed the green demon, 'let's see if we can find your little madman bent on destroying the universe.'

'I like to think of him as our little madman.' The Host replied. 'That's just me. Team player, you know?'

Angel ignored him, and went over to one of the tables to begin his search. The Host put the book he had used for cover back on the shelf, and followed the vampire. Behind the book stack, unnoticed by the two of them, the grey skinned, raccoon eyed demon stood- watching them.

Doyle arrived at the DA's building, dressed in the suit Cordelia had got for him to break into Wolfram and Hart, the suit she thought he looked so attractive in, and had insisted that he wear on their first real date. He had never imagined, could never have imagined, that it would now be needed for a situation like this.

He and his lawyer, Mr. Lezumo, had a meeting with the D.A. If Doyle was willing to plead guilty - and let's face it, there was no point in him not doing so - then they might be able to cut a deal and avoid going to trial. His lawyer had advised that he might be shown leniency in sentencing if he plead guilty. There was no harm in taking the meeting. If they weren't willing to give him less than ten years - they could always go to trial.

So, it was with a heavy heart that Doyle entered the building; leaving his three friends to carry on with the Wainakay demon case without him. It didn't matter, he reflected, gloomily. They needed to get used to working cases without him. At the end of this morning, he might know exactly what his future held, what his fate was going to be. And that was a scary thought. Sometimes you just didn't want to know the future.

He met his lawyer downstairs, in the lobby, and shook his hand. Then the pair of them went up into the offices. 'We have a meeting with the prosecutor,' Mr. Lezumo, told the P.A sitting out front. 'Lezumo and Doyle, they're expecting us.' The P.A nodded, got up from behind their desk, and showed the two men into a meeting room.

'Mr. MacDonald, it's your eleven o'clock,' the secretary told the attorney who was waiting there. Doyle looked at the prosecutor who would be holding the meeting, and inhaled, sharply: it was Lindsey.

Denise was sitting outside, in the sunshine, with her friend, Val. They were on a bench, leaning against the high wall behind them. She seemed very quiet and her friend was worried. 'You OK?' Val asked.

'Huh? -yeah - Fine. I'm good - you know - not- perfect -Oh God,' she finished with a desperate sigh.

'Come on, spit it out - you're amongst friends.'

...

Gene walked along the path on the other side of the wall. Hearing Denise's voice he slowed down - and then came to a stop.

...

'This has to stay between us,' Denise told her friend, unaware that she was overheard already. 'You can't repeat this to anybody.' Val nodded her agreement, and Denise told her what was wrong. 'I just - I just don't think it's gonna work out with me and Gene.'

...

Behind the wall, Gene tensed up.

'Oh - and tonight is you guys' one year anniversary,' he heard Val say.

'You think I don't know that?' Denise retorted. Still hidden from view, Gene just deflated. His whole body sagging in defeat.

...

'I mean Gene's a wonderful guy,' Denise was saying, 'but he's just sort of - hollow - or something. When I'm with him I feel - I feel lonely. I have to break up with him.'

'Not to be a massive bitch, or anything, but couldn't you have figured that out before your one year anniversary?'

'He's got the whole thing planned,' Denise confided, 'He's making me dinner at his place.'

'What are you gonna do?'

Denise didn't say anything, Instead of replying, she just glanced down into her lap. 'Oh God,' sighed Val, 'you're gonna give him the sympathy bone? It's gonna be dinner, sympathy bone, adios Gene - am I right?'

'I don't know how else to...we've been together a year. I can't just walk out! It was really sweet there for a while, really sweet. But it's - it's just not the kind of love that lasts.'

...

Utterly beaten, Gene turned around and headed back to the lab. The women never realised he had been there, listening, all along.

Back in the library, Angel and the Host were still flicking through the year books. Angel kept stopping on likely looking candidates and showing them to the other demon. 'This him?' he asked, showing yet another photograph.

'It is not,' the Host replied. Angel dropped the book in exasperation, and picked up another one. The Host turned over a page, 'Oh - got him. He's a physicist, and a pretty good one according to this.'

Angel grabbed the book, 'I'll find out where the lab is.'

He approached the book counter once more, year book in hand, and spoke to the guy behind the desk. 'Hi - I'm trying to get hold of - Gene Rainy? He's a grad student in physics.'

'Oh yeah - he's our own Stephen Hawking - why do you want him?'

Angel snapped the book shut, 'Oh I'm sorry - Leonard Taubman from the Taubman foundation,' he reached out and shook the guy's hand. 'We've just freed up some grant money. I was hoping to earmark it for Gene.'

'Wish I was a genius!' the guy smiled, 'he's got his own lab in the physics department.' He picked up a campus map and pointed to the science labs - 'it's about a quarter mile from here. You follow this path - straight past Kelton Hall…' he glanced over Angel's shoulder and frowned, 'what is that?'

'Don't worry - new school mascot', Angel replied without even looking. Then he dropped onto the desk, as he was felled by a blow from behind: an axe was buried into his back ...and the racoon eyed demon turned away from him and headed towards where the Host was sitting...

Doyle had opened his mouth to say something, but he shut it again when Lindsey, without making direct eye contact, gave him an almost imperceptible shake of his head. Then the lawyer was shaking his hand and talking to him, as if they'd never met - as if they had never broken into Wolfram and Hart together. The Irishman thought he understood: Lindsey wouldn't be allowed to take this case if the courts realised they already knew each other. He could only hope that meant that Lindsey was on his side.

And certainly, he seemed to be. Mr. Lezumo could not even believe the generosity of the offer that the junior D.A laid down on the table. Lezumo wasn't a bad lawyer, but he was a public one - the kind that was given out to those too poor to pay for their own representation. He didn't have any of the nous of lawyers who worked for big, private firms - Like Lindsey MacDonald had used to - and there was no way he could have achieved such leniency for a client with Doyle's rap sheet all by himself. He advised his client to take the offer on the table.

Three years. With good behaviour he could be paroled in two. He'd be out before his green card expired - and they wouldn't press for immediate deportation. Doyle could stay in the States until 2004, when his documentation would run out. If he married an American citizen before then, he may even avoid deportation altogether. Lindsey didn't state it, obviously, but he meant that Doyle should get Cordelia to marry him… and three years - maybe even only two, was a lot less time for her to wait than ten...He shook his head, Cordelia would only be 23 in 2004, she wouldn't want to get married - and she'd be a fool to marry a penniless immigrant with a criminal record. He could never ask that of her… he was going to have to come to terms with a future that would take place in Ireland. Away from the sun. Away from his friends. Away from Cordelia.

Mr. Lezumo saw the head shake, and felt his heart sink. 'Mr. Doyle - Francis - I really think that this is an offer you ought to give serious consideration to. This is ...a very very generous offer for someone in your situation.'

'I know...I know,' Doyle agreed. It was much much better than he had feared. He glanced towards Lindsey, and this time Lindsey gave him an almost imperceptible nod. This was the best he could do - and Doyle should take it. 'I guess -uhm - do I have to agree right now? What happens if I do?' He didn't fancy winding up in jail before the day was out. He still needed some time.

'If you're amenable to the terms and conditions, Mr. Doyle - I'll get all the paperwork put together - and then we can arrange a date for you to come and sign it,' Lindsey told him, still giving no hint to the room at large that these two men had ever met before - had any kind of history together. 'After you sign, you'll be taken into custody… you will be given about a week's notice, beforehand. It's customary to give people in this situation a bit of time to get their affairs in order, before they start serving their sentence.'

Doyle swallowed, his prominent Adam's apple bobbing up down in his throat. His mouth felt dry, and there was a twisted knot in the pit of his stomach. He looked down at his hands, which were clasped together and resting on the table. He didn't feel able to meet either lawyer's eye. But he nodded. 'OK..' he managed to rasp out, 'I'll -I'll agree to the terms, I'll sign.'

Mr. Lezumo beamed, Lindsey smiled warmly. 'Excellent. This is a good choice you're making Mr. Doyle.' Doyle nodded again, but didn't say anything more. 'Well', Lindsey said, 'I'll sort the paperwork out and then I'll be in contact, Mr. Lezumo..' they all began to shake hands.

'How - how long will the ...does the paperwork normally take?' Doyle choked out.

Lindsey tried to look reassuring. 'We have a lot of cases here at the D.A's office - and yours isn't top priority - as you're not a violent offender...It will be quicker than if you went to trial - but not by much.'

Doyle nodded, his expression blank. Mr. Lezumo, afraid that his client might change his mind after hearing that, clapped him on the shoulder. 'You have to remember, Francis, the sooner you start your jail time - the sooner you get out. With such a short custodial sentence - that will really make a difference.' Doyle nodded again, but he couldn't return the smile his lawyer was giving him.

Together, they left the office, and went back down the stairs.

Gene entered his lab. He looked at the framed photo on his desk - it was of him and Denise, smiling. One happy moment, frozen in time - forever. He turned and looked at the mercury that was still suspended mid air inside the machine's field. He walked right up close and examined it. 'So - I'll give her the kind of love that lasts', he said.

Chapter 51: Happy Anniversary: Part Three

Chapter Text

Angel straightened up, reached around, and yanked the axe from his back. He grimaced in pain as he did so. Then he span and swung the weapon at the demon who had attacked him. The Host stood, frozen, watching the fight. As the strange demon landed a punch, and Angel stumbled, the Host shook himself out of his inaction and yelled something at the demon - in the demon's own language. Raccoon eyes turned and looked at him, and the Host threw his book straight at the demon's head. But it leaned to one side, and the book sailed past him, hitting the vampire squarely in the face, instead. Angel stumbled once more, the Host winced. 'Sorry!'

The demon swung it's axe at Angel, who kicked him down the stairs. The demon then yelled at the vampire, in the same language the Host had used - before it ran away. 'What did you say to it?' the vampire wanted to know.

'I said we come in peace. I don't think he believed me.'

'And what did he say to me?'

He said 'you shall not stop the golden child. The one for whom we have waited',' the Host translated, 'Lubber demons, they have a way with words!'

'What's a lubber demon?'

The Host explained the raison d'etre of the lubber demons. They were a fanatical sect who awaited a messiah that would usher in the end of all human life. Apparently, whilst it wasn't often spoken about in public, the theology of the lubbers was fairly popular amongst the demon underworld. A lot of demons were biding their time - waiting for the human pestilence to leave the earth to the old ones once more.

'So this mad scientist has this demon sect worshipping and protecting him whilst he tries to blow up the planet?' Angel asked, his prominent brow even lower than normal, as he tried to figure this out. 'Or what - what's he gonna do?'

'Let's get to his lab pronto and find out,' the Host suggested. 'It's pretty clear that we're dealing with a criminal mastermind.'

Gene had taken apart all his equipment at the lab, and carried it back home. He was now down in the basement of his apartment building, reassembling all the apparatus. As he pressed the buttons to get the lasers back on line, he began to sing to himself. 'All by myse-elf, don't wanna be all by myself - anymore', he hummed, as he worked.

Doyle and his lawyer had reached the entrance of the D.A's building. They shook hands one more time, before Mr. Lezumo took his leave. 'I know this is frightening, Francis - but this is a good deal- you should be happy about this,' the attorney told Doyle, just as he walked away. Doyle nodded - again, but didn't say anything - again. It seemed he had lost the ability to do anything but agree, silently. This awful thing that would happen to him was good news, he should be grateful...he was grateful that Lindsey had offered such generous terms - but he still couldn't manage to say it out loud. Every time he thought about having to spend three years locked up in prison, he felt instantly and utterly sick, and had to fight down a wave of rising panic. At this point in time - three years might as well be three hundred - all the things he would have to go through, all the experiences he would have to endure - before his eventual release… and then the plane back to Ireland was what awaited him at the end.

As he stepped through the doorway, he ran headlong into a tallish person who was moving very fast, their head down - reading something, as they walked. He glanced upward, to apologise, and then stopped - his mouth left hanging open slightly. It was Lilah Morgan. She also looked up, at the impact, as if to apologise ...and also stopped when she saw who it was whom she had run into. When she saw Doyle, standing in front of her, dressed in his suit, her face lit up with a cruel and vindictive smirk of pleasure. 'Well if it isn't Angel's half breed,' she said, still smirking.

He just nodded at her, 'Lilah'. He had no intention of rising to her goading - he had his own problems to deal with. He supposed, really, he should give her an earful over what she'd done to Angel - but his heart wasn't in it. Angel had made the choices he had - he was big enough and old enough to make his own decisions. He didn't need Doyle defending his honour. And if he did ...well, Doyle had problems of his own - and Angel had shown no interest in those. As far as the Irishman was aware, his former vampire boss still had no idea of the circumstances Doyle now found himself in. They were supposed to be friends. Brothers fighting for their redemption together. Doyle's mistake… he had no interest in getting into a argument with Lilah right now, not if Angel couldn't show even basic interest in him.

He made to walk away, but Lilah wasn't done with him. This was her first chance to gloat over the mongrel's downfall, up close and personal. Damned if she was going to just let him walk away.

'So, I guess you're here for a meeting about your ongoing legal troubles?' she smirked. She raked her eyes up and down him, taking in the suit. 'Is this your attempt at respectability, Doyle? Where did you find a suit like that - let me guess - the little girl got it for you? How did she take the revelation of your criminal past?'

'How do you know what's goin' on?' Doyle asked her, confused.

Her smirk grew even broader. 'I represent the law, Mr. Doyle,' she told him, piously - or the Wolfram and Hart version of pious. 'It's my job to make sure it's upheld. To make sure that bank robbers and car thieves have to answer for what they did...of course, usually I'm the one defending them. But for you, I took a special interest and bat for the other team.'

'I don't understand.' He shook his head, and narrowed his eyes as he looked at her. He wasn't sure what she was saying.

'Oh, now - you know I've had a special interest in you since I discovered The Scourge's beacon - and the role you were supposed to play in destroying it. I did some background digging and ...my, my, my - what a chequered past you were concealing, Doyle! What a life you had led.' She shook her head, sadly, as if she was regretting his poor life choices on his behalf. 'As your actions began to interfere with company policy - getting in the way of The Senior Partners' schemes - I realised it was my moral obligation to draw the attention of the authorities to your crimes. That the perpetrator of several unsolved crimes was sitting right under Detective Lockley's nose - was 'helping the hopeless' - making a mockery of law enforcement…' she tilted her head to one side, and fixed him with a hard gaze …'well, I just had to do something about that.'

'It was you…?' Doyle frowned, 'you're the one that told the police ...that gave them all that evidence …'

'You are guilty, half breed. You broke the law - you don't get to take the moral high ground now. Yes. It was me - I collected all that evidence, I spoke to your old contacts, I found photographs and CCTV footage of you committing crimes - and then it handed all over to the police...my duty as an upstanding, law abiding citizen...'

'You're doing all this to me just to get back at Angel?' Doyle asked. 'Isn't it enough that you killed Darla and drove him crazy? You gotta mess with me too?'

'Not everything is about Angel, Doyle', she told him, her voice like granite, 'This is personal. Payback. This is about you, yourself.'

'Me?' Doyle looked even more confused. 'Why me? What did I ever do to you?'

Did he really just ask her that? After everything he'd done or had caused to happen? She felt like tearing her prosthetic hand off and throwing it right at his face.

...

Behind them, inside the lobby of the building, Lindsey came down the stairs. He came to a stop as he saw his former colleague standing in the doorway, talking to the half demon seer who found himself in so much trouble. Lindsey listened carefully. He only caught the second half of the conversation - but it was enough to interest him. He hadn't realised that the evidence they were using to convict Doyle had come from Lilah - and not the police themselves. That needed to be looked into…. He ran back up the stairs, unnoticed by either Doyle or Lilah, and dialled Kate at work.

Angel and The Host entered Gene's lab. They found his equipment gone, and one of his co-workers examining the remains of the setup. 'Hey!' Angel greeted the physicist, 'we're looking for Gene Rainy?'

'So am I', the man said, looking up. 'Someone's taken his equipment.'

'What equipment?' the vampire wanted to know.

The scientist shrugged, 'particle accelerators, propulsion batteries ...he was working on a time paradox theory. Accelerating specific particles out of our own continuum and into their own excised universe.'

'Come again?' Angel hadn't understood a word.

But the Host had. 'Stopping time,' he translated.

'Which is impossible by the way,' the physicist pointed out.

'Right,' Angel nodded, 'but let's just say, for argument's sake, that he could do it - how would he do that?'

'Well - in theory - you focus the accelerators on a specific point, and if you can generate the correct velocity, whatever was in the field would just be removed.'

'Removed?'

'From our reality,' the scientist nodded.

'What would happen to it?' The Host asked.

'Nothing,' the man clarified, 'in the strictest sense of the word. Whatever is in the field would stand still forever in its own private universe.'

The two demons exchanged a worried glance. 'What would happen - just for fun - if someone cranked this into overdrive?' The green demon kept his voice casual, as he sought to find out the answer. He had a feeling he already knew.

'If the field were improperly contained - it would spill out - stop everything.'

So that was it. That was how the world would end - frozen in an eternal moment. A science experiment gone wrong. But they had to find who had the equipment - who it was that would trigger the time stoppage. 'Who has the keys to this place?' Angel asked.

'Only Gene', the man replied, 'even maintenance can only come in when he's in there.'

'No sign of a forced entry,' the Host noted. The scientist wrinkled his nose up in confusion at that. 'Why would Gene take his own equipment?' he asked.

But Angel shook his head, 'the question is where would Gene take his own equipment?'

In his bedroom, Gene set up the containment field. He put mirror panels around the bed, and placed the switch on the nightstand. This was where he and Denise would spend perfect, blissful eternity. When he was finished with the apparatus, he smoothed down the bed sheets and then lay a single, red rose on the top. Then he went into the living area and set the table, lighting candles ready for their big night.

Cordelia, Wesley and Gunn stood outside in the grounds of the palatial estate. They had seen no sign of the monster so far, and were snooping for clues. 'Here! what's this?' Cordelia called out, kneeling down on the grass, 'we've got footprints. Just outside this big - conservatory - thingy.'

'Solarium', Wesley told her.

'Bless you.'

'It's a special sun room … the kind of room for someone who likes the warmth.'

'Gee - 'cause we don't have enough of that here in L.A,' Cordelia pointed out. Wesley squatted down beside her and began to analyse the markings in the wet soil.

'So is this the demon's footprints or what?' Gunn asked, 'are we on the right track yet?' But Wesley shook his head, 'hmm - these footprints are small - and the toe is rounded...it's impossible to say for sure without seeing the demon...but...'

'So we still got nothin'?' The street fighter, swung his homemade axe over his shoulder and blew his cheeks out. 'We gotta find something soon - I want those big tubs of cash we were promised.'

Cordelia got back to her feet, brushing the mud off her knees, as she did so. 'It's all squelchy round here,' she noted, 'my pants are ruined, my shoes are ruined ...can we go back inside now?'

The watcher nodded his acquiescence, and the three of them entered the house, through the solarium. Cordelia sniffed, 'Does it smell kinda funky to you?' she asked.

Gunn smelled the air, experimentally, 'well it's a different kinda funk to the one we got in our office - but -yeah - it don't smell right.'

'Hmmm,' Wesley frowned.

'What 'hmmm'?' Cordelia wanted to know.

'It's just interesting - that smell - foxglove and..' he sniffed 'hellebore - I should say, interesting combination. I think we'd better go upstairs - check out the families bedrooms.'

'Snooping in rich people's rooms? Though their things?' Cordelia's eyes lit up in delight, 'I love my job!'

As night had fallen, Angel was relieved that he could now drive his own car. The Host was relegated back to the passenger seat. He watched the vampire drive with keen interest. 'Oh, so there's another gear after that number two thing?' Angel gave him a dark look. 'Relax!' The Host told him, 'I'll pay for a tune up ...unless the world ends - then I guess I'm off the hook.'

'Well if it saves you some money, then I guess it's a good thing.'

The Host sighed in frustration, 'you know this whole sour puss thing is really starting to grate. You know what your problem really is? Are you listening?'

'Do I have a choice?'

'Your heart's not in it anymore.'

The vampire rolled his eyes, 'I don't have a pulse so, technically, I don't have a heart.'

But the Host shook his head, 'and if someone drives a stake through it, you don't have anything anymore. Believe me, buster, your heart counts.'

'I have no idea what you're babbling about,' Angel told him.

'Yes you do', the Host disagreed. 'Tell me - if the world ends tonight, would it really - in your heart of hearts - be such a terrible thing?'

Angel didn't answer. Instead he stared straight ahead, and concentrated on the road.

'Now - now sweetie,' the Host sounded sympathetic. 'Is that a fun place to be?'

'I think you should shut up, now,' Angel warned him, still staring straight ahead.

But that made the Host laugh out loud. 'Have you met me? I'm the Host - I never shut up! You pushed your friends away. You went from helping the hopeless to hunting down the guilty. Blood vengeance is a luxury of the lesser beings. You're a champion. At least - you were.'

Angel finally took his eyes of the road to glance at the demon beside him. 'What do you want me to tell you?' he demanded.

'Everything!' the Host threw up his hands to emphasise his point. 'What's in your heart. Why you stopped caring. You know, the whole ball of wax, so I can help you get back on your path. No need to rush - we got time. Though - you know - not a lot.'

Gene set a bowl of salad down on the table, and then - beside Denise's plate - he put down a wrapped jewellery box. He checked his watch.

Doyle stumbled into the dingiest demon bar he knew of. This was all a setup - everything that had happened to him. It wasn't his past catching up with him, it wasn't his rightful path of atonement. The end of his life - the second end of his life - as he knew it, was being brought about by a vendetta. A personal crusade of Lilah Morgan's. And he couldn't - for the life of him - work out how he was important enough to anyone to warrant a personal crusade being launched against him. He was a nobody. Of no interest to anyone - except maybe Cordelia. But somehow he managed to turn a person more powerful than him against himself - and now he was paying the price for that. His nothing of a life was over - ruined. He ordered a glass of whisky, and downed it, before calling for another. That one was drunk just as quickly. When the bartender returned to fill his glass for a third time, Doyle told him to just leave the bottle.

Cordelia entered one of the bedrooms, and went straight to the wardrobe, running her hands across the expensive material - eyeing up the designer names. She sighed. She missed this. Her whole childhood she had longed to live in L.A - that close to that many shoes! But now here she was, penniless - with only nine pairs of shoes to her name. And only four of those were a designer to brag about.

She squatted down to take a closer look through all the shoes that were lined up on the closet floor. Manolo's, Dior, Dolce and Gabbana - even a cute little pair of Chanel flats. She picked them up and examined them - what she saw made her frown. They were caked in mud. These shoes must have cost over $300, why would anyone just throw them - dirty - back into a closet? Why wouldn't you get them cleaned? Especially in a family this rich - where it was likely that some poor underling was paid specifically to clean shoes? This poor treatment of an important designer product just didn't make any sense.

She picked them up and left the room, looking for Wesley, 'Hey, Wes - I think this might be important!' she called down the hall. She heard a noise behind her and turned around to see who it was, 'Wes?'

It wasn't Wesley.

The Wainakay demon was bearing down on her, massive and muscular, his feet webbed - his claws sharp. His expression - angry. Cordelia screamed. She dropped the muddy shoes to the floor - and ran…

Angel drove on, seething in silence. The Host sat beside him, singing to himself, biding his time. Every so often, the vampire would throw an irritated glance in the demon's direction. But the demon took no notice. Eventually, Angel cracked. 'You wanna know what my problem is?' he demanded, 'I'm screwed. That's my problem. I can't win! I'm trying to atone for a hundred years of unthinkable evil. Newsflash! I never can! Never gonna be enough. And now I got Wolfram and Hart dogging me! It's too much! Two hundred highly intelligent law school graduates working full time to drive me crazy. Why is everyone so surprised that it's working? But no it's: "Angel why are you so cranky? Angel you should lighten up. You should smile. You should wear a nice plaid". '

'Oh honey, not this season', the Host smiled at him.

'Redemption', Angel spelled it out, 'Darla had a shot at it. They took that from her. Now I have to hunt her down and kill her. I'm gonna do it. I'm gonna kill her and then I'm gonna burn that law firm to the ground. My crew - they couldn't handle that. That's good - it shows they're still human.'

'Or half human,' the Host pointed out, 'but still ...you kinda left them all out in the cold... and Doyle - well he's…'

'It's a lot colder in here, believe me. They're better off fired. Whatever you're gonna say about Doyle - he's better off too.'

The Host shrugged. 'If you say so. But it won't always be this way. The song changes. Unless, of course, we don't get there in time. In which case - you'll be stuck in this crappy mood forever - and I shudder to think -'

'We'll get there,' Angel said, glancing at his watch.

'Look out!'

Angel glanced back up to see a figure stood in the middle of the road. His car ploughed straight into them, and they hit the hood and were thrown up into the air - crashing down on the road behind. Angel slammed on the brakes, and the two demons got out of the car and raced back to see who they had hit. They turned the body over. It was one of the lubber demons. As they straightened up they saw more lubber demons melt out of the shadows and begin to converge on the pair of them. Each lubber demon carried an axe...

There was a knock on the door. Gene checked his hair in the mirror, and then opened it, welcoming Denise inside. 'Hi.'

'Hi.'

They both stood there uncomfortably. 'You look uh…' Gene began to say, and then he changed his mind. 'Happy anniversary.'

Chapter 52: Happy Anniversary: Part Four

Chapter Text

Gunn pulled his axe out of the demon's back. The Wainakay lay dead on the floor. Patricia's father patted the young street fighter on the back, to show his gratitude. 'Good job, man - we're very grateful.'

Wesley crouched down beside the demon - and began to examine its feet. 'Yes, we've found the killer - just not the murderer,' he pronounced, letting the leg drop back to the floor. He got up and looked around at the whole family, who were gathered in the room - sitting on couches and chairs.

'What's he talking about?' The old maiden aunt whispered to her niece. She was huddled under a blanket to guard against chills.

'This demon was a puppet,' Wesley told them all, solemnly. 'Acting under the control of someone else - someone in this room.'

Cordelia eyed the silver tray of hor d'oeuvres that sat on the table. Running from the demon had left her ravenous. 'Are these for everyone?' she asked. No one answered. They were all watching Wesley, intently.

'What do we know?' Wesley mused. 'We know that when we arrived there was a noticeable scent of foxglove and hellebore…' Cordelia picked up the tray and began to snack on the hor d'oeuvres, her eyes switching between Wesley and his pronouncements- and the family - checking they hadn't noticed her. 'Not to keep the demon out,' Wesley was continuing, 'as one might suspect, but rather to keep it in so it could carry out the murderer's clever plan.' He tuned to face Patricia's father, 'such a plan would require the skills of a master wizard.'

'I don't do that stuff anymore,' the father shrugged.

Wesley turned away from him, 'Then we have the footprints in the soft soil under the window outside the solarium - far too small and not webbed to belong to this demon.'

Cordelia nodded, as she chowed down on the fancy snacks. But the family wanted to argue. 'But Kevin told you those were his,' Kevin's aunt protested.

'He snuck in late last night,' his father agreed.

'Loudly,' said Wesley, 'so we could all hear. Supposedly from seeing that shop girl in town. But we all know that Kevin is impotent, so why put on the show?' Everyone's heads turned to look at Kevin, and the unfortunate boy blushed deeply under their gaze. Cordelia crunched down on her volovant . Wesley began to muse once more, 'perhaps to cover for the real killer - unless Kevin is in fact the real killer. With Derek gone, the family inheritance would fall to you', the British man pointed out. 'The younger brother, and the black sheep of the family...Unfortunately you had neither the opportunity nor the intelligence to perpetrate this crime.' Wesley seemed to consider his words and decide they were a little harsh, considering Kevin hadn't done anything wrong. 'Sorry about the impotent remark,' he apologised. Kevin only blushed even deeper. Gunn and Cordelia watched the show, riveted, their only movement the constant snacking of the young woman.

'So - if Kevin was to have control of the money - who was to have control of Kevin?' Wesley asked.

Cordelia's tray was empty. 'Are there any more of these little..?' she began to ask, pointing to the tray. Wesley cleared his throat. 'Sorry!' she squeaked, and shut up - letting the watcher continue with his Miss Marple impression.

'His sister? His mother?' Wesley thought aloud, as if there had been no interruption. 'Both powerful forces in his life. Both with their own agendas. But only one person knew the secret that would allow them to blackmail Kevin for the rest of his life.' His voice began to rise, growing louder as he reached his conclusion. 'Only one person took pains to hide their muddy shoes.'

Cordelia nodded along - the cute little Chanel flats - she knew that had mattered.

'Only one person reeked of foxglove and hellebore. Only one person was responsible for the death of Derek Bointon,' he raised an accusatory finger and pointed, 'his own dear, sweet Aunt Helen!'

The Bointons gasped, en masse - and the maiden aunt jumped to her feet and began to scurry for the door. Cordelia side stepped and blocked her path. 'Not so fast, sister,' she exclaimed. Aunt Helen seemed to wilt.

Gunn was nodding his head. 'That was cool!' he told Wesley, smiling broadly.

His praise made the British man smile, in a bashful sort of way. 'It wasn't that difficult, you just have to keep ... sifting the evidence until the truth finally hits you.'

BAM. Angel was suckerpunched in the face. He was in a crowd of lubber demons, his fists and feet flying outwards, connecting with them and forcing them back. But the lubbers were not afraid of getting hurt, and they always came back for more. The Host stood on the sidelines, watching - not joining in. He flinched in sympathy, as Angel took a nasty hit, but didn't do anything to help.

Two of the lubber demons detached from the crowd and headed towards the green demon - their axes raised. The Host opened his mouth and let out a piercing high note, which caused the lubber demons to fall to the floor - dropping their axes as they covered their ears in pain. In the distance, there was the distinct sound of glass smashing. The Host then kicked one lubber right between the legs, and slugged the other one across the chin. Both demons out for the count, the Host turned back to watch Angel.

The awkward couple were sitting at the table. Denise pushed her food around the plate with her fork. The silence hung between them - almost tangible. Gene cleared his throat, 'so how was scene class?'

'Well - you know - Jack - he thinks he can't play the role without a goatee.'

'The footstool would have a goatee?'

'Well, you know Jack…' she fiddled with the necklace that now hung around her neck - her anniversary gift from Gene. 'Thanks for the - uh -' she said, still fiddling, 'it's really pretty.'

Gene smiled. 'It made me think of you.' His girlfriend glanced down at her plate, and bit her lip in discomfort.

'Are you all done?' Gene asked.

'Yeah. I'm not that hungry. It was good - it was really good.'

Doyle sat at the bar, he held his shot glass in both hands, examining it. It was empty - for now. He'd gone through a quarter of the bottle and was taking a rest. Three years. Three years. He knew he should be grateful. That he could have got more than three times that length - but - three years. Thirty six months. And days - how many days? He began to mumble as he added it up, 365 add 365 and then - he screwed up his face, was one of the years a leap year? That would just be his luck. So that was….well OK maybe he was too drunk to do the math properly right now - but it was, like, a thousand days. Slightly more.

That weekend, those three days he spent in jail already - had been more than enough for one lifetime. And that was just three days. Three years! Three years of strip searches and being locked in a tiny cell with three other violent men, and communal showers, and the constant terror - and the beatings - from guards and prisoners alike, and … it was all just too much.

And then there would be the loneliness, and the worry. Locked away, wondering if Cordelia was alright - if she was sad, if she was in danger. Unable to do anything to help her or protect her. Just hoping that one day Wes or Gunn didn't turn up to tell him she'd been killed in some fight - because he wasn't there - to look out for her - to save her - to die in her place, if necessary.

And on top of worrying about her safety - and her well being - there was also that small kernel of hope that now treacherously flickered inside his heart. Three years was not so very long. Time off for good behaviour - and he intended to be a model prisoner - maybe he could be out in two. It wasn't impossible that she might wait that long for him. That he could still be with her after his release. But that hope was a traitor - and he knew it. No - three years wasn't forever - but it was a long time when you were young. More than long enough to heal from a broken heart, get tired of being lonely and go out and search for someone else. Meet someone else. Fall in love with someone else.

If it was ten years then that would be it - relationship over - no chance of survival. He'd made a clean break, and now he just had to get along with it - and accept her falling in love with someone else. Someone better. But that hope that she might still be waiting for him - because his sentence was short - made the fear that she would move on even harder to bear.

It was the hope that killed you, in the end, he reflected gloomily. That tiny part of you that clung on, believing there was a chance things might be OK, that refused to give in to desperation. It only made things worse in the long run. Desperation was where he lived - where he belonged. He had to get rid of this hope - kill it stone dead, once and for all- if he was to survive. Three years.

He poured himself another drink, and tossed it back, shuddering as the sour taste hit the back of his throat. When he thought of going back to prison in a few weeks - of going into Lindsey's office, a free man, signing a bit of paper, and then being cuffed and carted off - searched and locked in a cell for the next three years - he felt like curling up in a ball and crying. No. Worse than that. He felt like crawling back to Cordelia and crying. Falling into her embrace and letting her make the pain go away, taking his comfort in her. And he knew she would let him - would welcome him with open arms. But he couldn't do that.

If he went to her bed tonight - then it would only be worse in the morning, when he had to leave again. And he wasn't sure that he would be able to. Once he gave in to her solace he might not be able to force himself away again. He might just stay - clinging to her. But that couldn't happen. Wouldn't be allowed. If he couldn't walk away from her, then they'd come and take him, drag him forcibly away from her side. And that would be so much worse.

So, he had to be strong.

He had to deny himself Cordelia and comfort, and stay here by himself - bear the misery alone, to make it easier to live with in the long run. But, damn! Did he want to crawl back to Cordelia... Instead, he poured himself another drink.

Angel knocked down the last of the Lubber demons and jumped back into the car. The Host climbed in beside him, and the vampire hit the gas.

...

Denise picked up the rose, from the bed sheets, and held it to her nose - taking in its sweet scent. 'That's sweet,' she said to Gene. She smiled, but her smile was small and sad.

'I'm sorry about the clutter,' Gene said to her.

But she shrugged and shook her head. 'It wouldn't be you without it.' Her heart was heavy, as she began to unbutton her blouse. Gene was a nice guy, he was sweet and thoughtful - and she hated that she had to hurt him. But he made her lonely - made her feel desperate. They had been together only a year, and already they had run out of things to say. So this was the only way she knew how to let him down gently. She took the pins out of her hair, and her red tresses flowed around her naked shoulders. Gene leaned in to kiss her.

...

Angel and The Host sped down the road.

...

Gene and Denise lay together under the sheets, kissing and touching. 'I love you,' Gene whispered into her ear.

...

Angel pulled the car up outside of Gene's building and the pair of them jumped out. 'OK,' said the vampire, looking around. 'If I had a machine to stop time - where would I put it?'

'Probably where the demons can guard it,' the Host said, pointing at the lubber demons that surrounded the building.

...

As they made love, Gene reached out and flicked the switch that he had placed on the nightstand. Down in the basement, the machine switched on and began to hum. A beam shot straight up from it, and passed through the building until it hit one of the mirrors in Gene's bedroom. The light bounced from that mirror to another, and onto another, until the bed and its occupants were trapped inside the glow. The time field began to form, above the bed, and travel down slowly, encompassing first Gene and the Denise. The pair froze in place - suspended in the moment - for all eternity.

...

Down by the machine, in the basement, a lubber demon was typing new commands into the laptop. The machine revved up, and - up at the top of the building - the time field began to grow - like a bubble expanding outwards. The lubber demon nodded to itself in satisfaction, but was then swiftly interrupted by another of its kind hurtling through the window. This second lubber demon was shortly followed by Angel, himself.

...

As the bubble grew through the apartment building, a man pouring himself a beer was carved out of the time space continuum and left in his own universe - frozen to the outside world. His beer was stopped mid flow, on its way to his glass.

...

Angel fought the two lubbers in the basement. He knocked one down and then smashed its head on the open door of a tumble dryer - knocking it out. The other demon crept up behind him, and hit him hard enough to send him flying to the top of the basement stairs. Angel landed with a crash, and rolled over. The lubber demon charged up the stairs towards him, but the vampire used his feet to catapult the lubber backwards - smashing him onto the wall. Angel got to his feet, and ran towards the machine. The lubber demon righted himself and launched himself upwards, aiming to land heavily on the vampire and prevent him from switching off the equipment.

But, the time bubble was still making its inexorable movement downwards, expanding outwards. And, as the raccoon eyed demon flew into the air - he found himself taken out of time and space - and frozen in his own private universe - engulfed by the time field.

With the time field headed towards him, Angel kept low and made his way across to the machine. He reached in and yanked out a whole load of wires - hoping that that would do the trick. It did. The bubble began to shrink backwards. The lubber demon fell - but landed on the floor instead of on Angel. The vampire used the lubber demon's own axe to kill it.

The bubble continued to shrink upwards. The man pouring his beer was released - noticing nothing amiss - and then, right at the top of the building, Denise and then Gene - unfroze. Gene collapsed on top of his girlfriend as reality rushed back in and he realised he had failed…

...

Later- when they were done - Denise sat on the edge of the bed. She had wrapped the sheet around her, and had her back turned to Gene - who was still lying down. 'Gene, we have to talk', she said. He rolled over to look at her, tears in his eyes.

Doyle had taken the bottle and returned home. He placed it on his coffee table, and squinted at the empty ones that already stood there. Man, he was really starting to accumulate them! It was getting as bad as it had been in the old days - when he'd just found out about his demon half - and after Harri had left - when he started making all these disastrous decisions that were coming back to haunt him, now.

This had to stop, he told himself. Tomorrow. He had to get a firm grip on his drinking habit again - he couldn't have one when he was in prison, so he needed to be in control of himself when he went in there - or else who knew what he might end up hooked on? He'd given up serious drinking before, and he could do it again - easy. And he wouldn't take smoking back up when he was in prison, either - and he wouldn't do anything else. If there was even a chance that Cordelia might be there waiting for him when he got out - then he had to be a man worthy of her when he did get out. He still had to be himself - Doyle. He couldn't let jail change him - in any way - not even into being a smoker.

So - tomorrow he would get rid of this bottle - and all the others - and not get anymore. Tomorrow he would slap on his happy face and tell Cordelia the good news - it's just three years, Cordy, maybe two - and then a bit of time before my green card runs out. I'll be out before y' know it. And she would be pleased - as pleased as she could be under the circumstances - and they would move forward, back into their old friendship - the one with the expectation of more. And, up until he signed those papers - things could be normal.

But that was tomorrow. And now was tonight. He unscrewed the lid of the bottle, and poured himself another drink.

'I can't believe this!' Gene said. He was sitting at his table, with the Host and a bruised and beaten Angel. 'Listen -I am really, really sorry! I had no idea I was putting the whole world in jeopardy. Or there were all these demons...I just didn't want her to leave.'

The Host looked at Angel, fixing him with a stern glare and then motioning with his head towards Gene. Angel looked back and forth between the two men, uncertainly. He took a deep, oxygenless breath and marshalled his thoughts. 'Well - you know - love,' he breathed again - this was hard - 'It's a fire.'

'You've been there,' Gene nodded. It wasn't a question.

Angel decided to run with his metaphor. It's not like he had anything else, more meaningful to say. 'It burns you - alive.' Gene frowned at the violence of the imagery. Angel didn't notice. 'Down to the bone ...and then it turns the bone to ash …'

The Host decided to interrupt before the vampire got any more graphic with his word salad. 'I think what my chipper friend here is trying to say, Gene, is the wheel keeps turning. You can't stop it. Sometimes things get worse - sometimes they get better.'

'Well - I want the wheel to stop,' Gene said. 'Which probably explains the whole time in a box disaster. And - again - I cannot emphasise enough how sorry I am about that.'

'It just doesn't work, Gene-y,' the Host told him, kindly. 'It's like a song. See, I can hold a note for a long time - heck I can hold one forever. But eventually it's just noise. It's the change that we're listening for. The note after that, and the one after that. That's what makes it music.'

'I guess,' Gene agreed. The analogy made sense to him - as a karaoke fan. 'You guys want a beer?'

'A beer sounds great', Angel said. The scientist got up and left the two demons at the table.

The Host leaned over. 'You're connecting to a human - that's a start. Although I'd go easy on the bone and ash metaphors for a while.'

Angel shrugged - he wasn't good at talking to people at the best of times - that was what Doyle was for. Or what he had been for - before he, Angel, had cast all his friends out... 'Well, the guy is a disaster in love, and nearly destroyed the world. I can relate… yeah, I guess I did kinda just leave them out in the cold.'

'What your buddies? By firing them?'

'Yeah - I guess I've made it pretty hard for them.'

Light and music flooded out of the small office. It was packed with people dancing. Wesley and Gunn were in the middle - having a great time. Cordelia sat perched on the edge of her desk. She shimmied her shoulders and smiled a little. If Doyle were here with her, she'd be perfectly happy. As it was - she was a bit too concerned about him to give herself over to the party completely, the way Wes and Gunn had. But she was happy. They'd solved the case - and made the cash. Things were looking up. They could do this. All four of them - together. The way it was supposed to be.

She glanced up at the doorway, hoping to see Doyle arrive - to join in with their celebration. But instead, she saw a stranger standing there, a middle aged man with a worried expression was watching the party. She moved through the crowd, tapping Wes and Gunn, and headed towards the newcomer. 'Hi,' she greeted him. Wesley arrived beside her, 'How are you?' he asked the man. The man glanced down at his shoes and didn't seem to have an answer. 'You alright?' Gunn asked, kindly.

'I need help. Is this Angel investigations?' The man asked.

The three associates nodded in affirmation. 'Sorry about the confusion,' Wesley apologised.

'Were just having a celebration,' Cordelia explained, 'sort of a new beginning.'

'Oh well. Maybe I should just …'

'No no,' Gunn protested. 'You need help. You're in the right place. Come on in.'

'Which one of you is Angel?' The man asked, looking at them.

The three of them exchanged a glance and then - after a moment - 'It's just a name,' Wesley said.

Chapter 53: The Thin Dead Line: Part One

Chapter Text

Angel's convertible pulled up outside the hotel. He got out and entered the lobby. He'd been hunting - but his search had borne no fruit. He was ready to be done with this. He wanted it over. He wanted Darla dead - and bloody vengeance wreaked on Wolfram and Hart and then - and then … he wasn't sure. Maybe he could go back to being a champion of the people - a warrior for the higher powers...But the longer this went on, the less sure he was that there was a way back. Thomas Wolfe had said you can't go home again and maybe that was true. Whatever was waiting for Angel, after he killed Darla - maybe it wasn't what he had left behind - maybe it was something else entirely. Another new beginning.

But before he got there - he needed to find and kill Darla… and he was having no luck. She had vanished. Injured - scorched - burned half to death, she had simply melted into oblivion - along with Drusilla. And if he couldn't find her … then he could never move on.

He looked at the front desk. It was piled high with books and papers- left over from before Darla was turned ...from before he'd pushed his friends out into the cold. In almost three months he hadn't bothered to clear them away - they just sat there - Cordelia's files, Wesley's papers, Wesley's books - even a newspaper Doyle had left lying around at the beginning of December. It hurt him to see these sundry objects there. It hurt his focus - dented his determination...and it hurt him deeper than that. Made him feel alone - as he hadn't felt for a long time, now.

He didn't have time for loneliness. And he didn't have time to worry about his friends… he had a mission. And that was all he cared about. All he could afford to care about. He reached out and, with one fluid movement of his arm, pushed all the books and papers off the counter. They crashed to the floor in an untidy heap, and he left them there - returning to his apartment to brood about Darla.

Doyle sat in the corner of their new office, on one of the crappy chairs, pretending to read a book. In reality, he was keeping very still - and his mind blank - in order to fight the panic and desperation that was always just under the surface - threatening to break out and overwhelm him. His eyes began to blur as he stared intently at the image he was not really looking at. He had stared at the same picture for over ten minutes now, and - if asked - he couldn't have even have said how many heads the demon depicted had got.

He blinked, and became aware of someone stood directly in front of him. He looked up. Cordelia. She was holding a cup of coffee, which she handed to him once she had his attention. 'Thanks, Princess,' he mumbled, taking the mug from her. Once her hands were free, she sat down - balancing on the arm of his chair. She had to lean against him, slightly, to stay perched there. He glanced upwards at her, she was also pretending to study his book. 'Did you want something else?' he asked.

She shifted a bit - but very carefully, to prevent falling off. 'I was just..wondering - have you ...have you -spoken - to your lawyer ...recently?'

He sighed, and shook his head. He didn't want to talk about this - didn't want to think about this ...although in truth it was all he did think about. But he owed her answers. He was putting her through enough as it was - without giving her the silent and angry treatment, as well… perhaps he had learned something from the disastrous end of his marriage, after all. 'Nope… I - uh - I haven't heard anythin' about ... yet. Lindsey said I wasn't top priority so …'

Her face lit up in a brilliant smile. 'So there's at least another week - until ...you know …?'

He twisted his mouth into a wry smile … 'yeah, princess, there's still at least another week.'

She moved herself around, so she was sidewards on - facing him, and wrapped her arm around him - her hand caressing the back of his neck. 'well...I was wondering...as work is being so slow at the moment, if you might like to do ...something - rather than sit around here all day. We could go to the beach - or Disneyland - or Vegas!'

'I don't think I'm supposed to leave the state, darlin.'

'Oh - OK - not Vegas… but there's still loads we could do. I just think there could be better uses of your time than sitting round here pretending to read Wesley's stupid old books.'

'So I wasn't foolin' y' with my reading act?'

She shook her head, her smile was warm and sympathetic. 'We could go anywhere you like,' she murmured, 'make the most of our last few days together...for now - not forever! Last few days together for now. Make some memories.'

'You're still determined to be waiting for me when I get out?' he asked.

She nodded, 'you don't get rid of me that easy, buddy!'

'Ah - no! Y' saw through my cunning plan! Get myself sent to jail for three years just to avoid having to date you!'

They both laughed. It felt good to laugh like that - together - the way they had used to. Maybe Cordelia was right, maybe he should make the most of the last of his freedom. He nodded slowly, 'OK, Princess, you're on. If nothin' comes up - we'll do something ni…'

The door opened, cutting him off mid sentence, and a woman and a young girl walked in. Doyle and Cordelia exchanged a rueful glance, and then Cordelia got down from the arm of the chair and approached the new arrival. 'Can we help you?'

'I'm looking for Wesley Wyndam Pryce?' The woman said, glancing around the small office.

'I'm Wesley,' the British man said, appearing at her side.

'I'm Francine Sharp,' she indicated the girl, 'my daughter, Stephanie...I'm a friend of Virginia's from the club.'

'Oh right,' Wesley nodded, 'the country club.'

Cordelia inhaled, and - disappointed as she was that she might not be getting her day at Disneyland with Doyle - she couldn't help but smile when she worked out what Mrs. Sharp's words signified. 'One of Virginia's rich friends?' All the sets of eyes in the office turned to look at her. Only Doyle and Gunn looked amused. 'Well you certainly came to the right place - ha ha!' She tried to cover for her moment of naked greed.

'Virginia said you specialise in - uh - strange phenomenon?' Mrs. Sharp told them, choosing to ignore Cordelia's outburst. The team agreed that that was their area of expertise and ushered the woman and her daughter further into the office. Over in his corner, Doyle gave a start as he realised what the Sharp's problem was. The problem was the back of Stephanie's head - it was blinking at him. The others had yet to notice. 'Uh guys-' he began to say.

'Trust me we specialise in strange', Cordelia was saying, 'there is nothing we haven't see-' she trailed off as she, too, noticed the trouble. She exchanged an astonished glance with her Irish coworker, before grabbing the attention of the other two. 'There's an eye in the back of her head!' she hissed - surreptitiously pointing to Stephanie. Wesley and Gunn came round to take a look for themselves. The British man raised his index finger and moved it back and forth in front of Stephanie's third eye. The eye tracked it.

Wesley crouched down and addressed the girl. 'Did you see what did this to you?'

Stephanie glanced at her mother, and it was Mrs. Sharp that answered. 'It was dark - she doesn't remember much - she was on her way home from swimming, and something grabbed her and bit her. She's been in a state of shock ever since. I'll pay you whatever it takes - can you make it go away?'

'Certainly,' Wesley said, 'but it may take some time.' Mrs. Sharp looked distressed.

Doyle got out of his seat and went over to the group. He leaned on the front of the desk, so he was facing the girl, and smiled at her - it was his teacher's smile. 'Hey Stephanie,' he said, 'You wanna see a card trick?' Wesley and Mrs. Sharp stopped their hushed conversation to turn and watch what the half demon was up to.

Stephanie nodded and Doyle got his playing cards out of his pocket, he spread the deck so she could see them and looked away whilst she picked a card, then he shuffled them. He picked one card at random, 'was it this one?' She shook her head. 'Oh - well - was it this one?' he tried another - she shook her head again, smiling a little bit now. 'Man!' Doyle exclaimed - 'well, I'm all outta ideas...unless…' he reached out and pulled a card from behind her ear, 'it was this one?'

'Man! That was cool! How'd you do that?' Gunn wanted to know.

'Ah - a magician never betrays his secrets!' he winked at Stephanie and the young girl giggled. Even Mrs. Sharp smiled, relieved to see a bit of life come back into her daughter.

'So, y' like swimming, do you, Stephanie?' Doyle asked, shuffling his cards again and holding them out for her to choose another. The girl nodded, as she selected a card. 'And y' normally walk home all by y'self?' She nodded again. Doyle whistled, 'That's brave! It can get scary after dark - you mustn't be scared o' much, am I right?' The girl nodded again, and Doyle shuffled the deck once more. This time he handed the deck to Cordelia, 'cut these for me, would ya, princess?' Cordy took them off him, cut them and handed them back.

'So I'm thinkin',' Doyle said to Stephanie, as he took back the cards, 'that a young woman like yourself, used to being out alone in the dark - probably got a good look at the thing that grabbed y' - am I right?' The girl hesitated and then nodded. Doyle smiled at her even more widely, 'excellent! I knew you wouldn't let us down… was it this one?' He showed her a card, she nodded once more. 'Well - I gotta thank Cordy this time - she's the one that split the deck for me. So, Stephanie - alongside being an excellent magician's assistant, my friend, Cordelia, here, is quite the talented artist. You think you could describe that thing for us - and she can draw it? That way my friend, Wesley,' he nodded towards Wesley, 'will be able to find it in his books quicker than I can pull a jack outta this deck.' He pulled a jack out, demonstrating just how quickly he could do that. 'So you think you could do that for us then, darlin'?'

'Ye - yes,' Stephanie stammered.

Doyle beamed. 'Good girl! Cordy, y' got some paper?'

Cordelia grabbed a sketch pad and a pencil, and pulled a chair over so she was sat next to Stephanie. Between the two of them, her and Doyle gently spoke to the traumatised girl, helping her remember all the details of the demon that she could - and Cordelia sketched what she heard.

'Thank you for doing this,' Mrs. Sharp said to Wesley and Gunn, as they watched the little group work on identifying the demon. 'I just can't understand who would do a thing like this.'

'You'd be surprised how many nasty things are out on the streets these days,' Wesley told her.

Two teenagers ran through the streets, glancing back over their shoulders from time to time. The thing that chased them was gaining on them. They arrived at the teen shelter and hammered on the door. Anne opened it, a slight frown on her face. 'You know the rules, guys - it's after ten - I can't let you in.'

'You can't leave us out here!' the boy told her, he glanced around again, 'there's something ...we gotta come in!'

'We're packed to ceiling as it is,' Anne protested.

'We'll sleep on the floor,' the teenage girl promised, 'please don't make us go back out there.'

Anne sighed, and stepped aside, allowing the two teens to hurry inside. She looked out of the door, peering up and down the street - but it seemed deserted. She shut and locked the door and returned to her office.

...

A human figure moved out of the shadows, watching the centre. The silver badge on its chest reflected the light from the lamp post, making it gleam in the darkness.

Merl was in his lair, hastily throwing all his belongings into boxes. He turned to leave, and ran straight into Angel who was standing in the doorway - silent, arms folded.

'Jesus man!' the stool pigeon protested, 'can't you, you know, knock?'

'You don't make that funny expression when I knock, or if you do - I don't see it.'

The demon just wanted to get rid of the vampire as quickly as he could - so he gave up the information he had without any delay. 'Big meeting tomorrow night - some top level Wolfram and Hart brass. 9:30 Diaghilev. This concludes my career as a snitch, alright?'

'Why the rush to relocate?' Angel wanted to know, eyeing up the hasty packing.

'Uhm - let's see - there's you. Plus every other crook and monster in this town thinks he can waltz right in here and pound me until they get information - without paying for it either. At least the British guy understood how a professional relationship worked. How is old Wesley anyway? And the other kids you fired? They OK? Even Doyle? - Word is it's looking bad for him - you checking he's coping alright?...Let me guess...you haven't even bothered to speak to any of em?'

Angel just stood there - stony faced. 'This had better pan out', he said, meaning the tip.

'Nine thirty at Diaghilev,' Merl reiterated, 'pleasure doing business with you.'

The next day, Anne was working her way around the shelter, trying to record as many of the teenagers names as possible. The shelter was packed - and there were a lot of new faces - she didn't want anyone slipping through the cracks. But she didn't understand why the shelter was so busy. As she worked, she found herself by the teenage boy who had arrived late last night - maybe he could shed some light on their overcrowding situation.

'Hey, Kenny,' she said to him, 'long time no see- what made you come here last night?'

'It was real cold out', the boy shrugged, 'I was getting frost bit.'

'It was 65 degrees,' she pointed out. 'Why'd you come in? For real - this time?'

He looked at her for a long moment, and then sighed. 'Cops,' he answered.

'Cops?' she didn't understand. But, reluctantly, Kenny told her his tale. The cops had been harassing everyone recently - but last night he and his friend had been down on 39th when the police officer had appeared and BAM slugged him on the jaw, out of nowhere. The hit had been so hard, Kenny had thought he might lose some teeth. The cop had then assaulted the teenage girl, before going for his nightstick. Kenny had grabbed the girl and the pair of them had fled to the centre - the cop chasing them the whole way.

Anne frowned, 'we got a problem,' she said.

'Yeah a big problem. Good luck solving it - who you gonna call - the cops?'

But Anne thought she might know someone who could help...

The door to the new Angel investigations opened and Anne walked in. Gunn looked up and smiled when he saw her 'Annie! Haven't seen you in forever - what brings you to this neck of the woods?' The pair of them hugged.

'Oh,' she smiled, 'I just thought I'd see how the other half live,' she glanced around the room, 'and funnily enough it's not that different.'

'We like to think of it as early American dilapidated,' Cordelia said, shaking Anne's hand, 'I'm Cordelia.'

'Anne, this is Cordy, Wesley and Doyle - my coworkers. Anne runs a teen runaway shelter on Crenshaw - not far from my old neighbourhood.'

Anne smiled at Cordelia and Wesley, and then frowned when she saw Doyle. 'Have we met?' she asked. The others all turned to look at him - equally questioning in their expressions.

'Ah - ' Doyle cleared his throat, uncomfortably, 'I handed y' that video tape back at the fundraiser - I was a waiter back then.'

'Angel investigations,' Anne said, realising the link. 'You guys work for that tall guy in the trench coat?'

'We did,' Gunn agreed, 'now it's just a name - he left.'

'Too busy trying to bring down Wolfram and Hart to bother with you guys, huh?' she asked.

'That sounds about right,' Cordelia agreed.

'So why were you there at the fundraiser?' Anne questioned Doyle.

'I - uh - I was tryin' to keep the lines o' communication between us open ...it didn't pan out, if it isn't about his vendetta - Angel doesn't wanna know.' Doyle shrugged, looking casual - but he was stung by his own words. It hurt to say it out loud. Angel didn't care about them - didn't care about him.

Everyone looked downcast, for a moment, but then Gunn shook himself, 'so what brings you here?' he asked Anne.

'There's something I wanted to run by you,' she told him.

The others got back to researching Stephanie Sharp's third eye, whilst Anne told Gunn the story of the overzealous cops. 'It wasn't just Kenny,' she said, 'I spoke to lots of the kids and they all said the same thing. No provocation. No reason. The police are just terrorising them.'

'Renegade cops,' Gunn said thoughtfully, 'not my usual'

'Oh that's right you used to hunt-' she cut herself off, glancing up at the other three.

The young street fighter followed her gaze. 'It's OK,' he told her, 'they know what's what. Hell - Doyle, here, aint even fully human - every time he sneezes he turns into this weird, scary ass demony hedgehog thing.'

'And we're just tellin' everyone that incredibly personal bit of information are we now?' Doyle asked without even looking up from his book.

Gunn grinned, 'Sorry man! But you see - you don't have to worry about these guys.'

'We used to work for a vampire, hello!' Cordelia pointed out.

'Trench coat guy's a vampire?' Anne asked.

Gunn nodded. 'It's a long story. We still hunt vampires, but if there's one thing I've learned there's a lot of stuff out there that's worse than a set of teeth.'

'Like cops beating on my kids? Speaking of which I better get back over there.'

'I'll come with you,' Gunn said, getting up, 'you guys OK without me for a while?' he asked the others.

They all nodded their agreement, again without looking up. 'A client got bit by a demon,' Gunn told Anne as they headed out, 'she grew a third eye in the back of her head - we're trying to get rid of it.'

'That sounds ...handy,' Anne said as she stepped through the door and onto the street.

'So tell me more about this situation,' Gunn said to her, as they walked away.

...

Up on the rooftops, unnoticed by the pair of them, Angel stood watching the office. They were OK in there, he thought. They looked busy. They looked like they were coping. Doyle seemed fine. People - Merl, the Host, - even Lilah, kept mentioning Doyle, as if there was something wrong with him - but there he was, in the office - doing research with the rest of them. It was good - he decided - that they were doing well. It was good that they didn't need him. That was a good thing. It was.

Staying at roof level, he trailed Anne and Gunn through the streets. He stayed at a distance the whole time - and followed them all the way back to Crenshaw.

Inside the shelter, Gunn spoke with the kids - getting them to tell him what was going on. They told him what they had told Anne - that the cops were out for blood, that they were attacking without provocation, that the kids were getting hurt. 'It's outrageous,' Anne said, 'these cops are gonna kill someone. We have to do something.'

Gunn looked from the kids towards Anne, and then back again. She always saw the best in everyone, would always side with the teens - and maybe they were playing her. 'Hey, Anne, you think you could give us a minute?' he asked her. She frowned, but she agreed to it, getting up and going to her office to get on with some paperwork. He waited until she was gone and then fixed the kids with a stern stare. 'You playin' her?' he demanded. But the teens were adamant that this wasn't the case. This wasn't a normal sweep by the police, done to shut the concerned Moms up. This was war, and every teen was a target.

Angel stepped away from the window. He had heard enough - there was a problem, he would try to fix it. If these cops were half as dangerous as the kids made out then he didn't want Gunn - or any of his people - getting mixed up in this. He began to walk away.

'Keep your hands where I can see them.'

The vampire stopped, raised his hands, and turned around to face the policeman who had accosted him. 'I'm sorry, officer, have I done something wrong?'

'Turn around, face the fence, place your hands on your head.'

'This is a mistake.'

The cop swung his nightstick straight into Angel's jaw and slammed him into the fence. 'You're under arrest.'

'Believe me - you don't wanna do this.' Angel pushed the cop away from himself, but the cop rebounded off a parked car and came right back at him, swinging his stick. 'You have the right to remain silent', he said, calmly, as if there had been no interruption. Angel pushed him again, this time the cop hit the fence but continued to speak, headed once more for the vampire.

Angel tried punching him and kicking him, but nothing seemed to stop or even slow the police officer. He just kept getting back up, reading the Miranda rights as he did so. Eventually, Angel managed to fell the cop. The police officer crumpled to the floor and the vampire began to walk away. But he had only gone a few more steps when the cop's voice cut through the air once more, 'you have the right to an attorney...'

Angel spun round and kicked out, the momentum and force took the cops' head off - clean off. The decapitated head bounced off the windshield of the parked car. Angel stared. He shouldn't have been able to kick a head off like that - no way did he have that kind of power. But, as he looked, the head became decayed and rotten. 'Do you understand these rights as I have...' The decapitated head droned - sounding slow - like a machine winding down.

The words stopped. Angel glanced at the headless body lying in the road. It was also now decayed. A silver police badge gleamed on the chest of it's rotting uniform...

Chapter 54: The Thin Dead Line: Part Two

Chapter Text

George and Rondell entered the teen centre. They were part of Gunn's old crew - though they hadn't seen him in months - they had been very surprised to receive his phone call. 'Well if it isn't Charlie Gunn, brother at large,' George said, slapping Gunn on the back, 'I brought the camcorder, what's up?'

Gunn stood up and slapped both their hands. 'There's a neighbourhood problem needs sorting,' he told them.

'This something to do with cops cracking skulls?' Rondell asked.

'You guys know about that?'

'Everyone knows about that, man.'

'Well I didn't!'

The two young men just shrugged. Gunn had been away - he'd got off the streets and moved on up - working cases with his new, white family. If he wasn't paying attention to what was going on in the old neighbourhood - then it wasn't their job to keep him informed. If he cared, he'd ask. He didn't. So they got on with the job - holding the crew together, hunting vampires, keeping the area safe.

'Maybe I shouldn't have called at all,' Gunn said seeing their faces. 'You know what, you're free to go.'

'Already made the trip,' George told him, 'might as well go all the way.'

'Don't do me no favours.'

'The favour's for the kids. You got a plan or don't you?'

After a beat, Gunn decided to go ahead and tell them his plan. It was simple. They were going to walk the streets and try to get stopped by a cop. George would film the whole thing on his camcorder.

'How do you know you'll get stopped?' Anne asked them.

But the three young men just laughed. ''Cause we'll be the ones walking whilst black', Gunn told her.

Angel walked into the downtown precinct and found Kate working at her desk. She looked up at him, 'I haven't seen you in a while,' she said to him. 'I guess you didn't catch up with that vampire friend of yours… how's Doyle?'

Angel frowned - everyone asked after Doyle - why? From what he could tell from his lurking, the half demon seemed fine… and anyway - how would he really know how any of his friends were? He'd had to push them away to protect them - they weren't catching up over cups of coffee. 'Fine… I did track them down eventually - the vampires. I set fire to them.'

'Oh. Well. I guess that's that.'

'Yeah… but… I just killed a cop.'

Kate slammed the file she was working on shut and whipped her head around, glancing at all the other cops to make sure they hadn't heard. 'Don't even joke about that. Not in this building. No matter how immortal you think you are.'

'This was the kind of cop that keeps on talking after his head's been knocked off,' Angel told her, 'they really teach you how to do that at the academy?'

'I don't understand.'

'I'm not sure I do - not yet,' he pulled out the badge he had taken off the decomposing corpse. It's number was 4226, 'can you tell me who this belonged to?'

Kate sighed as she began to tap the information into the computer. 'Am I not already doing enough work on the side for you and your little friends?' she asked.

Angel didn't understand what she meant, so he ignored the question and kept his eyes on the screen. A photo and some stats popped up. 'That's the guy', he said pointing.

'Officer Peter Harkes,' Kate said.

'You know him?'

'Well enough to be at his funeral six months ago.'

'You wanna take a ride?'

She shook her head. 'No - sorry Angel, no can do. I'm busy here - working for you -' she waved the shut file in his face, 'tracking down witness statements - checking their veracity… I'm doing this on top of my real work. I do not have time to look into this with you.' Angel still had no idea what she was talking about, she wasn't doing any work for him… he just stood there looking nonplussed, and she relented a little. 'OK,' she scribbled down a note, 'this is the graveyard where they buried him - if you need anything else ring me up - but I'm not doing any leg work for you.' She handed the note over and Angel thanked her and left. 'Hey Angel!' she called after him, he turned. 'Tell Doyle...tell him - try not to worry.'

But Doyle was worrying. He was - ostensibly - going through the books looking for the demon that had bit Stephanie Sharp. He had Cordelia's sketch to help identify it, and between the three of them they hoped to make a breakthrough soon enough. But, just as he had done last night, he was in fact simply listlessly staring at the pictures, not really taking in any of the details. He chewed on a hangnail on his thumb, and contemplated the next three years. Strip searches, cells and communal showers. Humiliations and beatings. Darkness and despair. And being caged up for 23 hours a day in a dank, gloomy, cramped room - whilst the world moved on without him...

He was shaken out of his reverie by the phone ringing. Cordelia answered. It was Gunn - whatever he was telling her was not making her very happy. 'Maybe we should back you up on this,' she was saying into the phone…'because I don't want you to get hurt' ….'of course I do - but.. Hello? Hello?' She put the phone down. 'He hung up,' she explained, 'Gunn is about to do something monumentally stupid.'

'Gunn can take care o' himself, darlin'.' Doyle tried to sound reassuring, but it didn't seem to work.

'What did he say?' Wesley wanted to know.

'Just that in order to find out if the police have been brutalising and killing people in Anne's neighbourhood, he's going to videotape the cops trying to brutalise and kill him.'

Doyle whistled, 'I think I might retract my earlier statement, that's crazy!'

'Damn skippy!'

'You can't be serious?' Wesley asked, looking up from his book.

'Nothing says 'aha I'm onto you' like being on the receiving end of a vicious police beating,' Cordelia said. Doyle squirmed, uncomfortably, in his seat. Her words had cut a little too close to home on where his own thoughts had been just moments previously. He chewed on his hangnail a bit harder.

'Couldn't you stop him?' Wesley wanted to know.

But Cordelia threw her hands up in exasperation. 'Hello! Gunn, stubborn, synonyms.' She blew out her cheeks in frustration.

Doyle looked up at her - still chewing on his thumb. 'Maybe - he didn't tell you everythin' - over the phone - maybe there's more to it than…'

Cordelia snorted, but Wesley was nodding along in agreement with Doyle's words. 'That can't be his plan,' the watcher said, 'I mean it's a really really dumb plan.'

But Cordelia was adamant that the situation was just as she described it. 'Gunn graduated with a major in dumb planning from Angel University', she told the men, 'he sat at the feet of the master and learned well how to plan dumbly.'

'Well I guess we just have to let him get on with it,' Wesley said, returning to his books.

'Oh I'm sure he'll be fine,' Cordelia agreed.

Doyle nodded, 'like I said - the kid can take care o' himself,' he chimed in.

They all stopped what they were doing and looked at each other. 'If he wants our help - he knows where to call us,' Wesley said, slowly.

'Yeah - we'll work our gig - he can work his.'

Doyle looked between his two friends - waiting, and then - 'right, let's get down there and save him from himself,' Wesley said, snapping his book closed.

'It's not like that third eye is going anywhere!' Cordelia agreed, grabbing her purse as she hurried from the office. Wesley picked up his jacket and followed her out. Right at the back, Doyle slowly heaved himself out of his seat, and trailed behind his friends.

Angel stood by the graveside of Officer Peter Harkes. He'd been shot on duty, Kate had said, never saw it coming. The perp had been caught, though; he was up for the death penalty. The thing was - Kate had said this had all happened six months ago - but the ground at Peter Harkes' grave was freshly turned. Someone had been digging there in the last few weeks. They'd made a good job of it - though. A human would never have noticed that the grave had been disturbed.

He walked around the cemetery. There were more disturbed graves - and all of the headstones declared them to be the graves' of cops. Zombies, Angel thought. Someone was unearthing dead police officers and putting them back on the streets - but a zombie only ever did the bidding of its master. Someone, somewhere was pulling the strings. He took out his cell and rang Kate - asking where the nearest precinct to Crenshaw was.

As Anne came down the stairs of the shelter, she heard a desperate battering on the door. She began to call out that they were full, but then realised that it wasn't homeless teens - it was Cordelia, Doyle and Wesley. She opened the door and let them inside.

'Is Gunn still here?' Cordelia gasped.

Anne shook her head. 'No. He left a little while ago with his friends, why?'

'Did he say where he was going?' Wesley demanded.

'Forty fifth street I think.'

The three team members looked at each other. 'I'll start there,' Wesley said to his two friends, 'I'm on my cell if you hear from him.'

'You want me to come with y' bud?' Doyle asked.

But Wesley shook his head. 'I think, considering your current circumstances, it's best if you stay out of the way of the police right now. If things go wrong ...it won't help you.' Doyle looked down at his feet, but he nodded. What Wesley said made sense, but he didn't like hearing it in such frank words - he could no longer afford to cross the path of the law - he was only out on bail, and any dealings with the police - no matter who was in the wrong - could lead to his rearrest ...and be held against him in his sentencing. He was not yet in jail, and already he was limited in the ways he could be useful to the team. He really had managed to screw everything up - for himself and everyone he cared about.

Wesley left. Cordelia looked around the shelter and saw how busy and chaotic it was. 'I guess you could do with a little help tonight, huh?'

'Most of my regular staffers are too afraid to come in, right now,' Anne admitted.

'Where do you want me to start?'

Anne handed her a bundle of blankets. 'How are you at folding laundry?'

'I'm an actress - I can fake it,' Cordelia said, smiling. 'Hey, Doyle? You gonna help? I would've thought this was your sort of thing - you must be used to this stuff - helping the homeless and all.'

Doyle looked up from his feet, shaking his head as if to clear his depressing thoughts from his mind. As he glanced up, he made eye contact with a teenage girl coming down the stairs. He frowned, her shirt looked awfully familiar. He stared at it for a moment… then he became aware of the teenager glaring at him. He shook his head again, realising what that must have looked like - an older guy just gazing at a teenage girl's chest - and turned to Cordelia. 'Hey, Cordy? Don't you have a shirt just like that one?'

Cordelia looked up and her expression became outraged 'Hey! That's my …' she trailed off as she seemed to realise where she was 'Sorry!' she apologised to the girl, 'I have a shirt just like that.' She turned to Doyle and Anne, 'the guy in the shop said it was one of a kind!' she complained, 'big fibber!'

'Maybe it just looks really similar,' Doyle said, picking up the first of the blankets and beginning to fold. 'Y'know, I haven't seen that shirt since we left the hotel - maybe we're remembering it wrong.'

'Yeah, I think I left it at Angel's,' Cordelia agreed. 'Maybe you're right.'

Anne didn't say anything - but she realised now where the vampire had got all the women's clothes he had donated. In fact - he'd also donated some men's clothes as well - pants that were made to fit someone short, and gaudy patterned shirts, a bit like the one Doyle was wearing. She wondered if their boss had played fast and loose with both their possessions.

Just as she was shutting the door, a man - older than a teen, but younger than Doyle - jumped up onto the step and blocked the doorway. 'I'm sorry,' Anne said to him, 'I'm all out of beds.'

'Oh come on now, sweet thing,' he said to her, 'you know it aint safe for man or beast out there.' Back in the corridor, Doyle and Cordy exchanged a glance, and stopped their folding, turning to look at the man in the doorway. ''I'm really sorry,' Anne repeated, trying to shut the door again, 'but I really don't have any…' the man stepped inside, '...free beds'

'You don't have to worry about me. I'm sure I can find someone to share'. He eyed up two girls that walked past them. 'Oh yeah - plenty of candidates.'

'Hey!' said Doyle stepping forward.

The younger man glanced at Doyle, moving his eyes up and down - taking in the whole of the Irishman - weighing up the threat. He smirked at what he saw. 'You got a problem, man?' the man asked him.

'I really think it would be best if you left,' Anne said, standing in between the two men, trying to head off a display of male ego and violence in her shelter.

Cordelia stepped forward as well, her expression stony, 'you should probably go.'

'This is a shelter, right? Well it just so happens I'm in need of a little shelter.' The man forced his way past Anne and shoved Cordelia against the wall, as he moved into the building. 'Hey!' Cordy shouted at him. Doyle stood in the hallway, blocking the man's way. The man looked down at him, 'you gonna get out of my way or am I gonna move you?' Doyle stood his ground - staring back up at the taller man, refusing to budge an inch.

But Anne shook her head, 'just let him in, Doyle - I don't want any trouble.'

Without lowering his gaze, the half demon stepped aside and the man walked further into the shelter. 'Much obliged,' he said.

Once he was gone, Doyle turned to Anne. 'You shouldda let me throw him out!'

But she shook her head again. 'It's not worth it - I don't want any violence in my shelter. The kids see enough of it as it is.'

After a moment, Doyle nodded and went back to his folding. 'I couldda thrown him out!' he muttered to Cordy. She just smiled at him, as she too returned to folding.

...

The man stalked around the shelter. He bumped into one of the teens. 'Hey look out man-' the teen started to say, and then saw who it was '...Jackson.'

'Well lookee here!' Jackson said, 'if it isn't Ray! You been ducking me Ray?'

'No'

Doyle walked through the room, carrying the folded laundry. He stopped when he saw the man accosting the younger boy.

'Why you shaking Ray?' Jackson was asking, 'what you got to be nervous about? You don't think I'm gonna kill you?'

'No'

Jackson laughed and clapped Ray on the shoulder. 'That's right. I'm not gonna kill you - not in front of all these pretty ladies. I would never kill you here.' He looked up and saw Doyle watching him, he raised his hands. 'Hey, man - nothing to see here - me and Ray were just messin'. Aint that right Ray?' He clapped the teenager on the shoulder again, and Ray nodded his head.

'Well maybe you should go mess somewhere else,' Doyle told him, keeping eye contact the whole time. 'No threatenin' the boys and don't go touchin' the girls else I will throw you out in the street - I don't care how crazy the cops are out there.'

'Yeah man, sure, you're gonna stop me,' Jackson said, once more eyeing Doyle up and down to show how unimpressed he was by the figure the little Irishman cut. He tried to push his way past, and clapped Doyle on the shoulder as he did.

The half demon reached out and grabbed his hand - briefly turning demon face in order to use his extra strength to crush it. He looked at Jackson with a face full of spikes, Jackson jerked away from him. 'Yeah, bud, I will stop you,' Doyle told him.

He shook off his demon face, Jackson hurried out of the room, and Doyle turned to Ray. 'You OK?'

'Yeah, man - what are you?'

'More than meets the eye,' Doyle shrugged, 'you sure you're OK? What did he want with you?'

It was Ray's turn to shrug. 'He's just bad news, man - we all try to avoid him.'

Doyle sighed, 'well - it looks like we're stuck with him for the time bein' - but let me know if he goes round hassling you or anyone else - I meant what I said about throwing him out to the cops.'

'Man - I wish I could grow badass spikes outta my face like that,' Ray said.

The half demon smiled, ruefully, 'yeah? I'd do anythin' to get rid o' em.'

Gunn and his two crew members walked down the street. It was deserted - no sign of anybody anywhere. 'Damn!' Gunn cursed, 'I never had to look so hard for trouble before.' They arrived at Forty fifth street - there was still no one to be seen. George and Rondell were reluctant to walk down that street, however, despite its emptiness. Forty fifth was gang ground - if the cops found them there they'd shoot first and ask questions later. But it was unlikely they would meet a cop - the area was so bad that even the police were afraid to walk there. They just left it to its own devices.

Or at least - it had been that rough in the past - now it was, as with all the other streets, completely deserted. Gunn looked up and down the road. 'Is someone having an apocalypse and they forgot to invite us?' he asked.

A sudden noise made the three of them turn round. It was the sound of a night stick being dragged across the side of a building. They had finally found a cop. The police officer approached them. 'What are you doing?'

Gunn held his hands up. 'Doing? Nothing, man, just out for a walk.'

'Put your hands on the wall, step back and spread your feet apart,' the cop said, his voice dispassionate.

'You arresting us?' Gunn looked over at George to check that his friend was getting all this on his camcorder. George had the camera hidden under his coat, but he was pointing it at Gunn and the cop, filming the whole exchange.

'Do as you're instructed', the cop told them.

'Officer, I'd just like to know if we're being arrested.' Gunn kept his voice calm and polite, and his hands where the cop could see them. The film would show that Gunn had done nothing wrong - nothing that could have been construed as aggravating the police officer.

'Turn around and face the wall - now.'

'Hey - I'm not trying to argue with you, but I'd just like to know what we did wrong. You know, what law we broke? Because if we broke one, I think we should know what it is so we don't make the same mistake twice.'

The cop lifted his stick, ready to do some damage, 'I'm not gonna tell you again.'

Gunn heard the sound of footsteps running up the street, and looked up to see Wesley running towards them. 'Wait! Officer wait!' the British man cried out when he saw the night stick raised and ready to do some damage. He came to a halt. 'This man is a friend of mine, a very good friend, I'm sure he hasn't committed any -' The cop spun round and fired his gun, straight at Wesley. It hit him straight in the belly, and the watcher staggered back, as he felt the impact. He looked up at the cop in disbelief - he hadn't done anything wrong - how could he be shot? And then he slumped down against the wall of the building and collapsed...

Chapter 55: The Thin Dead Line: Part Three

Chapter Text

Doyle stood leaning against the doorway of the main room in the shelter. He had his arms folded across his chest and his eyes narrowed, as he watched Jackson walk up the stairs and disappear from view. He pushed himself off from the door frame and started to follow the other man - he didn't trust him - not upstairs where the beds were. He'd be harassing the girls, and they'd come to the shelter to be safe.

As Doyle began to move, he found his way blocked by Cordelia. 'Hey - what are you up to?' she asked him, smiling at him.

'I was just gonna…' he trailed off, he couldn't think of a nice way of saying he was going to kick a predator down the stairs and out into the streets. Especially as Anne had said she didn't want any violence in her shelter.

'Gonna what?'

He shook his head, 'nothin' - what's up?'

'I asked you first,' she said, 'you, OK?'

He nodded - 'yeah, I'm just ...worried about that Jackson guy,' he kept his eyes fixed on the top of the stairs. 'He's bad news - I think we should get rid of him.'

'I don't see how we can do that without fighting in front of the kids,' Cordelia pointed out, 'besides - he's, like, twice the size of you.'

'You don't think I could get rid of him?' Doyle sounded injured.

'I think I'd prefer you not to try,' she replied, keeping her voice light. 'I like you with all your bits in one piece, thank you very much… hopefully Wes and Gunn will be back soon - then you can kick him out.'

'So you don't think I can get rid of him, but you think Wes and Gunn can?' He sounded insulted.

She smirked sympathetically, and kissed him on the cheek. 'Enough with the macho pissing contest, Doyle. I think 3 against one is better odds against a guy that we know is trouble.'

'4 against one,' Doyle said to her, 'no one who knows what's best for 'em gets on the wrong side o' you, Cordelia.'

'Damn skippy!'

She grinned for a moment, but then she sighed, and Doyle tore his gaze away from the upper landing, and tuned to look at her. 'So what is up with you?'

'I'm just worried about Wes and Gunn.'

'Ah - I'm sure they'll be fine, princess.'

'Wesley!' As he crumpled to the floor, Wesley heard his friend cry out his name, in panic. But there was nothing he could do. Gunn flung himself at the cop, tackling the police officer to the ground and knocking the gun out of his hand. Rondell darted forward and picked up the fallen firearm, but the cop was down but not out. He hit Gunn across the jaw and then reached towards his ankle.

'He's got another gun,' George shouted, as he realised the cop had a concealed holster. The officer pulled out his second gun and took aim, but before he could pull the trigger; Rondell shot him twice with the gun he had picked up. 'Oh man!' he groaned, as the cop slumped downwards and he realised what he had done.

'Let's get out of here!' George said. He was panicked. He had just filmed his best friend shooting a cop.

'Help me get Wesley,' Gunn commanded. He and George ran towards the watcher. Rondell dropped the gun down into the street. He didn't take his eyes off it. The other two men reached Wesley and began to help him up.

'Is anyone else cold?' Wesley asked Gunn, in a dazed voice.

Gunn wrapped the watcher's arm around his neck to support him. 'It's OK, we're gonna take you some place warm.' He turned to the other two, 'come on! Come on!'

Rondell was still staring, fixated, at the cop and the fallen gun. 'I shot him! I shot a cop!'

'Not a lot of choice,' Gunn told him.

'I killed a police officer! Look at him. He's dead!'

At that precise moment the cop sat back up and opened his eyes.

'Don't look that dead to me!' Gunn remarked. 'Move!'

They ran off down the street, as best they could, with Wesley supported between Gunn and George. The cop watched them go and reached for the radio clipped to his shoulder. 'We have a situation', he said into it.

There was a crackle of static and then a voice came over from the other end. 'Are there any loose ends?'

'We have witnesses,' the cop confirmed, 'I need back up.'

...

As the four of them staggered into an empty street, Gunn called on them to stop. 'Hold up, hold up,' he told them, 'I need to try and stop the bleeding.' He gently laid the British man down on the floor and began to apply pressure to his wound.

'Nine one one,' Wesley groaned, 'you need to call nine one one.'

'Screw the cops, man,' Rondell said to him, 'they're the ones that did this to you.'

Gunn looked up at him, irritation written on his face. 'An ambulance,' he said.

'Oh.'

Wesley reached inside his jacket pocket and pulled his cell phone out. Rondell ran to the end of the street to look out for the cop, and Gunn dialled. 'Tell them no siren,' George warned. The dial tone connected, and the operator spoke. '911 - what is your emergency?'

Angel walked into the police station that was closest to Crenshaw. It seemed deserted. There was no duty officer at the desk - no one around anywhere. He rang the bell, impatiently. Eventually, a desk sergeant came out front. He seemed surprised to see Angel standing there. 'Can I help you?' he asked.

'Yeah, I'm investigating some complaints about the way some officers are handling things in this precinct,' Angel told him.

The cop looked confused. 'You internal affairs?'

'You bet your ass I am,' Angel replied, 'where is everyone?' Behind the duty officer, another police man - one in a senior uniform - hurried into a back office. Angel watched him go.

The desk sergeant glanced back and then turned back to Angel, 'there's only a few of us riding the desk tonight,' he told him.

'Why? Not much going on?'

'Crime is way down in this precinct,' the officer informed the vampire, importantly, 'we're doing things right.'

'And who takes credit for that?'

'It's a team effort,' the cop said, 'but the Captain is the one who really got the ball rolling.'

And Angel was willing to bet everything he had that the senior officer who had just snuck away - on hearing internal affairs had come to visit - was the Captain in question. 'OK, then it's him I'll need to talk to.'

'He's not here right now,' the cop covered for his boss - he had been told what to do if IA ever came calling. 'You're free to try again later, though.'

'Uhuh,' Angel nodded - this guy wasn't going to make things easy for him. Well that was OK, Angel was in the mood for breaking some skulls tonight. 'This Captain of yours? He running everything by the book?'

The police officer looked at him. 'I don't have to tell you who used to run these streets, sir,' he said, 'the scumbags did. Hell. I - I was afraid to drive to work myself ...we got a tougher policy, now.'

Angel leaned forward and gripped the cop by the lapels, 'and that's the policy I'm here to investigate - so take me to the Captain.'

Gunn pressed down on Wesley's wound. Rondell came running back towards them, 'the ambulance is here!' he told the others.

Wesley groaned. 'I don't think I'm doing too good,' he told Gunn.

But Gunn shook his head. 'You're doing fine, man - we're just gonna get you to the ambulance. Getting shot like this ...yeah, I seen lots of people shot worse than this and it didn't slow them down none.'

The ambulance pulled up beside them, and the paramedics got out and opened the back doors. They got out a stretcher and approached the small group huddled on the sidewalk.

Jackson came back down the stairs. Doyle was waiting for him at the bottom. 'What were y' doin' up there?' the Irishman asked, blocking the other man's way, 'Anne told y' there wasn't any beds left.'

'Hey man! I aint doin no harm,' Jackson said, holding his hands up. He gave Doyle a look that wasn't frightened exactly, but had none of his previous swagger. He also stayed well back. During his time upstairs, he'd convinced himself that he couldn't possibly have seen this little white guy turn green and shoot spikes out of his face… But his hand still hurt like hell from where it had been crushed in a grip far stronger than a man this small, and under muscled, could possibly manage. Jackson might have convinced himself his mind was playing tricks on him - but he didn't exactly want to put that theory to the test.

'Get back in the main room - and don't talk to no one, understand?' Doyle said to him, folding his arms across his chest as he spoke. 'And if I hear that you were up there causin' trouble…'

'Hey, man, me? No way! It's cool.' Jackson began to back off. He bumped into Cordelia coming in the opposite direction. She gave him an annoyed glance, and he ducked into the main room.

Doyle breathed a sigh of relief and unfolded his arms. He didn't actually like getting stuck into this macho pissing contest, as Cordelia had called it. But Jackson clearly had no respect for Anne or Cordelia - and knew he could bully the kids. He was the type of man that would only respect those that he couldn't push around himself - and would only ever respect other men. So Doyle had to be the kind of man that couldn't be pushed around - as he was the only other grown man there - he had to protect the women and the teens from the kind of man that would always use his own power against them. But he didn't like having to do it - because he knew, deep down, that he wasn't the kind of man that he was pretending to be. Macho pissing contests just weren't his style.

'You OK?' Cordelia asked him again. He nodded, but his hands were shaking slightly. He refolded his arms to hide the fact. 'Is it me, or did that guy seem a bit afraid of you?' Cordelia asked, sounding impressed.

He managed a weak smile for her, 'well - you might not believe in my manliness, princess, but I can assure y' - I'm quite the masculine fella. Other men tremble in my wake.'

Cordelia snorted with laughter, and he smiled again, too. But a moment later, his face fell. He knew why these encounters with Jackson were bothering him so much. After all, Jackson was just a human man, and Doyle had faced off against vampires, demons and the forces of darkness, and walked away in one piece. This was bothering him because he knew that, all too soon, his life was going to be filled with men just like Jackson. Throwing their weight around, bullying whoever they could, backing off from those they couldn't. He was going to be facing three years of interactions like these - and he didn't think he had the energy for it. But if he showed a moment's weakness…

He wouldn't be able to frighten his fellow prison inmates with his demon face, though, that wouldn't be safe for him. He remembered all too well the beating the guards had given him when they'd seen his demon half. They might have convinced themselves they'd imagined things, but he couldn't rely on that more than once - eventually they would realise he was a demon. And then - if they didn't kill him outright - they'd call in the government. So, next time a guy like Jackson faced off against him, Doyle would have to face him as an ordinary, shorter and weaker than average, human man - and he knew he would not come off well from the encounter. He sighed again.

'I'm really getting worried, now, ' Cordelia said to him, 'where are Wesley and Gunn?'

Wesley was loaded into the ambulance, and Gunn got in beside him. George and Rondell ran off back to the shelter. The ambulance began to drive and Gunn gripped his friend's hand. 'It's OK, Wesley, we're nearly there.' He felt the wagon shudder and come to a halt. Two cop cars had blocked the end of the road, their lights flashing. 'Something's happening up ahead,' the driver called back to him, 'I'll go see what it is.'

The paramedic climbed out of the ambulance and began to approach the police. 'Hey!' he called, 'You've got to let us through - we've got…'

The police opened fire on the paramedic, riddling him with bullets. 'No!' shouted Gunn. He clambered through into the front of the ambulance, got into the driver's seat and hit reverse. 'Hang on!' he turned the truck round and sped down the other end of the alley. The cops fired their guns after him - but he kept on driving.

He pulled up outside of the shelter, and ran around to the back - opening the doors and unstrapping Wesley. 'What are you doing?' the other paramedic called after him.

'Trying to survive, help me get him inside.'

The paramedic unhooked the iv bag they had attached to Wesley and handed it to Gunn; and then, between the two of them, they supported the injured man - carrying him to the door.

Gunn banged on it. 'Yo, Annie! Open up it's G.'

It was Doyle that opened the door. He took one look at Wesley , 'dear, sweet … what happened to him?'

'They shot him.'

'Who shot him?'

'The cops. They're not human!'

'Jesus!'

As Gunn and the paramedic manhandled Wesley into the shelter, Doyle closed and locked the door.

...

A police car pulled up outside the shelter. 'All passengers are on board, sir,' he said into his radio, 'we have full containment.'

Back at the precinct the Captain listened in. 'Wait for backup,' he instructed. 'Secure the entire section - clean house.'

...

Gunn and the paramedic carried Wesley into the room and laid him out on the sofa. 'Cordelia!' Doyle stood at the bottom of the stairs and yelled upwards for his former girlfriend. She appeared at the top, 'they're back, Cordy - I think they might need you', the half demon told her. She hurried down the stairs.

Over on the sofa, Wesley was gripping Gunn's hand. 'They had no right,' he was saying.

But his friend shushed him. 'I know, man.'

Cordelia entered the room, Doyle on her heels. She pulled up short when she saw the damage done, but then she gathered herself and rushed across the room. 'What can I do to help?' she asked the paramedic.

He handed her a pad, 'apply pressure to the wound,' he told her.

She rolled up her sleeves and did as she was told. Watching her work, Doyle was reminded of the situation they were in with Gunn - months ago - when they had been in another such house, under siege, and Gunn's friend, Veronica, had been injured. Cordelia had done just what she was doing now - put her fright to one side and worked to keep the girl alive. She had been successful - Veronica had pulled through, thanks to Cordy's intervention - and Doyle could only hope that tonight's work would render the same result.

Gunn left Cordelia to it, and went to stare out of the window.

'Are we safe in here?' Anne asked him.

He shrugged. 'Safer than out there. But we need to get all doors and windows locked - and stay away from the windows.'

She turned to look at her teens. 'You heard him - go!' they all ran to secure the building.

The room emptied out except for the gang, the paramedic, Anne - and Jackson. The man had not bothered to follow her instructions - the way the kids had done. Instead, he hung around - staring at Wesley's wound. 'Damn - now that looks nasty!'

Gunn turned to look at him, 'Jackson- what the hell you doing here?' he turned to Doyle, 'what the hell is he doing here?'

Doyle shrugged, 'he forced his way in, Anne told me not to kick him out.'

'How are we going to handle the cops?' Anne asked, interrupting them.

'I say let them come,' Jackson said, rolling up his shirt to reveal the handle of a gun tucked into his waistband. 'I know how to handle cops.'

Doyle backed off, intensely relieved that both Anne and Cordy had forbidden him from trying to toss this guy out into the street. Gunn just looked disgusted. 'That kind of lifestyle working for you?'

'Don't get all high and mighty with me, man, I know where you come from.'

'Hey fellas, maybe we should just calm down, yeah?' Doyle tried to diffuse the situation between the two angry men who stood toe to toe, eyeballing each other.

But Gunn was too irate to listen to his friend. 'Where I come from you don't bring down a community - you try and make it better.'

'Gunn - I really don't think now's the time to-'

But Doyle was cut off by Jackson's retort. 'I'm just doing my thing man! Why don't you get out of my face?'

But that made Gunn even angrier. Jackson doing his 'thing' was the reason the cops were clamping down on the neighbourhood - and the reason why nobody cared how brutal they had become. His 'thing' was hurting everyone in the community - he was a thug with a gun - keeping the cycle going.

'Not my problem,' Jackson shrugged.

'No, see? It's my problem alright - 'cause they shot my friend over there.'

Jackson shrugged again. 'White man dying - Not exactly losing sleep on it.' Gunn threw him against the wall and held him there.

'Gunn, bud, not now - yeah? Wesley needs us.'

Gunn let go of Jackson with a snort of disgust, and turned back to his injured friend.

...

Outside, more cop cars pulled up. 'All units in place', one cop said into his radio.

Back at the precinct, the captain gave the order. 'Go in. keep it quiet - no gunfire.'

...

'He's going south,' the paramedic declared.

'No!' Cordelia gasped a small sob, and pressed down even harder on Wesley's wound. Doyle was beside her in an instant. He wrapped his arm around her, giving her comfort, even as she worked.

'I think there's internal bleeding,' the paramedic told the team, 'and I can't do anything about it here, I need to get him to the hospital - fast.'

'We can't go back out there!' Gunn protested, 'you saw what they did to him.'

But Cordelia shook her head, she was not going to let this happen. She was not going to lose another team member. First Angel had walked out on them, and soon Doyle would be leaving her - she couldn't lose Wesley, too. She couldn't do this if it was just her and Gunn. And since Angel had left them, Wesley was her link to home - to who she had once been - to her old life. She couldn't lose her old life and her new life in one fell swoop. 'He's going to die,' she told her friends, 'we're taking him to a hospital, now. I don't care who's out there.'

Gunn and Doyle glanced at each other, but you didn't cross Cordy once she had made her mind up. You did what you were told or you got out of her way. 'Alright,' Gunn nodded. He went over to Wesley, and he and the paramedic supported the injured man between them. Doyle followed on behind, staying close and carrying Wesley's iv. Cordelia ran ahead to get the door.

'Where are we going?' Wesley asked, his voice slurred with pain and confusion.

'To the hospital,' Gunn told him.

'Sounds sensible to me.'

Cordelia opened the door and pulled up short, as she saw two of the cop cars parked outside. She turned back to men. 'They're here.'

Chapter 56: The Thin Dead Line: Part Four

Chapter Text

Cordelia slammed the door shut and locked it once more. Then she peered through the glass and looked out into the street. The cops were getting out of their cars and heading for the shelter. 'They're coming,' she told her friends, 'we need to barricade - fast!'

She backed away from the door, 'we need to put Wesley somewhere safe', she said, 'away from any entrances - can we get him upstairs?' But the paramedic shook his head - he didn't want to risk moving someone in Wesley's condition that far, and he didn't know that he would survive the jolting.

'OK,' Cordelia thought out loud, as she moved further away from the door, allowing Anne and one of the kids access so they could nail a bar across it. 'We take him back to the sofa. Put the sofa in the middle of the room - as far from the windows as possible - and I'll stay with him to protect him whilst you,' she turned to the paramedic, 'keep on working on saving him. Gunn and Doyle, you man the entrances - stop the cops getting in.'

They all nodded. Doyle handed Gunn the iv bag, and then he and Cordy ran back into the main room and shoved the sofa as far into the centre as they could. Gunn and the paramedic brought Wesley back in and laid him down on the couch once more. 'I need a weapon,' Cordelia said.

Over near the window a couple of kids were just finished nailing bits of wood across the glass. Doyle took the hammer off one of them and passed it to his former girlfriend. She took it from him, feeling the weight of it. She smiled, grimly, to herself. 'This will do.'

Then Gunn and Doyle went to join in with defending the shelter. All the furniture was piled up in front of the doors and windows, and baseball bats were being handed round. 'Don't be afraid to use it,' Gunn said, handing one of the bats to Ray, then he turned to yell instructions to the room at large, 'everything up against the windows. Come on quick - move!'

...

Outside the cops drew closer, spreading out and circling the building.

...

Anne continued to nail bars across the front door. 'Anne!' Doyle stepped out into the hall to speak to her, 'is there a back door?'

She nodded at him, 'there's one in the kitchen,' she grabbed a passing teen, 'show Doyle where the back door is.' The half demon disappeared off to the kitchen with his teenage guide. Together, they moved a table and all the chairs up against the door. There was a window near the corner of the room. The Irishman looked round for something to block it. There was a tall fridge freezer stood in the opposite corner. 'Y' think we could unplug that and move it across to the window?' he asked the girl.

They tried to shove it between them, but it was too big and too heavy to budge. Doyle stepped back and wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his sleeve. 'OK love, I'm gonna have to do something and I need you not to freak out on me. You hear?' She nodded and Doyle morphed into his demon face. The teenager flinched, but, true to her word, didn't start to scream. With his extra strength he was easily able to shove the fridge across the room and up against the window.

Once it was done, he shook off his spikes. The girl was staring at him. 'Man, Ray said you could do that - but I thought he was messin'!'

Doyle just smiled, grimly, 'you got a weapon?' The teenager nodded and raised her baseball bat. 'Good,' the half demon said, and picked up a bat of his own.

Back in his office, the Police Captain put down his radio and sat down behind his desk. The door opened - he glanced to see who was there. It was the tall IA man from out by the front desk. Angel advanced into the room.

'Can I help you?' The Captain asked, annoyed that the desk sergeant hadn't got rid of this interloper. Angel didn't answer, instead he just picked up some of the things on the Captain's desk and began to examine them.

'What are you doing?' the Captain asked.

'Looking around.'

'Who are you?'

Angel picked up an open medal case, and looked at the medal inside, 'Angel', he replied.

'Well, Angel, if you need something, I'm sure someone downstairs would be willing to help you.'

'Actually I need to talk to you,' Angel told him.

'About what?'

'About some of your - more dead - cops?'

The Captain began to chuckle and got out of his seat. 'How about we talk about you instead?' He took out his gun and fired two bullets straight into Angel's chest.

Angel seemed to curl up, around the injuries - but only for a moment. He straightened back up - now in vamp face. 'How do I stop them?'

The Captain raised his gun again, but Angel was too quick for him. He grabbed the policeman's arm and then pushed him back against the wall, gripping his throat. 'I'll repeat the question.'

The cops stepped up to the windows and began to smash the glass, sticking their hands through to tear down the hastily thrown up barricades. The kids began to push more furniture towards the windows, hoping to keep the police out. 'Come on, move move!' Gunn yelled at them.

The paramedic stayed close to the sofa, working tirelessly on Wesley - monitoring his pulse rate and blood pressure, applying pressure to the wound - making sure that he remained hooked up to his iv. The window just opposite them was smashed in, and glass flew across the room - but the medic didn't even look up. He just kept on working on saving Wesley. Cordelia stood beside them both, her hammer gripped in her hands. If the cops made it into the room then they weren't going to get to her friend - or stop the paramedic from saving him. She was going to protect them no matter what. No one was getting to Wesley without coming through her first - and she was in the mood for a fight.

Gunn and the kids kept on pushing the furniture up against the windows. Over by the front door, four cops were trying to break their way in - but Anne's bars were holding fast. More cops were climbing up onto the window sills and the teenagers were swinging their baseball bats, trying to knock them back into the street - and then darting backwards to allow someone else to push up another barricade.

Back in the kitchen, two cops were battering on the back door trying to get in. Doyle and the teen girl stood there - silent and alert, baseball bats ready. There was the sound of breaking glass - they turned to look - the kitchen window had been put through, but the cop had just come up against the fridge freezer. 'You OK?' Doyle asked the girl. She nodded, but he noticed that her knuckles were white where she gripped the bat. 'Good,' he said to her ''cause everythin's goin' to be OK. Do you believe me?' She nodded again and they both fell back into silence as they waited by the door.

'How do I stop them?' Angel, good as his word, repeated his question.

The Captain's face was turning red under the vampires deathly grip. 'These are good cops,' he choked out, 'they put their lives on the line. They died on the streets.'

'You should have left them that way,' Angel told him, bringing his face - and his fangs - very close to the Captain's own face.

'I won't betray them,' the Captain yelled. He knocked Angel's fist from his throat and fled towards the back of his office. He pushed the filing cabinet aside, revealing a hidden door. He yanked the door open and disappeared inside. Angel watched him go - and then darted after him.

Two teenagers pushed a bookshelf up against one of the broken windows, but a cop reached through, pulled the shelf out of the way and yanked one of the kids through the broken glass. Gunn saw it happen and realised it was too dangerous to keep the runaways in the room - defending the shelter. 'Alright,' he yelled, 'get the kids back.'

'Go upstairs,' Anne commanded her teenagers. The kids began to fall back to safety - and the cops began to climb in through the windows. A few of the older teens stayed with Gunn, and continued to beat them with their baseball bats - stopping any of the police from actually entering the room.

Anne ran over to check the door, but one of the cops reached through the window beside it and grabbed hold of her. She screamed and began to hit him with her own bat. A moment later, Cordelia was by her side and using her own weapon - the hammer - to beat the cop away from the other young woman. The hand let go of Anne, and she scrambled backwards. They pushed a chair in front of the window - blocking the cop's entry. He tried to stick his arm through the next window, but Cordelia whacked him several times with her hammer and the arm retreated once more. The two women then ran back into the centre of the room - weapons raised ready for the next assault.

...

Jackson had only come to the shelter to stay out of danger. Now danger had found him, he was gone. He sloped off to a side door, whilst no one was watching - looking to buck. He pulled out his gun before he opened the door, but was immediately clubbed down by the cop waiting on the other side. The cop stepped into the room, over the slumped body of Jackson, and Gunn raced over. He swung his bat, hitting the police officer several times, forcing him back outside. Then he slammed the door shut and locked it once more. Without saying a word, he helped Jackson to his feet.

...

The paramedic worked on - but Wesley was fading.

...

Cordelia and Anne were at the front door now, trying to hold it shut against the hammering cops. Cordy cried out for help, and Gunn and Jackson appeared at her side and helped the two women shove the door closed once more.

...

Down in the kitchen, the door was taking a battering and Doyle knew it would only be a matter of minutes before they broke through. 'I want you to get behind me,' he told the girl, 'once they're in - just keep swinging that bat - doesn't matter what you hit - just don't stop swinging, y' hear me?'

She nodded.

He morphed into his demon face - ready for the coming onslaught.

The Police Captain, inside his hidden room, ran to the trunk he kept there and began to frantically dig through it. Angel burst through the concealed door. The room was small and lit by candles, which stood on every available surface. Photographs of the fallen cops were propped up on shelves - making a shrine. The Captain pulled a cross out of his trunk, but Angel was unperturbed. He looked at all the voodoo paraphernalia scattered across the room. 'How are you controlling them?' he asked. He inspected some of the objects that lay on the table. He pulled something slimy and slippery out of a bowl. 'Is it the entrails?' But he let the guts drop, when the Captain didn't react to his touching them.

The kitchen door gave way, and two cops barrelled straight into the room. Doyle swung his bat with all his demon might straight into the first cop's face. The police officer slammed into the wall, but, just as all the ones on the street had - he rebounded immediately and came at Doyle again. The half demon had smacked the second cop, but then had to turn immediately to deal once more with the first one, leaving the teenaged girl unprotected.

He needn't have worried too much. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her bat swing upwards and - when he turned to help her - he saw that she had slammed her weapon straight between the cop's legs. Doyle winced. But, as he he was momentarily distracted, his own cop tackled him and forced him to the floor. The girl turned and - following Doyle's instructions - just kept lashing out with her bat, hitting one cop and then the next over and over. The half demon crawled away so he was out from under her fury, and then got back to his feet - going back to help her out. Her arms were tiring now and he took over, swinging his bat from one cop to the next - damaging them, but never managing to stop them completely.

He too began to weaken, and the cops - who never stayed down for longer than a moment - began to close in on him and the girl.

...

Out at the front, the cops broke through the front door and finally got through the windows. Cordelia ran back to Wesley, but a cop grabbed her by the throat and pinned her to the wall. Another one threw Gunn across the room, and he crashed threw the banister and landed with a thump on the stairs.

Angel spotted a small statue on a shelf - an idol of Granath, the zombie God. 'Here we go,' he said picking it up, 'is this Granath? Is this how you're controlling them?' The Captain charged at him with a scream, and the vampire raised the idol and smashed it down on the policeman's head. The Captain was knocked to the floor, and the idol of Granath was shattered into pieces.

Back at the shelter, the cops stopped fighting and fell down - their bodies turning into rotting, desiccating corpses once more. In the kitchen, Doyle looked up at his teenage companion, who was still gripping her bat in her white knuckled fist. 'You were amazin'!' he said to her, breathing hard. She laughed, a shaky, strangled sort of laugh. He looked at her shirt, 'I still think that's Cordelia's shirt, though.'

...

At the front of the shelter, Anne hurried up the stairs to check on the kids. Cordelia ran over to Wesley. Gunn and Jackson followed. 'Get the ambulance ready,' Gunn said to the paramedic. The paramedic left the shelter and went outside to ready his vehicle and Gunn asked Jackson to help him with Wesley. But the other man shook his head- the streets were safe again and he was off back out to work. As Jackson walked away, Doyle appeared in the main room. 'How is he?' he asked, nodding towards Wesley.

'We need to get him to the ambulance,' Gunn said. Doyle nodded, and between him, Cordelia, and Gunn they got Wesley upright and out to where the paramedic was waiting.

'You guys go on ahead,' Doyle said to them, 'there's something I want to speak to Anne about.'

Cordelia gave him a confused look but there wasn't time to argue. 'Okay,' she held Wesley's hand, 'we're on our way now, sweetie,' she said to him. Doyle shut the ambulance door and headed back into the shelter.

...

There was actually two things that Doyle wanted to speak to Anne about - and they both revolved around the girl who had been fighting beside him. The first one was serious and unpleasant, but he needed to tell the woman who ran the shelter. The way that young girl had gone straight for the policeman's groin ...that rang every teacher trained child protection bell in Doyle's head - and he needed to check that either Anne was aware there was a problem there - or make sure she was in a position to look into it. Poor kid, he shook his head. As Cordelia had once said, there wasn't enough yuck in this world - not to describe the sort of things that might happen to a vulnerable, homeless teen girl like that.

He sighed to himself. He missed this - in a weird and awful sort of way. He missed helping with the down and outs, the people who had nowhere else to go to - and he missed working with kids. His life used to have so much meaning - when it was dedicated to helping other people. He'd ruined all that. For so long he'd blamed the demon, but it wasn't really the demon's fault. If he'd just accepted that half of himself he could have carried on with the life he had been living - more carefully and secretively, sure - but kept his whole life, just the same.

Instead he'd been weak, and thrown everything away. And it was only now that he was facing up to just how much he'd destroyed - because soon he wouldn't even be able to help the hopeless with Cordy and the rest. He'd screwed up everything - and in doing so hadn't just ruined his own life, but had made it so he couldn't help anyone else either. Soon, his life would have no meaning whatsoever. And, once he had a criminal record - there was no way he'd ever be allowed to work with kids again. He hadn't even realised that a part of him had been hoping that one day he might go back and do that - not until the last couple of days - with Stephanie - and the kids at the shelter. But that hope, as small a glimmer as it had been, would be gone in a matter of weeks. So this was the last thing he could do to help a vulnerable child - before he went to prison, before he was never in a position to help anyone ever again - he could tell Anne his concerns about that girl's safety.

The other reason he wanted to speak to Anne was about Angel. That was Cordelia's shirt the girl had been wearing, he knew it - he could smell Cordy's perfume clinging to it when he went demon face. He wanted to know exactly what contact Angel had had with Anne and her shelter, what he had done - and why. There was a small kernel of hope, burning in his chest that maybe ...maybe Angel had done a decent thing for the shelter because he was still a champion of the people at heart. That maybe not everything came back to his vendetta with Wolfram and Hart - that there was still room in Angel's life for helping the hopeless, and The Powers That Be ...and Doyle. Just maybe ...

Angel arrived at Police headquarters and sat down at Kate's desk. She was on the phone and held up a finger to tell him to wait. 'Yeah,' she said into the receiver, 'the main witness testimony comes from one Leonard Muscovitz - he was in prison for drug dealing - but here's the thing - he died last October.' She was quiet as the voice on the other end of the line buzzed. 'No I looked into that - he hadn't had a police visit the whole time he was there...uhuh - uhuh...can you work with that? Great.' She put the phone down and looked at Angel.

'Hi, I thought you might want to know that I took care of our little cop problem,' he said to her.

'You did?'

'Zombies,' the vampire told her, 'the Captain of the precinct had unearthed a whole load of police, killed in the line of duty, and had them working the streets - taking a hard line, cutting down crime.'

'It was working,' Kate told him, 'I looked into the crime stats of the precinct you asked after. Up until three months ago there was a murder every two weeks, a rape every two days and a robbery every hour and a half. That's what we've just given back to that community.'

'I can live with that.'

'I guess you have to learn to live with a lot of things.' She sighed. 'Sometimes I feel that this job is making me crazy,' she confessed.

'I know the feeling.'

A uniformed officer came over and handed Kate a file, 'for you, Detective Lockley.'

'Thanks,' Kate opened the file and frowned. She looked up at Angel. 'Wyndam- Pryce, that's Wesley isn't it?'

Wesley lay in his hospital bed. His eyes drifted open, slowly. Gunn and Doyle were sitting either side of him. 'Hey,' Gunn said. Wesley moved his head so he could look at his friend, his head felt heavy. 'Hey,' he croaked back.

'You gave us quite a scare there, bud,' Doyle told him. The Irishman was shuffling his deck of cards; he must be anxious, Wesley realised.

'How're you doin'?' Gunn wanted to know.

Wesley blinked, and thought about it. 'I feel like I should be in a great deal of pain,' he answered.

'Well, a gunshot wound'll do that to you,' Gunn replied.

Wesley looked over at the iv bag that hung beside him. 'And yet …' he wasn't in pain, 'is this morphine?' he asked. The two men nodded. 'Well it's bloody lovely,' he giggled. Both his friends smiled, relieved, and Gunn clasped his hand just for a moment.

...

Angel stood out in the corridor, watching the three of them - seeing their closeness, noting the relief of Doyle and Gunn, now they realised their friend would pull through. They made a tender little tableau - and Angel felt his heartstrings pull - wanting to be there with them to share in this moment, to be a part of their family once more. When the Host had told him he'd left his friends out in the cold, he answered that it was colder in there, with him. And never did he feel the truth of those words more, than when he looked into the warmth of the little scene in front of him, the three men sat together - bonded over Wesley's injury, and realised that he did not belong there with them.

He became aware of someone standing just behind him, and he turned. It was Cordelia. She carried a cup holder, containing three coffees, and wore a furious expression on her face. 'What are you doing here?' she asked, no trace of welcome in her voice.

'I heard about Wesley,' Angel told her.

She didn't look impressed. 'Well that's great. Too bad it took a gunshot wound to make you give a crap. Wesley doesn't need you now - we don't need you now. You walked away. Do us a favour and just stay away.' She walked past him and entered the hospital room. She handed Gunn and Doyle a coffee each, and then the Irishman moved out of the way so she could get beside Wesley. She leaned over and stroked the watcher's hair, her expression tender and concerned - completely different to the expression she had worn for Angel.

As the vampire watched, Doyle came to the door. The eyes of the two demons met, and they stared at each other for a long moment. Angel felt like he should be holding his breath. Cordelia was mad at him - and wanted him gone... but Doyle was different. Doyle had come to see him after he'd fired them all, had worked with him at the fundraiser. Doyle always understood where the vampire was coming from, had always mediated between him and the others - worked to build the bridges and mend the fences - Doyle would invite him into the room...

But Doyle's green eyes were hard and cold. Without breaking eye contact, he pushed the door, swinging it shut in Angels face. The vampire stood staring at the closed door for a moment - as great and forbidding a barrier as he had ever faced - and then he turned to leave. Thomas Wolfe was right - you can't go home again.

Chapter 57: Reprise: Part One

Chapter Text

Angel walked into the dark building. It stank of livestock, and the noise - frightened inhuman screaming - reverberated around the walls. He switched the light on. Goats. Masses of them were huddled together in the dark, bleating in terror. There was a door at the other side of the room, he approached it. In the next room he found two men - crouched over a goat - arguing about how to sacrifice it.

'You know,' Angel interrupted them, 'I couldn't help but notice the goats. Yeah - a lot of goats. Goats - many.'

One of the men looked up at him, 'what's it to y'?'

Angel slammed him into the wall. 'I wanna know what they're having you worship.' He morphed into vamp face, 'because I'm just the kind of guy that hates seeing good blood go to waste.'

'Look man,' the man held his hands up in surrender, 'we just get paid to do the slaughtering and say the prayer.'

'And who are you praying to?'

'We don't know - the prayers are in Latin, they just told us to sound it out.'

'Who told you? Wolfram and Hart?'

The man nodded, 'all we know is that if the ritual isn't done by midnight, something out there will be real pissed off!'

'Good!' Angel dropped the man, and let him and his companion escape. They fled for the door and Angel began to destroy the altar they had set up, tearing it down - kicking it across the room.

It was this way all over town - rituals and sacrifices. It had started with that tip off Merl had given him a while ago, but the dark rites hadn't abated, if anything they'd ramped up. Something was happening at Wolfram and Hart - and Angel was determined to find out what it was. But for now, he was content just to trash their rituals.

Lindsey stood on the sidewalk and watched Cordelia enter the coffee shop across the road. He glanced at his watch. He had to be at the office, in his meeting with Doyle, in just under ten minutes. If this was going to work - he had to work fast. He saw her approach the counter, through the window - and crossed the road, following her inside.

...

Cordelia ordered a double half caff skinny latte...but then she asked for extra cream. Her heart was breaking, she deserved extra cream. She had had to get out of the office or else she thought she might go crazy. Doyle had finally received the phone call from his lawyer, and today was the day he was going in to sign his plea bargain. She looked at her watch; his meeting was in seven minutes. In a couple of hours he would be back inside county jail - and then that would be that for three miserable years.

He had been wearing his suit when he left. She remembered the first time she had seen him in it, how gorgeous she had thought he looked, how attractive he was when he dressed up smart. Now - she didn't ever want to see him in a suit again. A suit on Doyle would mean forevermore court, and prison and separation. Even when they got married, he was going to have to go to the ceremony in his jeans and one of his hideous pimp shirts, because she couldn't be having him wear formal attire on what was supposed to be the happiest day of her life. Not now.

He had had a bag packed with all the things he would need, he'd been advised by his lawyer on what he could and should take into prison with him. Whilst he hadn't been looking, she'd shoved a photograph of herself into one of the inside pockets. She'd written him a note on the back - just three words - trite and cliche, she was sure, but also true and heartfelt. Nothing more needed to be said.

She'd held him for a long time before he'd set out, her arms clinging tightly around his neck. And she'd tried not to cry, but when that didn't work, she'd tried not to let him see her tears. There was a long moment when she honestly thought she wouldn't be able to let go. But in the end he had gently detached himself from her embrace, and he'd kissed her - one last time. Then he'd shaken hands with Wesley and Gunn, and gone to meet his lawyer. And now here she was - comfort consuming caffeine. She was wearing her biggest pair of shades - so that the rest of the world wouldn't see how watery and red her eyes were.

...

Just inside the doorway, Lindsey grabbed a paper napkin and scribbled a short note. He watched as Cordelia accepted her drink from the barista and then walked towards her, purposefully. As he passed her, he barged into her - hard. She stumbled and spilled her coffee right down her front and all over the counter. 'Hey!' She looked up, annoyed, to see who had done this to her on this worst of days. 'You!' she spat, when she saw who it was.

'I'm so sorry,' Lindsey said to her, apologising like he was a complete stranger who had just bumped into her and spilt her drink. He grabbed some more napkins, 'here let me help clean up.' He hastily mopped down the counter, 'you need to clean your top,' he said and shoved the napkin bearing the note into her hand. She just stood there, speechless, watching, as he and the guy behind the counter scurried around mopping up.

'I'm really sorry,' he said again, 'here, let me buy you another one.' He took out his wallet and handed a couple of bucks to the barista. 'Whatever she had before,' he said, and then he turned and hurried out of the shop.

...

Cordelia looked at the guy waiting to serve her. Her eyes were hidden behind her shades, but what he could see of her face was furious. 'He didn't even buy a drink!' she exclaimed. 'What? Did he just come into the shop specifically to bump into me?' And then it was like a light bulb went off in her head. She glanced at the napkin he'd forcefully shoved into her hand, and hastily unfurled it. There were just seven words written down on it:

Tell Doyle not to take plea bargain

She took out her cell phone and dialled up the half demon as quickly as she could.

Gunn looked at the back of Stephanie Sharp's head. The third eye was gone completely - job well done. 'I don't see anything,' he said.

Wesley nodded, 'there's not a trace,' he agreed. He was sat in a wheelchair - still recovering from his gunshot wound. He had been over a week in the hospital, and it was a relief to finally be out - even if the happiness of his relief was rather overshadowed somewhat by the pall cast by Doyle's imminent incarceration.

'And that will grow straight back in there,' Cordelia said, touching the patch where the third eye had been. She glanced at the door, her stomach was in knots, wondering what had happened with Doyle. Looking back at the group of people she realised that Mrs. and Stephanie Sharp were looking faintly horrified at her words. 'The hair,' she explained, 'not the third eye - that's gone - her hair will grow back in no time.'

'We can't thank you', Mrs. Sharp said to the team. They all smiled - saving lives was what they did, par for the course - no big deal. There was no need to even mention it, this was their mission. But Mrs. Sharp shook her head - 'no, I mean we can't thank you. And we can't pay you either.' She held out a piece of paper, 'this bill is ridiculous.'

'What?' Cordelia snatched the bill from the client and scanned it. She had been very fair when she had put it together. 'We didn't even charge you for the mandrake!'

'My husband says it outrageous!'

'Does he?' Wesley asked. 'Tell me, Mrs. Sharp what does your husband think is a fair price for removing a third eye from the back of your daughter's head?'

'Well - nothing! Steve says it's impossible to get bitten by a demon and have a third eye grow out of the back of your head - and that you people must be running some sort of scam! You won't squeeze one red cent out of us! Come on Stephanie!' She grabbed her daughter by the hand and dragged her out of the office.

They were met on the way out by Doyle coming in. 'Hey Stephanie - Mrs. Sharp.' But Mrs. Sharp just harrumphed at him and marched past. Doyle watched them go, a bemused expression on his face, and then turned to his friends. 'Was it something I said?'

He didn't get an answer. Instead Cordelia barrelled straight into his arms. He held her close for a moment. 'What happened when you said 'no'?' she asked him.

He smiled, wryly. 'Well - my lawyer nearly cried. Lindsey didn't react though. I hope he knows what he's doin'. I'm takin' a lot on faith, here.'

He entered further into the office, Cordelia still wrapped around him. 'Hey, man! What you doin' here?' Gunn slapped the half demon's hand. 'You got more lives than a cat or what?'

'Yes - this is somewhat of a surprise - pleasant of course,' Wesley said, wheeling himself forward to also shake his friend's hand.

'Cordelia got a secret note from Lindsey tellin' me not to take my plea bargain,' Doyle explained. 'I was just about to go into the meeting when she called. Turned down their terms and walked out.'

'And you trust that Lindsey is working in your best interests?' Wesley asked.

Doyle shrugged. 'He has been so far - He'd get into a lot of trouble if the authorities found out he'd played the system to get me such generous terms - or that he'd had secret contact with Cordelia. He's takin' a risk for me. The least I can do is trust him and follow his instructions.'

'So what happens now?' Cordelia asked. She still hadn't unwrapped her arms from around him.

He pulled her closer to him, holding on more tightly, before he answered. 'It goes to trial - final roll of the dice.'

'Well - dog - you always been a gambling man!' Gunn pointed out.

'Yeah, let's see if my luck holds out,' Doyle replied. He glanced around the office. 'So were Stephanie and her Mom here to pay the bill?' he asked hopefully.

Lilah sat in her office and worried. The seventy five year review was in two days. Being the diligent worker she was, she had dug out all the information she could find on the last one. She wished she hadn't - it made the Christmas purge of '68 look like fun old times.

She needed to find a way to plump up her portfolio in the next two days. There had been too many screw ups in the past year and a half - and she was the only person left standing who could take the blame. She knew the other attorneys were all scurrying around taking part in last minute dark rites and arcane rituals in an attempt to appease the review board. She heard that Henderson had actually pulled her first born out of company daycare to offer him up as a sacrifice - brown noser. Lilah sighed. Maybe her mother was right - she should have had children.

At least the half breed's trial was this week. If she could just hold on until Friday evening, then Angel's little mongrel seer, his link to The Powers That Be, should be rotting behind bars - unable to help his heavy browed champion friend. That should count for something. And hopefully make up for the fact that two of her most recent screw ups - Darla and Drusilla - were still running around somewhere. She really wouldn't put it past them to pop us this week - just to cause havoc.

She closed her eyes and took some deep calming breaths - nothing could go wrong. She'd make sure of it.

Angel was following Kate around the precinct, talking at her as she worked. 'Blood sacrifices, black masses, totems - I don't know what it means, but it's happening all over town. I mean it could be a raising, you know, I - I don't know, but I think the prayers and rituals are too generic for that. Boilerplate, you know? But they're definitely preparing the way for something.'

Kate sighed as she placed a file into the cabinet and slammed the drawer shut. 'Maybe they're just trying to make it rain,' she told him. 'Why is this so important to you?'

'Because it's important to them. Look, Kate I need your help…'

She rolled her eyes, 'oh here we go!'

'I don't have the resources!' the vampire protested. 'Look they're butchering animals without a permit, you can at least get them on that!'

She looked at him like he was crazy. 'Butchering animals without a permit?' she asked, her voice blank and heavy. 'You want me to go up against Wolfram and Hart and lay charges about butchering animals without a permit? Are you crazy? They'd rip me a new one and then laugh me out of the building!' She glanced around to check no one was in earshot and then lowered her voice anyway. 'Besides, don't you and I have bigger worries this week than what Wolfram and Hart are getting up to?'

Angel looked nonplussed.

'Doyle's trial!' Kate explained in exasperation. 'Lindsey and I have been working our butts off trying to get him off those charges, and it all comes to a head on Friday. If it doesn't go our way then Doyle could be locked up for ten years! Don't you think you should be with him right now? If things go wrong, don't you think you ought to be with Cordelia? This thing? With Wolfram and Hart? It can wait! Doyle - he might only have two days left. Go! Be with your friend!'

She shooed him out of the office, not noticing how completely perplexed Angel was over her whole diatribe.

Mr Lezumo - Doyle's lawyer - arrived back at his apartment in a foul mood. He kicked his shoes off, pulled off his suit jacket and threw himself down on the sofa. He thumped the arm rest. What was Francis thinking? Three years! Three years - for bank robbery and grand theft auto. Four counts. It was a gift! It was like the heavens had parted and a divine countenance had shone down and decided to bless the small Irishman with unwarranted mercy… and the idiot and had thrown it away.

So now they went to trial - in two days - and hell if Lezumo had a case he could argue. The idiot Mick would end up serving ten years - and why? Because he had a case of cold feet and decided that he didn't want to wind up in jail today. Well - good luck to him. He was gonna need it, because there was nothing his lawyer could do.

There was a knock at the door. Still in a dark temper, he opened it - glowering. The junior D.A stood on the other side - MacDonald. 'What is it?' Lezumo asked him.

'I'm sorry things didn't go your way today,' the prosecutor said, 'but I have some documents here, that you might find interesting.' He handed a file over.

Lezumo took it and flicked through. 'What is this?' he asked.

'Something that has recently come to light,' Lindsey replied.

'So why don't you just drop the charges?'

Lindsey smiled, it was more of a smirk, as if Lezumo didn't understand something very simple. 'The D.A is up for reelection this year,' he told the other lawyer, 'We're public servants. We at the prosecutor's office cannot publicly admit to using bad evidence given to us by the police to bring charges against private citizens - and if you don't use this right - hell, the charges will stick and Francis Doyle will get ten years. A great result for us! Not for him or you, though … Good night.'

Lindsey walked away and Lezumo shut his door. He sat back down on the sofa and read through the folder, carefully. By the time he was done, his mood had taken a definite upturn.

Darla sat at the dressing table in the swanky penthouse hotel suite and gazed into the mirror. It gazed blankly back at her - she cast no reflection. She loved that emptiness.

The couple she had murdered, in order to take their hotel room, lay slumped on the floor. Their throats were ripped out leaving a bloody mess. She had gorged herself on them, and she felt better for it. It was nearly time. She was stronger now.

The blonde vampire looked through the dead woman's makeup bag, eyeing up her lipsticks. She selected one in a bold shade of red and applied it to her own lips. Then she leaned forwards and kissed the mirror. The mirror remained empty, but for the red lip marks that now stained it. Darla smiled to herself.

Drusilla was gone, for now. The crazed vampire had healed quickly, and had headed off to Sunnydale - going to fetch her own ridiculous boy. And in a few days, Darla would be ready to claim her own darling boy for herself. The time was ripe - black rituals and dark rites were breaking out all over the city, and her boy was fire fighting - trying to stop them all. He'd be worn down and weary - and alone. And she would go to him - and he would lose his soul in her.

Drusilla would return with Spike, and they would be a family again. Darla was going to get the whirlwind back. She hummed to herself, as she left the dressing table, and went out to the balcony to look out over the sparkling city. She loved a view.

Angel walked into Caritas, where he found the Host arguing with the barman. 'Substitute it with something, I don't care what. Be creative. I know you can.' The green demon turned to the vampire, 'can you believe it? Not even ten o'clock yet and we're already out of Yak's bile!'

'We need to talk,' Angel said to him, not bothering with any pleasantries. The Host shrugged, 'you should have booked in advance - I don't think I can get you on stage tonight.'

'I'm not here to sing.'

'Oh is that what we're calling it now?'

Angel sighed with impatience. 'Something's coming.'

The Host raised his eyebrows at the vampire's words. 'Really?' he asked, 'and I thought it was the complimentary nachos bringing in the morally ambiguous crowd.' He glanced over his shoulder and Angel followed his gaze. The whole joint was packed with Wolfram and Hart lawyers. There were even lawyers up on the stage, singing, as the two demons spoke. They all looked nervous.

'You've read them?' Angel asked. 'You've seen it? You know what's coming?'

But the Host shook his head - what he read was confidential - for the singer's ears only. He wasn't going to go round sharing these lawyers destinies any more than he would go round blurting out Angel's path to any Tom, Dick and Vampire that asked.

'Is it bad?' The vampire wanted to know.

'Oy!' The Host breathed - it was bad, but he couldn't tell Angel what he'd read. He could, however, tell him what he'd overhead in the men's restroom. 'It's coming Friday,' he said, 'and it's got all their legal briefs in a twist.'

'What is it?'

'Well, every seventy five years, your friends over at Wolfram and Hart have this review. I don't think the general angst is so much about the review than the reviewer. And let's just say it aint Rex Reed. It's evil - it's dark - and it's merciless.' The Host thought for a moment, 'actually that does sound a bit like Rex, don't it?'

'Maybe you could just tell me in one word what it is?' Angel asked, his patience - already very limited - was wearing thinner by the moment.

The Host shook his head. 'Not likely, but I can tell you in two. Senior. Partner.'

Chapter 58: Reprise: Part Two

Chapter Text

Doyle got back to his apartment late that night. He had walked Cordelia home, like it was the old days, even though they weren't dating anymore. He couldn't go back to her until he knew for sure what was going to happen to him. But still, it had been a pleasant and completely unexpected end to his day. He hadn't expected to wind up back at his own apartment tonight, either. In fact he hadn't expected to come here ever again. When he had woken up this morning, he had honestly believed that by now he would be locked in a prison cell, suffering through the first night of his three year sentence. But instead, here he was - back at home.

He stripped off his suit, and changed into a t-shirt and sweatpants. He needed to take his formal shirt straight down to the laundry, he would be needing it in just two days when he went into court. He grabbed his laundry powder and fabric softener and made his way down to the basement of his apartment building - where the washers and dryers were kept.

He sat down there, and watched his shirt get swooshed around in the water. It was slightly hypnotic. He felt torn. He was beyond relieved and pleased to still be a free man; to be at home in his own building, to get the chance to sleep in his own bed, to have had another day with Cordelia, to not be in jail… But he had taken a massive gamble - one final roll of the dice that his entire destiny now rested upon. He had had a good deal, a more than fair deal - and if things went against him on Friday, his sentence would be much harsher, punishing him for giving up the offer that Lindsey had so generously laid on the table. He was a free man right now, but he was back to looking at ten years.

Late as it was, his cell phone rang. He glanced at the caller id, thinking it might be Cordelia. But it was his lawyer. He answered warily, expecting to get his ear chewed off about today. But Mr. Lezumo seemed unusually upbeat. Doyle listened to what he had to say, furrowing his brow as he tried to understand. 'Hang on hang on ...y' want me to plead what, now?'

'I need more,' Angel said to the Host.

'Oh, honey, don't we all?' the green demon replied.

'Look, I got to know how this works', the vampire told him. 'I'm not asking about their destinies I don't care about that. But getting to The Senior Partners? That's my destiny.'

The Host shook his head. He hadn't been able to get a decent reading off Angel for months now. There was no destiny laid out before the vampire, he was so far from his own path - he was hacking his way through the thickets of the deepest jungle and about to bump into Dr. Livingstone, he was that far off path. Everything about the vampire was murky right now. But the Host did know one thing - the rituals that Angel was crashing into around town, they were nothing. Scared children trying to score brownie points before Daddy got home. Stopping the rites and the black masses and the sacrifices wouldn't stop the review. The Senior Partner was coming, and nothing Angel was doing was going to stop that.

'OK then,' Angel said, 'can it be killed?'

The Host took a sip of his sea breeze. 'Almost everything that can manifest on this plane can be killed,' he said, 'that's the downside of being here. Well, that and the so called "musicals" of Andrew Lloyd-Webber.'

Angel continued to stare at him, and he took another sip, before relenting. 'The band of Blacknil,' he sighed, 'don't ask me what it means because I don't know, and I shouldn't even be giving you that much.'

'Thanks.'

The vampire turned to go, and the Host put an arm out to stop him. 'Something else. 'Home office'. I've picked it up off a few of them tonight. Don't know what it is though.'

'Anything else?'

'Yeah, I'm picking up one other thing - they'd really like to see you dead.'

Angel glanced around the room. Tables full of lawyers stared back at him, their faces hostile. He shrugged, and walked out.

...

He spent the next day and night at the Hyperion, looking through every book he could find. But there was no mention of the band of Blacknil, what it signified, or what it did. Half his bookshelves were empty - that was the problem. He couldn't find the information he needed because it was no longer at the hotel. He came to a decision.

...

Early on Friday morning, before the sun had properly risen, he made his way to the new Angel Investigations office. It should be empty at this time… he'd take what he needed and his erstwhile friends would be none the wiser.

The four of them looked up as the door opened. Angel was stood there, he looked surprised to see them - it was far too early to be in work. But then he noticed what they were wearing: Doyle and Wesley were in suits, Cordelia had on a smart dress and heels, even Gunn had on a pair of dark pants and a shirt with a stiff collar. The vampire remembered what Kate had said to him, the words that had not made any sense - the warnings he'd heard from various acquaintances over the months. Doyle's trial. The four of them were dressed for going to court… Doyle was in trouble ...and where had Angel been for him?

'What are you doing here?' Cordelia asked, her expression was unwelcoming. She had her arm linked through Doyle's and was holding him as close as she could. She was in no mood for her old boss to come waltzing back into their lives today.

Angel stared at Doyle. The half demon stared back. The vampire wanted to say something... wanted to ask how he was or... offer to go to court with them ... or ….He opened his mouth, but no words came. Doyle's eyes were as hard and as cold as they had been back at the hospital, when Wesley had been shot. Angel understood. The half demon felt betrayed - that he had been going through all this and Angel hadn't even checked in to see how he was doing, hadn't even bothered to find out there was a problem. Of all of his friend's that he had hurt, he realised he had hurt Doyle the most - and that the damage might be irreparable.

He shook his head. 'I need a book,' he said to Wesley, and walked over to the bookshelf. The others watched him go, their mouths open slightly.

'Excuse me that area is for employees only,' Wesley protested.

'You took all the books,' Angel told him.

'Yeah well - you got the waffle iron,' Cordelia retorted.

'Angel, man, you need to leave.' The vampire turned to look over his shoulder at Doyle, who still had that ice cold fury of betrayal in his eyes. 'You're not welcome here,' the half demon said.

'C'mon, man,' Gunn sighed, 'now's not the time - we're busy today.'

Doyle looked at his feet, and Cordelia clung onto him a little tighter. Angel selected the book he wanted and turned to leave. He glanced back at Doyle, 'Good luck, today,' he said. His mouth felt dry as he said it. Doyle inhaled sharply, and looked away from him, Angel stood in the doorway - not really wanting to go.

'Angel - you need to leave now,' Wesley said to him. 'Today is a family matter, and you have decided that you are no longer a part of this family. Doyle doesn't want you here - he has bigger things to think about, right now.'

Angel looked back to Doyle, to see if the half demon agreed, or if he wanted Angel there after all. But the Irishman wouldn't meet his eye, and so Angel left. 'Thanks for the book,' he said as he walked out.

Doyle met up with Mr. Lezumo in the hall outside the courtroom, they shook hands. 'How're you feeling Francis?' his lawyer asked. Doyle just nodded, he couldn't actually make sounds, never mind articulate words right now. He turned to say goodbye to his friends - again without words. Cordelia hugged him, then Gunn grasped him into a quick hug, slapping him on the back, 'you'll be fine, Irish - you'll see,' he said. Doyle nodded again. He shook hands with Wesley and then Cordelia hugged him one last time. She kissed him on the cheek before she let go. 'See you on the other side,' she whispered, and then the three of them left to go sit in the viewers gallery.

Doyle was left alone with his lawyer. 'So are you ready?' Mr. Lezumo asked.

'Not really,' he wanted to say, 'no - I'm not ready - I'll never be ready', but instead he nodded again, and waited out in the hallway for the courtroom deputy to call him in.

Angel sat in the lobby of the Hyperion pouring over his book. This wasn't good enough. He wasn't concentrating - he was worrying about Doyle. And he couldn't afford to. Tonight was the night - his one chance to take out a Senior Partner. He needed information, and he needed it quickly - in a way that he didn't have to concentrate; because right now his mind was full of Doyle, and the hurt he'd seen in his eyes, and the worry of what might be about to befall him.

It was just his luck that everything had happened to fall on the same day. He wondered if this was the higher powers trying to tell him something. He shook his head. There was nothing he could do for Doyle, right now - what would be would be - and Angel would just have to be there for him in the aftermath, whatever the outcome. But tonight a representative of The Senior Partners came to this realm - and Angel would be there - waiting for him.

The book was no good. He threw it across the lobby in disgust. He couldn't ask Wesley - not after the scene at the office earlier. He wondered if it was time to visit an even older friend…

'All rise.' Over on the defendant's bench, Doyle got to his feet, as the judge entered the courtroom. Mr. Lezumo stood beside him. Lindsey sat across the way at the prosecutor's bench. He'd given Doyle a very brief nod when the Irishman had come into court, but no one else had noticed.

'Be seated,' the judge said. Everyone sat down, except Doyle and his lawyer. The judge read out the charges and then fixed the half demon in her gaze. 'How do you plead?'

Doyle glanced at Mr. Lezumo, who nodded at him. He gulped, cleared his throat and then gulped again. 'N-not guilty, your honour.'

Kate looked at her watch. If things were running to time, then the trial should be starting about now. She hoped she and Lindsey had done enough. And that they'd done enough to cover their own asses as well - they'd walked a fine line trying to find a loophole in the charges against Doyle, if either of their bosses realised what they'd done there would be hell to pay. If it went to plan, she thought, it wouldn't take long. She stared down at her phone, waiting for it to ring, waiting for Lindsey to call her and give her the news.

Lezumo was on his feet. 'Your honour, the defence moves to have all charges against my client dismissed. The truth of the matter is, that there is no case against him - no admissible evidence - and that this whole charade is just an exercise in the D.A's office; bullying a law abiding foreign national in an attempt to boost their own prosecutorial successes before the elections later this year.'

Lindsey got to his feet, buttoning his jacket, as he spoke. 'Your honour - we have witness testimony that puts the accused at the scene of the crime, photographic evidence...my esteemed colleague is mistaken if he thinks we can just waive all that away.'

The judge looked towards the defence lawyer. 'OK,' she said, 'you have five minutes Mr. Lezumo - make your case as to why I should drop the charges, or we proceed ahead as planned.'

The lawyer nodded his thanks. 'The main witness testimony, which is the linchpin in the case against my client, is inadmissible,' he told the court. 'It is the testimony of one Leonard Muscovitz, commonly known as "Lenny the Rat" - a known felon, and convicted drug dealer, who was, up until recently, serving time in L.A county.'

'A convicted felon can be used as a witness,' the judge pointed out. Mr. Lezumo agreed, they could. But no police officer had ever interviewed Lenny the Rat about Doyle - the testimony he gave was to a lawyer from a private law firm and was off the record. Muscovitz had died in prison, last October, and so was unable to give an official witness statement about Doyle's activities in his gang. The evidence, as provided by the police, had no official merit and therefore needed to be struck from the record.

'We have photographic evidence,' Lindsey objected.

'Of what?' Mr. Lezumo smiled. 'Evidence that my client was near the bank on the day in question? Purely circumstantial - any number of people would have been captured on CCTV footage that day, we cannot arrest them all.'

'The photographs show him getting into a stolen car,' Lindsey pointed out.

'All that proves is that Mr. Doyle was briefly in possession of a stolen car - not that he stole it. A misdemeanour, to be sure, but I'm afraid the statute of limitations has run out on that one - it was too long ago for my client to be charged with possession of a stolen vehicle.'

'But he is up for 4 counts of grand theft auto,' the judge pointed out, 'not just one.'

'But the evidence of those thefts lie back with the testimony of Mr. Muscovitz - and were supported by the evidence of the bank footage. There is no fingerprints, no DNA evidence, nothing to place Mr. Doyle at the scene of any of the three further crimes he is accused of. Once the first charge is thrown out, I'm afraid the whole house of cards tumbles down.'

The judge thought for a moment. 'Brief recess,' she said, 'Mr. Lezumo, Mr. MacDonald - join me in my chambers.' She got off the bench and left the courtroom. Everybody stood up, as she did. Once she was gone, whispering and muttering broke out amongst the viewers gallery. Down on the defendant's bench, Doyle twisted in his seat to look for Cordelia. Instead, he made eye contact with Lilah Morgan.

Darla lay on the big four poster bed. The drapes were shut, blocking out the sunlight - but she was unable to sleep. Tonight was the night, she thought. Tonight she would bring her boy home. And after they'd wreaked bloody slaughter all over Los Angeles, they might head off up to Sunnydale, and find Spike and Dru. Maybe the four of them could pay that silly little cheerleader a visit. No slayer would stand a chance against the natural disaster that was Darla's family reunited. But what a glorious reunion gift she'd make for them all.

Her stomach rumbled, so she called for room service. And when the delivery boy arrived, she ate him…

'All rise,' the judge returned. Doyle's stomach felt like it had just dropped down a fifteen storey elevator shaft. But then he noticed, when his lawyer returned to the bench, that Mr. Lezumo was beaming - and even Lindsey looked pleased, though he was trying to hide it. The Irishman held his breath - it couldn't be ...had Lindsey really found a way to get the charges dropped, was it that simple?

The Judge sat down on her bench. 'Following the discussion in my chambers, the defence's motion to dismiss all charges has been granted', she banged down her gavel, 'Mr. Doyle, you are free to go, next case.'

He stood up, feeling dazed and light headed - he'd got away with it, he couldn't believe it. Mr. Lezumo slapped him on the back and shook his hand, 'Congratulations, Francis!' Doyle just stood there, having his hand shaken - not putting anything into it - his mouth slightly agape. His lawyer laughed, 'I guess you're as surprised by this outcome as I am? Well, I can't tell you what a risky strategy you played, but dammit! It worked. You might be my best success story, yet.'

'Th-thank you,' the Irishman managed to stutter.

Lindsey came over and shook both their hands. 'Well played, Lezumo,' he said, smiling. 'You be careful, in future,' he said to Doyle, 'you have powerful enemies and you know that now - they'll be even more pissed off now this little escapade didn't pan out.'

Mr. Lezumo looked confused at the other lawyer's words, but continued to beam delightedly. Lindsey and Doyle both turned to look up into the viewers gallery - past where Cordelia and Gunn were jumping up and down hugging each other, and Wesley was sat grinning, in his wheelchair; and up to the higher rows, where Lilah sat - her face a mask of cold fury.

...

As he left the courtroom, he was almost bowled over by a flying Cordelia, thrusting herself into her arms. She was crying now - but her tears were happy ones. 'I knew The Powers couldn't let this happen to you,' she sobbed, 'I knew everything would be OK.' Then she pulled herself away from him and thumped him on the arm.

'Ow!'

'Don't you ever do that to me again!'

Mr. Lezumo beamed at Cordelia, 'well - all's well that ends well. Congratulations, both of you - I hope I never have to represent you again, Francis.'

He shook Doyle's hand one last time, and then Cordelia's, and then he left them. Wesley and Gunn approached the happy couple, Gunn pushing Wes in his chair. 'OK, man - what say we all go celebrate another white man cheating the law!' Gunn said, his face split ear to ear by his grin.

'OK, but first Doyle has to get out of that suit!' Cordelia said, 'and burn it - I don't ever want to see it again.'

'I thought you said I looked hot in it?' Doyle protested.

'Not anymore, now I only like jeans and hideous shirts and that battered old leather jacket. I don't ever want to see you dressed up like your going to court, again.' She shuddered, 'it gives me the heebiejeebies.'

'Alright, darlin',' he smiled at her, 'I'll go get changed - I'll meet you all back at the office, yeah?' But before he left the happy little group, he pulled Cordelia close, and kissed her gently on the lips. She wrapped her arms around him and kissed him back, much more fiercely… things were back the way they were supposed to be.

Chapter 59: Reprise: Part Three

Chapter Text

Angel entered the 'Arcane Eye' bookshop. An old man sat at the counter, watching television. 'You Denver?' Angel asked.

'No other cat but me', the old man said, then he looked up and saw the vampire standing there. His mouth dropped open, slightly. 'I don't believe it!'

...

Denver took Angel into the backroom and they began to look through some of his more rare books. The old man still couldn't believe what he was seeing. He knew vampires were immortal, of course he did, but he'd never seen the same one fifty years apart before. Angel hadn't aged a day, since the time he had stood in the backroom researching how to kill a thesulac paranoia demon.

'How did that go anyway?' Denver asked.

'I don't know', Angel replied, his nose buried in a book, 'I think it killed everyone.'

'Oh. Well. The point is you tried…'

'Actually, I just kind of walked out and let him have the place and everyone in it.' He turned the conversation back to where he wanted it to go. 'So we can't be sure where this home office is but you think The Senior Partner is a Kleynach demon?'

Denver nodded - it was common for dark entities to manifest in the form of a Kleynach, because they didn't have to rely on conjuring to be brought forth. They could come and go as they pleased just as long as they had the ring.

'The band of blacknil?' Angel clarified.

'Uhuh - plain little thing, you wouldn't look at it twice in a pawn shop,' the old man told him, 'but it's the source of the demon's power to move between dimensions. That's what it'll use to get here ...and back.'

'Get back?' Angel asked, 'can anyone use this ring?'

Denver reckoned they could, but he didn't know why they would want to. 'You realise what the Home Office probably is? Hell! Why would you want to go there?' Angel didn't answer, and the old man realised what his plan was. 'You're planning on going down there and destroying every one of them - aren't you? Well - that'll certainly make up for the time that you ….' Angel looked at him, sharply, and Denver got back on track. 'Still, probably not a good idea. Suicide really.'

But Angel didn't care about that, he just wanted to know if the ring would get him there or not. It would, the old man told him - but to get the ring he would first have to kill the demon. And to kill the demon he would need the glove.

'OK, now you're just making this up!'

But Denver stuck to his guns. Legend had it that when the Kleynach first rose up, and laid waste to the world above, no one could kill it - not with sword or fist. But one Knight had a glove - blessed by all the powers of light - if one had the glove, one could kill the Kleynach simply by seizing it around the throat. The old man shuffled further off into the back room. He returned carrying an ancient mailed glove. 'Picked it up in a yard sale in 75,' he told the vampire. 'I've been using it as an oven mitt.'

He handed it over, 'free of charge,' he said and smiled. He doubted he would see the vampire again, not least because he was hellbent on a suicide mission - but also because he, Denver, was old - and it had been 50 years since their last meeting. 'You know you changed my life that night - a vampire trying to kill a demon just to save some humans? It made me realise there must be some good in this world. I hope you find what you're looking for Angel - good luck, and Godspeed.'

Angel nodded his thanks, took the glove - and left the bookshop.

Doyle arrived home and put his bag down on the sofa. It was the bag he'd packed his things in ready to go to jail, he'd had to take it into court with him today as, if he'd been given a custodial sentence, there would have been no opportunity to retrieve it. He should probably unpack it, he thought - he hadn't done that on Wednesday night as he knew he might still need it, but now…

He took his tie off and dropped it on the sofa. Unbuttoning the top few buttons of his shirt, he sank down onto the couch and put his head in his hands. It was over. He was free. He wanted a drink. Instead, he rubbed his eyes and pulled the bag towards him, unzipping it. He took out his toothbrush and the pile of underwear and t-shirts he'd put in. There had been no point putting in anymore clothes - he would have been wearing an orange jumpsuit once inside.

He looked around the room. All his other clothes were already boxed up. He twisted his mouth into a worried grimace. That was a problem - he'd had to give notice on his apartment, he couldn't afford to pay rent on an empty place for three years. So he had avoided jail, but effectively made himself homeless. He shoved the clothes into one of the other boxes, he'd have to worry about that later. Maybe Wesley would let him crash on his sofa until he found a new place. He stuck his hand back inside the bag, taking out a wad of twenties. His lawyer had told him that he would be allowed to take a small amount of money into prison with him - which would be kept in an account for him to use there. It wouldn't be needed now - but it would cover an evening of celebrations with his family.

He felt around inside the bag, checking it was truly empty - that a stray twenty hadn't been left behind. There was something hard and flat in one of the inside pockets, he frowned and fished it out. A warm smile spread across his face, as he looked at the photo of herself that Cordelia had stashed in there. He turned it over and saw the note, his smile grew even deeper. 'I love you too, princess.'

The other three had headed back to the office in very high spirits. They stopped off on the way and bought some champagne. 'You know, I think this is going to be the real start of the new Angel Investigations,' Wesley said, 'A new beginning for our family business.'

'Open the champagne before you make a toast!' Cordelia said.

'Damn girl we can't pop the cork til your fella gets here - it's him we're celebrating!'

'Oh right,' Cordelia giggled, 'well I hope he hurries up! Are you gonna call Virginia and ask her to join us?' she asked Wesley. But the British man shook their head - tonight was just for family - only the four of them were needed to make that night perfect.

Kate walked into her apartment. Lindsey was already there. 'Hey!' she greeted him, pecking him on the lips. 'How's the hero of the hour?'

Lindsey smiled, 'I just had to spend the whole afternoon explaining to my boss how come an ironclad case fell through...I did point out it wasn't my fault the police hadn't done the work properly. But he still chewed me out. The fact that it was bad evidence should never have seen the light of day.'

'So much for our nation's legal system!' Kate observed, wryly. 'I did hear Detective Randall got called into the office and hauled over the coals over submitting some inadmissible evidence…' she went and poured herself a coffee from the pot, 'I hope he never notices all the times I logged out that file.'

'Well we did our part for the good fight,' Lindsey said, stretching his feet out and resting his hands behind his head. 'A seer for The Powers That Be is back out on the streets and able to guide that great big hunk of foreheaded champion into saving people.' Kate sat down beside him and he kissed her. 'The world owes us, Katie, it just doesn't know it.'

Lilah arrived back at Wolfram and Hart, ready for the coming of The Senior Partner. She was in perhaps her blackest mood yet. He had got off. The half breed - who was as guilty as sin of the crimes he had been accused of - had wriggled out of it. This was supposed to be the ploy that worked. She knew she couldn't face down Angel by supernatural means, she had tried too often, she had failed too often. But she was supposed to be able to win in her own arena - in a court of law. And she had worked so hard collecting all that evidence! God knows, it had been next to impossible to find photographic evidence of one brief moment in time five years previously - but she'd done it, she'd tracked it down. That should have been enough.

But that stupid little drug dealer had died since she'd gone to talk to him, and so the police hadn't bothered to conduct their own interview...and somehow a legal aid lawyer - a legal aid lawyer! had found that out and used it to get the charges dismissed. The trouble, she realised, was that it didn't matter how hard you worked - as soon as you were reliant on someone else to seal the deal, their incompetence would let you down.

That was why things had gone so badly with Darla and Drusilla. Because she had been reliant on them for the plan to work… and it was why she hadn't been able to get that vampire slayer to assassinate Angel - Faith's crisis of conscience had ruined Lilah's best laid plans. As long as other people were involved, things would always get screwed up. And now she had to face the seventy five year review and explain that it wasn't her fault that nothing ever seemed to go right down in special projects. They said no man was an island, but if Lilah survived tonight - she would be one from now on.

As she strode towards the building, she was grabbed from behind, an arm wrapping around her neck. 'Hello, Lilah', the vampire said. He shoved her away from himself and she turned to look at him. She wasn't in the mood. 'What do you want?'

He grabbed her right hand, 'I'm here for the other one', and he dragged her inside. Once inside the building, he forced her to the secure elevators where he made her use her thumb print in the scanner. 'What? You didn't think I was really gonna cut it off did you?' He said to her. She glared, and he pushed her into the lift.

...

Inside the elevator a recorded voice rang out. 'Good evening Ms. Morgan. Which floor please?'

'15,' Lilah said. The elevator began to move and she looked at the vampire that stood next to her. 'You know security will be waiting for you when we get there?' she asked.

'I'm counting on it.'

'What's that on your hand?'

Angel raised his hand and looked at the chain mail glove he wore there. 'This thing? It was a gift. You like it?'

The cork popped and the champagne flowed. The four of them kept laughing and toasting each other and laughing some more. 'To Doyle!' Wesley said, lifting his glass. They all clinked and drank. 'To you guys!' Doyle said. 'To me!' cried out Cordelia. They all laughed again.

'We should go somewhere else!' Cordy said. 'This is a big night and we live in one of the most exciting cities in the world. Everyone dreams of coming to L.A - we should be out celebrating living the dream!'

'Living the dream!' the three men all chorused, clinking glasses again.

'No, I'm serious!' giggled Cordelia, she was beginning to get a little tipsy - she didn't have Doyle's head for alcohol. 'We should go to Caritas! Doyle should sing!'

'I'm not singin', darlin'!' protested Doyle. With his hard drinking habit, he was nowhere near drunk enough for that yet. 'Between singin' in public and three years in a men's penitentiary, I'll take jail!'

'No no no - she's right!' Wesley agreed. Usually it would take more than a few glasses of champagne to make his head spin like this. But he was still on medication, after his gunshot wound, and they shouldn't really be mixed with alcohol. He felt a little woozy - but it was pleasant. 'The whole world is your oys ...oyst … sea creature, now. Your whole destiny is wide open. You should get the Host to tell you what it is!'

'To sea creatures!' Gunn pronounced.

Doyle clinked glasses with him. 'I know my destiny!' The Irishman said, 'havin' visions for you guys.'

'To us guys!' cried Gunn, the two of them clinked glasses again. Doyle laughed to himself. The rest of his friends were becoming more and more inebriated as they refilled their glasses, and opened another bottle. He'd been drinking way too much whisky recently for this to be having any effect on him… but it was still good to be there with his family, watching them be happy - happy for him. It gave him a warm feeling deep inside that had nothing to do with the alcohol...

The phone began to ring. 'I'll get it,' Cordelia laughed, crashing her way over to the phone. She knocked it off the desk, 'whoops.' She was still giggling, as she lifted the receiver to her ear. 'Angel Investigations... we ...hope you're helpless - no, wait! That's not it!'

'Ms. Chase?' It was Francine Sharp on the other end of the line. 'I was hoping that you might still be at the office.'

'Yep - we're all here alright,' Cordelia agreed. She suddenly looked drunkenly concerned. 'Is everything OK with Stephanie? That big ol' third eye didn't pop back into her head did it? Because we don't do refunds ...not that you paid us.'

The men stopped their talking and laughing, and started to listen to Cordelia's half of the conversation. 'Wait? You want to pay us? Right now?' she glanced up at the men.

Doyle shook his head, 'not tonight, sweetheart, tell her to come in tomorrow.' He glanced at the other two men, 'in the afternoon - to avoid hangovers.'

Cordelia nodded. 'Sorry, Mrs. Sharp,' she said. 'We're just too busy at the moment - but you can come over to the office tomorrow and we'll accept a cheque then.'

'But I really want to sort this now - I-I can't come over tomorrow.'

'So put the cheque in the post. Jeez! If you just paid us the first time round…'

Mrs. Sharp spoke again. Cordelia listened and then looked back up at Doyle. 'She says it's really important,' she told him.

He shook his head and took the receiver off her. 'Bye,' he said into the phone and put it down. 'Problem solved,' he grinned at his once former and now current girlfriend.

She wrinkled up her face and looked confused: 'wait - did I just turn down money?'

Back at her home, Mrs. Sharp looked up at the white skinned, three eyed demon that had killed her family and taken her hostage. 'They hung up,' she said, her voice trembling, 'they're - they're not coming.'

'Then we shall have to do this some other way.'

The demon reached out and snapped Mrs. Sharp's neck. Her body tumbled to the floor and came to rest by the still and lifeless body of Stephanie.

On floor fifteen of Wolfram and Hart, a group of red robed shamans paced around the pentagram that they had painted on the floor. They swung incense burners and chanted in Latin. Nathan Reed stood close by and looked on. He checked his watch. Lilah, the vice president of special projects, was not there. She had been responsible for running some of the affairs that were of the utmost interest to The Senior Partners. The reviewer would want her there. This didn't look good.

A security guard came up behind him and whispered in his ear. There was a vampire somewhere on the fifteenth floor. 'So find it,' Reed hissed, 'deal with it.'

'Yes sir.'

As Reed stared around the room, looking to locate the problem, Lilah came into view. Angel had her by the throat. 'Everyone stay back!' Angel commanded, 'Or else the vice President of special projects gets her head ripped off.' He vamped out and looked at Reed, 'do you believe I'll do it?'

Lilah elbowed him hard in the stomach and, as the vampire doubled over, she tried to make her escape. But he reached out and pulled her back towards him. The security guards were circling, their stakes extended from their night sticks. 'Not one step closer,' Angel warned.

'He won't do it,' Lilah snarled. 'He's all talk. Get him.'

'You wanna bet on that, boys?' He asked the security guards. 'Who was it that cut her hand off? You think she'll be able to get a prosthetic head to match?'

Despite the disturbance, the shamans had continued with their pacing and chanting - and it seemed that they had successfully sanctified the room - it was now ready to receive The Senior Partner. As the air above the pentagram began to shimmer and distort, Nathan Reed abandoned Angel and Lilah and dropped to his knees, ready to welcome the true boss of Wolfram and Hart.

With a clap of thunder, a red robed demon materialised in the centre of the pentagram. In an instant, Angel had thrown Lilah into the security guards, so that all the humans crashed into each other and tumbled to the ground in a tangle of confusion. Then he had dashed, with all his vampire speed, into the middle of the five pronged star. Before anyone could stop him, he had grabbed the Kleynach demon by the throat. The demon began to scream and, under Angel's iron gloved grip, began to dissolve into nothingness.

But the momentum of Angel launching himself at the Kleynach carried the pair of them forward and they fell through the room and then crashed through the plate glass window; falling fifteen stories to the floor.

The vampire slammed into the ground. Glass from the shattered window rained down on him. He lay, face flat on the concrete, bruised and bloodied from his fall. He still held onto the red robe of the expired Kleynach. The demon's ring, the band of Blacknil, landed beside him with a clatter.

Over on a bench, a homeless man watched in surprise, as Angel got back to his feet, groaning. 'OK,' the vampire said, 'Home Office.' He slid the ring on his finger, 'let's finish this.'

There was a ding behind him that signalled the arrival of an elevator and, as he turned around, he saw a door slide open on the exterior of the building. His lift to hell had arrived.

Chapter 60: Reprise: Part Four

Chapter Text

Darla looked through the closet and selected herself a red dress, this one would do. She slipped it on over her head, and then walked over the dead bodies back to the dressing table. She took out the lipstick from before, and reapplied it. She was ready. It was time. When her boy got back to the hotel tonight - Darla would be there, waiting for him...

The three men were still drinking and laughing, but Cordelia was sat in the corner, quiet now. Doyle glanced over at her, and then walked up to her, 'are you alright there, darlin'? You've gone awful quiet.' She looked up at him, as if to say something, but then brought her hand up to her mouth. She forced her way up from her seat and shoved past him, as she fled into the small bathroom. From out in the office, Doyle heard the toilet lid go up, and then the sound of retching. 'Oh', he nodded to himself, 'yeah, that sometimes happens when you drink too much.'

He followed her into the bathroom, where he found her hunched over the bowl. Reaching out, he pulled her hair back and held it away from her face, as she vomited. After a while, she was spent. Her body wracked a few more times, but she was done. She collapsed weakly on the floor, leaning against the basin for support. Doyle pulled off some toilet tissue and handed it to her, she wiped her mouth.

'You OK?' he asked, 'you feel better now?'

She shook her head, miserably. 'I'm sorry,' she croaked. 'I just drank too much. I guess this isn't the way you imagined spending your first night of freedom?'

He put his arm around her and kissed her gently on the temple. 'As long as you're with me, love, there's nowhere else I'd rather be.'

Holland Manners stood just inside the elevator doors. Angel stared at him. The dead attorney began to clap his hands, slowly. 'Congratulations,' he said, smiling, 'a great victory.'

Angel continued to stare. 'You're….'

'Holland Manners,' Holland Manners told him.

'Not alive,' Angel corrected. The lawyer agreed, it was quite true, he was quite dead. An unfortunate quirk of signing with Wolfram and Hart, however, was that death was not considered an adequate excuse for severing the professional relationship. The Wolfram and Hart attorneys' contracts extended beyond this mortal coil.

'Well hop on in,' the lawyer said, motioning to the elevator. 'You certainly earned it.'

Angel stepped inside, still giving Holland a curious look. The lawyer laughed. 'No, I'm not a ghost. It's just me. Dead me.' He pulled his shirt collar away from his neck and revealed the bite marks left by Darla. 'See?' He reached out for the elevator buttons. 'Home Office was it? I should mention that this trip is one way.'

Angel said nothing in reply. He just stood inside the elevator, facing outward, his brow lowered. The homeless man got off his bench and began to push his shopping cart across the plaza.

'Well, if there's no objections I guess we should get going.' Holland pressed the down button and the doors slid shut. 'It is rather a long ride.' The elevator began to descend. The two men stood side by side, saying nothing, as the floor levels flashed past on the display screen. Bland music tinkled in the background. Eventually, the lawyer broke the silence. 'Well this is exciting, isn't it?' He said. 'Going straight to the source.' He turned slightly, so he was looking at the vampire. 'So what's the plan, Angel? Destroy The Senior Partners? Smash Wolfram and Hart once and for all?'

'Something like that,' Angel replied, still staring straight ahead. For all that he was threatening to do, his voice was blank - disinterested even - dead.

'Hmmm,' Holland furrowed his brow thoughtfully, 'and just what do you think that would accomplish? In the end, I mean.'

'It will be - an end.' Still the dispassionate, careless tone.

'Well - the end of you, certainly,' Holland Manners chuckled.

Darla leaned forward and snapped the neck of her cab driver. Then she got out of the car, and walked through the small courtyard and into the lobby of the Hyperion. He wasn't back yet, she could sense that. The whole place was empty. It felt desolate. Along with his absence, she could also feel his despair, his loneliness. It was gathered in the corners like cobwebs, clinging to the drapes, seeping into the very walls and floorboards. Her boy needed her. He was ripe and he was ready - and when he came back home she would take him.

She remembered the first time she had made him her own - all those centuries ago, back in the old world. That little tavern in that little town. Things had been so simple then. Angel had been human, and a young and not very clever one at that. But she had shown him her world, awakened him to whole new possibilities - and he in turn had led her deeper and darker into the night than she could ever have imagined. Angelus - in his prime - was the most magnificent, most depraved animal. A legend of his own making - and of hers. This mewling, whimpering creature he had become was an embarrassment - a perversion. But she would make him whole again. Their destinies were intertwined, and he was meant for her every bit as much as she was meant for him. Tonight was the night that she restored him to his former glory - tonight was the night she would bring Angelus home. And they would have come round full circle - from Galway to Los Angeles - and a whole world and several lifetimes in between. Tonight things would return to the way they were supposed to be.

She closed her eyes. The whirlwind, Angelus. All the pain that they had both suffered would be gone, snuffed out in one perfect, blissful moment of happiness. She looked around the deserted lobby, he would be home soon and she would be there - waiting.

The elevator continued to descend. 'But what will it achieve in the larger sense?' Holland asked, his pleasant smile still plastered across his face, as he tried to politely ascertain Angel's motivations.

But the vampire was not feeling forthcoming. 'In the larger sense - I don't give a crap,' he said. He still didn't look at Holland. He kept his eyes forward, focused on the end of the elevator ride, and what would be waiting for him when those doors opened. He'd been to hell before - or at least one of the many hellish dimensions that existed, he'd spent three hundred years there. He knew roughly what to expect and he knew that, without another divine intervention, he would not be making it back out. But he was determined, nevertheless.

'Now I don't think that's true,' Holland told him, shrugging. 'Be honest - you've got the tiniest bit of 'give a crap' left. Otherwise you wouldn't be going on this kamikaze mission. Now let me see, there was something,' he pretended to think, 'in a sacred prophecy - some oblique reference to you.' Beside him, Angel twitched a little, but he neither spoke, nor looked at the lawyer. 'Something you're supposed to prevent,' Holland mused. 'Now what was that?'

'The apocalypse,' Angel replied - still keeping his voice devoid of emotion or feeling.

'Yes - the apocalypse, of course.' Holland chuckled again. 'Another one of those. Well, yes. It's true. We do have one scheduled. And I imagine if you were to prevent it you would save a great many people. Well you should do that, then. Absolutely - I wasn't thinking. Of course all those people you save from that apocalypse would then have the next one to look forward to - but hey! There's always something, isn't there?'

'You're not going to win,' Angel said to the dead attorney, his jaw was clenched - but he still kept on facing forward - kept his eyes on the elevator door.

His words made Holland laugh once more. 'Well - no - of course we aren't. We have no intention of doing anything as prosaic as "winning".'

'Are y' sure y' OK to drive, Charlie Boy?' Doyle asked, as the young street fighter left the office.

'Sure thing, Irish - it's cool,' Gunn told him. The half demon didn't look especially convinced, but he didn't put up an argument. Instead, he pushed Wesley out to the waiting truck, and then Gunn helped the stricken watcher get up into the passenger seat. Doyle stashed the chair in the back of the pickup. 'OK then, guys, get home safe,' he said.

They had, after a good few hours and a lot of drinking, decided to call it a night with their little party. After all, they would have to be up bright and early tomorrow for a brand new day at Angel Investigations. Now that they knew Doyle was going to be a permanent feature on the team, this was the real beginning of their venture - and they wanted to get a head start on the day. Besides, Mrs. Sharp would be coming over the next day with that big cheque they had earned. As much fun as they had had this evening, it was time to give up and go home.

Doyle thumped the side of the pickup to tell Gunn he was done storing the wheelchair, and then the engine sprung into life, and his two friends drove away. The Irishman stood on the sidewalk and waved them off, before he returned inside the office.

...

Sitting on one of the chairs, having finally made it out of the bathroom, Cordelia leaned against the desk, her head in her hands. She still looked a little worse for wear. Doyle smiled to himself and went to fetch her a drink of water. 'Here you go, princess, you feelin' any better yet?'

She groaned and looked up at him blearily. 'Thanks,' she said, taking the glass from him.

'My pleasure, are you ready to go home now? I'll walk you back.'

She shook her head at that. 'You'll do more than walk me back, you're coming in.'

He grinned broadly. 'Are y' sure about that, darlin'? You've had a lot to drink. I'd hate to take advantage of y'.'

She got to her feet and stumbled. He caught her. 'Well, maybe after everything you've put me through in the last few months, I want you to take advantage of me,' she said. 'Did you ever think about that, huh?' They stopped by the coat rack and Cordelia fumbled with her jacket and purse. Then they walked out through the door.

Doyle had his arm wrapped around her, supporting her as they went. He kissed her on the temple. 'Well, we'll see how you feel about it when we get back to your place, yeah? The fresh air should do you some good.'

They stumbled their way through the streets together, Doyle holding Cordelia up the whole time. As they went, she rested her head against his shoulder. 'Doyle?' she murmured.

'Yeah?'

'Did I tell you tonight that I'm really really really happy that you didn't go to jail?'

'I'm not sure y' said it in so many words, but I definitely picked up on the sentiment.'

'Good. Because I am. Really really really happy. And I don't ever want anything to get in our way and break us up again, you hear?'

'That's the last thing I want, too.'

'I love you, Doyle.'

'I love you, too, Cordelia.'

Holland chuckled away softly to himself at the naivete of Angel. For the first time, the vampire turned his head ever so slightly, and looked at the man standing beside him. 'Then why?'

'Hmm, I'm sorry? Why what?'

'Why fight?' Angel wanted to know. What was the point of engaging in the ultimate battle between good and evil if you never expected, or even hoped, to come out on top? If you weren't trying to win?

But Holland approached the matter from a different perspective: 'That's really the question you should be asking yourself, isn't it? See for us, there is no fight - which is why winning doesn't come into it. We - go on - no matter what.'

Wolfram and Hart had always been there, existing in one form or another. From the Spanish inquisition to the Khmer Rouge. They had been there when the very first caveman clubbed his neighbour on the head. They were as much a part of the natural world as air. They existed in the hearts and minds of every single living being - which is why things were so difficult for Angel. Evil didn't have to fight. It didn't have to work to perpetuate itself or establish order. It just was. Inside every man, woman and child. Inside every demon. The instinct for evil - to put oneself above all others - to survive no matter what. To take what you wanted, when you wanted it. That impulse, that desire, did not have to fight to live. It was the goodness that needed to fight - needed to override humanity's natural instinct for evil. 'See the world doesn't work in spite of evil, Angel,' Holland told him. 'It works with us - because of us.'

And with that, the elevator screeched to a halt. The doors slid open and Angel looked out, bracing himself for what he was about to encounter...the homeless man was still pushing his shopping cart across the plaza...

'Welcome to the Home Office.'

'This isn't …'

'Well, you know it is,' Holland replied, that ever present genial smile still plastered across his face. 'You know that better than anyone. Things you've seen. Things you've, well - done. You see if there wasn't evil in every single one of them out there…' Angel gazed around as the lawyer spoke, watching as some of the people in the plaza began to yell and scream at each other, shoving each other as they fought… 'Well, they wouldn't be people. They'd all be Angels.'

The glove dropped from Angel's hand, and he shuffled out into the night, feeling the weight of despair crush down upon his soul. 'Have a nice evening', Holland said to him, as the doors slid shut once more.

...

The vampire stumbled through the streets of L.A. Everywhere he looked, he saw the depravity of the place; how far the world had fallen. He passed another homeless man, this one carrying a brown bagged bottle under his arm...that the world could let people fall through the cracks like this and have nobody care ...and that the lost and the desperate would then turn to any vice to get them through….

The bottle of liquor, carried through the streets wrapped up in brown paper, reminded him of Doyle. He thought of the first night they met, when the Irishman had bought himself a bottle of whisky, necking it right out of the bag, as he outlined the importance of their mission. Even the heroes were desperate - Angel realised - and they always had been, he just hadn't noticed… he thought about Doyle's trial that morning, and wondered if his friend was now locked up in prison...amidst some of the worst perpetrators of evil humanity had to offer. And how desperate his friend must be if that was the case …

He walked past a prostitute - another soul lost to the night. She began to scream at the punter that was trying to buy her wares. That this just went on -ignored and unspoken about - humans renting the bodies of other humans so they could take their own pleasure, without any thought for the person they were using...

He passed a young man, standing alone under a streetlight. He looked a little bit like Gene, the scientist who had almost ended the world when his heart was broken. So many people were walking around with broken hearts - maybe Cordelia - maybe right now. So many walking wounded. And it was the people they loved that inflicted this pain on them...

Everywhere he looked was dark, and desperate and desolate. There was no hope, no warmth … just the inexorable instinct towards evil, dragging the world down and making everyone miserable. One champion could not stop all this, could not save all these people. The evil was inside them, and 6 billion people could not be saved from themselves. Everything - his whole cause, his whole life - was utterly hopeless. It was him that wouldn't win… so why fight?

...

He arrived back at the hotel. The moment he stepped through the doors, he could sense her. He could feel her presence, taste her scent on the air. Without switching any lights on, he stumbled upwards towards his apartment… and there she was, waiting for him in the dark.

'Darla.'

'Angelus.' She got up, and walked towards him. He just stood still, on the threshold of his apartment, his head hanging low. She reached out and caressed his cheek, 'you've been looking for me.' It wasn't a question. 'Now here I am, what are you going to do?' He just stood there, too numb to react.

She kissed him. 'You've been working too hard, Angel, and you're all alone', she brushed his lips with her own once more, 'aren't you tired of being alone?'

As she kissed him again, he began to react. Pressing his mouth fiercely, hungrily against her own. 'God, yes,' he said, as they broke apart. 'I just don't want to feel the cold anymore.' As he kissed her again, he pushed her against the wall, pressing himself against her own petite frame. 'Don't you feel the cold?' he asked her.

'Not anymore,' she moaned, 'and you don't have to either - let me help you, Angel - let me take away the cold.'

She pushed him away from herself, and he stumbled backwards. She pushed again and he tumbled onto the bed. She climbed on top of him. 'Isn't this want you want?' she murmured into his ear, as she showered kisses on his neck and chest and face. 'Isn't this what you've always wanted?'

He shook his head against the pillow. 'It doesn't matter. Nothing matters anymore.' And he began to kiss her back, stripping her dress from her as he did…

Doyle was in Cordelia's kitchen, fetching her another glass of water. She was brushing her teeth, trying to get rid of the taste of vomit. Once he had filled the glass, he walked into her bedroom. She was already in her pajamas, cuddled up in bed. 'Here you go,' he said, as he walked through the door. He raised an eyebrow at her pajamas. 'I guess you've decided maybe not tonight, after all?'

She shook her head. 'I'm all gross and vomitty,' she said, 'you don't want that.'

'I always want you,' he smiled at her, 'even when you're disgusting.'

She threw her pillow at him - and then asked him to return it to her. He did so, putting the glass down on her night stand and kissing her on the forehead. 'I'll see myself out, then,' he said, 'Dennis can lock up behind me.'

'No,' she shook her head, 'Just because I don't wanna… doesn't mean I want you to go.'

'It doesn't?'

'Nope, you're never leaving my sight again.'

'Well, that sounds good to me.' He walked over to his side of the bed, unfastening his pants as he went. But he was stopped in his tracks by the sudden onslaught of a mind wrenching vision migraine. He went stiff and fell to floor, clutching his head.

The vision was blurry, but he recognised the inside of the Hyperion. And Angel was in bed... He could tell it was Angel, even though he couldn't see his face, because of the tattoo on his shoulder. And Angel wasn't alone. There was someone in the bed with him, moving in rhythm with him, under him. Someone small and blonde. Darla. There there was a flash of lightning, and Angel sat up, gasping.

The pain subsided, and Doyle sat up, breathing hard. 'What is it?' Cordelia asked, looking concerned. 'What did you see?'

The two vampires were sated and sleeping. Their clothes were thrown in a huddled mess on the floor, the room was in disarray - testament to the wildness of their lovemaking. Over by the open window, the curtains billowed as a strong wind began to pick up. There was a clap of thunder, lightning illuminated the room for a moment ...And Angel sat bolt upright in bed, gasping...

Chapter 61: Epiphany: Part One

Chapter Text

The two vampires were sated and sleeping. Their clothes were thrown in a huddled mess on the floor, the room was in disarray - testament to the wildness of their lovemaking. Over by the open window, the curtains billowed, as a strong wind began to pick up. Lightning illuminated the room for a moment, there was a clap of thunder...And Angel sat bolt upright in bed, gasping...

...

He forced himself out of the bed, and ragged his pants on. He remembered this - he'd been here before… he staggered out of the balcony doors, and dropped down onto his hands and knees, shuddering in agony. It was raining - like it had rained last time, and he felt the water droplets settle on his skin and sting - as if they were holy water. The pain was intense. There was a flash of lightning followed immediately by another clap of thunder. He looked upwards, into the night sky - the rain falling on his face. He screwed his eyes up and gritted his teeth, as his whole body wracked in torment.

...

Back inside, Darla sat up in bed. She saw the shape of the fallen vampire, out on the balcony, and smiled to herself. Her boy was coming home. She wrapped herself in the sheet, and appeared in the doorway - watching him.

'Oh God,' Angel moaned, still in pain.

'Don't fight it my love,' Darla told him, still watching, still smiling. His head snapped up and he looked at her. He noticed the smile that she wore. She wore very little else. 'Just let it happen,' she crooned softly, 'it'll only hurt for a minute.'

'What do you mean - you saw Angel sleeping with Darla?' Cordelia was angry and frightened, she wanted Doyle's vision to be a mistake. This was their first night together since before Christmas - she didn't want them interrupted - and by all things - not by this. The worst possible scenario. Her worst nightmare come to pass.

'I told y', princess,' Doyle was refastening his pants, as he spoke. 'He was in bed with Darla they were … y'know ...and then he sat up - sorta gaspin' for breath.'

'Angel doesn't breathe.'

'Well whatever he was gaspin' for... it wasn't pretty… I need to sort this, where are your weapons?'

As queasy from the alcohol as she was still feeling, Cordelia scuttled out of bed and blocked the closet, where she kept her weapons, with her body. 'Oh hey - hang on! No way! You are not going out there to sort this all by yourself. You cannot sort this all by yourself - face it Doyle, you don't have that kind of power.'

'No I don't,' Doyle agreed, 'but what did Angel always make us promise to do if he ever turned evil?'

'I think Angel gave up his right to expect us to honour his requests when he, oh, say fired us! You are not dying in attempt to kill Angelus, not just after I got you back, I won't let you.' She folded her arms and glared at him. She knew that, as long as she blocked the weapons, Doyle couldn't go - he wouldn't move her out of his way, even though he would be easily capable of doing so - so they would just be at an impasse. A stand off. And whilst Doyle was obviously the physically stronger of the two of them, she was by far the most stubborn and determined of the pair.

'Please Cordelia - if he's evil - we have to stop him, we can't stand back and do nothing and let him kill innocent people. Whether we owe it to Angel or not, we owe it to all the hopeless types he'll murder… it was a vision, Cordy. If I get there quickly, maybe I can stop it happening at all.'

'Oh right, so what's the plan? Just run in there and stop them from boinking? You gonna pull him off her mid groin session?'

'If that's what it takes…'

'eww!'

'Cordelia!' He fixed her with a stern look. 'You know I have to do this, so please - get out of my way?'

'And if I don't?'

He sighed, and looked away from her. She nodded to herself in grim satisfaction. If she didn't, he wasn't going to bodily force her away from the weapons closet against her will. He just wasn't that kind of man...And that meant that she held all the power here.

'OK,' she acquiesced. 'We'll both go.' He opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off. 'If he kills you, or if he gets past you, then I'm not safe here all alone. I've invited him into this apartment - you know how Angelus works. Once you're dead, he'll be straight round here to kill me - and then Wesley - and then Gunn. You can't leave me here all alone, unprotected.'

He closed his mouth again. She had a point. Dammit! Reluctantly, he nodded, agreeing to her words. 'OK - we go together - but you stay behind me the whole time - and if I tell you to run, you run, understand?'

It was her turn to nod, and she stepped away from the closet. He selected them a weapon each, whilst she put her clothes back on. Before she left, she took a crucifix necklace and draped it around her neck - sometimes it was the smallest thing that could save you.

'Oh God, oh god!' gasped Angel, still on his knees.

'Yes. Yes I know. It was the same for me,' Darla assured him. 'The soul is gone but it leaves a bitterness. It'll pass.'

He twisted to look over his shoulder at her; she stood there in the rain, wrapped in the bed sheet, smiling. Angel forced himself to his feet and stumbled backwards, staggering away from his triumphant sire. 'What you need now is a fresh kill,' she told him. He just stared at her. 'The warm blood will wash away the foul memory of it, I promise.'

She reached up to cup his cheek with her hand, but her movements seemed to unfreeze the stricken vampire - galvanising him into action. His own hand shot out and seized her wrist, arresting it mid air. He continued to stare at her.

'What?' She asked, glancing between his face and her own captured hand. 'What is it?'

'You saved me,' he breathed, in wonderment.

She smiled; a gracious, proud smile. 'Yes.'

He shook his head slightly, as if still baffled by something. 'I gave you everything I had left,' he told her.

She continued to smile. 'Yes.'

'I am - so sorry.'

Her smile faltered a little bit. 'You don't have to be.'

'But I am.' He took her hand and placed it against his face, so that she was caressing his cheek. Then he looked deep into her eyes.

She shook her head a little, 'what?'

'I am so sorry, Darla.'

She shook her head even harder. 'No…' There was fear in her heart now. She had been here before. This was just like the last time - in their lodgings in Romania…

'You saved me,' he told her again. 'I'm sorry I couldn't save you.'

'Let go of me,' she tore her hand from his grasp and turned away from him, feeling the waves of despair and grief crash into her. This was just like the last time, that fall - like suddenly missing a step in the darkness - from utter contentment - through to dread - through to the utter certainty that she had lost everything. 'You still have a soul!'

She stumbled away from him, back inside the room - where she stood still, looking down at the rumpled bed in disbelief. Angel followed her in, and she turned to look at him. 'But we…'

'Yeah,' Angel agreed. He put his shirt on, and then sat down on the bed, putting his shoes back on.

Darla just stood, still wrapped in only the bedsheet, still not understanding. 'And you…'

'I know,' Angel told her.

'And I …'

'Three times.'

'You're not evil? I don't understand…' Her voice became small, her expression hurt. 'Was..I ...not good?'

Angel was forcibly reminded of the last time he had been in a situation like this - only that time he had lost his soul. Darla's words echoed the words of the heartbroken slayer - as different as two people could be, they still crumpled under the rejection of Angel, just the same.

But Darla was no inexperienced schoolgirl, who had given herself to the man she loved for the very first time, and was now worried she hadn't done it right. She stiffened her spine and reasserted herself, giving a short bark of disbelieving laughter. 'Well I don't accept that. You cannot tell me that that was not perfect. Not only have I been around for four hundred years, but I used to do this professionally. That was perfect!' she grabbed hold of his arm and tugged him towards the bed. 'We'll go again.'

But Angel pulled free from her and backed off. 'No. No. We can't - you know we can't. We're finished.'

'But…'

'It was perfect, Darla.' He told her. 'It was perfect despair… and you were the reason. You've always been the reason. You made me what I am. And I thought ...If I could save you, then I might be able to save myself. But - but I was wrong - and when I failed..'

'Stop it!' she yelled, turning from him, not wanting to hear any more.

'When I failed, you saved me,' he continued. 'And I have to thank you for that. There is nothing I can do for you now, Darla, I can't even hate you.'

'You knew this would happen,' she accused, 'didn't you?'

He shook his head at her words. No - he hadn't known. When he had sought solace in her arms, he was looking to lose himself completely. He had given up all hope, when he had returned to the hotel that night, and had relished the opportunity she offered to give into the darkness - to cease this never ending struggle between good and evil. But - as despairing as he was - and with a woman he didn't love, he could never experience that moment of perfect happiness - that bliss and contentment that he had only ever found when he lay in Buffy's arms.

He turned to leave. 'We're done,' he told her, 'let yourself out.'

As he turned his back, Darla seized a stake and hurried after him. She would do now what she should have done that night in Romania, over a hundred years ago. 'Where are you going?'

He turned back to her, and grabbed her wrist as she plunged the stake downwards, towards his heart. 'You did me a favour, tonight,' he said to her, his voice even and neutral. 'Now I'm gonna do one for you. Get dressed and get out. Because the next time I see you I'm gonna have to kill you.'

He walked out of the hotel - and Darla stared after him… before returning to Angel's room and putting her red dress back on.

Doyle and Cordelia crept through the courtyard and in through the glass doors of the Hyperion hotel. Doyle carried an axe, and Cordelia was gripping a sword so tightly her knuckles were white. In her purse she also carried a couple of stakes, a bottle of holy water and a cross for each of them to wield. She wore her crucifix, and Doyle had on his Celtic cross necklace. He didn't actually know if a Celtic cross would do the same job as a regular plain one - he had never put it to the test - but he still felt better for wearing it. Neither of them were taking any chances.

The whole place was dark...and it seemed deserted. 'Do you think we're too late?' whispered Cordelia - 'has he already turned and gone out on the hunt?'

But Doyle shook his head, 'why would the powers send me a vision if it was too late to save him?' They crept through the lobby, keeping their weapons raised the whole time. Pushing the door to Angel's office open very slowly, so it didn't creak, the half demon peered inside. But that room, too, was empty. He shook his head at his girlfriend. 'I think we had better go upstairs.'

Cordelia looked like there was nothing in the world she wanted to do less, than go upstairs and interrupt two vampires getting fleshy with one another. But she nodded her head and followed Doyle up. As they climbed the stairs, she tapped him on the shoulder. The Irishman jumped about a foot in the air, before turning round to glare at her. 'What?' he hissed.

'I know you don't wanna hear this, Doyle, but I think you ought to go demon face to do this… I'd feel a whole lot better if you did.' For a moment, he looked like he was going to argue with her; but then he saw the fear in her eyes, and the way her hands trembled as she gripped her sword - and he nodded his head. Cordelia had a lot more experience with Angelus than Doyle had. She knew far better just how afraid they should be. And if wearing his spikes would make her feel even a little bit better, then he was more than willing to do that for her.

He morphed into his demon face and Cordelia looked reassured. 'Thanks,' she whispered to him.

'No problem.'

They continued up the stairs.

When they got to Angel's floor they began to creep down the hallway, glad that the thick, dusty carpet muffled their footsteps. They reached the doorway to the vampire's apartment - the door was slightly ajar. The young couple looked at each other, Cordelia's brown eyes meeting Doyle's red ones, and then they readied their weapons. Using his left arm, Doyle pushed the door open wider and then they both jumped into the room - ready to cut their former bosses' head off.

But the room was as dark and deserted as the lobby had been. No one was there. In fact, now in his demon form, Doyle could tell that neither Angel nor Darla were anywhere in the hotel. They had been, though, he could smell the remnants of their scent - and what they had done - clear enough. He shook off his demon face, immediately relieved to have his sense of smell blunted by his weaker form, and looked at his girlfriend. 'They're not here,' he told her, 'and we're too late.'

She eyed up the rumpled bedclothes. 'You can say that again', she said. She sank down on the bed, 'so what are we gonna do?'

Doyle shook his head. 'Believe me Cordy, you don't wanna sit there!'

'Eww!' she jumped to her feet, and glanced around. 'What about the chair, Mr. Enhanced Demon Senses, is that safe?' He nodded, and she dropped down into that instead. 'I repeat - what are we gonna do?'

'I guess we should go out and look for him.'

'Should we call Wes and Gunn?'

Doyle thought for a moment, but then shook his head. 'I don't think Angel has ever been to either of their apartments,' he said, 'they should be safe at home for now - they won't leave again until the sun comes up. I guess we'll have to tell them in the morning. We need to work out where Angelus would go.'

'And then we kill him?'

The Irishman nodded, 'or we die.'

'Great plan!' Cordelia exclaimed. 'Maybe we should come up with another one?' She leaned her elbow on the arm of her chair and then rested her head in her hand, looking desperate. 'There must be something else we can do.'

'He's invited into both our places,' Doyle reminded her. 'And Angelus can track our scent wherever we go in this city - if he's a mind to. There's nowhere we can hide. Even if we go to a hotel ...a vampire can enter public accommodation without being invited.'

'Hey!' Cordelia suddenly looked up, her expression much more optimistic than it had been just a moment before.

'Hey! What?'

'There's a spell that you can do - a disinviting spell that stops vampires from getting into your house. I used it on my car one time. Willow performed it before she was a proper witch so I think it's pretty basic - I've seen it done a bunch of times. I bet your guy in Korea Town could give us the stuff and tell us what to do. We disinvite Angel from my apartment and - boom - hide there til morning.'

'OK - that's actually not a bad idea… better than my finding Angelus and getting ourselves killed plan.' He nodded his head, 'let's do it - come on.' He pulled her out of the chair, back to her feet, and they left the apartment - heading back through the empty hotel.

Chapter 62: Epiphany: Part Two

Chapter Text

The Host stumbled through his closed up night club. The place was empty, the lights switched off, the chairs stacked on the tables; but someone was ringing the buzzer, repeatedly. 'Alright alright - alright already,' the green demon muttered to himself. He pushed the button that caused the door to open. 'Keep your pants on,' he said, and then looked as Angel stormed inside past him, 'well, I see it's already a bit late for that advice.'

...

He went to fix them some drinks, and Angel got down a couple of chairs, and sat down at the table. The Host gave him a sympathetic look.

'I probably should have killed her,' Angel supposed.

'Ah - killed her, paid her cab fare home, whatever. The point is you've turned a corner.' He approached the table with the drinks, and put them down. 'Yay you, Zuzu's petals. It's about time. And between you and me - if it had taken you much longer to hit your bottom - I was gonna kick it.' He sat down across from the vampire.

Angel's always prominent brow was furrowed, as he tried to work out what had happened to him. 'I'm still not sure I understand what happened.'

The Host smiled. What was there to understand? The vampire was hardly the first guy who rolled over, saw what was lying next to him, and had a sudden moment of horrified clarity. Angel had just had his moment - that was all, though the demon sympathised at how appalling it must be - to see exactly where he'd got himself.

'I don't know how to get back', the vampire confessed. But the Host didn't think he could go back. He needed to move on - to a new place - whatever that might be. But Angel was unsure as to whether he could even do that. He had allowed himself to fall so far, got mired too deep into the darkness. Some of the things he'd done - he couldn't go back from them but he couldn't just move forward either - as if they'd never happened.

'You didn't kill those lawyers, Angel,' the Host told him kindly. 'They were slated to die with or without you. The Powers were just trying to fix it so it would be without you is all. You weren't a lot of help in that department, there, were you sparky?'

'I wasn't much help?' Angel was incredulous. 'If they wanted me to stay away, why didn't they just tell me?'

'Would you have listened? Besides what makes you think they didn't. Over and over and - as for example - over!'

'Well - they could have been a little bit more specific.'

The Host cleared his throat, and fixed Angel in a stern gaze. 'Now isn't that the kind of 'tude that got you into the little mess in the first place? I think I speak for everyone when I say - if all you're gonna do is switch back into brood mode, then we'd rather just have you evil. 'Cause then at least - leather pants.'

Angel shook his head.'What now?'

'What do you mean?'

'How do I fix this? I mean, what do The Powers want me to do?'

The Host looked at him, 'Do I look like I'm hearing voices?' he asked. 'Because I'm not. I'm not the green guy that's your link to The Powers, Angelcakes, that would be your little half pint of Guinness that you want for that… you lost your link to The Powers when you fired your crew - and you know that's going to be the hardest part of all this. There is a good chance you won't be able to put all this back together - it all depends really.'

'Yeah,' sighed Angel, reflecting on his lost friends and how he had hurt them. 'Whether they'll even talk to me.'

'No, actually it depends on whether or not they live through the night. And I gotta tell ya, it doesn't look that good, right now.'

Cordelia and Doyle walked back down the stairs, their weapons were only held loosely in their hands now, as they no longer felt in imminent danger. As they neared the bottom step, and Angel's office came into view, Doyle frowned to himself and threw an arm out to stop Cordelia going any further.

'What is it?'

'I didn't close Angel's door,' Doyle told her, nodding to the office door which was now firmly shut.

'Is it him?' Cordelia squeaked. 'Is he back?'

Doyle morphed back into his demon face, preparing to fight... but Angel's scent was not anymore prominent than it had been before. The vampire was still not there. 'It isn't Angel,' he told his girlfriend, morphing back, 'it's something else.'

There was a sudden bang, as the front door of the hotel slammed shut. Both Cordelia and Doyle jumped. 'Let's go!' Doyle told her, grabbing her arm and pulling her towards the main entrance, but they were cut off in their tracks by the sudden appearance of a waxy, white skinned demon, with two red lines running down its face..

The pair of them backed away, but a growling sound made them turn - there was another...and then another. Whatever demon type these were, Doyle and Cordelia were surrounded by them - and they did not look friendly. 'Human!' one of the demons roared at Cordelia, then he glanced at Doyle - a look of disgust covering his lumpy, hideous face. 'Half breed! The destroyer of our spawn!'

The couple glanced at each other. 'Uhm - have you maybe got us confused with someone else?' Cordelia asked, trying to sound upbeat and unafraid. 'We haven't destroyed anyone's spawn - really!'

'Four are responsible - four shall pay,' the demon pronounced. 'You will bring the others here!'

'The others?'

'Cordelia!' Doyle hissed, raising his axe, 'quit talking to 'em - just get ready to fight!'

'We did not come here to fight,' the demon told them. They both looked relieved, until it spoke again. 'We came here to right our wrongs - and make you pay for the destruction of our spawn.'

Another of the demons came in behind the first, and the first turned to talk to it. And that was when Doyle and Cordy saw the third eye in the back of the demon's head. Cordelia had drawn these demons - or a rough approximation of them - when Stephanie Sharp had described what had bitten her, back in their office a couple of weeks ago. And Wesley had identified the demon in his books - before finding the deocculation powder that had cleared the little girl's problem right up.

'Oh god!' Cordelia breathed, 'we destroyed their spawn!'

The first demon turned back to the pair of them. 'We have located the wheel-ed one,' the demon said, 'where is the other?'

'Wheel-ed one?' Cordelia asked.

'Wesley!' Doyle groaned.

Wesley rolled around his apartment, in his wheelchair, putting books away. As he moved around the room, he felt the familiar prickle down his spine that was particular to the realisation of being watched. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up. Pretending nothing was amiss, he rolled towards his walk in closet and opened it up.

Out by the window, a three eyed demon ducked out of view.

Wesley tried to reach the shelf above his hanging clothes, but sat down it was just out of reach. He tried to stand up, but then thumped back down with a groan - his gunshot wound threatened to open up as he stretched. Instead, he picked up a broom and used the handle to knock his shotgun to the floor. He picked up the gun and checked it - there was no ammunition. The box of bullets was up on the shelf. He used his broom again and knocked the box to the floor - the shells spilled out everywhere.

He picked up two bullets and pushed them into the double barrel, before snapping the gun closed. He rolled back out of the closet and aimed his gun at the window, there was nothing there, so he turned and pointed it at the door.

The door crashed open, and Angel stood there, looking frenzied.

'Angel!'

The vampire shifted on his feet but didn't cross the threshold. 'Wes! Invite me in! I've never been here before, Wesley! You have to invite me in!'

'Well, maybe if you had shown more of an interest…'

'Wesley!'

The three eyed demon crashed through the window. Wesley looked over his shoulder at the sound of the breaking glass. 'Yes. No. I invite you in. In. I invite you!'

Another demon came crashing through the window and Angel ran into the room, past the watcher and began to whale on the three eyed monsters. 'Do you know what these things are?' he yelled.

'I believe they are adult Skilosh demons - though I've only ever encountered their spawn before now.'

The vampire knocked both the demons across the room, and leaned down on Wesley's chair to speak to his friend. 'How do I kill them?'

'Well - uhm - there are a number of ways…'

The Skilosh were back on their feet, one of them tackled Angel and knocked his against the wall. 'Wesley!' the vampire shouted, hoping to hurry him to the point.

'Yes, right, yes - uh,' he was grabbed around the neck by the other skilosh. 'Hack them to pieces!' he cried out.

Angel grabbed an axe that Wesley kept mounted on the wall, and kicked the skilosh away from himself. He used the handle of the axe to knock the second demon off Wesley, it was thrown across the room and landed on the sofa. Angel hacked it to pieces where it lay.

The first skilosh launched itself at Wesley, but the watcher brought up his shotgun and fired. There was an explosion of yellow gore, and the demon was thrown backwards by the blast. It lay on the floor, steaming slightly. Plaster from the ceiling rained down upon it. 'I think I got it,' Wesley said. He looked up at the damaged ceiling. 'I can only pray Mrs. Starns isn't at home.'

The two men looked at each other, and a slow smile began to spread across Wesley's face. But then he remembered himself, and looked away frowning. 'What are you doing here?'

Doyle and Cordelia stood back to back, their weapons raised. 'Now, y' know we're not gonna let you do that third eye thingy to us without a fight, right?' Doyle said to the gathered demons… 'so if you didn't come here to fight, you might as well just go home.' Then the pair of them launched forward, weapons swinging.

As they fought, Cordelia's cell phone began to ring.

Wesley was sitting in Angel's convertible, in the passenger seat. He was on the phone to Gunn, telling the street fighter to get down to the office and meet him there asap. He hung up, and looked at Angel, 'so there was no sign of Cordelia at hers?'

'No, I went there before I came to yours. The place was dark - she wasn't there.'

'Then either she's still at the office or she went to Doyle's - but either way she isn't picking up.'

'Doyle,' said Angel, suddenly feeling afraid, 'did he..? Is he…?'

'His charges were all dismissed,' Wesley told the vampire, 'he is a free man.'

Angel sighed in relief. 'Good - that's good… but this means both he and Cordelia are missing?'

'Well, wherever they are, there is very little chance that they're not together… we just need to find where they are before the skilosh do.'

'So - uhm - you gonna tell me about these skilosh demon thingies?'

'Very well. We at Angel Investigations were recently contracted by a family to investigate the mysterious appearance of a third eye in the back of their daughter's head.'

'Oh really? Angel Investigations? You kept the name?' The vampire smiled a little to himself on hearing this.

Wesley frowned for a moment. 'We are going to change it,' he replied.

The smile melted off Angel's face.'Right. Go on.'

'In any event, I diagnosed the girl's condition as being infection by a skilosh.'

'With your books?'

'Yes.'

'You were always so good with your books,' Angel told Wesley, conversationally, 'make it look easy. When it isn't.'

The flattery appeared to have little effect. 'The skilosh are a notoriously violent, asexual self replicating strain of demon that reproduce by infecting a human host. One of the key diagnostic symptoms of which is the tell tale third eye in the back of the head,' Wesley said, as if Angel hadn't said anything. 'If this condition is not arrested in time, then the newborn skilosh will erupt fully grown out of the back of its human host's head.'

'But you saved the little girl?' Angel clarified.

'Yes.'

'You did a good thing.'

Wesley frowned again for a moment. 'Thanks.'

Doyle swung his axe at one of the skilosh demons and it backed away. Behind him, Cordelia was valiantly swinging her sword - keeping the demons at bay. They moved around each other as they fought, always remaining back to back so as not to let their opponents get behind them.

The demons all suddenly fell back and formed a huddled group. Seizing his chance, Doyle grabbed Cordelia again and began to drag her towards the entrance. But the voice of the skilosh cut through the room - stopping them in their tracks. 'Two have fallen.' The couple turned to stare at the demons in horror - not Wesley and Gunn!

'All must pay,' the demon pronounced. And Cordelia breathed a sigh of relief as she realised that the skilosh were talking about the deaths of their own kind… then she realised what this would mean for her and Doyle.

'More must rise!' the skilosh said.

Doyle and Cordelia raised their weapons once more and, tired as they were, began to swing their axe and sword - keeping the demons at bay. Doyle wore his demon face, once more, and so had his enhanced strength and stamina to help him fight. But Cordelia was flagging - she had had a long day; she had lived through the possibility of losing Doyle forever just that morning, and had drunk far too much in celebration once he was freed. She had made herself sick, and then she had forced herself back out of bed to go Angelus hunting - and then she had got into a battle to the death and had to keep lashing out with her heavy sword...

She swiped the blade at one of the demons, but as she did, she stumbled. And Doyle, with his back to her, was unable to catch her. Instead, the skilosh grabbed hold of her. She screamed and Doyle whirled around to protect her, but he was too late. The demon had her pinned to the ground. 'No, please,' she called out, as a long, pronged tongue began to protrude from the demon's mouth. 'I've been impregnated by demon spawn before - let's just say it didn't go well! Please! Don't do this!'

But the skilosh did not heed her cries, and his pronged tongue pierced the back of her head. She screamed out once more, and then fell unconscious.

'Cordelia!' Doyle swung his axe into one skilosh, felling it to the floor, and then hit out at the one that held Cordelia. That demon, too, was forced back, and Doyle grabbed hold of his unconscious girlfriend and dragged her lifeless body towards Angel's office.

Wesley and Angel arrived at the office. There was no one there - Cordelia and Doyle were apparently long gone. 'This doesn't bode well', the British man said, looking around.

Angel shrugged, 'Maybe they went out to celebrate - went on a date or something - they have a lot to be happy about, tonight.'

But Wesley shook his head, 'Cordelia drank too much champagne, she made herself sick. Doyle was going to take her home and put her to bed.'

'Oh come on!' Angel said, 'are you honestly telling me that that was the big plan for the evening for Doyle and Cordelia Chase? They just go home to sleep? They'll be out painting the town red - knowing them…'

'But you don't know them,' Wesley interrupted, looking annoyed. Angel opened his mouth to argue, but the watcher didn't give him the chance. 'You haven't cared to know them, for months now... You have had no idea of the unbelievable strain the two of them have been living under - the fear, the loneliness, the desperation. Tonight is the first night in a very long time that they have been released from this unbearable burden - I don't think they're quite ready to go out and pretend that everything is normal, just yet. Up until this morning, they were facing the quite distinct possibility of never being with each other ever again. I imagine they will have wanted nothing more than to get back to Cordelia's place and just be - together. The type of emotional strain they have been under has taken its toll on them, Angel, not that you cared to find out. I'm afraid you'll find that you're friends are no longer the people they once were. They have changed, in your absence.'

Angel stood quietly for a moment and then - 'we have to find them,' he said in a soft voice.

'Yes, we are at least agreed on that.'

The door opened, Angel span around to see who it was, axe in hand in case they had been followed by more skilosh. But it was only Gunn. The street fighter looked at the vampire, 'what's he doing here?' he asked Wesley.

'Yeah … I guess you might have been wondering that.' Angel chuckled a bit. 'It's a funny story - actually - I sort of - I sort of had an epiphany. Then I went to see the Host at Caritas. He told me my friends were in danger.'

Gunn ignored his former boss, acted like he hadn't even spoken. 'So what's he doing here?' he repeated.

Wesley shrugged. 'There was a demon attack at my home,' he said.

'I saved him!' interjected Angel.

'It was those skilosh demons - the ones that attacked Stephanie Sharp. We can't find Doyle and Cordelia - we're worried that they may be in some danger. It's good that you're here.'

'You call, I come - you know that, man!' Gunn said, and the two men smiled at each other and performed an elaborate handshake.

'I see you guys have bonded,' Angel observed.

'Well that's what happens when you fight shoulder to shoulder,' Gunn told him.

'Or hip to shoulder these days,' Wesley corrected.

'This man took a bullet for me!' they repeated the elaborate handshake. Angel felt left out. 'So ...if you're all done havin' epiphanies,' Gunn said, 'what we gonna do about Doyle and Cordy?'

Wesley frowned. 'I just don't understand where they can be,' he said. 'They should have gone straight home.'

'Have you checked her pad?' Gunn asked.

'I went by her place before I went to Wesley's,' Angel explained.

Gunn raised his eyebrows, 'Are you enjoyin' your trip to 1973?' he asked, 'I meant her message pad.'

'Oh.'

But there was nothing written on Cordelia's messages - which came as little surprise, as last time the two men had seen her, she was busy vomiting into a toilet bowl. 'Maybe we should try and ring her again?' Wesley suggested.

Chapter 63: Epiphany: Part Three

Chapter Text

Doyle had managed to get the unconscious Cordelia inside Angel's office. He had pushed the desk up against the door to barricade it, and put his girlfriend as far back in the room as he could. Then he stood, axe raised, ready for the next onslaught.

He was distracted by a ringing sound cutting through the room. Cordelia's cell. With a backwards glance at the door, he ran over to her, and rifled through her purse - pulling it out.

'Yeah?' he barked into the phone.

'Doyle - thank goodness!' Wesley said, 'we've been looking for you. You and Cordelia need to get to safety. I'm afraid you're in danger of being attacked by some skilosh demons.'

Doyle glanced back at the door, 'yeah, man - we actually spotted that ourselves.'

'They've attacked you?' Wesley asked, his voice aghast.

'We're under siege right now, bud. One of them attacked Cordelia - she's not movin'.'

'Where are you?' The watcher wanted to know.

'At the hotel - in Angel's office.'

'What on earth are you doing there?'

'One bit of bad news at a time, man, OK - just get over here and help us!' He hung up and got back to his feet, holding his axe ready once more. Behind him, Cordelia began to groan, as she came to. He glanced over his shoulder at her. 'Oh thank God, darlin', you're OK.'

She looked up at him, bleary eyed for a moment, and then her eyes widened in horror, and she brought her hand up to cover her mouth.

'Cordelia - what is it?'

'Doyle! I can see out of the back of my head!'

'They've already been attacked,' Wesley told his companions, 'and from the sound of it, Cordelia may have been infected.' He wheeled himself over to the desk and opened up the drawer, taking a vial of purple powder out of it. 'The rest of the deocculation powder,' he explained, 'It's probably best if we go prepared.'

'Not that I don't care more about Doyle and Cordy - because I do,' Gunn said, 'but what about the Sharp family?'

'What about them?' Wesley asked, puzzled.

'Well - it was Stephanie Sharp who had the original third eye - if these dudes are killin' us because we destroyed their demon spawn - don't you think they'd go to the source of their spawn first? Hell - how else do they know what happened if they aint keepin' tabs on the girl?'

'You're right,' the watcher mused, 'they may be in danger.'

'I think it might be worse than that!' Gunn said. 'You remember how Mrs. Sharp rang us up, wantin' to pay her bill all of a sudden. Said it was urgent. Wanted us to go to her- and we didn't bother - and now we gettin' attacked all over the place...'

'You think the skilosh have already dealt with the Sharp's?'

'I think we kinda have a duty to check it out.'

'If the gestation period is almost over...and the Sharp's have all been infected - they'll be killed if we don't deocculate them.'

'Hey - guys!' Angel interrupted. 'These people might be in danger - but Doyle and Cordy definitely are. And Cordelia is almost certainly infected… we have to go to them first.'

Wesley shook his head. 'We'll split up - and split the powder. Angel - we know there are a group of skilosh at the hotel - so you will go there and rescue Cordelia and Doyle, and sprinkle the powder onto Cordelia's third eye to deocculate her, if necessary. Gunn and I will take Gunn's pickup and head to the Sharp's home - and see if we can't save them.'

Angel looked like he wanted to argue, but Gunn was nodding along. He was used to following the instructions that Wesley laid down, now - the man had taken a bullet for him, after all - and Wesley's plans usually worked out OK, in the end. But before he took his friend out to the pickup, he addressed his former boss. 'This epiphany you had - it's real handy - when you thinkin' of havin' another one?'

'I'm not..'

''Cause it seems to me they can strike at any time. Could be next time you see one of them lawyers you get epiphanied right back off at 'em.'

'I won't…'

'Good - 'cause here's the thing - if you don't get to Cordy in time - if anythin' bad happens to her - I might just have an epiphany of my very own - you understand?'

Angel nodded, and Gunn nodded back at him. 'Good - now go save my friends.'

'Let me see, let me see, Cordelia!'

She was still gasping in horror, but Doyle managed to get her to turn around so he could look. There it was. A third eye blinked at him from under Cordelia's hair. 'I can still see you!' she cried. He raised his index finger and moved it back and forth in front of the eye. The eye tracked it. 'Quit doing that!' she hissed, 'I can see you, it works - it's a third eye - isn't it?'

'Uh - yeah, yeah it is Cordy.'

'Oh God!'

'Don't panic - there's a silver lining to all this!' he promised her, 'as long as you're carrying their spawn, the skilosh demons aren't gonna harm you - you're safe - for now.'

'Safe? Until a fully grown skilosh demon erupts out of the back of my skull! Why am I always the one that gets impregnated with demon spawn?'

'Well - you are the girl, Cordelia. Me and Wes don't have the required internal organs to carry a pregnancy... ' He shook his head, getting back on topic, 'but don't worry, OK? Wesley is on his way - he'll bring the powder - we'll clear this up in no time. You'll see.'

Cordelia looked around the room - with all three of her eyes. 'Are we in Angel's office?' she asked.

Doyle nodded. 'I needed to get you someplace safe - I've barricaded the door.'

'Sure - so they won't stick a skilosh in your skull.'

'Everythin' will be fine,' he assured her, 'you'll see.'

'Right, I'll see - with all three of my eyes.'

He kissed her on the forehead, and held her close for a moment. 'Don't be scared,' he whispered to her, 'this will turn out fine - I promise.' Then he picked up his axe again, hoping to distract her from her third eye. 'We lost your sword out there, Cordy, but I bet there's a weapon in here somewhere - see if you can find one, whilst we wait for Wes and Gunn.'

Gunn's pickup pulled up down the road from the Sharp's house. He killed the engine and switched off the headlights, and then he got out of the cab and got Wesley's wheelchair out of the back. Then he helped his friend out of the truck. 'Why are we all the way back here?' Wesley asked.

'In case there's some of them skilosh inside - I didn't want to announce our arrival to them.'

'Good thinking!'

Gunn took out his own homemade axe and then handed another axe to Wesley, 'just in case,' he said, then he wheeled his friend down the road.

The house was in darkness - and there didn't seem to be any signs of the demons. Gunn crept up to the window and peered in. It was the living room - but there was no one in there.

'What do you see?' hissed Wesley, wheeling up beside him.

'Whole load of nothin' - maybe I was wrong - maybe they've just gone to bed.'

'Let's try around the back,' the watcher suggested, turning his chair and moving off towards the back of the house. Gunn followed him.

When they got there, they found the kitchen door slightly ajar, though the kitchen - like the living room - was dark and still. 'That don't look good,' the street fighter noted, he pushed the door open wider and went inside - his axe at the ready. He immediately tripped over the body of Francine Sharp and, when he looked down, saw Stephanie lying next to her. 'Man!'

'What is it?' Wesley wheeled inside and saw what Gunn was looking at. 'We're too late,' he said, his voice heavy with defeat.

Gunn bent down, and rested his hand on Stephanie's face - her neck was twisted so that, even though her body was face down, her face was in profile. He shook his head. 'She's coolin' down, man - she's been dead a while - maybe since before we got the phone call.'

'Then there was nothing we could do to save them.'

The street fighter walked further into the kitchen. The body of a man lay on the floor as well, his neck also twisted, unnaturally. And over near the internal door, a little boy lay on his back - his eyes glassy and unseeing. Gunn closed them for him. 'I don't get it,' he said, 'why kill them? Why not just impregnate them with more skilosh spawn?'

'This is punishment,' Wesley said, looking down at the dead family, 'vengeance, it's us they want to use as hosts for their next generation of spawn.'

'We should get outta here - before the cops find us.'

'Yes. But we can't just leave them like this. We should call the authorities anonymously - get Kate to deal with this - and then we should go and find Doyle and Cordelia. If Cordy is infected - then there can't be long until the skilosh hatches out of her skull.'

'Angel better get there in time,' Gunn muttered, 'and he better not have himself no more epiphanies.'

Angel drove his Plymouth down the street as fast as he could, gunning the accelerator to make it go faster. He ignored a few red lights as he drove. He wasn't going to lose Cordelia - and maybe Doyle, as well - on the same night that he had his own moment of clarity and realised he wanted to go back to them.

He knew they were hidden in his office, and he hoped that meant they were safe for now. But he had no idea just how many skilosh were outside the office door - how many he would have to kill in order to save his friends.

...

Doyle and Cordy waited inside the office. The skilosh didn't seem to be battering the door down - but every so often Doyle would morph into his demon spikes to check if they were still there. They were. 'So what are they waiting for?' Cordelia asked, 'why don't they just come in here and get us?'

'Best guess?' Doyle replied. 'They don't have to come and get us. You're infected. They just have to wait for the brand new baby skilosh demon to erupt outta the back o' your skull, and then that one will infect me. If they attack us - we might get lucky and kill one o' them. So they're waitin'.'

'Well that's not comforting!'

He smiled at her sympathetically. 'On the bright side - they don't know that the cavalry is on it's way. They think it's a waiting game - but it's not - or at least, it's not for them.'

'You're right.' Cordelia took a deep breath. 'Wesley and Gunn will rescue us - they've never let us down before.'

...

Angel approached the hotel. He glanced at his watch. He didn't know how long Cordelia had been infected, or how long she had left. And he didn't know how many skilosh there were to fight - and Wesley was right when he said they were a particularly violent strain of demon. The vampire couldn't afford to lose time taking out each skilosh individually in single combat. He needed something that would kill a lot of them at once, but that wouldn't hurt his friends.

As he came up on the entrance of the hotel, he decided to take a leaf out of Cordelia's book - and copy a move she had performed many years ago in an apocalypse situation. He turned his steering wheel hard right, mounted the sidewalk and then crashed his car right through the front wall of the Hyperion. Bricks and dust and glass and debris went flying, crashing down, scattering to the ground. Angel just pressed the gas down harder and drove into the lobby. He hit two skilosh as he went, and they flew over the hood of the car and landed down on the ground, lying still. As he reached the door to his office he slammed on the brakes, the tyres squealed. He leapt out over the windshield, onto the hood and swung his broadsword, decapitating the two remaining demons.

...

Inside the office, Doyle and Cordelia heard the almighty crash of the convertible destroying the wall, and then the squeal of the tyres. The smell of burning rubber crept under the door. The young couple looked at each other, 'what the hell was that?' Doyle asked.

And then there was a banging at the door, the sound of a fist pounding desperately. 'Is it the skilosh?' gasped Cordelia.

'Cordy, Doyle - open up, it's me!' Angel shouted.

'Angelus!' squealed Cordelia.

'Dear...sweet ...talk about outta the fryin' pan and into the fire!'

'Guys open up!' the vampire continued to pound. 'Is Cordelia OK? I've got the deocculation powder - Wes gave it to me.'

'What do we do?' Cordelia hissed. Doyle shook his head. That was Angelus out there, they both knew it, pretending to be Angel to trick them. But if he really did have the deocculation powder ...they needed that desperately. If Cordelia didn't get it - and soon - then she would be killed when a fully grown skilosh forced its way out of the back of her head. And then that skilosh would probably kill Doyle...

'Crosses,' he said to her, 'in your purse, grab 'em.'

She did as she was told, handing one of the religious icons to her boyfriend and gripping the other one tightly herself. 'I'm gonna open the door,' Doyle told her, 'you stay back, but keep your cross raised.' She nodded, her eyes wide with fear. Doyle moved the desk out of the way.

'On the count of three' he said. 'One…' he morphed into his demon face, one last time, 'two...three' he yanked the door open and they both brandished their crosses at the vampire that stood on the other side.

Angel stumbled backwards, his hands raised in surrender, 'hey guys - I know we've not been that friendly of late, but …'

'The powder,' Doyle stuck his green hand out, 'give it to me - NOW!' Angel pulled the vial out of his pocket and handed it across. The door was then slammed back in his face, and he heard furniture being moved back into place against the door. 'Uh - guys?' he said, knocking on the door once more...

Chapter 64: Epiphany: Part Four

Chapter Text

Kneeling down on the floor, Cordelia parted her hair at the back; exposing her third eye, completely, so that Doyle could get a clean view of it. Back in human face, once again, he sprinkled the powder onto her skin, and then watched in relief as the eye closed up, and her skin healed - leaving the patch smooth and whole.

'Did it work?' she asked, 'I can't see you anymore!'

'It worked,' he breathed hard with relief and then pulled her into a tight hug. 'You're fine - it's gone.'

She raised her hand to tentatively touch the place where her extra eye had been. A look of consternation crossed her face. 'Doyle - tell me truthfully - do I have a bald patch where that eye was?'

He kissed her on the temple, and didn't let go of hugging her, but he shook his head slightly. 'Your hair'll grow back in no time, darlin' - until then you'll just have to tie it back - no one will know - I swear.'

'That's just a comforting way of saying 'yes' isn't it?' she demanded, her voice dry and disbelieving.

He chuckled and nodded his head, kissing her on the temple again. 'Yeah, darlin' - I'm afraid it really really is.'

'Oh jeez.' she blew out her cheeks and sighed.

Doyle kissed her on the lips this time, still chuckling. 'It's not that bad,' he said, comfortingly. 'Y'know given the choice between a live girlfriend with a slight bald patch, and a dead girlfriend with a slight back of her head missin' - I know which one I'd rather have.'

'It's the dead one, isn't it?'

'Yep,' he said, deadly serious, 'yeah it is.' She pushed him off her, then. And they both laughed. Cordelia's hand crept back round to the back of her head, but Doyle pulled it away. 'Leave it alone,' he told her, 'it's fine.'

...

Angel was still knocking. 'Guys! let me in - what gives? - is everything OK in there?'

They both turned to look at the door, 'so what do we do about him?' Cordelia asked.

Kate arrived at the Sharp's residence, the crime scene was already cordoned off and the place was swarming with officers and CSIs. 'What have we got?' she asked one of the cops, snapping on some latex gloves as she entered the kitchen.

'Anonymous tip off telling us that a whole family had been annihilated - they've had their necks broken, must've taken some strength to do that… neighbours saw nothing, no known enemies, no known problems...I think it's another weird one, Detective Lockley.'

She sighed and crouched down next to the body of the fallen girl, 'what happened to you?' she mused aloud.

As she stood back up, she noticed that the phone was slightly off the hook - like it hadn't been put back into its cradle properly. She picked up the receiver and pressed redial to find out who the family had called last. The phone rang a few times, but there was no answer. Eventually the machine picked up. 'Angel Investigations - we help the hopeless,' Cordelia's bright, recorded voice rang out down the line. 'If that's you, leave a message.'

Kate sighed even deeper. Yes. definitely one of the weird ones - and one that would not come to any satisfactory conclusion. She collared the cop, again. 'Was there signs of a break in?' she asked.

The cop shook his head from side to side, 'it's hard to say - door was open when we got here - but no clear evidence it was forced.'

'But if they were killed earlier this evening, the door might not have been locked when the killer arrived,' Kate concluded. She nodded, 'it could be a burglary gone wrong,' she declared. 'In the absence of any better leads we'll work with that in mind.'

She was beginning to grow tired of having to cover for Angel and his little gang of friends.

'Look guys, I know you're mad,' Angel called through the door. Inside the office, Doyle and Cordelia exchanged a glance. 'And you're right to be - I don't blame you - all that you've been through ...and I wasn't there… but the truth is, things are different now.'

'Yeah we know!' Doyle shouted, 'why do y' think we're here in the first place?'

'Wait? You know? ...well that's good … guys, it's a funny story,' the vampire chuckled a little, hopeful that they would also see the funny side, 'but I gotta tell you - I had an epiphany tonight…'

'Is that what you're calling it?' yelled Cordelia. ' 'cause in Doyle's vision it looked a lot like you boinking Darla - and we all know what that means!'

Angel went quiet for a moment - Doyle had had a vision? They knew about Darla? And then, suddenly, the brandished crosses and the locked office door made a whole lot more sense. 'Oh - wait -no!' he chuckled again. 'You think I'm evil...I'm not - I swear.'

'Uh - yeah - and that's just what Angelus would say before he snapped our necks and drank from our brain stems!' Doyle pointed out.

'No - really - I'm not...I came here to rescue you - Wes sent me.' He though for a moment and then gave a small 'oh' of realisation, as he thought of the proof, 'where else would I get the deocculation powder from - huh? And why would I hand it over, if I wanted you dead?'

Back inside the office, the two of them looked at each other again, and shrugged - he did sort of have a point. But then this was an awfully big chance to take…

'Why aren't you evil?' Cordelia shouted out, suspiciously, 'boinking makes you evil - we all know that.'

'No Cordelia,' Angel sighed, 'perfect happiness makes me evil - the curse trigger is perfect happiness - not sex. Sex is just what happened to - trigger it - last time ...but this time I'm fine. I wasn't happy. Darla couldn't make me happy. I was in despair, I reached rock bottom and when I got back to the hotel, she was waiting. And I had a moment of clarity - of pure despair - and it made me realise everything I've been doing wrong ...and want to put it right…' he chuckled again, as he mused to himself, 'sometimes it's just the smallest things that save you, you know?'

'So what do we do?' whispered Cordelia to her boyfriend, 'we can't stay here forever.'

'Are you guys OK in there?' Angel asked, sounding concerned.

'No!' called back Cordelia, 'you hurt our feelings.'

Angel nodded to himself, feeling guilt at the way he had let them down - and realising that he wasn't going to be able to just put things back together the way they had been. 'Well - whatever I can do to make it up to you…'

'Leave,' shouted Doyle.

'What?' Angel was nonplussed.

'Leave us alone,' Doyle said. 'You say you're not evil and maybe that's true. If that's the case ...we'll give you til ten to get outta here and then we'll leave the office and go home - If you're still there when we open the door - then we know.'

Angel nodded sadly, those terms seemed fair - even though he wanted a chance to make things up to his friends. 'OK - I'm leaving now!' And he turned and climbed the staircase - headed to his own apartment.

...

After the count of ten - the office door creaked open an inch, and a green arm brandishing a cross was stuck through. When nothing happened, the door opened wider, and the whole of Doyle - wearing his demon spikes - appeared. 'It's clear,' he said, turning back to look inside. And then he grabbed Cordelia, who brandished a cross of her own, and the pair of them raced through the lobby.

Up on the first floor landing, Angel watched them go.

'We're still stopping off in Koreatown to get the ingredients for a disinviting spell, right?' Cordelia asked as she hurried through the foyer.

'Oh yeah,' Doyle agreed.

Angel was amused to note that - even though there was a wide gaping hole in the front of the building - they still exited via the front door, opening it and shutting it behind them. And then he was left alone - to ruminate on everything he had done wrong, and wonder how on earth he could put it all right again.

Darla stood alone on the balcony of her penthouse suite. She looked out over the twinkling lights of the cityscape, shining in the darkness. She was leaving - clearing out of town the very next night. As soon as it got dark again, she would head for the city limits and then cross them. She wasn't sure where she would go, though. Not North, she thought, not to Sunnydale, and Drusilla and Spike. Returning to them, now she had failed to turn her own boy, would be too painful. It would be too like last time - at the turn of the last century. No - she would go somewhere new - all alone.

She had lived without Angel for 250 years, she could move on. Having a second shot at eternal life was a gift, she wouldn't waste it. South, then. Central America and then maybe further on from there. A new continent for a new century and a new life. No Master, no Angel, no men.

One thing she was certain of, though, having failed to bring Angelus back into the fold - she would never willingly seek him out in this lifetime, again. If the champion of the people lost his soul, somewhere along the way - then let him come looking for her. And she would decide whether or not to take him back. But there were absolutely no circumstances under which she would return to this city, whilst he still played the caped crusader, and return to his side. It was over between them - forever. She understood that now. She had had an epiphany.

The next night, the four members of Angel investigations were at work in their office. Cordelia had her short hair tied back, to hide the patch where her third eye had been, and Doyle kept glancing over at her. Not only to check she was OK after this latest of traumas - Cordelia seemed to suffer more trauma than anyone else on the planet and she always bounced back - but also because he thought her hair tied back like that looked very pretty, and he hoped she would do it more often. He was very much enjoying being able to glance at Cordelia again, and touch her and kiss her… he hadn't realised just how much he had been missing her whilst they were apart, until he had hold of her again. Nothing was ever going to get in the way of them being together from now on, nothing. He was determined - and luckily so was she.

The phone rang and Cordelia went to answer it, Wesley handed her the memo pad and she took it from him smiling. 'Angel investigations, we help the…' The door opened and she trailed off. Angel was standing there. The other men, noticing her stopping, also looked up to see what she was staring at.

As he came under the scrutiny of four, not especially friendly, sets of eyes - Angel cleared his throat and shuffled slightly, under their gaze. 'I'm sorry,' he said. The four of them all looked at each other then, as if deciding what to do with this apology.

It was Wesley that moved. He grabbed a walking stick and pushed himself out of his wheelchair. Then he hobbled around the desk so that he was facing his former boss. He stood up tall and looked him dead in the eyes. 'Before you say any more, I think I should tell you - we've all discussed this and none of us are ready just yet…'

'I don't want you to come and work for me,' Angel interrupted.

'Oh. I see.'

'I wanna work for you,' the vampire told them. They all looked surprised.

'You wanna work for us?' Gunn asked, sounding incredulous.

'Why?' Wesley wanted to know.

'Because I think I can help.'

'So … you've changed your mind about things?' Doyle clarified, he didn't look convinced. 'And what happens to all of us when you change it back again?'

Cordelia nodded along to his words, 'how do we know if we can trust you?'

'If this is about me being evil …'

'It isn't about that,' Doyle said. His voice was sharp and his eyes were hard, 'it's about you turnin' your back on us - on the mission again. We've already had to rebuild once - we're not lookin' to do it again.'

'I'll do whatever it takes to make it up to you - all of you - and earn back your trust,' Angel promised, his voice sincere.

Doyle looked away from him, shaking his head. The others glanced at each other - they had waited for Angel, and then they had moved on. If taking him back would cause a further split in the group - if it would cause friction with Doyle, then there was no way they would be willing to work with the vampire again. Angel had walked away from the mission, whilst Doyle had stood by them. The half demon had chosen to remain part of their family - chosen them over Angel - and they would now do the same for him, if that was what he asked of them.

'No,' Doyle said.

Everyone looked at him - but he wasn't looking back. His eyes were closed tight and he had raised his hand to his forehead as the pain of a vision crashed into his skull. 'No- no - no,' he stumbled backwards, kicking the desk in his agony and then began to drop to the floor. As the pain subsided, he opened his eyes, breathing hard and stuttered out what he had seen. 'The usual big scary - nasty lookin' claws. Rising up in a housing project in Topanga.' He glanced around, 'hey? Why am I not on the floor?' He righted himself, standing back on his own two feet and turned to look. Angel had caught him, as he fell - using his vampire speed to get to the side of the half demon and break his fall.

'I got you,' the vampire told him.

Doyle shrugged. 'It's a nasty lookin' thing - maybe we can use the new office boy to kill it - save us gettin' some nasty injuries.'

Wesley nodded, and Gunn grinned.

'Let's go,' Wesley said - and the five of them left the office to go and kill the demon.

Chapter 65: Disharmony: Part One

Chapter Text

'What are you thinking about?' Cordelia snuggled up closer to Doyle under the covers, and he wrapped his arm around her.

'Angel,' he replied.

'Uh - not exactly the answer I was looking for, there - y'know, after what we just ...I'm kinda insulted.'

He chuckled and pulled her closer, wrapping his other arm around her as well. 'No...I mean, I was just thinkin' it's a good job I'm not Angel right now, or else…' he rolled himself on top of her, and she shrieked in delight as he nuzzled down into her neck, '...I'd be snacking on a Cordelia sandwich, this very minute, and then gettin' dressed in my finest leather pants.' He rolled back off her, and she lay her head on his chest.

'Are you saying you're perfectly happy, right now?' she murmured.

He nodded his head, stroking her hair. 'Uhuh - perfectly happy - blissful contentment -if there's a heaven, I imagine it feels like this.'

She glanced up at him, and pecked him on the lips. 'Good,' she smiled. 'Because I'm perfectly happy too - and I intend to get used to this feeling.'

'No complaints here, darlin'.'

'We should get up.'

'Well - now I'm complainin'. Can't we stay cuddled up here? Forever?'

He nibbled on her ear, but she pushed him away, giggling. 'No - today is the day we move back to the hotel - and I want to make Angel's life as difficult as possible.'

Doyle smirked to himself, 'you got a real evil streak in you, Cordelia Chase - you know that?'

'Uhuh,' she nodded happily, as she sat up in bed. Still lying down, Doyle sneaked an admiring glance at her. 'I'm the meanest girl in Sunnydale history,' she told her boyfriend.

'Oh now, princess - I can't believe that!'

'Believe it, buster!' she replied, leaning back to kiss him again, 'You would not want to meet the high school version of me - she wouldn't even talk to you, never mind date you,' she kissed him again, 'or do other stuff,' she smiled. He leaned forward for another kiss, but she pulled back. 'Make me a coffee whilst I get in the shower,' she said.

'You are a cruel and demanding mistress.'

'And you love it!' She kissed him one last time and then walked across to the bathroom.

Doyle lay back down and luxuriated in the soft warmth of her bed. He had missed being here, all those months. 'Dennis?' he called, 'be a peach, and make us both some coffee, yeah?'

Out in the kitchen he heard the sound of the coffee pot being switched on, and mugs being taken out of cupboards. 'Thanks Dennis!'

'This won't be easy for any of us,' Wesley told Angel. The vampire was sitting, slumped in the chair behind his desk and the watcher was pacing up and down lecturing him. 'You're going to have to change your behaviour. Engage your coworkers from time to time. Be sensitive to their feelings - their opinions, especially before you take some action that one might construe as - let's call it "insane". It goes a long way to show that you appreciate and respect them.' The watcher stopped his pacing and switched his voice to a more conversational tone. 'This is just torture for you, isn't it?'

The vampire agreed it was.

'Good!' Wesley pronounced, smiling in satisfaction. 'Well - I think that's all, for now.'

Angel nodded in relief. 'Okay, well - you know - I think I just need to sit back and - absorb it all.' The British man just stared at him, one eyebrow quirked. 'Somewhere else!' Angel amended hastily, 'not here - obviously, because this is your - ah - uhm I'll just get out of your hair.' He got up out of the chair, and stumbled backwards towards the door.

'You're sure about this?' Wesley asked him,

'Yeah - absolutely - I work for you now - I just need to..' he opened the door as he spoke, and was immediately hit by the sunshine that poured in through the hole in the wall. He ducked back into the office. 'Uhm - find a way out of here, where I won't burst into flames!' He opened the door again and dashed as fast as he could through the patch of sunlight. He came to a stop once he hit a gloomy patch of lobby. His clothes and skin were smoking slightly.

As he stood there, Gunn and Doyle walked across, carrying a table between them. They plonked it down in front of them, and then Cordelia placed a cup of pencils on top of it. 'Ah - Angel,' Wesley called from his office door, 'I've taken the liberty of arranging you a new working area - of course we'll move you back to work closer to the team once the wall is fixed.'

'Yeah,' Angel nodded, trying to look enthused, 'that's great!'

'You really ought to get onto the builders about fixing that hole,' Cordelia told him. She put down a phone book, 'you can look one up in there.'

'Me? Why me? Don't you do all the…'

She just glared at him.

'You work for us now, bud. Most junior member of staff and all that. Besides - you're the one that drove your car through the wall.'

'To save your life!' Angel protested.

Doyle just looked at him, 'just ring the builders - else you're fired.'

'Oh - and I would love a cup of coffee!' Wesley said.

'That's very funny,' Angel laughed. All four of his friends just stared at him.

'Two sugars in mine,' Cordelia told him.

'Milk, no sugar - but maybe a slug o' somethin' Irish,' Doyle ordered.

'Mocha cappuccino here,' finished Gunn. Then the three of them walked off, back behind the counter - where the sunlight shone in - and Wesley closed his office door.

Angel stared after them. 'Man!' he said to himself, 'atonement's a bitch.'

The two teenagers were parked. The radio was on and it was playing heavy make out music. The two of them were all too happy to comply. But, hidden in the bushes, a vampire was lurking - watching them. He wore a hood, concealing his face. He walked closer to the car, and then smashed the window. The teens began to scream - and the vampire began to drag the girl out…

Gunn slapped the mace into the palm of his hand, feeling the weight of it. Then he dropped it into a box full of weapons, picked up the box and walked away - taking the weapons into storage. Wesley walked past, carrying a load of ring binders. He dropped them down on the desk. Cordelia walked through the lobby, carrying a box of papers. Doyle intercepted her and took the box from her, 'that looks heavy,' he said. She relinquished it with a smile, and they kissed - just fleetingly - before the Irishman turned and took the papers to their destination. Cordelia returned into the back office to go and get the next thing.

Angel watched them from the stairs. They kept touching each other, whenever they thought no one else was looking. Of course - Doyle and Cordy had always been very handsy, pretty much from the beginning - he remembered the first time they spent the night together on their second ever case - and he had walked into the apartment to find them asleep on each other. But this was different to before… the pain of what they had been through seemed to shine through. And the pair of them appeared to be both shyer with public displays of affection, but also more desperate in their need to touch - to connect with each other, as if they were frightened that something else would come along and tear them apart again.

The vampire walked down the stairs, he nearly bumped into Doyle at the bottom. 'Hey - you want me to put that away for you?' he asked the half demon, but Doyle shook his head.

'Nah, man, it's OK I got it.'

He walked off and Angel turned and walked deeper into the lobby. There he met Cordelia, coming back with yet another box. 'Here, let me take that,' he said - remembering how Doyle had taken the first box from her. 'It looks heavy.'

But she shrugged him off, 'it's OK.'

'I'd be glad to.'

'I've got it!' she yanked the box away from him and walked off. The vampire just stood there, feeling awkward - at a loose end with nothing to do.

BAM there was a sudden crash as, across the room, Doyle was hit by a vision and fell to the floor, twitching. The box he had been carrying thumped down next to him and the papers all scattered out. Angel ran over and scooped them all up, stashing them back in the box before turning to help his seer. But when the vision pain subsided, Doyle just shook him off again. The other three came over to see what was happening.

The half demon's face had gone red with the pain, and he was breathing heavily. 'There's a guy in robes - blue robes - and he's pulling a teenage girl from a car, she's screamin'.' He shut his eyes again and processed the images he had seen. 'There's lots o' guys in robes - and they're takin' people and then...there's a bird.'

'A bird?' Gunn asked.

Doyle nodded, 'yeah a big one, it's red.' He shook his head. 'I don't know what it means.'

'I'll get you some aspirin,' Cordelia said and she hurried away.

'Doyle - first things first - where was the car?' Wesley questioned him.

Doyle screwed his eyes up again as he tried to think. 'Uhm - Lafayette Park - near the fountain.'

Cordelia arrived back, carrying the pills and a cup of water. 'Here you go,' she said gently. Doyle took them with a grateful nod - and again Angel was aware of the changed dynamic between them - the softer, more gentle way of touching - and an underlying sense of not wanting to be separated, even for a moment.

'Right,' said Wesley to the group, 'let's move.'

'Uh - why doesn't Doyle stay here and recover?' Angel asked. 'That looked a bad vision, and the three of us can handle it. Cordy - stay with him?'

Wesley nodded and he and Gunn went to gear up.

'You guys should take off,' the vampire told the couple, as he reached for his jacket. 'I mean for the rest of the night -' he stumbled as he walked backwards. 'Go home - be together -' he stumbled into one of the pillars and almost fell. 'Order- order Chinese.'

The pair of them watched as their former boss tumbled awkwardly out of the door. Then they looked at each other, shaking their heads.

...

Cordelia grabbed her purse and switched the lights off. As she moved back round the counter, Doyle wrapped his arm around her. 'Ready?'

She nodded, 'so how long do you think we're going to have put up with Angel being totally weird for?'

'Ah - until we forgive him I suppose - or until he feels forgiven.'

They made their way towards the door, leaving early, as Angel had suggested - even though it was technically only Wesley, now, who had the power to grant them an evening off. Cordelia suddenly tensed, and Doyle - feeling the change in her demeanour, as she was pressed against him - turned to look. 'What's wrong?'

'I think there's someone here,' she whispered. Doyle twisted to check behind them, whilst Cordelia took a few tentative steps towards the entrance, 'hello?' Then she screamed. Doyle whirled around to see what was threatening her. But all he could make out was the shape of a young, blonde woman standing in the doorway.

'Is that the way you greet an old friend?' the woman asked, and Cordelia screamed again - but this time it was very different in tone. Doyle felt his whole body relax, as he realised there was no danger.

'Harmony?'

Harmony took a couple of steps towards Cordelia, and the two young women flung their arms around each other. 'Harmony! I don't believe it!'

Harmony laughed, 'yup, it's me.'

They broke apart and Cordelia scrutinised her old friend. 'Wow - I haven't seen you since…'

'Our high school blew up.'

'Right - right ...it seems like a lifetime ago.'

'For me too,' the blonde woman smiled. 'Totally.'

Doyle cleared his throat, and approached the two women. 'Oh,' said Cordelia, rolling her eyes, 'this is Doyle, he "airquote" works here.'

'Nice to meet y…' Doyle trailed off as Harmony glanced at him; looked at his shirt, eyed his chest hair, and then screwed her face up in disgust. She turned back to Cordelia, and Doyle took a half step backwards… putting distance between himself and the two women.

'So ...this is where you work… doing - whatever it is you do?' Harmony asked.

'Detective agency,' Cordelia supplied.

'But you're not a detective?'

'No ...I do all the organisational stuff, manage things - the office mostly.'

'Huh - sounds... rewarding,' Harmony glanced back at Doyle, her eyes lingered on him in an unfriendly fashion, 'is he the detective?'

Cordelia turned back to look at where he was standing. She smiled at him, and yanked him forward, slipping her arm through his. 'Not really - he's our computer guy.'

'A nerd, too,' Harmony smiled a false sort of smile, eyeing where Cordelia's arm was slid through Doyle's and taking note.

Cordelia seemed to notice Harmony looking at the pair of them, and she dropped her arm from Doyle's - looking flustered for a moment. 'So - uh - what brings you to L.A? Business?'

'Nope,' Harmony shrugged, grinning - 'play play play - I'm all about the fun. I - uh - just broke up with someone...a real smothering type of relationship. You know the kind where they can't live without you?'

'Oh right - that,' Cordelia, said, 'hate that.' She sneaked a look at Doyle, he smiled at her, and she looked away again. 'So you got a place to stay?' she asked her friend.

'Are you offering?'

'Do I even have to say it?'

'Yeah!'

'You're coming home with me!' Cordelia grinned. 'I hope you don't mind the couch.' She turned back to Doyle. 'You don't mind if I spend the evening with Harmony, instead, do you?'

The Irishman shook his head. Of course, he did mind - in as much as he would miss his girlfriend and didn't want to spend the night apart, but Cordelia got precious little time away from work, away from work people - and he hadn't seen her with an outside friend for months, now. As he spent the evening moping around in his own misery and loneliness, feeling sorry for himself, he would also take the time to be pleased that Cordelia was having a night of non-demon related fun with someone from her old life. She deserved a break. Besides - if he went back to his place he could move all his stuff into the hotel tomorrow. His lease was almost up - and if Angel didn't want him living at the Hyperion - well, tough - the junior office boy didn't get a say in where his superiors hung their hats.

'I'll see y' tomorrow, princess,' he said. He stood awkwardly for a moment, not knowing if she wanted to kiss him in front of her mean-girl friend. She gave him a brief peck on the lips, and then looked back at Harmony. The blonde woman said nothing. 'Well…' Doyle said, 'it was nice to meet you, Harmony - you girls have fun,' and he left the hotel - thinking he might stop off at a bar on the way home. Just for a beer though, he told himself ...and maybe a game of pool.

Cordelia looked at Harmony, 'are you ready to go?' she asked.

Her friend nodded. 'I like your hair,' Harmony said as they left the hotel, 'it looks adorable, off your neck...uhm - did you guys know there was a big hole in your wall?'

Angel, Gunn and Wesley arrived at the car. But they were too late - the doors were hanging open and there was blood smeared on the windows. 'Now what?' asked Gunn.

Wesley gripped his side as he struggled to get his breath back - he was still not fully recovered from his gunshot wound - 'we fan out - search the area. Gunn you search around the fountain...I'll take this path down to the picnic area and Angel…'

He was interrupted by the sound of a woman screaming.

'Follow the screaming woman?' the vampire suggested. They all ran towards the noise and found a woman struggling against a hooded figure, wearing a green robe. The figure saw the three men come running at him, and so tossed the woman at them, hoping to make his escape. But Angel caught the woman and Gunn tackled the green robed man to the ground. He pulled the hood back, and they saw the vampire ridges and fangs underneath. 'Now, see, what you wanna go hidin' a pretty face like that for?' the street fighter asked.

The vampire wriggled out of it's robe and turned to flee. But immediately it encountered Angel - waiting with a stake, The demon exploded in a cloud of dust. Gunn looked at the robes in his hand and frowned at them. He walked over to where Wesley was comforting the woman. 'Yo - Irish said blue robes, didn't he?' he asked, brandishing the robes for his friends to get a better look.

'It was dark,' Wesley replied, 'perhaps he made a mistake.'

'Hey!' Angel interrupted, trying to come to Doyle's defence. 'I think we should give him the benefit of the doubt before we just condemn him like that...he's never made a mistake befo..' He trailed off, as he noticed the other two just staring at him, looking unimpressed. They had not been attempting to undermine Doyle and his visions in any way - they were a family, but if the half demon's visions were differing from reality then they still needed to know why.

'I'll do a quick sweep,' Gunn said, 'see if there are any of them blue boys still around.' He walked off, gripping his hubcap axe.

Wesley shook out the robes and began to examine them. On the chest, there was a symbol, sewn onto where the breast pocket would be. It showed a triangle, with a snake curved into the shape of a 2, inside. The watcher frowned, and held the robes out for Angel to take a look. 'Religious sect?' he asked.

'I've never seen it before,' Angel told him.

Wesley got his cell phone out, and began to dial. 'I'll ring the hotel - between them, Doyle and Cordelia should be able to find this in no time.'

'Uhhm -I -I kind of...gave them the night off.'

Wesley frowned again, 'did you?'

'Well - y'know - after everything they've been through recently...and the visions take their toll on Doyle - they must...I just thought that maybe ...hey you think I should get them something?'

'Get them something?'

'Yeah - to say… sorry about the whole ignoring your pain, chasing down Darla thing...I really appreciate you?'

'A gift to say all that?' Wesley raised his eyebrows, 'which both Doyle and Cordelia would appreciate...I must say I'd be interested to see such an item. I also wonder what type of gift I'll receive that conveys the "sorry you got shot in the gut" message.'

'Right - sorry.'

'You can't buy back their trust, Angel - or their friendship. The only thing you can give them is time. They both have a lot of pain to work through...'

Doyle grinned as he downed the black, and took possession of the money that lay on the side of the pool table. 'Sorry, fellas,' he said to the two guys he'd been playing - in every sense of the word…'I guess I just got into the zone there, after all.' They looked annoyed. He'd just hustled them out of good money. He pocketed his winnings and went to sit at the bar, ordering another beer. He'd have to think of somewhere nice to take Cordelia with his ill gotten gains - not that he'd let on where the money had come from.

She would approve of his playing the pool shark even less than she approved of his poker ring… speaking of which, he would have to get back in on that game. He'd let his membership of the small underground gambling club lapse, whilst he dealt with all his legal problems...and he didn't want to think how many tiny kittens had been snacked on in his absence, when he wasn't there to rescue them and sell them on to human pet shops.

As he swigged his beer, he wondered if Wes and the others had managed to save the girl in his vision - and track down the blue robe guys. Then his mind wandered to Cordelia - which was a much more pleasurable topic to ponder upon. He hoped she was having a nice time with her old girlfriend - Harmony. He frowned, he hoped Harmony wasn't poisoning Cordy's mind against him - he'd seen the way the other woman had looked at him, and he could tell that Miss Sunnydale Barbie didn't approve of him...oh well, he'd just have to trust that Cordelia knew her own mind. It wasn't like she generally lacked the courage of her convictions. It would be fine, he told himself, just as long as Cordy was having fun...

Cordelia threw back her head and laughed. She hadn't laughed like this in a long time - it felt so good to just cut back and think about simpler times. Her and Harmony sat on the couch, wearing their robes, their hair wrapped up in towels after they had both put on replenishing hair masks. There was a half empty bottle of red wine on the table, and they both clutched wine glasses… Cordelia was beginning to feel pleasantly buzzed. 'Remember 9th grade remedial Spanish?' she asked, still laughing. 'There was that guy ...Donnie something.'

'Donnie Ray,' Harmony told her.

'Right... he used to follow me around everywhere.'

'And he wrote that love song to you! How did it go?'

They both burst into song. 'Oh Cordeeeelia, how I long to feel ya!' and then they cackled with laughter. 'Oh God,' Harmony gasped, 'we totally ruled,'

'Yup, that we did.' Cordelia clinked her glass with Harmony's, toasting their former popularity.

'We were rich,' Harmony listed, 'powerful, popular.'

'And none of that's changed for me,' giggled Cordelia, 'well ...except for the rich, powerful and popular part. But you know - I'm way happier now than I was then.'

'No way!'

'It's true,' Cordelia insisted, 'everything here just feels so right - my work, my friends. It's like I'm getting to be the real me after all this time… and the real me is pretty awesome, you know?' she giggled again, 'if a little big headed.'

'And what about guys?' Harmony asked, 'you're not really dating that Doily are you?'

'Doyle!' laughed Cordelia, 'a doily is a lacy thing you put under cups… and yeah, I am - he's pretty awesome, too.'

'Yeah but - to look at? It's like someone chopped Xander Harris off at the kneecaps and then made him live homeless for a year...and what is with that chest hair?'

Cordelia continued to laugh. She was far too sure of herself - and of Doyle - to take offence at Harmony's blunt assessment of him. She shook her head, chuckling. 'He really grows on you - like a chia pet. He's funny, and brave, and smart… and y'know? God help me - I even quite like the chest hair. He is nothing like Xander Harris. Now that was an unmitigated disaster, I admit it - you were totally right on that one and I should have listened to you. But Doyle...he's a keeper. Plus he worships me - which is always nice...Xander, on the other hand, was far too in love with Buffy Summers to realise what he had in me.'

'Wait! Xander was in love with Buffy too? Is everyone in love with her or something?'

Cordelia stopped chuckling in order to look confused. 'Why?' she asked, 'who else was in love with Buffy?'

'Oh, no one,' Harmony said, 'jeez the way guys flock around her, you'd think she was the chosen one or something.'

Cordelia cackled even harder, and then fought to recover herself. 'So enough about me ...and Buffy…' she nudged Harmony with her foot, 'it's your turn now - what's up with you? You've barely told me a thing.'

'Uhm -well - what can I say?' the blonde woman plastered a big, carefree smile on her face. 'Things are faboo. I'm having a ball and a half. I mean I did just get out of that really unhealthy relationship… and now I'm just feeling really great about me in general.'

'Well…' Cordelia smiled, still none the wiser as to what was happening in Harmony's life. 'Great for you in general. You must be doing something right because you look..' she glanced at her friend, who was pulling an uncomfortable face. '...Crampy,' Cordelia finished up, 'what's wrong?'

'Oh nothing. Just hungry I guess.'

'Well - I have the best cure for that!' Cordy pronounced. Harmony looked at her, expectantly. 'Pizza!' and she reached over to pick up the phone. As she leaned across Harmony, the other woman's face morphed briefly into her true, vampiric visage, as she fought the hunger pangs. But by the time Cordelia pulled back, she was back to normal. 'Do you like pineapple and Tandoori chicken?' Cordelia asked.

Harmony smiled, wanly, 'sure, it's all good.'

Chapter 66: Disharmony: Part Two

Chapter Text

Wesley arrived home, tired and achy and sweaty. Virginia was waiting for him. She made him tea, whilst he got in the shower, and then brought it though to the bedroom, where he was drying off.

'Thanks,' he said, picking up the cup and taking a grateful sip - he'd shown her how to make English Breakfast Tea, properly, during their short relationship, and now she didn't make a half bad cup. There was a lot to be said for a woman who knew how to make a decent cup of tea. The only other person on this entire continent that he knew could make one was Doyle ...oh, and Giles back in Sunnydale. But neither of them were prospective life partners.

'So, how was your first day back at the hotel?' she asked, flopping down on the bed beside him, 'as the new boss?' She smiled proudly at the thought of his rise through the ranks.

'We're getting sorted out, slowly but surely,' Wesley told her. He reached out to put his cup on the side and winced, as he felt the tug on his gunshot wound as he stretched. Virginia pretended not to notice. 'Doyle had a vision, quite late in the evening, though - a vampire attack at Lafayette Park… it seems we may have stumbled on to some vampiric religious sect.'

'But you didn't go with the others to fight the vampires?' Virginia checked.

Wesley furrowed his brow, 'of course I did - I'm the boss.'

'Which means you get to delegate the dangerous work to your subordinates!' his girlfriend exclaimed, sounding exasperated. 'You know you're not a hundred percent from getting shot by that cop - you shouldn't be putting yourself in danger.'

'But I should put my colleagues in danger?' Wesley asked. 'I'm on a mission to protect the innocent - it's what I've been raised to do. All my life, I've trained for nothing else. If the Powers send Doyle a vision then it is my duty to put it right - to help the helpless… besides…' he stroked her hair and kissed her, trying to talk her round, 'it didn't work out so badly that time you were the innocent I was sworn to protect, did it?'

But Virginia didn't say anything in response ...and once Wesley had finished his tea, they switched the light off and went to sleep.

Cordelia lay sleeping in the middle of her bed - as much as she loved having Doyle there with her, she also enjoyed having a whole double bed to herself, and took full advantage of his absence in order to stretch out. It was dark, and she was face down in her pillow - dreaming.

Across the room, the door squeaked open and Harmony appeared in the doorway, dressed in her fluffy pink slippers and a white negligee. She looked down at the sleeping woman, so vulnerable and tender and warm, and licked her lips as she approached the bed. Lowering herself to a sitting position, on the edge of the bed, she wondered if she was really going to do this…

The door slammed shut all by itself, and Cordelia was startled into wakefulness. 'Wh…?'

'I didn't do that!' Harmony said quickly, looking at the door.

'Harmony?' the other woman sat up rubbing her eyes, and switched on the bedside lamp. 'I have a ghost - what are you doing in my…?'

'Nothing!' the blonde woman protested.

Cordelia gave her a no nonsense look. 'Harmony.'

'I'm- I'm sorry' her old friend gabbled, 'I thought I could control these urges.'

Cordelia sat bolt upright. 'Urges?' she didn't understand what was going on, or what Harmony meant.

'You have no idea how hard it is to stay away from you!' Harmony told her, 'I mean seeing you there looking so - so luscious.'

Cordelia's eyes widened in realisation. 'Oh you're - you're a …' No wonder Harmony had been so down on her dating Doyle - her little, Irish boyfriend didn't have much to recommend himself to a woman of Harmony's persuasion. She had really disliked his chest hair, Cordelia remembered - it all made sense now.

'I should have told you!' Harmony told her, twisting her hands together in anguish. 'I was - scared. I thought if you knew what I was - you'd kill me.'

'Oh. No.' Cordelia tried to reassure her, 'God Harmony - you really think I'm that narrow minded? I don't care about that!'

'You don't?' Harmony couldn't quite believe what she was hearing, but she was beginning to feel the first tinge of relief.

'As long as you're happy.'

'Happy?' scoffed Harmony, 'what's that? The last time I remember being truly happy was back in high school with you. And now here I am taking advantage of you?' she shook her head, in disgust at herself.

'No! It's - it's just I had no idea you thought of me that way.'

'I don't!' Harmony tried to reassure her. 'I swear - it's just ...I hadn't had any for a while.' Cordelia looked slightly taken aback at the bluntness of her friend's words - and Harmony noticed her look, 'oh forget it,' she said, 'this is stupid, I'll just go back to the couch. I'm really sorry.'

'Don't be - if you wanna stay and talk...'

'No - I'd better -' Harmony shook her head and got off the bed, heading for the door. She stopped, and looked back once she got there. 'You know - I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell anyone about this.'

'It's our secret,' Cordelia assured her. She lay back down and blew her cheeks out in surprise. She would never have guessed this about Harmony… she rolled over in bed and snuggled back down. She wasn't actually sorry for the interruption - as weird as that interruption had been - because she had been having something close to a nightmare - something about a vampire lurking nearby - waiting to her attack her … and she had to defend herself with a crossbow - or… anyway, she hoped her next dream would be more pleasant - maybe Doyle could play a featured role in it.

The next morning, Doyle picked up a rucksack full of his clothes and headed on out of his apartment. He arrived at the hotel early, though Wesley was already there - and they exchanged pleasantries...and then he went up to the old room he had selected for himself when the team had first moved into the Hyperion, and began to put his clothes away. He frowned to himself, as he looked around. When they had left - when Angel had fired them - he had had an overflowing hamper of dirty laundry here in the hotel ...that was why he had to return to his apartment, in the first place, on that fateful morning. Those dirty clothes should still be here - stinking the place out, to be sure - but still here. They weren't - he couldn't work out where they'd got to.

Having put his clothes away, he went down to the lobby and spoke to Wesley again - explaining what was going on. Wesley agreed that, under the circumstances, Doyle was allowed to borrow Angel's car in order to help him move. He took the keys, and went out front to where the Plymouth was parked. This was good - it meant he should be able to move all his stuff in one go - and then drive down to the realtors and drop his apartment keys off - and be done with that place forever. He couldn't claim he would miss it.

Cordelia was on the phone. 'How come you guys didn't tell me about Harmony?' she asked, 'What? Sunnydale is so far away you couldn't afford the phone call?'

Willow had been in her dorm room when the she had received this early morning wake up call. She sat on the edge of her bed in her pajamas, he red hair tousled and her eyes bleary. She was brushing her teeth as she spoke with her old friend. 'Harmony?' she took her toothbrush out of her mouth and swallowed, 'wh -what about Harmony?'

'She's here - in L.A.'

Willow was fully awake now - 'yikes - big yikes. Uh - what happened? Did she come after you?'

'Uh - yeah!' Cordelia exclaimed, 'she practically attacked me in my bedroom last night.'

Willow looked puzzled. 'Your bedroom? How did she -'

'Came in while I was sleeping. Good thing I woke up too. She was ready to jump me right there! But I think she got the message that I don't go for that sort of stuff when I shot her down.'

'You wounded her?'

Cordelia pulled a face, 'she'll get over it!' She wasn't going to be made to feel guilty - she was the victim here! 'I never should have invited her to stay over with me.'

'Say what?'

'Yeah - I know! Awkward, much!'

'Cordelia!' Willow exclaimed - getting the idea they were talking at cross purposes, 'Okay. We're all clear on the fact that Harmony is a vampire, right?'

Cordelia's eyes went wide and round, 'ohhh!' she breathed - that maybe made a bit more sense, 'Harmony is a vampire - that's why she -' she clapped her hand to her mouth -'oh my God! I'm so embarrassed,' she giggled, 'here I was thinking she was a great big lesbo!' She listened to what Willow had to say in response, 'oh yeah? ...really? - Well that's great - good for you!'

'Thanks for the affirmation,' Willow responded, drily - then she got back on topic. 'Cordelia, Harmony is very dangerous. You have to get out of there!'

'Okay, yeah.' Harmony appeared in the doorway behind her, but she didn't notice. 'I'll call you when I get somewhere safe!'

'Where are you going?' Harmony demanded, Cordelia whirled round to look at her.

Wesley sat in the hotel, leafing through an old book, trying to find the provenance of the strange symbol they had found on the vampire's robes. He turned over a page. Behind him, in the gloom - away from the sunlight that still streamed in through the hole in the wall, Angel paced up and down, clutching the green robes in his hand. 'There's a label on here,' he said, looking at the material, 'maybe I could contact the manufacturer?'

'Already looked into it - the name's a fake. No listing anywhere,' Wesley told him, without looking up.

'OK,' Angel nodded, 'then I should go out - see if I can pick up any information on the street.'

'That street bathed in sunlight?' Wesley asked. 'I've already got Gunn out talking to his sources. If he draws a blank, then Doyle can ring around some of the demon underworld.'

'So - any ideas what I can do?' the antsy vampire asked.

The phone began to ring. Wesley glanced across at it, 'you could answer that.'

Angel picked up the phone from on the counter, twisting to avoid the sun's rays. 'Angel Investigations we hel...Willow?'

Wesley lifted his head, as he heard the witch's name spoken.

'Willow, what's...? Hang on - slow down - what's happening?' He listened carefully to the panicked tale that the witch had to tell, and then he slammed the phone down. 'We need to gear up,' he told Wesley, 'Cordelia's old school chum, Harmony, is in town - and Cordy invited her to stay only - get this - Harmony's a vampire! I'll grab the weapons, you bring the car around.'

Wesley opened his mouth…

'What is it? What are we waiting for?'

'Uhhh - I sort of lent your car to Doyle, this morning - he's using it to help him move house.'

Angel stared at the watcher in disbelief, and then shook his head - coming to his senses. 'Ring Doyle - NOW.'

Doyle's phone rang, he hefted his final box under his arm so he could fish in his pocket and take it out. 'Yello?'

Wesley's voice buzzed at him down the line. He frowned as he tried to make sense of what his friend was telling him. 'Hang on now - Harmony's a what?' The watcher's voice buzzed in his ear again, repeating what he'd already said. Doyle nodded, finally taking it in, 'right, man - I'm on my way.' He tossed the final box into the back seat and jumped into the driver's seat, turning on the engine and backing out into the main road. He had some weapons in the back - they would have to do - he didn't have time to drive out of his way to pick up Angel before he went to rescue Cordy.

The door to Cordelia's apartment burst open and Doyle rushed in, out of breath, brandishing a stake and a cross. He shoved the cross into Harmony's face, 'you get away from her -' he glanced down and saw Cordelia's feet resting across Harmony's lap, toe dividers on, as her friend painted her toenails. 'Foot,' the half demon finished up, lamely.

The two women just stared up at him. 'Jeez, Doyle - psycho much?' Cordelia asked.

Harmony began to giggle. 'Actually that was quite cute - I kinda see why you like him, now,' she said.

Cordelia grinned, 'isn't he adorable when he tries?'

Doyle dropped his cross down to his side and held it loosely in his fist. He shuffled his feet awkwardly and felt foolish. 'Um - Wesley called me...he said that Willow called. She said that Harmony, here,' he nodded at the blonde woman, 'is a…'

'Vampire, yeah I know,' Cordelia told him, 'and did you know that Willow is a lesbian now?'

'Ummm - no? Umm, Cordelia - maybe we could talk - in private?' He glanced at Harmony, 'just for a minute,' he told the vampire.

Cordy rolled her eyes, and brought her foot down from Harmony's knee, then she hobbled into her bedroom on her toe dividers. 'What?' she asked, as Doyle swung the door shut.

'Uh - Cordelia - I think maybe you misunderstood somethin' - Harmony is a vampire.'

'I know that,' his girlfriend nodded.

'And we - uh - well, we usually kill vampires ...on account of them havin' a tendency to - y'know - eat people.'

'Yes,' Cordelia said slowly, 'but Harmony is my friend - we don't go round killing our friends, now, do we?'

Doyle coughed and looked away, before attempting to make Cordelia see sense one more time. 'The thing is Cordelia - I know she looks like your friend, and talks like your friend - and has all of her memories... but your friend Harmony is dead - and that thing in there is the demon that killed her.' He reached out to stroke her hair, 'I know you don't wanna hear this but…'

'I'm not killing her, Doyle', Cordelia interrupted. Doyle sighed. But Cordy was adamant, 'no - she came to me for help and that's what we do - we help people. Besides - she could have killed me last night - I know she had the urge to - and she fought it. She's controlling herself, Doyle - without the aid of a soul - she should get props for that! She doesn't want to kill people - and she's searching for some sort of meaning in life - I want to help her find it.' She folded her arms and glared, and her boyfriend knew he had lost this argument - you couldn't fight Cordelia's determined face - the best you could do was back away and hope to maintain some dignity.

He nodded, 'OK - help her - but I am not leaving you alone with her, not even for a second - she only has to lose control of herself for a moment and it's all over for you. I'm not losing you.'

Cordelia looked slightly annoyed, but Doyle held steady - refusing to drop eye contact, or make any concessions. Two could play at the stubborn game. 'Fine', she said, shaking his hand, 'I accept your conditions - you're gonna be a real drag on our girly day in, though.'

'Much as there is nothin' I would love more than to stay here with you and get my toenails painted, darlin', I'm actually needed at the office… which under the terms of our new arrangement means you have to come with me.'

Cordelia sighed, 'fine,' she said again, her voice hard and sulky.

She followed Doyle back out into the living room, where Harmony was waiting - still painting her toes. The vampire looked up, 'so did you - talk it all out?'

Her friend nodded, 'look - Harmony, we need to go into work. Will you be OK here, for a few hours?'

But the blonde vampire glanced around the apartment, disconcerted. 'I don't wanna stay here alone with the ghost,' she said. The human and the half demon just stared at her.

Angel and Wesley had been less than impressed when Doyle and Cordelia had arrived at the office with Harmony in tow. The new boss had pulled the half demon over to one side to ask what was going on, and insist that Doyle put a stop to it at once.

'She won't kill her!' the Irishman protested, 'And I can't make her do it.'

'Well then you should have done it yourself!' Wesley hissed.

'I'm not killing my girlfriend's best friend from high school - when she has specifically said that she wants to help her - you think I got a death wish or somethin'?'

'I think we should trust Cordelia,' Angel said, forcing his way into the conversation. Both Doyle and Wesley looked at him in disbelief. 'We have to respect Cordelia's decision on this,' the vampire explained, 'if she doesn't feel that Harmony poses a risk, then we should trust her assessment and honour her wishes.' Neither the watcher nor the half demon looked convinced or impressed by Angel's take on the situation.

'Well - when you fine and manly men have decided whether silly little Cordelia knows her own mind or not-' Cordelia interrupted them, 'I believe we had some work to be getting on with?' The men at least had the decency to look a bit ashamed of themselves.

'Yes, well - uh', Wesley cleared his throat, 'I've been through my books - the triangle evokes pyramidal imagery, but there is nothing that uses both the pyramid and the serpent as a symbol.'

Harmony came over to join the group. She climbed up on the stool beside Wesley, and began to pop her gum loudly. The watcher gave her a look from the corner of his eye, which the blonde vampire missed entirely, so he continued explaining his research. 'It doesn't appear to be a hieroglyphic or …' Harmony popped a large bubble, 'do you mind?' he turned to her and hissed.

'Well - I'm kinda bored but - go ahead.'

Wesley turned his furious glare towards Cordelia, who said nothing in reply. Doyle hid his smile behind his hand.

'Well, what about the bird?' Angel asked, he glanced at Doyle, 'the one you saw in your vision. Any idea what kind it might have been - an eagle? A hawk? A -uh - a falcon?'

'Not really big into twitchin', bud; big, feathers, wings, beak - coulda been an ostrich, coulda been a duck for all I know.'

Wesley thought for a moment: 'maybe it's a totem or an idol that the cult uses in it's rituals, or…' He was cut off by Harmony laughing out loud. He looked over at her where she sat, chewing her gum loudly and tapping a pencil, a look of intense irritation etched on his face.

'Duck worshippers?' the blonde vampire chuckled, disbelievingly.

'It could be a landmark of some kind,' Angel suggested, choosing to ignore Harmony, 'telling us where their hiding place is.'

'Well - it's gotta mean something,' Doyle agreed, 'or else the higher powers just split my head open to show me an image of a big red duck for no reason - and if that's the case I'm gonna be puttin' in for some serious workman's comp.'

'Well, I'm unaware of any red bird statuary in Down Town L.A,' Wesley said to them both, 'so unless you are, I suggest…' Harmony popped another bubble, very loudly this time…'someone put a stake through that woman's heart if she persists in popping her bloody chewing gum!'

'Harmony, do me a favour and lose the gum,' Cordelia said to her.

Harmony looked aggrieved. 'OK, OK. I thought it would help with the cravings.' She slid down from her stool and ripped a page out of one of Wesley''s books, and wrapped her gum up inside of it. The four members of team Angel all just stared at her. 'I mean you'd think I'd get a thank you for not biting any of you,' she said, as she scrunched the page up and threw it in the bin.

Wesley yanked the book away from her, barely able to contain his fury. 'What are you doing? This book is twelve centuries old!'

'So it's not like a ruined a new one!'

Wesley slammed the book down on Cordelia's desk, Cordy looked up at him, 'Wes, it's not like she did it on purpose.' She tried to smooth over the whole incident, but Wesley was in a foul temper now.

'Well - if it wasn't on purpose - that makes it all OK then, doesn't it? Cordelia I cannot work with this woman in the room causing so much mayhem,' he suddenly turned on Angel, 'and when the HELL are the builders coming in to fix up that damn wall? The sunlight streaming in is giving me a headache!'

'Uhm - I rang them yesterday - they said they'll be over to give a quote this evening... Harmony? There's some blood in the refrigerator, why don't we get you some and let everybody get back to work?' The two vampires went over to the fridge, and the living members of the team settled back down at their desks to get on with their work.

Angel took out the container of blood and poured some into a cup for Harmony, she took a sip. 'Yeuch! Eww! This tastes funny!'

'It's pig blood.'

'How do you stand this?' Harmony asked.

'You get used to it.'

'No,' she clarified. 'How do you stand this. Everything. Being what you are, how can you deprive yourself of the taste? The sensation of rich, warm, human blood - flowing into your mouth, bathing your tongue…' her voice took on a sensual and dreamy quality, as she spoke, and Angel felt the power of what she was saying. He felt like a rabbit caught in the headlights, as a part of him followed the other vampire into the hedonistic daydream of warm, live victims… 'caressing your throat,' she was saying, 'with its sweet, sticky…'

The front door banged open and Gunn walked in, 'I'm back!' he called.

Angel shook himself and forced himself out of his reverie, 'so am I!' He turned away from Harmony, who went to get herself some sugar to disguise the taste of the pig's blood.

Gunn spotted her, as walked further into the lobby, 'Oh, I see we have some company,' his smile was broad and he waved at Harmony. She waved back and winked. The street fighter stared at her ...until Cordelia slapped her hand down on the counter to get his attention. 'This is Harmony,' she explained, 'she's staying for a few days.'

'It's alright to speak freely in front of her,' Wesely told him, 'she's a vampire.'

'Don't we kill them no more?'

Cordelia tutted. Doyle gave Gunn a 'don't ask me' sort of shrug. 'Did y' find anythin' out?' he asked, 'or do I need to start hittin' up the lowlifes?'

'No need, Irish - robed vampires been grabbin' people off the street for about a month now.'

'A month?' Cordelia sounded surprised, 'how come we didn't know anything about it?'

'Well - we've all been distracted recently,' Angel said, uncomfortably, not wishing to draw attention to what the cause of their distraction had been.

'There is that,' Gunn agreed with him, 'or maybe we didn't hear about it because not a lot of bodies have been turning up.'

'They're not feeding, they're turning them,' Angel surmised.

'Into vampires?' Cordelia didn't understand why they would be doing that - most vampires killed to feed, in her vast and wide ranging experience, making a new vampire was a rarity - something you only tended to do if you were looking to make yourself a new playmate - unless ...

'Someone's recruiting, building an army,' Wesley pronounced.

Gunn nodded along, 'question is - for what?'

Chapter 67: Disharmony: Part Three

Chapter Text

The vampire stood on the stage at the rundown theatre. Out in the seats, the audience gathered. They all wore robes; some blue, some green, some yellow. The leader began his speech, 'The time is here, the time is now. The question is - are you ready? Because each of you has the potential to be the best vampire - not just any vampire - a master - and here's how...'

He began to click through slides, outlining his pyramid scheme - whereby one vampire would sire two more, and they would, in turn sire two more on and on...and all it took, to buy their way into the co-op was one human delivered to the food bank. 'You turn two,' the vampire leader told them, 'and the rest is food - let me hear you - turn two - the rest is food, you turn two the rest is food.'

The audience of vampires got to their feet and began to chant along with him.

The men were gathered in the centre of the lobby, they had a map up on a board, and Wesley was pushing pins into it, as the other three read out instances of people being attacked or taken. Gunn had heard about a few attacks from his contacts on the streets, but having heard that bodies weren't turning up, Doyle had checked the missing persons reports and there had been a huge increase in the last month. As they read out the information of where people had been last seen, or taken, and Wesley placed the pins into the map - they began to create a killzone radius...and it figured that the vamps would be operating from somewhere inside it.

Cordelia was still working away on her computer. Harmony was with her, she sat on the edge of the desk and watched the other woman work.

'What?' Cordelia finally asked, looking up at her friend.

'Nothing. It's just - I can't believe this is what you do now. We always said we were going to do something cool with our lives - now look at us, you're an office manager and I'm dead.'

'Yeah, well - life takes some funny turns,' she turned back to her computer and continued to search for info, as she talked to her friend, 'maybe I'm not where I thought I would be ...but still I ….Ho! Hey! Hello! Guys? Found something!'

The men abandoned their map and crowded around Cordelia and the computer. She tapped the screen, 'there's nothing mystical about this, it's on the department of justice website. It's the logo for a defunct pyramid scheme.'

Doyle peered over her shoulder, 'I don't understand - how can this have anything to do with the vamps in robes...it doesn't make sense.'

Gunn shook his head, 'vamps are running money making schemes now? That's low.'

'It's like no one has any standards anymore,' Doyle complained, 'pyramid schemes for the undead? What happened to wanting nothing more than the still beating heart of a virgin? You know - the classics! Angel, man, you know what I'm on about?'

Angel looked like he wasn't sure whether he should agree or not. His face took on the same rabbit in the headlights look from earlier. But he was saved from answering by Cordelia reading out more details. 'This pyramid scheme was run by a motivational speaker and - ugh, Lord help me - self described 'life coach' named Doug Sanders. Held meetings all over the city until the feds caught up with him.'

'He was arrested?' Angel asked her, but she shook her head - 'according to this he just disappeared, he's still at large.'

'He managed to get turned into a vampire just as the authorities were closin' in on him? How'd he manage that? 'Cause ...it might be information worth knowin'...for some of us.'

Cordelia smiled up at her boyfriend. 'Motivational speaker,' she said, succinctly. 'He'll have used the power of positive thought to make a vampire sire him...I'm not sure you've got the charisma for that, sweetie.'

'Plus the whole "already a demon" thing,' Doyle agreed.

'So - he sounds like he has the makings of a cult leader,' Wesley said, getting them back on topic.

Cordy nodded, and scanned the web page again, 'oh - here's something. List of known meeting sites - and a picture.'

Harmony jumped up off the desk, when she heard that, and pushed her way through the crowd. 'Oh let me see!' she cried, hoping he would be cute. She leaned over the keyboard, cup of blood in hand, to scrutinise the undead motivational speaker. Not paying attention to her drink, she allowed the mug to tip, and all the blood spilled out across the keyboard and screen. The computer began to spark and fizzle, and then the screen faded out. Cordelia squealed and jumped out of the way, trying to avoid the sparks and the blood. Harmony gave her an apologetic smile. 'OK, that was my fault.'

Wesley closed his eyes as he fought the urge to stake the blonde women. 'Get her out of here,' he commanded. 'Now!'

'Come on, Harm,' Cordelia said, dragging her friend out of the way.

The British man watched them go, and tutted. 'Such a fitting nickname.'

'C'mon, man, it was an accident,' Doyle tried to calm down his new boss, 'she didn't mean to …'

'She doesn't mean to anything - but she always does! Why don't we just stake her? She is a vampire, she has no soul - it's what we do.'

'We also help people, bud. And that's what Cordelia wants to do…' Doyle glanced over his shoulder to where the two women were sitting, 'I think she feels obliged to - like, Cordelia and Harmony were friends in high school - they were the same sort o' person...and Cordy's had this opportunity to grow up and find her place in the world - and she wants Harmony to have that too - 'cause Cordelia thinks she could so easily have turned out the same way.'

Wesley inhaled deeply, and closed his eyes for patience. 'Unlike you, Doyle, I actually knew Cordelia in high school. She was nothing like Harmony. Not least because she knew not to spill liquids on electrical items.' He picked up the keyboard and held it sideways to let the blood drip out, 'Oh bloody hell - can you fix this?' he asked the half demon.

'I think we'll need a hair dryer,' Doyle assessed, 'Angel, man - you got one?'

Angel went upstairs to get his hair dryer, whilst Gunn and Doyle snickered to themselves. Wesley was still in far too bad a mood to be amused by the vanity of the vampire.

...

Over on the round sofa, Harmony put her head in her hands. 'This was a mistake, I should never have come here. I'm just getting in the way, messing up - as usual.'

'Don't talk like that,' Cordelia said to her.

'Easy for you to say,' her friend replied, 'you've got friends - a little leprechaun who adores you, I don't have anyone who understands what I'm going through.'

Cordelia glanced over to the desk, where the four men were gathered around the computer. Angel had provided the hairdryer and Doyle was using it on the keyboard. She looked back at Harmony. 'I know someone who knows a little something about pain, hey guys!' she shouted to the men, 'we're going out for a little while.'

Doyle glanced up at the pair of them, handed the hair dryer over to Gunn, grabbed his jacket and hurried off after his girlfriend. He had meant it when he said he wasn't going to leave her alone with Harmony, even for a second.

Caritas was crowded, the lights were low and the spotlight was on Harmony. 'Memories may be beautiful and yet…' she warbled. Doyle and Cordelia sat at a table, watching her. The Host approached them, 'well look at you two - back together and it feels so good - Joanie loves Chachi, Chachi loves Joanie; am I right? Is there anything cuter than a love story with a happy ending?'

'Your not gonna hear any disagreements from me, there, bud,' Doyle told him, taking a sip of his cocktail. The Host sat down at their table, 'and I see tonight, you've brought a friend along.'

'Uhuh,' Cordelia glanced up at the stage, 'so what do you think?'

'I think she should reconsider the name Harmony - ouch!'

'Of the way we were….'

Harmony's song came to a close, and there was a smattering of lukewarm applause. She took a bow, and then made her way over to the table. 'That was so much fun - I can't believe I just did that.'

'Well colour us incredulous,' the Host smiled at her.

'Harmony is looking for some guidance,' Cordelia told the green demon. He nodded. He'd picked up on the whole 'need to find my corner of the sky' vibe she was giving out - but he couldn't help her. He would, however, give her a carafe of A-B negative, on the house. Harmony was disconcerted, Cordelia had told her this green guy would put her on her path.

'Your already on it, my little cacophony,' the Host told her. Doyle snorted into his cocktail. 'Only I'm not your travel agent for this trip,' he nodded towards Cordelia, 'brown eyes, here, is. So stick with her and let your pal be your guide.' He blew the vampire a kiss, and got up to leave.

'Cacophony', Harmony giggled, as she perused the drinks menu, 'that's pretty. I wonder what it means?'

Doyle snorted into his drink again. Cordelia kicked him, surreptitiously, under the table.

'Ow! What was that fo... Angel!'

'What?' Cordelia twisted around to see what her boyfriend was looking at. Sure enough, Angel had just entered the bar, accompanied by Wes and Gunn. Doyle got up to go and speak to them and, after he stared at her for a long and unyielding moment, Cordelia sighed and did the same… he really was being a stickler for this whole 'not leaving her for a second' thing.

They greeted their friends, as they approached them. Wesley glanced across at the table where Harmony was still seated. 'I realise that the pair of you have ..uh - other concerns at the moment - but we need Doyle.'

'What for?' the Irish man asked, frowning.

'We finished pinning the map,' Gunn told him, 'most of the attacks have happened within a ten block radius. We figure the vamp headquarters are probably near the centre.'

Angel nodded along, 'we thought if we drove around the area that maybe you could pick up some kind of - vibe, maybe from your vision...or see something?'

'You want him to go red bird spotting?' Cordelia asked, The men nodded.

'OK,' Doyle agreed, 'But if I'm goin' then Cordelia comes with...I'm not-'

'Leaving me alone with Harmony, not even for a second - yeah, yeah - I get it, you don't trust me.'

'I don't trust her,' Doyle corrected.

'And I do...so you don't trust my judgement.'

She walked back to the table, and Doyle turned to his friends. 'How does she always do that?' he wanted to know, 'turn things around so I'm the jerk? I'm right not to trust Harmony - aren't I?' he looked at each one of them in turn, 'aren't I?' They all agreed...but Cordelia would do what she wanted to do - and not one of them was powerful enough to stop her.

...

'Hey, Harmony?' Cordelia stood over her friend, who was still sat at their table. 'I have to go - uh, work stuff...are you OK here?'

'Are you kidding?' Harmony asked, 'free plasma, potato skins … It's all good. Hey! I'm thinking of doing another number. What do you think: Candle in the Wind or the Princess Di Candle in the wind?'

'Go nuts - do em both.'

'OK - you're my guide,' Harmony smiled.

Cordelia walked back over to where the guys were standing. Gunn looked back at Harmony, 'just so we're clear...when we find this vampire cult, we're killing 'em - right?'

The gang walked down the sidewalk in a row, headed for their car; Gunn, Wesley, Angel, Doyle, Cordelia, Harmony.

Cordelia did a double take. 'Harmony?' The vampire grinned at her. The guys all turned and looked. 'I just got it,' she said, 'he said stick with you, I understand now where my place is.'

Doyle and Angel exchanged a worried glance.

'Where?' Cordelia asked.

Harmony stepped into the space between Cordelia and her boyfriend, she draped an arm around both of them. 'With you!' she beamed, 'I'm one of the good guys now.'

The convertible drove down the road. Wesley sat up front with Angel, it was either that or risk him staking Harmony, who was now squashed into the back seat with the three other team members. She was pinned in between Cordy and Gunn. Doyle sat, squashed against the door, on Cordelia's other side - trying to concentrate on anything that might look familiar. Harmony was not making it easy for him to do this, however. 'Woohoo!' she cried out, as they sped down the road, the wind blowing her long, blonde hair back, 'this is gonna be great! I am an evil fighter! This is why I suck at being evil! I was meant to fight evil.' She gave a little, incredulous laugh, 'it's so clear to me now!'

She turned to Cordelia, 'is that what it feels like to have purpose? I mean, wow. Look at us! We're working together. I never had a job before. We can meet at the water cooler and gossip.'

Cordelia gave her a weak smile in return, 'uhm - yeah, but you know...working is more than just gossiping at the water cooler, you have to do sort of ...do stuff.'

'Right - like what? Fight evil. I can so do that.'

'Well - there is that… but, you know there's a lot more to it than just the fighting...there's research and using the computer and dealing with clients and…'

'Hey!' Harmony had stopped listening, 'do we get paid vacation?'

The other side of his girlfriend, Doyle tried to block out the sound of the chirruping vampire, and stared out into the surrounding streets - looking for anything that reminded him of his vision.

...

Up front, Angel and Wesley were having a hushed conversation. 'It's your place to tell her,' Angel told his new boss - glad that this sort of problem no longer fell to him.

'She doesn't listen to me!' the watcher protested.

'Welcome to my world!'

'Perhaps Doyle could….'

'He couldn't get her to stake her at the apartment, he agreed to have her brought back to the office...she isn't listening to anyone on this. You're the boss, now. It has to be you.'

The whispered argument was brought to a sudden halt by a shout from the backseat. 'Stop!' cried Doyle, 'stop the car. Pull over, here.'

Angel pulled the car up to the kerbside, and they all squinted upwards. There was a bird, a sculpted phoenix, hung up to decorate a theatre marquee. There was a sign on the theatre door: 'closed for repairs.'

'Is that…?' Angel asked.

Doyle stared up, narrowing his eyes to better focus. 'I don't ...I'm not sure.' They all got out of the car, and Doyle closed his eyes to better visualise his vision, and then opened them again, to see if the two images matched up.

'The bird you saw was red,' Wesley reminded him.

He nodded. 'It is - I mean - it was.'

'This bird isn't red, Doyle,' Cordelia pointed out, 'not even close.'

'Looks more like a puke green to me,' Gunn added helpfully.

'And it looks nothing like a duck.'

Doyle turned to stare at Harmony, who had spoken the last words. 'I never said it was a duck,' he said, irritated, 'I said I didn't know what it was.' He turned back to his other, more useful colleagues. 'There's just somethin' really familiar about it, y'know?' he said to them.

'Well, you're vision boy, ' Cordelia said, sliding her arm through his, 'we never saw it - if you think this is familiar then … maybe...'

Angel looked over at the pair of them, the way Cordelia held onto him, and tried to make him feel better about his uncertainty. He turned from them and walked away.

'We drove past here before,' Gunn told the pair of them, 'maybe that's all it is - you seen it before.'

'I guess… maybe this isn't it - it just seems...' he shrugged. 'You're right, it's not red.'

'Right then, back to car,' Wesley ordered. He looked around, 'where's Angel?'

There was a sudden buzzing sound and a neon light, in the shape of an arrow, flickered slowly to life, throwing a red glare over the theatre - and the bird - next to it. Angel reappeared beside the group. 'Electronic store forgot to switch its lights on,' he told them.

Cordelia's face lit up into a huge grin, and she nudged Doyle triumphantly. 'Ha! You said this was it - you were right - you're still the number one seer in our little outfit.'

He flashed a warm, appreciative smile at her. 'What did I say?' he said.

'The boy wonder always knows best,' Cordelia told the others.

Doyle switched his smile off to give her a mock stern glance, 'Hey!' she stuck her tongue out at him, and he smiled again.

'Right,' said Wesley, he and Gunn went to the trunk and began to grab weapons. 'Angel, Cordy, Doyle - you cover the front. Gunn and I will go around the building, see if there's another way in.'

'What about me?' asked Harmony, 'what's my job?'

Wesley snapped the trunk shut and stared at her, 'uhhm...guard the car?

'Right,' she beamed proudly and sat herself down on the hood, 'I'll kill anyone who comes near this car.'

'No! No killing!' the watcher said.

She beamed even wider, to show her understanding. 'OK, then. Maiming only.'

'No!' Wesley, Cordelia and Doyle all shouted in unison.

Gunn tutted at them. 'Hey, can we all yell a little louder? 'Cause I'm not sure the vampires we're trying to sneak up on heard that.'

'Just go,' Cordelia said to the two men, shaking her head. 'I'll talk to her.' But she was pulled away from the car by Angel - who led her firmly over to the front of the theatre they were supposed to be covering. 'Hey!' Cordelia protested, 'touching - with the hands.' He let go of her, and held his hands up. Doyle sidled up to join them.

'You know - I've tried not to say anything,' Angel said, 'I've tried to support you and see your side in this... tried to take a step back and let things just sort themselves out - but ... Harmony cannot work with us!'

'I know', Cordelia admitted, 'it's just temporary. I mean - look at her…' the two men glanced back at the car; where Harmony still stood, guarding it, a proud smile lighting up her face. 'She's really loving this,' Cordelia told them, 'giving her a reason to go on.'

'I don't want her to go on,' Angel pointed out, 'and neither should you, she's the enemy.'

Cordelia turned to Doyle, 'do you agree with this?'

The Irishman looked down at his feet and shuffled awkwardly, unable to meet his girlfriend's eye. 'I don't believe it!' Cordelia exclaimed in disgust, 'you're on his side? Him? After what he did to us?'

Both men looked uncomfortable at that, and glanced at each other awkwardly. 'Ah - princess, you know I'm always on your side,' Doyle told her, 'I'm just worried that in these... particular set of circumstances, you're letting your feelings about your human friend Harmony cloud your judgement on the demon that wears her face.'

'That's just a weasley way of telling me I'm wrong and that you side with Angel,' Cordelia retorted furiously, 'if you think I'm wrong then at least be man enough to tell me I'm wrong.'

Doyle sighed, and shoved his hands in his pockets, 'OK, darlin' - you're wrong. You can't trust Harmony - she's a vampire.'

'And that means she'll turn on you,' Angel added.

'Why?' Cordelia asked, glaring at him, 'because you did?'

Angel tried not to look hurt, 'it's her nature - she is a vampire.'

'So are you!'

'She doesn't have a soul.'

'Oh right,' she snorted in disbelief, 'and that's it is it? Because, you know, having a soul didn't seem to get in the way of you betraying the people who cared about you. It didn't stop you boinking Darla, or not even noticing the trouble Doyle was in - or hurting us or…'

'Giving our clothes away,' Doyle interjected. He had worked out what had happened to his missing laundry pile.

'To the needy!' Angel pointed out. 'Whose side on you on here, anyway?'

'Listen, bud, I can agree with you about Harmony and still be mad about what you've been up to the last few months - it's not all or nothin' here. Just because you're right, now, doesn't mean you weren't wrong before and you don't have a lot to make up for!'

'He isn't right, now, either!' Cordelia cried, 'and neither are you. I know what I'm doing - Harmony won't betray me and I will help her. You'll both see!'

Doyle opened his mouth to reply, but they were cut off from continued arguing by the arrival of Wesley and Gunn.

Chapter 68: Disharmony: Part Four

Chapter Text

'Building's shut tight,' Gunn informed the others, 'no way to see what's inside.'

'Or how many of them there are,' the watcher confirmed.

Angel nodded - he had a plan. 'I'll go inside - you know - pretend like I want to join, get a head count - lay of the land.'

Doyle looked at him sceptically, 'and that's gonna work is it?'

Gunn was inclined to agree with his Irish friend, 'they'd sniff you out ten feet from the door. Too many night crawlers in this town know what you look like.'

'The downside of being the dark avenger - you make a name for yourself - you can't go incognito anymore.'

'I really wish you wouldn't call me the dark avenger,' Angel sniped back. He was hurt that Doyle was still mad at him, even though he knew he had every right to be. He wanted things to be right between them - Doyle had always been the one he could trust, the one he could rely on the best to understand him - to be there for him. He wanted that back, but Doyle wasn't willing to give it. Besides - he didn't need Angel anymore...he had Cordelia now, more than he ever had before, and the vampire was finally beginning to realise that things were never going to go back to the way they had been.

'So what do we do?' Gunn asked.

'Harmony!' Cordelia exclaimed. She beckoned her friend over, and the blonde vampire approached the group, smiling. 'Yeah?'

'She doesn't have a soul and nobody here knows her, yet,' Cordelia told the men, 'she could be our inside spy. Tell us what's the what.'

'Me?'

'Out of the question,' Wesley stated, his voice brooking no argument. Angel and Doyle also shook their heads.

But Cordelia wasn't in the mood for more arguing, either. 'Come on! I know she can do this,' she turned to the other woman, 'you can do this - right?'

Harmony did not look at all sure about this, 'Well - uhm, I kinda thought I'd start out with some light typing, car guarding, something low pressure?'

'This is the chance you needed!' her friend cajoled, 'to find a purpose!'

'But I thought I had purpose guarding the …' she took a moment, and then beamed in assent, 'Yeah. Okay. I wanna do this.'

The men all exchanged glances, but then Wesley relented. 'Alright, Harmony, you're on.'

The blonde woman smiled. 'Watch out evil,' she morphed into her vampire face, 'here comes Harmony!' She walked off round the back of the theatre.

'I sure hope evil has a computer that needs blood spillin' all over it,' Doyle muttered under his breath.

Harmony walked into the theatre. The door was flanked by two vampire guards, one of them handed her a copy of a book - it had a picture of Doug Sanders - the cult leader - on the front. She read the title: 'Selective Slaughter - Turning a Bloodbath into a Blood Bank'.

Down on the stage, Doug was addressing the crowd. 'Now I can hear what you're saying: ''but I'm not like you Doug, I don't have what it takes.'' That's just the voice of your inner human talking, spreading the ghostly remnants of neuroses from your past life. Instead say: I'm in control of my unlife.'

Harmony walked further into the theatre and took a seat, she began to flick through the book.

A green robed member of the audience was up on stage now, and Doug was presenting him to the crowd. 'Let's have a nice big hand for Tibor, graduating to the yellow level.' The audience began to applaud, Harmony glanced around at them. Tibor changed robes, and Doug began to talk again. 'Now, with each level of ascension, there are rewards.'

He flicked a switch on his remote and the screen, which he used to project his slides on, rolled up behind him; revealing a cage full of frightened humans. 'Grab yourself a nice juicy one, Tibor,' Doug grinned, clapping the other vampire on the shoulder, 'you've earned it.'

The crowd began to cheer wildly as Tibor ran to the cage, grabbed the wrist of one of the humans and sank his fangs in. Harmony looked around at the vampires surrounding her, again. They were on their feet and banging their hands together in thunderous applause. She began to join in, half heartedly.

The team snuck round the back of the theatre. 'She should be back by now,' Wesley said.

Doyle checked his watch - Wes was right, she'd been gone too long, there must have been trouble. But Cordelia shook her head, 'just give her a few more minutes.'

Wesley looked at his own watch, 'I knew this was a bad idea.'

'We didn't have a better one, though, did we bud?' As much as he didn't like Harmony being around, and wanted rid of her as quickly as possible, Doyle still wanted to show support for Cordelia where he could.

Angel also wanted to prove to Cordelia that she could trust him to have her back. 'Look, if Harmony's in trouble we'll rescue her,' he told them.

'We're rescuing a vampire from other vampires now?' Gunn asked. 'Just two words to that - nuh and uh.'

Cordelia opened her mouth to fire off a biting retort, but then she saw her blonde friend come back out of the theatre. 'Harmony! Are you OK?'

'I'm fine,' the vampire told her, and then she reeled off what she head learned from her recon mission. 'There's maybe a hundred of them in there - give or take. And there's about a dozen humans in a cage.'

'You did it!' Cordelia was delighted, she had been proved right! 'You so rule!'

Harmony jumped up and down and clapped her hands in glee, 'I know! Oh - and I left the door round back open, come on!' She led the team into the theatre.

Although he didn't say it out loud, Doyle had to admit that he was both surprised and impressed with Harmony's success.

...

The blonde vampire was still talking as they walked, 'you know, Cor, I really got to thank you again for giving me this opportunity. You guys have all been so great - I mean you could have just staked me back at the office...' She led them down the stairs into the backstage area. '...And, hey! Who could have blamed you? One more incredibly sexy vampire turned to dust. But you guys helped me find my destiny and you know, I really appreciate that. I never felt like I belonged anywhere before.'

'Yes, uh, you're welcome,' Wesley said to her, scanning around the dim room, crossbow at the ready. 'Uh - the vampires? Where are they?'

'Oh. Right behind you,' Harmony announced cheerfully. The lights came on and robed vampires began to surround the little group. 'I belong with them,' Harmony told the team.

...

The screen rolled up, and the stage lights glared down on them. The gang turned to see the auditorium full of vampires staring back at them. They were centre stage, and a hostile audience was watching the show. Doug walked out from the wings. 'Now that's what I call actualising your potential!' he told the gathered vampires, indicating Harmony. 'A member of our organisation for less than twenty minutes and already she has delivered two to turn,' he nodded at Wes and Gunn, 'and one for food,' he nodded at Cordelia. Doyle edged his way in front of her, trying to block her from the cult leader's view. Doug smirked, and sniffed at Doyle. His face wrinkled up in disgust, 'plus she brought us a half breed - we can't eat its filthy, tainted blood, but we can still enjoy killing it...and as a bonus, she's managed to ensnare the infamous Angel. I think someone just made the ascension to blue robe status.'

Another vampire brought Harmony a blue robe, and she clapped and put it on, 'oh goody!'

'Congratulations Harmony!' Doug said. The vampires out in the seats began to cheer.

Cordelia turned on her old friend and levelled her crossbow at her. 'Well Harmony, aren't you just about the most weak willed, soft-brained…'

But Harmony interrupted her. 'Nuhuh. Doug says those kind of comments are self growth inhibitors. I tune out mental roadblocks.'

Doyle rolled his eyes. Cordelia glanced between him and Angel. The whole team had their weapons raised, and stood back to back, ready to fight. Doug gave a small chuckle, as he watched them, 'oh I'm sorry - you can put your weapons down now.' None of them did, if anything, they gripped their axes and crossbows even tighter. 'Really, Angel. You don't want all your friends to die horribly, now, do you?'

'No. I don't. Wesley?'

'Kill 'em all!' the watcher declared, and the team swung into action. Wesley and Cordelia fired their crossbows, each taking out a vamp. Gunn and Doyle swung their axes, knocking vampires down, getting in a lucky beheading. Angel used his fists, and a stake.

The vampires out in the seats sat and watched the show, until Angel dusted one vampire, and then threw another down into the auditorium. The vamp landed in the aisle, and scrabbled back to his feet - heading for the exit. This began a mass exodus, as the crowd - seeing that the team were more than capable of holding their own - decided to make themselves scarce.

...

Cordelia used her crossbow to slug Harmony across the jaw. Her old friend staggered backwards, but soon righted herself. Another vampire got in a lucky punch, hitting Wesley in his still not quite healed gut. The British man doubled over in pain and the vampire moved in, but before he could do anymore damage, Angel dusted him, and pulled Wes back to his feet. He sent the watcher to go and free the people in the cage. As Wesley limped off, another vampire jumped Angel, But Gunn was there to pull him off and dust him.

Doyle swung his axe at the nearest vamp, he missed and the vampire launched itself at him, pinning him to the wall. As he struggled, he could see Cordelia and Harmony - just behind the vampire that fought him. Harmony slugged Cordy hard, and the human woman went flying through the air, landing on the stage with a thump. Harmony advanced.

'Cordelia!' Doyle yelled. He morphed into his demon face and used his extra strength to push the vampire away from himself. As he got free, the vampire turned to dust: Angel had staked him through the back. But then Angel was pinned by Doug, and Doyle was smacked down by another of the flunkies. From the floor, he could see Cordelia lying in a crumpled heap, he tried to crawl towards her. But Harmony got there first.

Gunn was in the middle of a melee, unable to help any of his fallen colleagues. He staked himself a vampire, and turned wildly to see who needed him the most. Angel was fighting with Doug, Doyle was trying to reach Cordy... But Wesley was alone at the cage, and struggling to unlock it, vulnerable to attack from vampires. Gunn made his decision - and went to help his boss.

Doyle inched his way forward on his belly, sneaking through the fighting vampires, hoping to reach his girlfriend. Another vampire launched themselves at him, he elbowed it straight in the eye and continued to move forwards.

Harmony rolled Cordelia over onto her back, and found a loaded crossbow levelled at her throat. She began to laugh.

'What's so funny?' Cordelia asked.

'Your crossbow is aimed at my throat,' the vampire sneered at her, 'you can be so stupid! That won't kill me.'

'No. It'll hurt like hell,' she sat up. 'This one will kill you,' Cordelia raised a second crossbow and pointed it at Harmony's heart. Doyle stopped where he was - she had this covered. He rolled himself over and punched out a nearby vampire, before plunging a stake through its heart.

A green robed vampire attacked Wesley with a cattle prod. The man fell to the floor, groaning. But before the vampire could do any more damage, Gunn arrived by his side and dusted the vamp. A key fell onto the ground by the pile of dust, Wes picked it up and then Gunn helped him to his feet. Together, they unlocked the cage.

Angel and Doug were still fighting - the cult leader swinging out wildly with an axe, and Angel dodging his blows.

Harmony backed away from Cordy, as the woman got to her feet, crossbow still levelled at the vampire's heart. 'OK you're angry, And I don't blame you.' Harmony had her hands up in surrender. 'I just, you know...and it's nothing personal. I'm evil. We're still friends right?'

Cordelia's finger tightened on the trigger, and Harmony shut her eyes.

Gunn and Wes were directing the freed humans to safety, out of the back exit. Angel hit Doug, and then threw him against the wall. Doug dropped his axe as he fell, and Angel picked it up. As the cult leader stood back up again, Angel swung the blade and beheaded him. Doyle staked one last vampire, and then watched as the last few vampires fled from the building, now that their leader was dead. Then he turned to watch Cordelia. She had still not pulled the trigger.

She slowly lowered her cross bow, and Harmony opened her eyes - hesitant - as if frightened of what she might see. 'We're still friends, right?' she asked again, in a small voice.

'No Harmony, we're not friends,' Cordelia's voice was cold and even. She sounded furious, but completely controlled. 'Just get out of here.'

'Really?'

'Not just here,' she replied, in that same angered, even voice, 'I want you out of my city. You're gonna wanna be as far away from me as possible.'

'But I left a few things at your-'

Cordelia raised her crossbow once more, and Harmony did not need telling again. 'Bye', she said, before she turned and fled from the building. She turned and looked back as she ran up the stairs. Cordelia was still stood there, crossbow ready.

Once Harmony was gone, Cordelia walked past the rest of the team - headed out of the front. She didn't look at them, as she went, and she didn't say a word. Silently, they followed on after her...

... She didn't say a word on the way home either, or once she reached her apartment. She didn't protest when Doyle followed her inside, so he assumed that, angry as she was, he was still welcome. He didn't suppose for a moment that she wouldn't slam the door in his face if she didn't want him there.

She got ready for bed in the same furious silence, and Doyle meekly did likewise. It wasn't until they were under the covers, and the lights were switched off, that she finally spoke to him. 'Are you gonna say "I told you so"?'

He rolled over, so he was facing her in the darkness, 'nope.'

She rolled onto her side as well, so they were face to face, the tips of their noses almost touching. 'How come? I would, if it were me.'

He smiled to himself, 'maybe you would, darlin', maybe you wouldn't. But there's no point. It was a mistake to trust Harmony, but it wasn't necessarily a mistake to try to help her. It's just she wasn't worthy of your help and trust.'

'Because she's a vampire - which you told me.'

'She's also your oldest friend, princess. You wouldn't be you if you didn't try to help people. And - as my entire happiness, and our whole relationship, is entirely based on your ability to see the best in people who really don't deserve it - I'm not gonna tell you off for wantin' to see the best in your friend. It's good that you do that, Cordy. I love that about you.'

'I guess... but I still feel stupid.'

'It's not stupid to believe in the people you love - it's not stupid to trust them. It's a wonderful gift you've got Cordelia - seeing the best in people, givin' second chances, not holdin' grudges ... I'd hate for you to stop doin' that.'

She snuggled up closer to him, and smiled for the first time in hours. 'How come you always know what to say to make me feel better?' she asked, 'even when I called you a weasel earlier?'

'Ah - it's my gift, my real superpower. I'm only pretendin' with those lame ass visions. It's my silver tongue that makes me a real superhero.'

In the dark, Cordelia's eyebrows shot up to the top of her forehead, and she giggled at his words. 'Well - maybe we can try that out later,' she said. She wrapped her arm around his chest, and nuzzled closer into his neck. 'Your visions are really lame, aren't they?...hey, Doyle? Now that you've met Harmony, do you believe I used to be the meanest girl in Sunnydale history?'

'I can't imagine you ever being like Harmony, princess.'

Well I was.'

'Never,' Doyle declared, 'at worst you could have been shallow...and I believe that, I remember when you didn't want to date me 'cause of my ugly shirts.'

'I still don't wanna date you because of your ugly shirts.' They both laughed.

'Shallow, definitely - vapid, never,' Doyle told her. 'Harmony is vapid, she just isn't capable of the sort of depth and understanding that you have.'

'She didn't really approve of you,' Cordelia said, 'or of the life I'm leading… she talked about how we said we were always gonna do something cool with our lives - and now I'm an office manager...'

'But your happy?'

'Really happy… but it sure wasn't where I expected to be at 20.'

'You've got your acting, as well,' Doyle reminded her, 'all your 'Stain Be Gone' commercials.' But instead of cheering her up, his words seemed to have the opposite effect. She went stiff, and then rolled away from him. 'Cordy? What is it?'

'I -uh - I actually got fired from 'Stain Be Gone'….a while back now.'

'What? When was this?'

'The weekend you were in jail.'

'What? You never said.'

'It didn't seem important...what with everything that was going on.'

'Why did they fire you?' He couldn't believe what he was hearing.

'They didn't like my hair,' she admitted, 'they gave the part to another girl who still had long, pretty, cheerleader hair.'

He pulled her back towards himself, and stroked her short hair. 'That's why you cut it again?' he asked, he felt her nod her head. 'Well, they're idiots,' Doyle told her, 'and I bet 'Stain Be Gone' sales have gone right down. This new girl must be rubbish - I hadn't even noticed she existed.'

'I just can't believe I managed to lose my one shot at something like success just by going all Felicity with my hair.'

'You'll get another commercial,' Doyle assured her, 'if that's what you want… and if you'd rather stay at the office with us, I don't think anyone will be complainin'.'

'You really think I can get another commercial?'

'I think you can do anythin' you want.'

'Thanks.'

'No problem,' he kissed her forehead, 'now go to sleep, darlin', it's been a long day.'

They went quiet, and Doyle was just beginning to drift off, when Cordelia spoke again. 'Doyle? When do you think we should forgive Angel?'

Doyle opened his eyes, and furrowed his forehead as he thought. 'Not yet,' he told her.

'Good' she said, 'I like making him pay.'

Doyle laughed, and kissed her again, 'my evil, wicked, Cordelia.'

She giggled. 'So should we put a deadline on it? When we let him off the hook?'

'How about we forgive him when the builders have finished repairing the wall?' Doyle suggested.

Cordelia smiled, 'sounds good to me.' And then they both drifted off to sleep, wrapped up in each others arms.

Chapter 69: Dead End: Part One

Chapter Text

The alarm beeped and Lilah rolled over and switched it off. She pushed herself up into a sitting position, slightly unbalanced because of the stump where her left hand should be. It had been almost a year now - she was coping, adjusting. But she was still angry. Everything was so much harder with only one hand.

She got out of bed and switched the shower on, waiting for it to heat up before she removed her night clothes. She stood under the spray for a while, and then took the shower gel from off the shelf. Tucking it under her left arm, she used her right hand to flick open the cap, and then placed it back on the shelf. She then took down her bath lily that hung from the shower control and tucked that under her left arm. Once it was securely in place, she picked up the shower gel once again and squirted the liquid onto the puff. The she used the body scrubber to help her work up a lather. This all took so much longer than it should...she had to get up earlier than she used to just to allow for the extra time involved in getting ready. Whenever she washed her hair, she always ran the risk of running out of hot water.

It was Angel that had cut her hand off, but she blamed his half breed sidekick. It was the mongrel that always seemed to get in her way...and he was supposed to be dead. She couldn't help but feel that if the ridiculous little Irishman had just up and died when he was supposed to, then she wouldn't be suffering through any of this. And even her attempt at revenge hadn't paid off. She wouldn't mind the hassle of one handed showering, if it came with the smug knowledge that the man she blamed for all this was himself suffering through the misery of terrifying communal prison showers...but he had even managed to escape that. And now he was back with his girlfriend, and his vampire boss. Sometimes life really wasn't fair.

She shut the shower off and stepped out, wrapping herself in a towel and heading back into her bedroom. Pulling open the top drawer, she took out an already buttoned blouse. This was something else that grated on her nerves. Now she had this disability, she couldn't even dress herself properly. Her housemaid had to prebutton all her blouses and fasten all her bras before she put them away. It was humiliating for a woman like Lilah to be so dependent on another person. Plus, climbing into an already fastened bra was not the easiest of manoeuvres even at the best of times.

Once she was dressed, she began to apply her makeup. At least, here, things weren't too different. She had only ever used one hand for this anyway. Things could have been worse - the vampire could have cut off her dominant right hand.

Ready at last, she picked up her purse, and left her apartment, heading for the office. She checked the watch that she wore on her right wrist. She was late - again.

Joseph Kramer was also late getting started that morning - and he had a big day ahead; meetings with the board and publishing the quarterly figures. Today was not the day to be running behind schedule. He refused breakfast when his wife offered it, but she kissed him and held up a plate of muffins - and how could he resist? He took one and bit down into it, and then went to the kitchen table to kiss his daughter good morning. She flung her little arms around his neck, and he grinned. Then he shook his son's hand, before dragging him into a bear hug. Late or not, this was still a good morning.

He checked his watch, 'OK OK, we're late, we need to go.' His wife left the kitchen to go out and get the car started, calling for her son to take his vitamins once they were on the road, and telling her daughter not to forget her homework. The kids followed her out - and she discovered that the little girl had indeed left her book bag at the kitchen table.

Joseph picked up the book bag, he was reading his newspaper as he walked - and he shouted to his wife that he had the little girl's books.

'What about the vitamins?' she called.

'I'll get them too.' Still reading his newspaper, he reached out to the kitchen counter in order to pick up the vitamins. Instead, his hand clasped around the handle of a large butcher's knife and - without looking up from his newspaper - he drove the blade deep into his right eye.

Doyle screamed and fell to the floor, where he lay twitching, his hands were up covering his face, and he was driving the heels of his palms into his eye sockets - as if desperately trying to protect them. The team stopped what they were doing and rushed to his side, Cordelia knelt beside him and - when he had stopped fitting - helped him into a sitting position. But something was clearly wrong. Even though the vision was over, and the pain had subsided, Doyle wasn't himself again. He brought his knees up under his chin, and rested his head on them, curled up in a ball. He still gripped his right eye with his hand as if he was afraid it might fall out.

'Doyle - what's wrong?' Cordelia asked in a gentle voice, reaching out to stroke his hair. He flinched away from her touch, and she dropped her hand, 'Doyle?'

'Oh God,' the half demon moaned, 'I can feel it...I can still feel it.'

Wesley glanced at Angel, 'there's a bottle of scotch in my office,' he told the vampire, 'fetch it - quickly.' Angel disappeared and reappeared a moment later with the bottle and a glass. He poured a generous slug and held it out - 'Doyle? Drink?'

The Irishman finally raised his head from his knees and accepted the proffered scotch. He tossed it back and then held the glass out for more. The whole time he kept a tight hold of his eye. 'What was it, man?' Gunn asked him. The whole team were still crouched down, surrounding him - looking slightly horrified at the reaction this latest vision had warranted.

Doyle groaned again, 'Oh - man...I can still feel it… some guy - he stabbed himself…'

Angel passed him another drink, and he downed that one too.

'He stabbed himself?' Wesley asked, 'where is he?'

Doyle shook his head, 'I dunno - but he stabbed himself …' he finally looked up at his friends, 'he stabbed himself in his own eye.' The team all drew back in horror when they heard this revelation, Cordelia looked like she was going to be sick.

Nathan Reed sat at the head of the conference table, surrounded by about fifteen lawyers. Lilah was in the mix, sat down near the other end. Reed was asking about one of their ongoing cases - it didn't look good for their client. However, Lilah was of the opinion that they could keep the case tied up in litigation for years. Her boss nodded thoughtfully, and then asked after Angel. She sighed. 'He's back with his group, I'm afraid, sir. According to my sources he's doing better - in the sense that he's not spending all his time alone, on the warpath, trying to kill - well - me.'

'Uhuh - and when are you meeting with the CEO of Lycor?'

'Oh - uhm …' Lilah began to flip through her papers looking for the date. Mr. Reed and the roomful of lawyers all stared at her, looking impatient. She felt herself getting flustered. 'It's just ..uhm…' she gave a small, apologetic laugh, 'it's here somewhere… oh..Thursday at eleven.'

'Very good - then on Friday we will review your work for us Ms. Morgan - see where the future of Special Projects lies.'

She smiled at him, weakly, and the meeting continued, another attorney coming under scrutiny now. Unobserved by the others, Lilah breathed a deep sigh and began to fret.

...

Not long afterwards, the meeting came to an end and the lawyers got to their feet and began to file out. Nathan called Lilah back and, reluctantly, she stayed behind. Her boss smiled at her, 'now - you seemed to be having a little trouble in there earlier, Lilah. You've had a lot of responsibility put on you since that unfortunate business with Holland Manners.'

'It's no more than I can handle,' Lilah interrupted, quickly.

'No doubt… though I wonder if you couldn't do with a helping hand... so to speak. So-' he pulled a business card out of his pocket. 'I made a little appointment for you today - one you will find quite useful, I've no doubt. I imagine it will take most of the day, so I took the liberty of clearing your schedule. Address is on the card.'

Lilah took the card and looked at it, 'an appointment?' she asked, 'what for?'

But Nathan just smiled at her again, 'you'll see - now don't be late.'

Doyle paced up and down the lobby. 'He must've been crazy!' he said to his friends, who were all sitting on the round sofa, watching him. 'But he didn't feel crazy - he felt normal.'

'Until the part where he started stabbing himself in his own eyeball!' Cordelia pointed out, 'look, Doyle maybe you should sit down - that was a nasty vision.' But the half demon shook his head and continued to pace. He was freaked out by the memory of the man stabbing himself in the eye; his visions came with full feeling, as well as sight and sound, and he could still remember the sensation of the blade driving into his own eye and beyond, into his brain. He needed this sorted, and the adrenaline was leaving him too wired to just sit down and process things. He needed action - so he paced.

'But you have no idea where this occurred?' Wesley asked him, and he shook his head in frustration, 'no, I told you - it was a house. Maybe an apartment. He was in the kitchen.'

'We need to narrow it down,' his boss said.

'A nice kitchen? Look - I don't know, OK? I wish I did but I don't.' His voice was beginning to rise in anger, now, and his friends all glanced at each other. He saw them do it and he felt aggrieved, but he didn't say anything.

'This isn't normal, though.' Cordelia said.

'Man stabs himself in the eye? - I'm gonna say not.' Gunn answered, 'but then Irish don't get visions of "normal".'

But Cordelia shook her head. 'No, I mean, normally his visions tell him where the problem is - even if it's kind of vague - he gets a location...or else what's the point? I can't help thinking that there's more to this than usual. If the powers didn't tell Doyle where this happened...then there has to be a reason for that.'

'He's already stabbed himself in the eye,' Doyle said, coming to a stand still as he thought about his girlfriend's words. 'This isn't something we can prevent.'

'So maybe, whatever happened, it's bigger than this one guy?' Angel summed up.

Doyle nodded, and then brought his hands up to forehead, and squeezed his eyes shut. 'I'd still feel a whole lot better if we could find him though - in my head...and in my eye.'

'Well - whatever the true message is - this man is still the only lead we have,' Wesley said. 'So we'll have to find him - we'll start with hospitals.'

'And say what?' asked Gunn, 'did my uncle check in today with a knife in his eye? They only give that sort of info out to relatives.' Wesley and Angel looked at him, and he sighed, deeply. 'I just got the ringing round the hospitals job, didn't I?' They nodded.

'Cordelia - you help Gunn,' Wesley told their office manager, 'it'll take less time if two people do it, in the meantime, I'll go to the morgues - I fear an injury like that may have proved fatal.'

'Alright,' agreed Angel, 'I'll hit the streets, roust some demons, see if there's a new terror in town.'

'What about me?' asked Doyle. They all looked at him again.

'Are you sure you're up to doing something?' Cordelia asked, 'I mean - everyone will understand if you just want to sit in Wes's office and drink scotch and freak the hell out.' The three other men all nodded along to her words.

But Doyle shook his head, 'No - I wanna sort this. I wanna help. If I keep busy then maybe...maybe I can forget what it feels like to stab a knife into my own eye.'

The four on the sofa all winced at his words and then glanced at each other again. 'Alright, then,' Wesley said, 'like Cordy and Gunn - we'll halve our leg work by splitting the morgues between the two of us...if you're alright to go out by yourself?'

'I'm not an invalid.'

'Alright then - we'll all meet back here, hopefully with some news.'

They all got up; Angel headed down into the basement so he could hit the sewers, Wesley went to his office to get his jacket, and Gunn went over to the phones. Cordelia stood up and pulled Doyle towards herself, and wrapped her arms around his neck. 'Are you sure you're OK?' she asked, looking him in the eyes. He nodded, but then dropped eye contact. Cordy sighed, and reached up to stroke his hair. 'Well - I know you wanna keep busy, but let Wes do the lion's share of the leg work OK?… Just make sure that you're alright - and come home in one piece. And if the feeling in your head gets any worse - just give up and come back here, yeah?'

'Yeah.'

'Promise?'

He nodded, and she let go of him, as Wesley came back out of his office. 'Are you ready?' he asked the Irishman, and Doyle nodded again, and together they left the hotel to start investigating the city's morgues.

Lilah sat in the doctor's office feeling bemused. A nurse was taking her blood pressure, but she didn't know why. Then the doctor entered the room, shook her hand and reviewed her chart - noting that her vitals were good, she'd had all the usual childhood diseases and she wasn't allergic to any medications. He told the nurse that they'd start with two milligrams and see how they got on. 'Just a little something to help you relax before the procedure,' he told the lawyer, 'do you have any questions?'

'Just the one,' Lilah smiled her dangerous smile. 'What procedure are you talking about?'

'Your boss didn't tell you?' the doctor chuckled.

'I guess it slipped his mind.'

'They have a funny sense of humour over there.'

'They're little rascals - what procedure?'

'Well - we attend to most of the primary care for the Wolfram and Hart attorneys but we also do...some extras. You must be doing something right over there, though, because they've moved you to the top of the transplant list.'

'Transplant? What? Am I getting a new kidney?'

'No new kidney,' the doctor told her, 'you don't need one of those.' He indicated her prosthetic, 'we're giving you a new hand.'

He injected her; and everything became blurry, as the sedative took effect.

...

She lay on the operating table - still partially conscious, though everything was blurry and seemed distant. Far above her, she heard the doctor talking to the nurse about preparing the soft tissue. He was handed an amputated human hand. 'Connecting the extensors,' he said, 'doing great, Lilah,' and then he began to sew the hand onto her stump. She couldn't feel anything, and she turned her head away, as the lights were glaring into her eyes.

'I'm waiting on that Pockla,' the doctor said, as he finished the last of the stitches. 'Here it comes,' the nurse told him. And out of the wall, a tall red robed figure materialised. It glided over to the operating table. Its face was obscured by its hood; but from the look of its hands, and the claws that tipped them, this was not a human creature. The Pockla began to chant in a demonic language, and waved its claws around. Then it sprinkled some powder onto the seam between Lilah's arm and her new hand. The stitches pulled together and then melted away, leaving nothing but a thin red line marking the join.

Then the Pockla turned and glided back through the wall. 'Let's get her to post op,' the doctor said, 'good work everyone.'

Doyle made his way back to the Hyperion. He hadn't found anything on his trip to the various city morgues, and could only hope that one of the others had had more luck than him. He met Angel just outside the courtyard. He looked at him expectantly, but the vampire shook his head. 'Whatever this is - the demons know nothing,' Angel said, 'you?'

'Nothin'.'

'Well - maybe the others…' they entered the hotel together. Gunn was still on the phone, but Cordelia had called the last of her hospitals, and was now sitting back on the sofa, drinking a cup of coffee. She got to her feet when she saw Doyle and went over to him, wrapping her arm around him. 'You want some coffee?' she asked. He nodded, and she went to go fetch it.

'Yeah, he's my father,' Gunn was saying into the phone, 'his name is Henry Addison. Yeah I'm his son. My name? Gunn - ter, Gunter. Gunter Addison. But if he's had a manic episode he might not know his name, or might think he's somebody else. It would be a pretty serious knife wound to his eye ...no, huh? Well thanks anyway.' He hung up, 'that was the last one,' he said, 'nada. No major eye wounds in the hospitals today.'

'It was the same with all the ones I rang,' Cordelia told the new arrivals, as she handed Doyle his cup of coffee. 'I cried and everything - nothing - whoever he was, he didn't seek medical treatment.'

'So maybe he did die?' Angel said. Doyle nodded slowly, 'if he did, he didn't wind up in any o' the morgues I checked. Maybe Wesley will …'

The door opened and Wesley walked in, looking exhausted. 'Guess what I found?' he said, everyone looked at him expectantly, 'more nothing than usual,' he finished up, and the team looked away, disappointed.

Doyle shuffled over to the sofa, clutching his cup of coffee. From over by the counter, Wesley watched him go. 'We need more to go on,' he whispered to the others.

Angel nodded, 'yeah - we'll have to talk to him, get him to…'

'Dig a little deeper?' Gunn finished, the other two men nodded.

But Cordelia protested, 'guys! He felt that man stab himself in the eye - you understand that, right? Doyle started out this morning getting stabbed in the eye! With a knife! We can't just ask him to think about it until he remembers something useful.'

'This will require a great deal of tact,' Wesley said.

Cordelia snorted, 'y'think?'

'Which is why I think Angel ought to do this,' the new boss concluded, 'by himself, it's best not to crowd him.'

Angel looked alarmed. 'Me? You're the one in charge now.'

Wesley sighed, 'you're right,' he began to walk past Angel, 'which is why I'm assigning this one to you,' he clapped his employee on the shoulder, and then disappeared into his office.

Angel looked back at Cordelia and Gunn, 'uh - don't you think maybe Cordy would be better…'

'Tact is not my style,' she told the vampire, bluntly. 'Go talk to him, I'll step in if you mess up.'

'Thanks for the vote of confidence.'

Reluctantly, Angel made his way over to the sofa. Doyle looked up at him when he got there. 'So..uh..coffee huh?' Angel said sitting down next to the half demon.

Doyle looked at his mug, 'This is coffee, yeah.'

'Good, good - that's good.'

'Not really - you know Cordelia makes it with old grounds when money is tight.'

'Right...right ...huh...so...uhm...how about them Flyers, huh?'

'You know I don't care about hockey.'

'Right, right,' Angel amended, 'you're a soccer man ...so...the L.A Galaxies, huh?'

'Angel, bud, I'm tired, my head hurts, my eye hurts, I don't wanna talk about sports. Ever, really. Not really my thing, so, what do you want?'

Angel looked down and scrutinised his shoes, 'well - we've drawn a blank, finding this guy. We need your help - we need more.'

Doyle shook his head, 'it's too late for this guy, he's probably dead by now.'

'But there may be others, could you ...maybe ...look again ...inside.'

The Irishman leaned his head against the back of the sofa and closed his eyes. 'I've been tryin' to block this out all day,' he told the vampire, 'you don't know what it feels like to…'

'I know...and I wouldn't ask but…'

'It's necessary, I know that, man.' He sighed, and then screwed his eyes even tighter shut, as if that would help him concentrate. 'He's just a guy', he said, 'in his kitchen. Completely regular joe...but then he picks up the knife…oh'

'What is it?'

'I think he had kids, man.'

'How can you tell?'

'There are cereal bowls - on the table. And he's carryin' a bookbag.' The Irishman twisted his head this way and that as he tried to focus on the bookbag, tried to retain a clear enough memory to see what name was written on it. 'Uhm Delaney...or uhm,' he opened his eyes as he thought he got it, 'Delancey schools,' he said to Angel. 'I think the name o' the school was Delancey.'

'Good - that's great,' Angel assured him, 'now, why don't you and Cordelia go home - get some rest, and Wesley and Gunn can start looking into this first thing in the morning.'

Doyle nodded, wordlessly, and handed Angel the coffee mug, before standing up and heading over to Cordelia. They had a brief, hushed conversation, and then the pair of them left the building. Angel sat on the sofa, watching them go, noticing how Cordelia had wrapped her arm tightly around Doyle to give him the extra support he needed, as they walked.

Chapter 70: Dead End: Part Two

Chapter Text

The alarm beeped, and Lilah reached over and switched it off. She pushed herself up into a sitting position using both hands, and then lifted her brand new, left one, up; examining the thin, red line, which still encircled her wrist. It was still a little numb, but perfectly usable. And it matched her right hand pretty well, she didn't look like the bride of Frankenstein or anything. She was happy with it.

Then she went into the bathroom and turned on the shower. Once it was running warm, she stepped under the stream and picked up her shower gel. She held it in her left hand, and snapped the lid open, and then switched hands. Using the right to pour the liquid soap into the palm of her left hand. She used both her hands to work up a lather, only picking up her bath lily when she wanted to exfoliate.

Afterwards, she went back into her bedroom and selected her clothes - unhooking her bra before she put it on, and then fastening it behind her.

Once she was dressed, and her makeup was finished, she left the house. She glanced at her watch, on her left wrist, as she locked the door. This morning she was early.

...

She met her client in the lobby of Wolfram and Hart, and took him up to her office. This was the CEO of Lycor, and his firm was in trouble after it seemed that several people had developed cancer after eating the chocolate they sold.

'We didn't do anything wrong!' he told her.

She smiled sympathetically. 'It isn't about right or wrong, Mr. Kragle, it's about what a jury may or may not award.'

'How can you get cancer from eating chocolate?' he wanted to know.

'It wasn't the chocolate, it was the tin it came in,' Lilah explained, patiently - he must already know this. 'It leaked cytoclistimine into the chocolate.'

'But we didn't know that!' Mr. Kragle protested, 'how could we know that? The Chinese screwed us - they sold us the tin.'

Lilah was concentrating on her client. Looking straight at him, working on reassuring him that all would be well. As such, she didn't notice her left hand start to move of its own accord. She still didn't have full feeling in it, and wasn't yet used to it being there. Her hand picked up a pen and began to write, as she, completely oblivious, continued to talk. 'Don't worry, if a jury ever hears this - and that's a pretty big 'if' - then they will be hand selected, or enchanted, by us.'

'Your saying this will go to court?'

'There's a possibility - somewhere down the line. But it will be a mere formality; we provide the full package here at Wolfram and Hart - to ensure all our clients have peace of mind.'

He looked down at the pen in her hand. 'You're a southpaw huh? You getting all this down?' Lilah also glanced downwards, confused. She saw the pen held in her new hand, though she had no recollection of picking it up. And then she read the one word that it had scribbled, over and over again. 'KILL.' She tilted her head to one side as she considered the word ...well...this was... interesting.

...

After Mr. Kragle had gone, Lilah sat in her office examining her new hand. It wasn't doing anything of its own accord at the moment... but it had. She picked up the pen again, but it wasn't like last time - she was aware she had done it now, she was aware of her brain giving the hand that command. And, as a naturally right handed person, the pen felt clunky and strange in her left.

She put the pen down and held her left hand up to her eye level, holding it by the wrist. Her mother had always said that if something seemed too good to be true, then it probably was. And this was clearly the case here. Of course Wolfram and Hart hadn't just given her a new hand out of the goodness of the hearts ... this was a test. They had saddled her with a psychotic hand two days before her big performance review. They wanted to see how she managed... if she would crumble under the pressure and let her hand start killing... whoever it was it wanted to kill.

Her guess was that, if she managed to stay in control of her hand until tomorrow, then her promotion would be made permanent. But if she cracked... then she'd be cut. And at this firm, that would be a literal cutting. But she was onto them, she smiled to herself. She could cope with this. What did she care if she had a crazy hand? It was still better than a prosthetic one. She'd just be extra vigilant for the next 24 hours...and then her future was in the bag.

Angel sat at the counter in the hotel, manning the phones - which were staying silent - and reading the newspaper, whilst he waited to hear some news. Wesley and Gunn had gone to investigate Delancey School, to see if this lead would take them anywhere. Doyle and Cordelia were yet to make an appearance. Not that Angel could blame them … this particular vision had taken a lot out of Doyle, it was natural that he would be having a slow start this morning. And Cordelia wouldn't be hurrying him. As seriously as she took their mission to help people and serve the higher powers, there could be no denying that Doyle, and his well being, was her priority. Everything else came in a poor second.

It was nice for his friend, Angel thought, that he had someone who cared about him so deeply - who would always put him first. It was just a surprise, reflected the vampire, that that person would turn out to be Cordelia - when he thought of how she had been, just a couple of years ago, back in Sunnydale. He couldn't believe how much she had grown up and changed. He would never have believed that the ultimate queen bee, the meanest girl on the mouth of hell itself, would ever be capable of so much love and tenderness. Could be so gentle, when she chose to be. Michael Ball must've been right, although he would always be a Manilow fan himself: Love really did change everything.

He turned the page of his newspaper, scanning the print to see if there was any mention of a fatal knife wound to the eye, and took a sip of his blood. The front door opened, and he glanced up, expecting Wes and Gunn. it was Doyle and Cordelia.

'Hey!' Angel greeted them, trying to sound bright and upbeat, and not at all nervous about whether or not Doyle was OK. 'How are you guys? Can I get you anything?'

'Is there coffee?' Doyle asked.

The vampire nodded, and bustled away to pour two cups of coffee. When he returned, the couple had taken off their jackets and settled down at their workstations. He handed them each a mug. 'Wes and Gunn are out following up Doyle's lead,' he told them, 'is everything OK with you guys?'

'You should tell him,' Cordelia said to her boyfriend.

The half demon shook his head, 'it's weird.'

'I know, that's why you should tell him.'

'Tell me what?' Angel asked, looking between them.

Doyle sighed, put his feet up on his desk, folded his arms, and looked at his friend. 'This morning...I got… I dunno, a rerun? A better memory? Some extra info?... I'm not sure, but I got this sort o' flash of our mysterious stabby guy. I felt what he was feelin' just as he…' he trailed off and shook his head in attempt to clear the terrible memory, '... and the weird thing was, he was happy.'

'Happy?' Angel was nonplussed, and he glanced again towards Cordelia, who shrugged.

'Yeah,' Doyle reiterated, 'happy - about his eye - specifically. Like it was new...or somethin'...'

'He was happy about his eye?' the vampire wanted to check he had understand, because Doyle was right - that did seem weird.

'And my question,' Cordelia said, sipping her coffee, 'is why would someone who was happy about their eye then go out of their way to destroy it?'

'A new eye?' mused the vampire, 'that means a transplant, right? Can you do that? Transplant an entire eye?'

The office manager typed something into her computer and then shook her head, 'nope - not by medical means anyway… 'eye' transplant means 'cornea' transplant...and that's pretty run of the mill stuff.'

'But the medical and the magical can be mixed,' Angel said, 'remember that surgeon who could remove his own body parts?'

'Dr. Chop salad!' Cordelia remembered, and shuddered. 'So you think this guy had a new eye put in by mystical means?'

'In which case... maybe it wasn't the guy that was in control of the stabbing - maybe it was the eye,' her former boss concluded.

'Hang on - have we gone down the rabbit hole and ended up on sentient body parts? Because that is not a place I wanted to wind up this morning.' She shuddered again.

'We've seen it before,' Angel reminded her, 'we know extremities can act independently of the main body… I don't see why a transplanted part seizing temporary control of the host body would be such a stretch.'

'Haunted eyeballs,' Doyle muttered to himself, 'well that's just great...I wonder what fun filled horror The Powers have got lined up for me next time.'

Cordelia glanced across at him, and smiled sympathetically. 'The world of weird does seem to keep getting weirder,' she said.

'And more painful - I might add,' Doyle told her.

A look of worry crossed her face, at his words, but she shook it off and smiled brightly. 'Just another day of redemption 101 I guess,' she smiled. 'It won't last forever, you know, one day, you'll be free of all this.'

Angel noticed her expression, though - her concern, and her attempt to hide it in order to support and comfort Doyle. She was carrying a lot on her shoulders, working with the pair of them; and, unlike them, she hadn't done anything to deserve it - but she carried the load anyway, making their burden easier to bear.

'So what do we do?' Doyle was asking, 'Angel?' The vampire shook himself out of his reverie, and Cordelia gave him a confused look. He realised he must have been staring at her. 'Do we start researchin' facilities that might be able to do this sort o' thing?'

'I can't imagine "we use magic to perform impossible transplants," is going to be the tagline for any reputable medical facility,' Cordelia pointed out. 'Or at least - it won't be up in large font on their website.'

'Maybe I should go back out and start hitting demons again?' Angel wondered, 'it could be that there's some underground demon medical facility that does this...Maybe Merl might…'

'But it could also be a pretty swanky, high end place,' Cordelia said, 'Dr. psycho stalker circus freak was a renowned surgeon working in one of the best hospitals in town... I bet there's a lot of dirty money in demon medicine.'

'Do both - then,' Doyle said. 'Angel - you go and beat up Merl, me and Cordy can research private clinics on the net...unless somethin' better comes up.' The door opened and Wes and Gunn came in, 'man, I hope somethin' better just came up,' Doyle finished.

'We think we found him,' Wesley told them, 'A man named Joseph Kramer had two children aged 12 and 9 who went to Delancey School. The mother rang up yesterday saying the children would not be going in as she was taking them out of the country. Their father apparently got a promotion in the Seychelles.'

'Did you get a home address?' Angel asked.

'We've already been there. I stood look out, Gunn went in.'

'And?'

'No trace of the family or any personal belongings,' Gunn said. 'The guy's gone, the families gone. Whole place had been cleaned top to bottom. Something or someone has the power to make them all disappear in one day.'

Angel, Doyle and Cordelia all exchanged a look. 'Doyle got some new information this morning,' Cordelia told the other two, 'it seems Mr. Stab happy was - get this - happy about his eye right before he cut into it. Doyle thinks the eye was new - a transplant.'

'You can't transplant whole eyeballs!' Wesley protested.

'Not medically,' agreed Angel, 'but that doesn't mean it can't be done. Now look at what we know - this guy had major surgery, and then, when it went wrong, his whole family was vanished. Takes something pretty powerful to have that kind of cleanup crew...and obviously this can't be the first time it's happened, if they were that efficient...'

'If this guy got himself a medically impossible transplant,' Doyle interrupted, 'then he must have pretty amazing insurance, I'm thinkin' - probably got that through his work.'

'And work was their cover story for why they were going,' Wesley mused.

'So where did he work?' Asked Cordelia, 'can we find that out?'

Her boyfriend began to tap information into his computer, hoping to get a hit from the search engine. A number of Joseph Kramers popped up, so he refined the search, typing in his home neighbourhood. 'Hey! I think I found somethin'!'

The rest of the team all crowded round his computer, there was a photograph of a man in a suit - he only had one eye - and he was smiling. It was a 'meet the team' type of photo that companies often put on their websites. Doyle clicked the photo and the link took them to the web page. Joseph Kramer. He was an accounts manager for a big property development firm, that had concerns building hotels throughout California and the Caribbean. According to the company's website, they were indeed expanding to be more global and were looking at buying up properties in the Seychelles.

'So his cover story wouldn't wave any red flags, even at work,' Cordelia said, 'but these guys build hotels - they don't seem like evil incorporated.'

'They're not,' Doyle told her, 'but look - they're part of an umbrella company that is owned by evil incorporated.' He tapped the top of the screen, to show them all what he was looking at. It was true, their company was a subsidiary of none other than Wolfram and Hart.

'I should have known!' Angel said, shaking his head, 'of course they're going to use demons and magic in their affiliated clinics … it's not like they care about ethics.'

'And I bet they've got a killer medical and dental plan,' Cordelia said, 'there's gotta be some reason so many people are willing to sell their soul to the devil to work for them - decent insurance being one of 'em.'

'So what do we do now?' asked Doyle, leaning back in his chair. 'Do we have to break into Wolfram and Hart again?'

Gunn looked hopeful, but Wesley shook his head, 'I wonder if there's an easier way…' he said.

Lilah sat at home, on the sofa, drinking a glass of wine. She had kept a close eye on her hand all day... there had been a few more incidents of it picking up a pen and writing that one word over and over... and it had managed to get itself trapped in a filing cabinet - that had been painful, but nothing too bad had happened. She hadn't run amok with her crazy hand and proved to Nathan Reed and the Senior Partners that she couldn't cope. She had more or less controlled it. She had got through the day. And now she was locked tightly inside her apartment. She wouldn't leave before tomorrow, and she wouldn't see anyone. She wouldn't go into the office until it was time for her review - and everything would be fine. She would win - for once, she would actually come out on top. She breathed a deep sigh, lay her head back against the couch, and began to relax.

BAM. The door was kicked open and the vampire stood on the threshold, snarling. The sound of the door crashing open had unnerved her, caused her to jump, but she forced herself to keep her cool... it wasn't like he could get inside. She turned to look at him, and smiled her wolf like smile. 'And to what do I owe this pleasure?'

Angel looked her up and down, 'I wondered if this was what I would find...well look at you Lilah, all brand new, shiny and whole.'

She glanced down at her new hand, 'you knew about this?' she asked, surprised.

'I had reason to suspect. And now I want answers.'

She threw her head back and laughed, then she got up off the sofa and made her way to the door. She planned to slam it in his face. 'You want answers? What do you intend to do Angel? Stand in the doorway and threaten me?'

'Actually…' Cordelia stepped out from behind her larger friend, and stepped through into the apartment. She carried a small axe. 'I will be doing the threatening this evening - woman to woman.'

...

'Now here's the thing,' Cordelia told the lawyer. She hefted the axe in her hands as she spoke. Lilah eyed it warily. 'The man I love, the man you tried to get sent to prison for ten years, had himself a vision yesterday - of a man; a nice, ordinary, family man, stabbing himself in his own eye.' She looked dead straight at Lilah, and the attorney found herself forced to tear her eyes away from the axe and instead make eye contact with the younger woman.

'Do you know what it feels like to get stabbed in the eye, Lilah? Because Doyle does. And believe me, when you watch the person you care about most in all the world, rolling on the floor in agony because they just mystically experienced a sharp blade being driven through their eyeball and into their brain, then you'll do just about anything to put things right. What do you believe I'm willing to do, Lilah? To put things right for Doyle?' She hefted her axe again, Lilah didn't say anything.

Cordelia waited a beat, whilst Lilah stood before her, frozen. And then she continued. 'But it's the funniest thing,' she said, 'honestly - you'll laugh at the coincidence. The guy? Stabby McEye guy? He'd just had a transplant - that was a brand new eyeball he was cutting into... and then we come here, and here you are - with a brand new hand. Doesn't that just make you go "hmmm"?'

'I -I..' Lilah began to stutter, she was watching the axe again. 'What do you want?'

'I want to know about your hand, Lilah, where did you get it? And has it - oh say - been doing anything funny, lately?'

Lilah glanced across at where the vampire still stood in the doorway, to see what he thought of all this. But he just shrugged at her, 'I believe Cordelia asked you a question,' he said.

Lilah sighed, passed her wine glass into her left hand and then placed it down on the side. 'Alright - I'll tell you, and then you'll leave. Yesterday I was given an appointment at a clinic.'

'What clinic?' Asked Cordelia.

'It's called Fairfield. It provides all the primary care for Wolfram and Hart employees. I didn't know why I was there… but then the doctor told me I had been moved to the top of the transplant list - that I was getting a new hand. They use demons, magics, to perform procedures that would be impossible by traditional means. I got my new hand yesterday afternoon and it's already healed and working.'

'You just got this yesterday?' Angel asked from the doorway, 'why now? Why not a year ago?'

Lilah looked at him, but didn't reply.

'Answer him,' Cordelia hefted her axe again.

'I think it's a test,' the lawyer admitted. 'Little Miss Axe Happy is right... the hand, it does things of its own accord.'

'Like what?'

'It keeps writing one word... over and over.'

'What word?'

Lilah sighed, again, and looked Cordelia in the eye. 'Kill.' she said simply.

Cordelia quirked an eyebrow. 'Kill who?'

'It doesn't say … just "kill". Like I said, this is a test. My review is tomorrow - they've given me a crazy hand to see if I can cope. To see if I have what it takes to run Special Projects, or if I crack under the pressure of my psycho hand.'

'And have you cracked?'

'It's just a hand, Cordelia. I'm in control.'

'Right... well now we need to know who that crazy hand used to belong to.'

'Don't know. Can't help, won't help.'

'Oh,' Cordelia smiled, 'I don't need all of you to help - just your hand.' She lunged forward, and Lilah jumped back to protect her new hand, thinking the younger woman was going to cut it off, the way Angel had, before. But instead, Cordy just picked up Lilah's wine glass, 'this will do,' she said, careful to only handle the stem - as Lilah had been holding it by the bowl. Her fingerprints were visibly smudged onto the glass.

Cordelia walked back to Angel and handed him the glass, then she turned back to Lilah. 'Oh and Lilah - one more thing...' She thumped the other woman as hard as she could, and the attorney stumbled backwards, holding her face.

'Cordelia!' Angel remonstrated, but she ignored him.

'That's for what you tried to do to Doyle,' she told the lawyer, 'if you ever try to hurt him again, in any way...then what I might do to you with this axe will be the least of your worries - understand?' She turned on her heel and left the apartment, walking down the corridor.

Angel hurried after her. 'Jeez Cordelia!' he said, once he had caught up, 'you were terrifying.'

Cordelia smirked in satisfaction, 'I know.'

Chapter 71: Dead End: Part Three

Chapter Text

The pair of them walked back to car, where the rest of the team were waiting. 'Did she help?' asked Doyle.

'She helped,' Cordelia replied succinctly, her voice grim.

'She has a brand new hand,' Angel told the men, 'she told us all about it, and then Cordelia hit her.'

'You hit her?' Doyle was incredulous, 'what did you do that for, princess?'

Cordelia flashed an irritated glance at Angel, and then shrugged, 'oh - you know - she had it coming... so, are we gonna find out who those prints belong to or what?'

'Yeah...I'll get Kate to run them,' Angel replied, wondering why Cordy hadn't wanted her boyfriend to know what she'd done for him.

The team waited outside in the car, whilst Angel went into the precinct to ask Kate to run the prints on Lilah's wine glass. Cordelia was sitting in the middle of the back seat, squashed in between Doyle and Gunn. 'How are you feeling?' she asked the Irishman.

He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile, 'I guess I'm OK, y'know, now we're on the trail and everythin'...it's just been a nasty one, y'know?'

'I know - does your head hurt?'

He shook his head, 'nope - the vision pain never lasts long...it was just the echoes, this time, of that guy…' He trailed off, and then smiled at her again. 'It's been bad, but we'll solve it and the next one will be better.'

'Well, hopefully it will be less gross.'

'I'd say it couldn't possibly be any worse - but then I just know I'd be temptin' fate.'

Cordelia chuckled a little wryly at his words, but was cut off from replying by the sudden reappearance of Angel. 'I found her,' he said, 'or at least, Kate did.'

'Who was she?' Wesley asked.

'Kristen Williams,' Angel told them, 'worked at our friendly neighbourhood law firm until she was caught in some kind of scam - double selling shares. She was probably just the fall guy for something much larger, but she wound up serving two years.'

'Definite patsy,' Cordelia agreed, 'as if evil incorporated couldn't get one of their own off if they wanted to.'

'Exactly my thinking, anyway, according to her records she reported to her parole officer once - and then she disappeared.'

'So wait,' said Gunn, 'she goes to jail, they wait til she gets out and then - whack,' he made a chopping motion down on his wrist, 'they give her hand to Lilah? I guess they really do wanna give their golden girl everything.'

But Cordelia shook her head, 'Lilah said it was a test - her hand is possessed - so was Kramer's eye. He stabbed himself, Lilah's hand is trying to kill people... These transplants...they might not be gifts.'

'What?' asked Doyle, 'you think Wolfram and Hart steals these body parts and then... enchants them in someway to attack their new owner?'

'That's one theory,' Angel replied.

'You got any others?' Doyle then leaned forward to talk to Wesley, who was sat in the passenger seat, 'so what do we do now?'

'I suppose we go and talk to the last person who saw Ms. Williams alive and well.'

'Her parole officer?'

'Her parole officer,' the watcher agreed.

The man was sitting on his sofa, with a beer, watching t.v; when he heard a knock on his door. He frowned to himself. It was late. Too late for visitors. 'Who is it?' he yelled over the noise of the television.

'My name is Angel - you don't know me but...I'm - involved - with Wolfram and Hart, I need to ask you some questions.'

The man got up and opened the door, just a crack. The man on the other side was tall, and smartly dressed, and handsome. The woman standing next to him was an absolute stunner. He opened the door wider, to get a better view. Taking heart from this seemingly welcoming gesture, Angel smiled and spoke again. 'My name is Angel, this is my associate, Cordelia. We just want to speak with you, it won't take a moment. Can we come in?'

The man stepped aside to allow them entrance.

'Can we come in?' Angel asked again.

The man rolled his eyes, 'what, you need it in writing? Sure, you can come in.' The pair of them stepped over the threshold, and the man stuck his head round the door to check that the hallway was empty behind them.

'It's alright,' Angel assured him, 'we're alone.'

'Force of habit,' the man said, 'I meet a lot of lowlifes.'

'I can imagine that's true in your line of work - parole officer and all,' Cordelia said, glancing around the dingy apartment, taking it all in. 'So,' she cut straight to the chase, 'the body parts - how do they find them? where do they harvest them? And why are they enchanting them to attack their own employees?'

'What's the code?' the man asked.

'Code?' Cordelia and Angel glanced at each other.

'Well, you're from Wolfram and Hart - you know the code.'

'Ah,' Angel said, 'well, technically, what I said was I'm "involved" with Wolfram and Hart.'

'You don't work for Wolfram and Hart?'

'Not technically...or at all, actually.'

The man swung his fist, taking Angel by surprise and knocking him down to the ground. Then he reached into his waistband and drew out a gun. He levelled it at Cordelia…

Wesley and Gunn were leaning against the hood of the car, as they waited for their associates to return. Doyle was still sat in the back, his head resting against the back of his seat and his eyes closed - for all he had said to Cordelia - it seemed like he wasn't really a hundred percent, quite yet.

Wesley checked his watch. 'It shouldn't be taking this long,' he said, 'I wonder if there's a problem?'

'There's a problem,' Gunn said, 'why'd he take Cordelia? You want someone to help you smash into some guy's house and start rough housin? Then I'm your man. You want someone to make snarky comments about your ugly ass shoes, you take Cordy.'

Wesley smiled at his friend's words. 'Cordelia is more than capable... and if what Angel said is true, she seems to have given Lilah Morgan something to think about.'

'I'd have liked to have seen that, ' Gunn admitted. 'You think Mrs. Evil Y2K+1 will have a shiner?'

'I always imagined Cordelia to be more of a biter or a hair puller than a puncher, I must confess. I don't know how hard she can hit with her fist.'

'Which brings me back to my original point,' said Gunn, 'why is she sidekickin' tonight?'

Wesley glanced back at where Doyle sat, alone, resting. 'She's worried about Doyle,' he told the other man in a hushed whisper, 'he's half demon, so is technically strong enough to bear the visions, but they take a lot out of him - all that pain and suffering… and this last one was particularly bad. Cordelia wants to make things better for him, I imagine nothing matters to her more, so she needs to be doing the "sidekicking", as you call it, tonight. She can't take the pain away for him, so she needs to do everything in her power to solve the problem. No one is more determined than our Cordelia... now she's set her mind to it, we'll get to the bottom of this much quicker for her being on the case.'

Gunn glanced back at Doyle, as well, 'I just hope The Powers go easy on poor Irish for a while… guy deserves a break, don't you think?'

Cordelia held her hands up and began to back away, the man kept his gun trained on her. 'Now, you got to the count of three, doll face - what's the code? one'

'We told you we don't..'

'Two,' he cocked the gun,

'No please!'

'Three!' Angel was back on his feet and he slammed the man to the floor, knocking the gun out of his hand. Cordelia quickly kicked it out of sight, under the sofa. The vampire picked the man up by his shirt front and slammed him against the wall. 'I really don't like it when people threaten my friends with guns,' he said, slamming the man again, 'so, now that you know that,' he slammed him again, 'you're going to tell me everything you know about Kristen Williams - and what happened to her left hand.'

The man, shaken up as he was, chuckled - 'what will you do? Kill me? Whatever Wolfram and Hart will do will be a lot worse.'

'Why would I kill you?' Angel asked, vamping out, 'when I could live off you for weeks. Now are you gonna talk or have I just found me a meal that'll last me the month?'

The man paled, when he saw Angel's face, and closed his eyes as he remembered how the man had asked for a clear invitation into his home... he should have known. 'I don't hear talking,' Angel said.

'Bite him,' Cordelia instructed.

The vampire leaned into the man's neck.

'No wait! Wait I'll talk!,' the parole officer begged. Angel let him go. He rubbed his chest where the vampire had held him. 'She worked for Wolfram and Hart - went to jail for double selling shares - when she got out, the firm had her assigned to me.'

'You work for them?' Cordelia asked.

'Strictly in an unofficial capacity - they send parolees to me sometimes and I take them …' he trailed off.

'Where do you take them?' Angel demanded.

'It's an address the law firm gave me, I deliver them there and then I leave.'

Angel and Cordelia looked at each other, 'so this address is where they harvest the body parts and then enchant them?' she asked.

The vampire turned back to the man, 'is she right? You take the parolees someplace and then they cut them up and dole out the body parts to employees they want to keep an eye on?'

The man held his hand up, 'I don't know what happens there, I don't wanna know what happens there, I swear. I just take them to the address - that's all I do.'

The two team members glanced at each other again, in silent agreement as to what to do next...

...

The men looked slightly surprised when the pair of them returned to the car - but they didn't say anything.

The Plymouth pulled up at the side of the road. Angel got out of the driver's seat and went round to the trunk. He opened it up and dragged the parole officer out of it, and held him up so he could see the store they were parked outside. It had a sign on the window declaring it to be 'Southern California Travel.'

'Is this the place?' Angel demanded, the man nodded, and the vampire shut him back inside the trunk. The male members of his team watched on, still looking surprised. 'I'm not sure he's entirely over his dark phase, yet,' Doyle said.

But Cordelia only shrugged, 'that man delivers people to this place so they can be cut into little pieces and distributed amongst the staff of Wolfram and Hart - my heart isn't exactly bleeding for him.'

'Well, when you put it that way…'

They all climbed out of the car, and looked at the building. 'So what we thinkin'?' Gunn asked.

Wesley scrutinised the store front. 'I should imagine there will be some form of security - mystical barriers perhaps.'

'Wolfram and Hart security will be top drawer,' Angel said, leaning down into the car and picking up his axe. 'Window sensors, motion detectors, cellular backup, guards obviously.'

'How we gonna crack all that?' asked Gunn.

'We won't,' Angel said, hefting his axe, 'not without a fight. Saddle up guys...' He hauled his arm back and threw the axe, shattering the window. The first guard stepped out through the broken glass and onto the street. The vampire downed him with a hard right cross to the jaw, and then climbed through the window into the store. The others followed on behind.

Once inside, Angel hit the next guard and, as he doubled up in pain, kneed him in the stomach. Then he tossed him to one side. Cordelia threw her small axe, the one she had used to threaten Lilah, towards Gunn - who buried it in the skull of the demon guard. Another demon launched itself at Wesley, and the watcher tumbled to the ground. Doyle pulled the demon off him and, from his position on the floor, the watcher booted it between its legs. It slumped down with a groan and Doyle finished it off with a punch, knocking it unconscious.

Once all the guards were down, the team looked around. The room had clearly been set up to resemble a travel agents for if anyone glanced through the window. There was a desk with a computer and a plant on it, a filing cabinet, and a set of shelves with some brochures. But that was all, it was simply set dressing. And the room was dusty - and clearly unused. This was the cover, the real business took place elsewhere.

'The floor is hollow,' Angel told the others. Cordelia stamped down experimentally and listened, and sure enough there was an echo. Moving the desk out of the way, Angel threw back a rug, which lay on the floor, revealing a trapdoor. 'What's behind door number two?' he asked, opening it up. A staircase led downwards, and they all filed down and then drew up short, in horror...

...

...The basement was lined with glass cells. Each cell held a naked man or woman...or what was left of them.

'What is this place?' asked Doyle, gazing around at the bodies that were encased in glass. Each one wore an oxygen mask, and there were wires running into the tank - providing the air and the light, keeping the people alive. They seemed unconscious. 'This is...what is this?' the Irishman asked again.

'It's spare parts, for Lilah, for Kramer - for whoever Wolfram and Hart wants to reward,' Angel pointed to the right hand side of the room, where the people were still all intact: 'you've got your befores…' He then motioned towards the left hand side, where the remnants of other bodies were stored, 'and the afters.'

Wesley leaned forward and read one of the labels, 'Unit 42-89, blood type o+. Start 4/19/00 - discard 10/29/01.'

'Discard?'

'It's their sell by date, Cordelia,' Doyle told her, looking sick. 'This poor bastard is gonna be kept alive - sort of - until the end of October, and then they'll switch him off.'

'And how much will they take before then?' wondered Wesley, still reading the label. 'Listen to this: Harvest 5/5/00 - left ear, 6/18/00 left leg, 3/10/01…'

'Stop it,' the half demon interrupted, 'I don't wanna hear anymore.'

'Sorry.'

'Man, this is sick. I mean I've seen some sick things in my time, but this…?' Gunn looked every bit as disgusted as Doyle did.

'And to think this is being perpetrated by human beings... that someone with a soul is responsible for such evil,' breathed Wesley.

Angel was looking at a banner that hung on the wall, it depicted a strange, demonic symbol. 'The Pockla have blessed this place,' he said.

'Who are the Pockla?' Cordelia wrinkled her nose in confusion, wondering how this fit in with what she was seeing.

'Demon healers,' the vampire explained, 'they're known to regenerate flesh - which might explain why some of the transplants aren't taking so well.'

Cordelia was still confused, but Wesley gasped in realisation, 'of course - their regenerative powers mean that the transplants remember their old life, remain linked to the body here, rather than just dying after amputation. Lilah's hand, Kramer's eye...they're trapped in a limbo between their new life and this ... living hell.'

'I thought Wolfram and Hart were enchanting the parts as a test?' Cordelia asked.

But Angel shook his head. 'Lilah made a mistake - she's just paranoid, and why wouldn't she be? working at that place… her hand really was a gift... it just didn't want to be given.'

'What are we gonna do?' asked Gunn. 'we can't leave them here, but how we can help some of these folks?'

'I fear there is no helping some of them,' the watcher replied.

Cordelia turned away from the bodies on the left hand side, covering her face so she wouldn't have to look anymore. 'I just want to get out of here,' she said. But she raised her head when she felt Doyle leave her side, and looked over to see what he was doing.

The half demon was walking up to one of the cases, which held a naked man. Most of his face was covered by his oxygen mask and his eyelids were shut tight, but there was noticeable bruising around one of his eye sockets. Doyle read the label. 'This one is missing an eye,' he said, quietly, looking up into the battered face of the unconscious man. 'They took it just last week…'

Cordelia came to stand beside her boyfriend, and slipped her hand into his. 'Come away,' she said gently, tugging on his hand, 'you don't have to look at this.'

As she pulled Doyle away, the man in the glass cell opened his remaining eye. The pair of them jumped back, in horror, crying out. 'What is it?' Angel asked, whirling round to look at them.

'This guy's awake!' Doyle gasped, 'he opened his eyes and looked at us - he's ...he's aware of what's happenin'!'

Wesley nodded. 'I feared that might be the case for some of them. For the transplant organs to be sentient, they would still have to be linked up to an active mind. Joseph Kramer stabbed himself the last time this man woke up.'

'So does that mean that Lilah's donor…?' Cordelia looked around the room, searching for a woman with her left hand missing. She found her, near the end of the left hand cells. The woman was tall and slim, just like Lilah - her hand would have matched up well… and sure enough, her left arm ended in an amputated stump at the wrist.

'This must be her,' Cordelia said to the others. 'The woman whose hand Lilah is wearing, Kristen Williams.' She reached out to touch the glass; and just as the man's had, Kristen's eyes opened, to look down on the horrified young woman who stood before her. Just like Kramer's donor - Kristen was awake and aware.

'Kill,' she breathed into her oxygen mask, when she saw Cordelia.

'That's what Lilah said her hand kept writing,' the woman told her companions, 'that's why she thought it was a test - because her hand was a psycho.' She rested her own hand against the glass of the cell, and looked into Kristen's eyes, her own swimming with tears. 'Kill who?' she asked gently, 'who do you want us to kill?'

Kristen gave a deep, rasping, rattling breath… and then forced out two words. 'Kill...me.'

Chapter 72: Dead End: Part Four

Chapter Text

Cordelia backed away, shaking her head. 'Please,' rasped Kristen, 'kill... me.'

'What am I supposed to do?' Cordy whispered, looking round at her friends, 'how can I help her?'

'I don't think she can be helped, Cordelia,' Wesley told her, 'I'm not sure any of these poor souls, over here, can be.'

But the young woman continued to shake her head, 'I can't ... I can't. I'm sorry.'

Behind her, Angel smashed open one of the right hand cases, and helped the man, who had been trapped in there, out. He pulled down the Pockla banner from the wall and wrapped it round the man's naked form. 'We have to get everyone, who can still walk, out of here,' he told the others, 'start smashing the right hand cases.'

'What about those on the left?' Doyle asked. Angel looked at him, but didn't answer. He didn't have to - Doyle nodded. Wesley and Gunn set about smashing up the remaining right hand cells, and finding things to wrap around the naked victims.

Cordelia still stood, staring up at the woman who had been chopped up to provide spare parts for Lilah and other women like her. 'Please,' Kristen gasped again, 'please...kill.'

The tears, which had stood out in Cordy's eyes since she had first found the woman, spilled over and ran down her cheeks. 'I can't do it,' she said, 'I'm sorry, I can't kill you,' she shook her head again, 'I'm sorry.'

Then Doyle came to stand beside her, and this time it was him who took her hand in his own. She looked at him, 'I can't,' she said.

He kissed her on the forehead, 'I know, Cordy, it's OK.' He looked up into Kristen Williams' eyes and held her gaze for a second, and she nodded her head - almost imperceptibly. And then he reached out and yanked away all the wires that connected to her cell, shutting off the oxygen and life support systems. Her cell went dark.

Then he went over to the cell which contained the one eyed man - Kramer's donor. He pulled the wires from that one as well, and watched as the lights dimmed - and the tortured man died. 'Cordelia, help Wes and Gunn take all the survivors up to the car,' he said to his girlfriend. She nodded, and began to shepherd the people up the stairs and out onto the street. The half demon looked at his vampire friend. 'Are there any more awake?'

'It would be kinder to shut off all the life support systems before…'

Doyle nodded, and between the two of them they went to each cell and ripped out the wiring. Once every tank had gone dark, Angel told his friend to get out and join the others. He waited until he heard Doyle's footsteps gain the top of the stairs and then he opened the valves on the oxygen tanks - letting the gas escape into the room. Once he was sure Doyle and the rest were outside, he took a piece of paper, lit the tip of it, and dropped it to the floor. Then he ran.

...

The building exploded in a fireball, just as Angel dove through the broken window and back out onto the road.

...

The team stood on the opposite sidewalk and watched the building burn. 'What about the people that were still down there?' Cordelia asked.

'We already switched their life support off,' Doyle told her, 'they were gone before it happened.'

She bit her lip and nodded. 'I guess that was the right thing to do... I just couldn't.'

'I know,' her boyfriend wrapped his arm around her and kissed her again, on the temple this time, 'that's why I did.'

She smiled at him, gratefully, and leaned against him. He held her closer. Angel watched them as they stood there, looking at the flames. As long as they stood and watched the fire, the vampire stood and watched them…

...

'We need to get these people to a hospital,' Wesley was saying to Gunn, 'the shock, the trauma - they need to be checked over right away.'

The street fighter nodded in agreement. 'Not room for all of us and these folks in the Angelmobile, you gonna take them? We'll make our own way home?'

So Wesley drove the remaining victims to the nearest hospital, and the team went their separate ways.

Doyle and Cordelia lay in bed. The lights were switched off, but the streetlamps outside cast a dim glow into the room, so Cordy could just about make out the outline of her boyfriend. 'Do you think I'm weak for not being able to kill that woman?' she asked him.

He rolled over, and looked at her in surprise, squinting in the gloom. 'Why on earth would you think that, darlin'?'

'I don't know... it's just we're supposed to help people, you had the vision of these people to help - and I couldn't do it. What's the point of my being here, if I can't do the job I'm supposed to do?'

'It was a big ask, Cordy... sometimes the price of helpin' is too high, and that's fine. You do have to look after yourself, as well as everyone else, y'know.'

'You did it - you killed her.'

He kissed her shoulder, 'I did it for you - so you didn't have to. So you didn't have to live with the guilt of killin' her. And so you didn't have to live with the guilt of not doing what she asked.'

'I don't deserve that,' she said.

He smiled in the darkness, 'I think you deserve that and then some. Who was it that punched Lilah Morgan to defend my honour?'

'You knew why I hit her?'

He chuckled, 'I figured it out. Thank you, Princess. It means a lot that you did - she had it comin' - and I couldn't hit her, could I?'

'As skanky and evil as she is, and as much as she would deserve it - people would still think you were the bad guy if you went round hitting women,' Cordelia agreed.

'Exactly... though I'm a little bit worried about what she might do in revenge.'

'She won't dare hurt you again!' Cordy assured him, 'I made sure of that.'

He smiled into the dark, and kissed her again. 'I meant I'm worried about what she might do to you.'

'Oh... well, nothing I won't be able to handle, that's for sure.'

'It sure is.' He wrapped his arm around her and pulled her close, so her head was lying on his chest. She snuggled in closer. 'What about you?' she asked.

'What about me?'

'Do you feel guilty about killing those people? You have to live with that now.'

Doyle thought about her words for a moment, and then shook his head. 'No - I guess I don't feel that bad about it. They couldn't be saved, Cordelia, endin' things for them was a kindness. It's Wolfram and Hart's guilt that I had to switch off their life support - not mine.'

'So you're completely OK with everything that happened tonight?'

He sighed, 'I think I am - or at least, I will be. I had to go to that place and see those people, I had to - from the moment I felt Joseph Kramer stick that knife into his eye. I can't know even a tenth of what they were really sufferin', but I felt a little bit of it, y'know? And having felt that… I had to stop it, anyway I could. That vision with Kramer, my weird, twisted relationship with Lilah - I dunno, goin' to that place, ending their misery, just felt meant to be, y'know? And I can't help but wonder if The Powers sent me that vision now to let me know what a lucky escape I had...'

Cordelia raised her head from his chest and looked at him in confusion, trying to scrutinise his face in the dark, as she wondered what he could mean. 'I don't understand.'

He ran his fingers through her hair, playing with the short locks which framed her face, as he spoke to her - knowing his next words would cause her upset. 'All those people in those glass tanks, they were parolees - people linked to Wolfram and Hart who had been sent to jail and then allowed out ahead of time. It got me thinkin'... if Lilah had been successful, if I'd taken that plea bargain and gone to prison for three years - out in two… might I have been assigned to that particular parole officer? Might he have taken me to that place?'

She rested her head back down on his shoulder, and held him tighter in her arms, 'I would never let anything like that happen to you,' she whispered, fiercely.

He continued to stroke her hair, smiling as he held her, 'I know.'

Angel arrived at Lilah's apartment, he knocked on the door - even though it was still halfway off its hinges. She was wearing her night clothes when she answered. 'What brings you back here at this time of night?' she asked him.

'I just thought I'd let you know that we found the woman whose hand you're wearing.'

Lilah glanced down at her left hand, 'who is she?'

'She's dead.'

'Oh.'

'Courtesy of your firm - did you know what they do, Lilah? That they kidnap old, disgraced employees and then keep them alive whilst they harvest them for parts?'

Even Lilah managed to look sick at such a terrible thought. 'I had no idea - I swear. I didn't even know why I was going to that clinic, what they were going to do to me - never mind where they got the body parts from.'

'Well - a woman died - lived in agony and then died, so that you could have a left hand, Lilah. I hope you make the best of it.'

'You'll forgive me if I take exception to the vampire who cut my hand off in the first place, telling me what I should and shouldn't do with its replacement.'

'Well, here's the thing,' Angel said to her, he fixed her with his most penetrating stare, 'I was wondering if it might be time for us to call a truce?'

'A truce?'

'Yeah - I cut your hand off, you tried to turn me evil using Darla, you tried to get Doyle sent to prison and now… Darla's gone, I'm not evil, Doyle is free and you have a brand new hand. Plus you're getting that big promotion tomorrow. It wasn't a test, they really did just give you a hand because they like you - it's just the regenerative powers of the demon that healed you also regenerated the hand - made it channel its former owner. Now she's dead, the hand is just a hand. And we're all back to where we started. No harm done - or at least - no permanent harm done. Maybe it's time we backed off from each other and just...got on with our lives?'

The lawyer gave him a supercilious smirk. 'It doesn't work that way, Angel . The Senior Partners say jump and I ask how high. And they are very interested in you. I'm afraid it's more than my life is worth to strike any kind of bargain with you. They want you out of the way of the apocalypse and it's my job to make sure that happens...but it's nothing personal, I'm sure you understand. Just business.'

'Fine,' Angel turned and began to walk away, 'don't say I didn't give you a chance.'

Lilah leaned on the door frame and watched him go, 'And tell Cordelia that I'm not even started making her little half breed suffer… and that is personal!' she called after him.

It was very late when Wesley returned to his apartment, after taking the survivors of Wolfram and Hart's organ factory to the hospital. Virginia was asleep in bed when he arrived, but she woke up when she heard him enter the bedroom. 'Wesley?'

'I'm sorry, Ginny, I didn't mean to wake you.'

She yawned and sat up, 'no -I'm glad you did, I was getting worried.'

The watcher sat down on the edge of the bed, and leaned in to kiss his girlfriend. 'I'm sorry it was another…'

'Rough day at the office?' she finished. He nodded. 'You seem to have a lot of rough days,' she observed, 'in fact you seem to have very little else.'

'Oh I don't know - there are all those days when the phones don't ring and we sit around doing nothing.'

'I prefer those days,' his girlfriend told him, 'you come home earlier...but I never know what type of day you'll have, so I have to worry - every day.'

'It's all part to the world saving territory, I'm afraid,' he told her.

'I know,' she said, lying back down, 'you're a man on a mission, but that doesn't make this any easier to bear.' She rolled over, so her back was to her boyfriend, and Wesley stood back up and went into the bathroom to brush his teeth. Virginia had fallen back asleep by the time he got into bed beside her.

Angel stopped in surprise when he entered the lobby of the Hyperion. He wasn't alone in the hotel. He could sense two heart beats, thumping in rhythm, somewhere distant above him. He sniffed, tasting the scent on the air. Doyle and Cordelia. They had returned to the hotel and stayed the night in Doyle's room, rather than head back to Cordy's more distant apartment.

As he climbed the staircase, their scents became stronger. He could tell how close they were, not to him - to each other. How they must be physically wrapped around each other, as they slept - the way the human and demon aromas intermingled and crashed against each other could mean nothing else. And he could tell they were sleeping, deeply and peacefully, the steady thud of their heart beats - beating in perfect time - told him that.

He continued up the stairs, climbing up to his own landing, and entered his own apartment. His was a suite of rooms, whereas Doyle's - on a lower floor- was just the bed and bathrooms. The vampire looked around his own private living space, so large and empty. He had all this room to be completely alone in, whilst downstairs the young couple shared a much smaller, intimate space.

Taking off his shoes and shirt, Angel crawled into his cold bed and lay his head down on the pillow. Turning slightly, he looked at the empty space behind him - the vast acres of unoccupied bed emphasising his own solitude. He was alone and would always have to be so. An eternity of lonely beds and empty arms. And just downstairs his two best friends slept entangled together, safely cocooned in the warmth of their love - wrapped up in each others embrace. Despite the length of the day, and the weariness he felt in his bones - Angel had trouble falling asleep that night.

The next morning, Angel, Wes and Gunn sat in the lobby, drinking coffee. A noise on the stairs made them look up, and Doyle and Cordelia appeared, holding hands. 'Is there coffee?' Cordy asked hopefully, seeing their cups. Angel nodded, and she went to make her and her boyfriend a mug each. The vampire couldn't help but notice the secret smile that passed between them, as she handed him his cup, or the way they sat down next to each other on the sofa - their bodies pressed against each other. Doyle draped his arm across Cordelia's shoulders, and she rested her head against his. 'Is there anything going on?' she asked the others, they shook their heads. 'Good,' she said, 'I think we need a quiet couple of days after everything that's happened. I just hope The Powers don't send you another vision right away,' she glanced up at her boyfriend.

'You and me both, darlin'. If I can just get through a week or so without a head cracking, mind numbing vision of someone in danger, I'll be very happy.'

'How are you feeling this morning, Doyle?' Wesley asked him. 'Are all the - ah - echoes of your last vision gone, now that the case is resolved?'

'It's all quiet in here, right now, bud, I am very thankful to say, but…' He came to a halt, as if he wasn't quite sure what the end of his sentence should be.

'But what?' asked Angel, creasing his forehead with worry.

'I just...that last one was real nasty, y'know? - maybe the worst I ever had. And I just ... I just want to know that I won't have these things forever, that one day I can be free of all this. I don't like seeing the pain o' everyone in the city, and I hate the feelings that go along with it. I think I'd be willing to do just about anything to get rid o' them.'

'Atonement is a rocky path,' Angel said.

Doyle twisted his mouth, 'yeah - I just hope I can get there soon.'

Lilah arrived at her review. The table was surrounded with lawyers, and Nathan Reed sat at the head once more. 'Well,' he said, smiling around, 'we know why we are all here. To review the future of Special Projects. Now, Lilah - you have done some sterling work, both under Holland Manners and as acting vice president after our recent tragedies. I don't believe that there will be any objections if we make that fixture permanent.' He glanced around at his associates, no one objected, 'No? Very well - Lilah Morgan is promoted to permanent vice president of Special Projects. We will look into recruiting a president, and some other associates to help with the workload forthwith. Now,' he looked straight at Lilah, 'as a new era dawns for the Special Projects division, we need to decide how we will move forward in dealing with the Angel problem.'

Lilah glanced down at her new left hand, and then smiled. 'I think I have some suggestions sir,' she said...

Chapter 73: Belonging: Part One

Chapter Text

Doyle checked his watch and then picked up his pace, he was late - and he didn't want to disappoint Cordelia. He turned down into the next street and approached the fancy restaurant, where she had told him to meet her. He gulped a little as he saw it - it had floor to ceiling windows, through which he could see pristine white table clothes and intimate candle light, and there was lots of gold used in both the interior and exterior decoration.

He should have worn his suit, he thought. But Cordy had expressly forbid him from ever putting it on again - now it came loaded with so many bad memories. So he had done the best he could, and pulled out the dark shirt and jacket which he had worn to Richard Straley's bachelor party - black was formal, right?

As he reached the door, it swung open, inwards, and the Irishman barrelled straight into the chest of a man who was just leaving the building. Doyle looked up at him to apologise; the man was tall and his suit looked expensive and well made - Cordelia would probably be able to tell at a glance who had designed it. He wore a white, silk scarf draped around his neck and on his wrist was something that looked suspiciously like a Rolex. The half demon started to apologise.

The man had also opened his mouth to say sorry, but then he closed it again when he actually looked at Doyle. He stared down at the smaller man; taking in his patterned polyester shirt, which didn't quite disguise the protuberance of his beer belly, and the cheap material his black jacket was made from. His eyes lingered on the ever visible chest hair. His lip curled into a sneer, 'excuse you,' he said, 'I don't think this can be the door you were looking for - Applebee's is down the street.'

The woman he was with laughed. She, too, was very tall and elegantly dressed. Doyle looked between the two of them, 'I'm sorry I walked into you, bud,' he said - not rising to the taller man's bait, this wasn't high school! He wasn't going to be made to feel small by some guy in a natty suit, 'I guess I didn't see y'.'

'The door is made of glass,' the man said, sounding utterly condescending.

Doyle smiled, 'And yet you still managed to walk into me! Guess you don't have your glasses on either, huh?'

By this time, the Maitre d' had noticed the blockage in the doorway and had come over to see what the trouble was. 'Yeah, I got a table booked,' Doyle told him, 'I'm meeting my girlfriend.' The maitre d' gave him the same look that the taller man had, Doyle pretended not to notice. Instead he looked around the room - and found Cordelia already seated at a table in the corner. She waved to him. 'There she is,' he told the waiter.

The tall man looked inside and snorted, when he saw Cordelia. 'Yeah, right, "girlfriend",' he said, making air quotes with his fingers, making it quite obvious what he thought Cordelia's profession was.

'What's that supposed to mean, bud?' This time he was reacting, he stepped closer to the man, getting in his face.

The man laughed at the sight of this scruffy little half pint bristling for a fight in the doorway of a reputable establishment. 'The only way you could get with a grade A piece of meat, like that, is by paying for her… though how you're affording it is beyond me - she looks high end.'

'What did you say?' He stepped even closer. The Maitre d' tried to intervene between the two sparring men.

'Is there a problem?' Angel appeared in the doorway - dapper, handsome and well turned out. Everyone turned to look at him.

Doyle remained glaring at the man, and the man began to realise that this new addition to the fracas was, for some reason, on the side of the poor little immigrant. 'Oh - you pay for her by going halves!' he said in realisation. Then he saw the glower on Angel's face and decided to make himself scarce. He held up his hands, 'no problem, here,' he said and he walked away with his companion. 'Honestly, remind me not to go back there,' they heard him say, as he walked away, 'it seems they'll let any old tramp and his whore in.' Doyle made to go after him, Angel pulled him back.

The Maitre d' visibly relaxed, 'Now - you gentlemen have a table booked? Your companion is already here?' Doyle pointed over to Cordelia, and they were led over to join her.

'What was that all about with Mr. Versace?' she asked, as they sat down.

'Nothin'.' Doyle replied, sullenly.

'Doyle was making friends in high places,' Angel said, taking off his duster. He made to hang it on the back of his chair, but a waiter appeared and whisked it away from him. He looked a bit startled, but then sat down without comment.

'I couldda taken him,' Doyle was still sullen, 'just a guy in a suit… I couldda easy…'

'Sure you could,' Cordelia said, sliding her hand on top of his and interlacing their fingers, 'but you're more of a lover than a fighter - which happens to be number 42 on my list of reasons I love you.'

The Irishman seemed to forget his encounter, which was of course Cordelia's intention, and perked up when he heard her words. 'You've got a list of reasons you love me?'

She leaned over and kissed him, nodding her head, 'It's quite extensive.'

'Yeah? What's number one?'

'Wouldn't you like to know?' They kissed again.

Angel cleared his throat, awkwardly. 'So, Wes and Gunn are meeting us here?' he asked, his voice tinged with hope.

The couple broke apart, and Cordelia answered him, 'yeah, they should be here any minute.'

'Oh thank goodness!'

'You wanna try some of the sashimi?' Cordelia asked. The others had arrived, they had ordered, and now the group were eating their starters - well, everyone except Angel - who was just nibbling on a free breadstick.

'That the raw fish?' Gunn wanted to know, 'maybe when hell freezes over!'

Doyle smiled, 'y' sure raw fish is a good idea, darlin? I was gonna say "what if it isn't cooked properly?" But then that's kinda the point, isn't it?'

She laughed, 'we don't need to worry in a place like this!', she said. She craned her neck around, as she spoke, peering to the very back of the restaurant.

'What are you doing?' Wesley asked her.

'Looking for celebrities! They won't put them out here in the 'b' section. They'd put them in the back, in the dark.'

Doyle also craned his neck to get a better look, but he couldn't see anyone famous. 'It's too dark to see,' he told her.

'Not like here… where it's brightly lit,' Angel muttered to himself. Cordelia stopped her peering and turned to look at him instead. 'And open - everyone can stare at you.' Cordelia shook her head at the vampire. 'It's a little exposed,' he finished, 'kinda public.'

Gunn chuckled, 'yeah, that public thing. It happens when you go where the people are.' He clapped his former boss on the arm, as the vampire stared around the restaurant, with a rabbit caught in the headlights expression on his face.

'Oh no - no. I-I I like the people,' Angel stammered, 'normal people, I wanna get out and be one of them. You know. Celebrate Cordy's good news.'

Doyle smiled proudly, and squeezed Cordelia's hand. 'Oh please,' she said, modestly, 'it's just a commercial.'

'Just a national commercial!' Wesley pointed out, 'For your second brand no less, here's to you.' He raised his wine glass, and the others clinked.

'Yeah,' Doyle said, 'show those 'Stain be Gone' jerks just what they're missin'! You want some wine?' he asked, noticing that she didn't toast.

'Doyle! You know I can't drink, I need to be up at 4:30 in the morning for the shoot. But please, everyone - continue with the praising and the toasting.'

'You're gonna knock 'em dead,' Gunn smiled at her, 'and make a ton of cash.'

'What he said,' Angel said, 'but - but don't leave us when you get famous.'

'Tch! As if I ever would! Besides, as long as me and Mr. Short, dark and vision having are an item...'

'Which is forever,' Doyle interrupted.

'Which is forever,' she agreed, 'then I'm always gonna be around - even if I'm a major movie star.' She took a sip of her water, and then returned to her starter. 'But I feel a little guilty,' she said, after a moment.

'Don't', Angel tried for reassuring - but his next words belied his tone. 'I mean - nineteen dollars for a - sashimi couscous appetiser is money well spent. How was it anyway? Pretty good? I mean, it ought to be pretty…'

'It's delicious,' Cordelia said, taking another bite, 'but that's not what I feel guilty about.'

'Oh,' he sounded disapproving, but then caught sight of the expressions on the other men's faces and realised that all their disapproval was aimed at him. 'I'm not cheap!' he told them, 'I'm just old.' He leaned back in his chair and looked reflective, 'I remember when a few bob got you a good meal, a bottle, and a tavern wench.' He caught sight of the men's faces again. They didn't look any less disapproving.

'Well let's just gloss over the part where Angel used to rent himself a human bein' for the evenin',' frowned Doyle, 'and get to the important stuff - did you just slip into an Irish brogue there, big guy?'

All the other team members laughed, and Angel looked around at them, 'what? I'm Irish.' He saw their disbelieving expressions, 'I am! I was born and raised in Galway - in Ireland.'

'Yeah - but you've lived in America since before my Grandfather came here,' Cordelia pointed out - 'way before...and I'm American. When was the last time you even went to Ireland?'

Angel mumbled something. 'What was that?' Cordelia badgered.

'I left Galway after I'd been sired,' he muttered, 'I haven't been back - I went to Dublin once ...in 1838.' The rest of the team laughed, uproariously.

'Listen, bud, I'd be considered a Plastic Paddy by now - and I've been gone less than ten years,' Doyle told him. 'Face it, man, you belong in the new world now. The old country has moved on without you.'

'And as a fellow escapee from the olde worlde,' Wesley said, raising his glass, 'I've got to say I like it here in the new - the weather doesn't suck.'

'Wesley did you just say suck?' Cordelia laughed with incredulity.

Wesley grinned, 'I thought I'd try out the local lingo,' he explained. Gunn and Doyle laughed along, and the three men clinked their glasses again: 'To the new world!' . Angel was still looking between them, unsure as to when exactly it was he'd lost his Irish nationality, and become a figure of fun amongst his former employees.

'So, Cordelia,' he said, trying to change the subject. 'You were saying something about feeling guilty?'

'Uhuh,' she nodded, 'I was. I just feel a little guilty leaving you guys in the middle of a case while I go off and film a commercial.'

But Wesley shrugged off her concern, 'We have it under control. Angel will get hold of his informant first thing in the morning.'

'And he…' Gunn stopped and then turned to Angel, 'wait - is it a 'he' or an 'it'?'

'Actually, both,'

'Well then he -slash - it points us to the big bloated thing in the little guy's vision.'

'Less o' the 'little' thanks, bud.'

'Haklar demon,' Wesley supplied the name of the monster that Doyle had seen. 'In fact, Angel's informant will lead us straight to the demon's feeding ground, where we manly men will kill it to death.' He put out his fist and Gunn bumped it with his own. A beat too late, Angel put up his own fist. The two men smiled and repeated the gesture with him.

Doyle chuckled to himself and shook his head, 'and then you,' he said to Cordelia, 'will return to the hotel, rich and famous, and treat all your favourite friends...and your much beloved boyfriend, to cocktails.'

'Is that right?' She sounded sceptical.

He nodded enthusiastically, and they both laughed. 'If you guys want more wine don't let me stop you,' she told the men, noticing empty glasses after the toasts.

'No more for me,' the vampire said, 'that imported stuff goes straight to your head.'

Choosing to Ignore Angel's frugality, Gunn ruminated on the upcoming battle, thinking tactics and weapons. 'You think we should get a flamethrower?' he asked.

'For the Haklar?' mused Wesley, 'I hadn't thought of that.'

'I mean, if you guys want to order another bottle….' Everyone ignored him.

'Flamethrower sounds good to me,' nodded Doyle.

But Gunn was already having second thoughts. 'If we wound up in a tight spot, we might end up burnin' each other.'

'That's true, hey - whatever happened to that dynamite plan we had when we took out that fire breathin' dragon in the sewers? Can we get a hold o' dynamite - at this hour?'

Gun shrugged. 'Wes is the boss - he'll make the call.'

Wesley nodded, turning the ideas over in his mind. He took a deep breath. 'A flamethrower is big and loud, might draw attention to ourselves...stealth being the better part of…' he trailed off and watched Angel get out of his seat and pounce on a woman who was walking past.

'Isn't this interesting?' he pronounced, grabbing hold of her pashmina. Everyone at the table looked at each other uneasily. The woman looked panicked, 'wh -what - my shawl?'

'No,' menaced Angel, his deepest scowl etched into his face, 'your Brahenian battle shroud - woven from the skin of dead children.'

'What is he doing?' asked Wesley, the others shook their heads, equally nonplussed and more than a little embarrassed.

'You think I don't know a Voltar witch when I see one?' the vampire demanded, the woman looked terrified. 'You don't think I can't see the markings of a …' he gripped the shawl and squinted at it, before trailing off…'it looks a little different close up,' he admitted, his voice taking on a tinge of doubt.

Cordelia appeared at his side. 'It's a beautiful shawl, ma'am,' she told the other woman, hoping to smooth over the whole humiliating incident. 'It's a beautiful, thousand dollar, Laura Mina original,' she gave a small laugh. 'My friend just loves beautiful things so much that he can't control himself - because he's -ah ..uhm - from France?'

Back at the table, Doyle smirked and looked down into his wine.

'We're so sorry,' Cordelia was saying, 'so sorry,' she gripped Angel tightly by the sleeve and began to drag him back towards the table. Angel looked at the woman, and adopted a french accent. 'Pardon,' he said to her, backing away. Doyle snorted into his wine glass.

'If we had a flamethrower, we could set the table on fire - draw a little more attention to ourselves,' Gunn said, as Cordelia and Angel sat back down. The street fighter was too embarrassed to be amused.

'I'm telling you!' protested the vampire, 'those markings - from a distance…'

Wesley clucked his tongue impatiently, 'let's just eat up and be on our way,' his voice was brisk, 'without any more…'

'Oh God,' Cordelia scrunched up her face.

'What is it?' Gunn had lost his embarrassment and was now concerned.

'Moo'

'Moo?' asked Wesley, 'there's a cow, now?'

'Move!' gasped Cordelia, 'I think the sashimi is coming up!' she doubled over, and the guys jumped out of their chairs, pushing them backwards to gain distance. Cordelia wretched and heaved; she gripped the table cloth and pulled it off, along with all the dishes, as she fell to the floor and was violently sick.

'They'll take that off the bill right?' asked Angel.

The car pulled up outside Cordy's apartment, and her and Doyle got out. The Irishman supported his girlfriend, as she staggered to the front door. She stumbled over the threshold, and he picked her up and carried her to the bed, where he took her shoes off and helped her out of her jacket. 'You done puking?' he asked her, 'I can get you into the bathroom, hold your hair back...'

'You're always so good to me when I'm vomity and gross,' she mumbled.

'I love you when you're vomity and gross,' he assured her.

'You're disgusting.'

'It's my curse.'

She rolled over and seemed to fall instantly asleep, if the snoring was anything to go by. Doyle smiled down at her, and then pulled the blankets up to cover her… it didn't seem worth trying to wrestle the unconscious woman out of her dress - if she was OK to fall asleep in it, it mustn't be too uncomfy - and he didn't want to risk tearing or damaging it. He set an alarm for 4:15 am and then hid it under his own pillow so it wouldn't wake Cordelia. He brushed his teeth, took off his pants and shirt, and got into bed beside her.

...

It only seemed like a couple of minutes had passed, when the alarm went off. He groaned, and made his way to kitchen, where he put on some coffee and made some toast. When it was ready, he returned to the bedroom, and awoke Cordelia. He handed her her breakfast, 'here y' go, darlin' - try to eat the toast - it''ll settle your stomach.'

She sat up and rubbed her eyes, her makeup was smeared all across her face and her hair stuck out in every direction. 'You made me breakfast?' she yawned, 'in bed? At 4: 30 in the morning?' she smiled a sleepy smile, 'you are the best boyfriend ever, you are, like - the King of boyfriends.'

'I try... now eat up, I'll get the shower heated up for you.'

...

Once she was changed out of her vomit stained evening wear, showered, teeth brushed and looking vaguely human again, she kissed Doyle goodbye and got into the cab that was taking her to the studio. He waved her off, and then shuffled back to bed for a few hours.

Wesley was in his office, talking on the phone, 'yes, mum. Yes, well - put him on… Right. You too. .. Hello father. Happy birthday. How are you...Good.' His father's voice buzzed in his ear, and little wrinkled frown lines began to appear on Wesley's forehead as he listened. 'No! It's going quite well actually...listen, I have news…' he began to smile, hoping that his next words would please the old man. 'I've been put in charge of our group - yes, as leader. No it's a permanent position. Well as permanent as these things can..' the smile faded, and the frown lines returned. 'No I certainly won't be fired- ah. Well, yes I was that one time, yes. Again. ..No, you're right, I see how...Yes, I'd forgotten, thank you. Yes. Ah, just recently - it's going quite well so far….No I think this time...I hope it will be different. No -no...you're right - I see how. I just thought you'd be...I just thought you'd want to know, that's all. Right. Well, again - Happy Birthday...OK.' He hung up, and looked down at his desk.

Gunn walked into the room, munching on a bag of chips. 'You talkin' to somebody?' he asked.

'My father,' Wesley replied, carefully not looking up. He closed the file that lay in front of him.

'English senior. How is he?'

'Well - it's his birthday.'

'Nice.'

Wesley continued to move things around on his desk, not looking up at the man in front of him. When he spoke his voice was brittle, but weary, 'he sends his love to everyone in tinsel town.'

Cordelia stood on the set, it was a fake beach with a fake palm tree and a fake sun shining down. She wanted to feel excited - she was filming another commercial after months of not working - she was back where she belonged!...but instead she just felt queasy, and like she wanted to lie down.

The director approached, and she forced her brightest smile. 'Hi!' she greeted him, 'I just wanted to say thanks for casting me.'

'No problem,' he replied, looking at his watch, not really paying any attention to her, 'lose the robe.'

She glanced down at the thick, white, terrycloth robe she had on over her costume, 'what?'

'You heard me - the robe lose it.'

She sighed, and then shrugged it off and stood in front of the director, feeling embarrassed. She wore nothing but the tiniest two piece swimsuit; green and covered in shells. She felt like every bit of her was out on show - it practically was. And now the director was scrutinising her like she was a cut of beef in a butcher's shop - and he didn't look impressed with what he was seeing. She felt herself begin to die inside - it had never been like this back on 'Stain Be Gone,'

'Turn around,' the director said, and she did, slowly - feeling his eyes on her the whole time. 'Well there's nothing wrong there,' he assessed. She felt relieved, and then furious with herself that she was pleased she had passed muster with this creep. 'Okay, turn,' she turned back and he peered at her face. 'When does she go to makeup?' he asked his assistant, who started looking in his notebook.

'I've already been to makeup,' Cordelia told him, her voice laced with uncertainty.

'Really?' he turned to his assistant, 'then take her back. Tell David to get rid of those circles under her eyes. She looks like a refugee from an abused women's shelter.' He laughed at his own wisecrack.

'I had food poisoning,' she tried to explain.

The director snorted, 'yeah right, good one, like you eat.' He turned back to his assistant, 'tell David I'm supposed to wanna sleep with this woman. I don't. Do you? Of course you don't.'

Cordelia glanced down at her bare feet and bit her lip, trying to block out the humiliation. She slipped her robe back on, and the assistant took her by the elbow and dragged her back off to makeup.

Gunn and Doyle sat on the Round sofa in the lobby, watching Wesley pace up and down. 'Y' said he was talking to his Da'?' Doyle asked.

'English senior - that's what he told me.'

'And now he's like this?'

Gunn shrugged. 'I guess it was a rough convo. Maybe I should distract him? Hey Wesley?' He raised his voice to get the attention of the pacing man. Wesley came to a stop and looked at him. 'I was wonderin' about this Heckler demon we're supposed to kill…'

'Haklar' Wesley corrected, 'two A's.'

'I was wonderin' about this Haklar demon we're supposed to kill. Give us the specs. What do we need to know?'

Wesley launched into a lecture on the demon, sounding rather like he had swallowed a textbook. 'The Haklar demon, descended from the Klensan order demons, can weigh as much as three tons as an adult male. It awakes from hibernation during alternating full moons only to feed and mate - often simultaneously…'

'D'y' think it's the demon in me that makes that sound like a really good life plan?' asked Doyle.

Gunn smirked in response, but Wesley continued as if there had been no interruption. 'Incapable of traditional speech, the Haklar have developed a form of communication that involves a series of carefully timed facial tics, not unlike our own Morse code. The Haklar prefers a warm, moist clime where it can…'

'Uh Wesley?' Cut in Gunn, 'I meant how do we go about killing it?'

'Oh... your standard slice and dice ought to do it.'

The door opened and George and Rondell, two members from Gunn's old street gang, walked in. Gunn got up to greet them. 'Hey, what y'all doin' here.'

'We got a situation.'

The street fighter turned back to his friends, 'Doyle - this is George and Rondell - they helped out with those crazy ass zombie cops, remember those?'

Doyle nodded, and raised a hand to the two men. 'And, Wes, you remember my boys?' Gunn turned to the British man.

Wesley smiled and shook their hands, 'Certainly, I never got the chance to thank you both properly. I think it's fair to say I owe you men my life.'

'It's cool,' George told him, 'the only reason you got shot is 'cause you had our backs.'

'How you feelin'?' asked Rondell.

'Better,' Wesley assured them.

'So,' Gunn spoke to his old gang once more, 'what brings you here?'

The guys had a situation - a group of vampires had set up base in McKenzie park and were making meals out of the homeless people that slept there.

'Sounds like what you need to do is set a trap,' Gunn said.

'Trap's already set - we know the drill. Everything's in motion.'

'Then you'll be needing me to..'

'Lend us your truck,' George interrupted his former leader. Gunn looked surprised, and glanced over his shoulder at his new friends. Doyle looked down at his shoes, and pretended he couldn't hear what was going on. 'You want my ride?' Gunn asked, the surprise evident in his voice.

'It's still tricked out for dustin' aint it?'

'Well, yeah., but…'

'We want to go in with everythin' we got.'

Gunn glanced at his new friends again, Doyle still looked studiously at his shoes. 'Count me in,' the street fighter told his old friends.

'What about the Haklar?' Wesley protested.

'Angel gets a lock on its crib - page me.'

Angel walked into the lobby from the basement, 'Hey, Doyle - the Haklar you saw? Did it eat the whole victim, or just its liver?'

The Irishman finally looked up from his shoes, 'what?'

'Funny story - Haklars apparently have different feeding grounds depending on what they eat - so the one you saw, whole body or just the liver?'

George and Rondell exchanged a glance, and then looked at Gunn. The street fighter stood between the two groups, torn.

'Uh - whole body, yeah - definitely the whole thing,' Doyle said.

Angel nodded, 'I figured as much, then it's living on North Shore off Lake Hollywood. We better hurry. They've got a 5K race starting there in half an hour.'

Wesley looked over at Gunn, his expression was a little apologetic, 'consider yourself paged,' he said.

Gunn looked back at his old friends, 'I gotta take care of this,' he told them, 'wait for me, though. I'm through, I hook up with you guys back at base camp and we head out together.'

'Yeah, whatever, G,' said Rondell, he looked at George, 'let's roll.' And the two of them walked out of the hotel without a backwards glance.

Gunn stared after them. Wesley walked up behind him and clapped on the shoulder, 'we need to go,' he said, gently.

The Host was up on stage, singing 'Superstition'. He danced along to the music, and the clientele jammed along with him… the night was cooking, and it was only just the start. The air behind him began to shimmer, and distort, but the Host was oblivious and continued to sing. As the disturbance condensed into a swirling portal, the Host finally noticed and turned to stare. A grey skinned monster jumped out of the portal and onto the stage…

Chapter 74: Belonging: Part Two

Chapter Text

The Host stared, as the grey monster jumped off the stage and smashed into the table beneath, breaking the glasses that stood on it. The beast threw some of the patrons to one side, before spotting the exit and bounding up the stairs. 'It's alright,' the Host said, looking up the stairway after the vanished creature, 'everything's fine.' He licked his lips, betraying his nerves, 'Nothing to worry about...it's all part of the show.'

Cordy knelt on the fake beach, alongside another young woman in an equally small bikini. A muscular man, in a pair of swimming shorts, lay on his stomach in between them - and Cordelia was rubbing suntan lotion onto his back. 'Goes on smooth, like a lover's kiss,' she said in her most seductive voice, looking down the camera even as she rubbed the half naked stranger, 'it's the only suntan lotion good enough for our man.'

'Cut! Cut!', yelled the director, getting out of his chair and stomping up to the set. He looked down at Cordelia, irritated and impatient. 'You're in his light.'

It was Cordelia's turn to look annoyed, 'still?'

'I told you twice - you have to bend over more.'

'If I bend over more I'll fall out of my top,' she protested. The bikini top she wore was far too small to allow for much movement, or any angle other than upright. She was uncomfortable in it, and becoming increasingly afraid of accidentally exposing herself to all the men that were working in the studio. And the place did seem to be teeming with men; the director and his assistant, the teamsters, the cameramen, lighting guys, sound guys, suited executives that worked for the suncream company - even the makeup and catering people were men. It was just Cordelia, and this other woman, and a string bikini a piece protecting their modesty from all these leering eyes.

But the director didn't seem to care one iota for her discomfort, 'You bend over, we get the money shot, and you're out of his light. See? everyone wins.'

Cordy adjusted her top, trying to make it provide more support and coverage. She was on a hiding to nothing with that though, so she gestured towards the light. 'Isn't there something we could do…'

'I didn't hire you to play Ophelia,' the director sneered, 'show the cleavage, say the line. You got it?'

Cordelia closed her eyes for a moment, and took a deep breath, 'I got it.' The director left, and the young woman glanced downwards, not wanting to meet anybody's eyes. Soon enough the cameras started rolling, and Cordy leaned forwards.

Wesley, Angel and Doyle all trooped through the courtyard, headed for the lobby. 'How's your leg?' Angel asked the half demon.

Doyle winced, 'I'll live.'

'What about you?' he asked Wesley.

The British man was dabbing at his forehead with a handkerchief. He removed the material to expose the cut, 'has it…?'

'Stopped bleeding? Yeah.'

They all pulled up short as they walked through the door and saw Cordelia sat on the sofa, her head in her hands. A moment later, Doyle was at her side. He sat beside her, and reached up gently to stroke her hair. 'Cordy? What's wrong… are you still sick?' She shook her head without looking up, Doyle turned and glanced at the other two men, worried. They shrugged at him - not having any idea what the problem was. 'Then what is it?' Her boyfriend asked her, keeping his voice soft.

She shook her head again, and rubbed her eyes. Angel had a suspicion that she was rubbing away tears. 'I just had a crappy day,' she admitted.

'On set?'

She nodded this time, her short hair bouncing, falling across her face like a curtain as she kept her head slightly turned from Doyle, so he couldn't read her expression. 'It wasn't like on 'Stain Be Gone' at all, it was...I just wanted to act.' she said quietly, 'I just wanted them to like me because I was good.'

'You are good,' Doyle assured her, 'you were great in all your other commercials - you got - real star quality.'

She sniffed, and wiped her nose on the back of her hand, 'well, I don't think the director was interested in my star quality,' she told him, 'he was only interested in how much cleavage I could flash at the camera.'

Doyle glanced back at Angel and Wes again, the pair of them still stood in the doorway, looking awkward.

'I just thought I wanted to be an actress,' she said, 'to do something with my life ...other than - this,' she gestured at the hotel lobby. 'I thought maybe I could be a part of the normal world, and have a normal job… but the kind of job people would be jealous of.'

Doyle smiled, Cordelia did love people to envy her - but at least she was upfront about it. 'And with my last commercials,' she was saying, 'I thought I was getting somewhere - people recognised me on the street sometimes! And everyone back in Sunnydale could see that I'd gone to L.A and I was successful - I was living the dream...some dream. I don't wanna know what they'll think when they see this next commercial.'

'I'm sure they'll think you're great - even if the advert sucks,' Doyle told her, 'and look on the bright side - y' got paid didn't y'? Y' made a whole load of extra money that you can spend on whatever you want.'

But instead of smiling, she flinched at his words, 'maybe some things just aren't worth the money?' she asked.

'Ah - that doesn't sound like you at all,' he nudged her.

But she still didn't smile. 'You'll understand when you see the commercial,' she told him, her voice still low - and defeated. 'And the way I let the director talk to me? He spoke to me like I was nothing - not even a person, just some little slave there to do his bidding - and I took it! I did what he said. I take crap from no one - you know that,'

'I surely do,'

'I don't take orders from anyone… but I let him boss me around, like he was the king and I was just some chippie… And the nothing that he had me wearing?' she shuddered, 'it made me feel really low, letting him treat me that way, you know? Like, it was bad enough he didn't respect me, but I didn't even respect myself enough to stand up to him...I just feel so stupid.'

Doyle wrapped his arm around her, 'well...if you're really this down about it, then you have to make a decision.' He kept his voice even, trying to make it clear, with his tone, that he was supporting her - not telling her what to do. 'You can keep accepting whatever work comes your way, doin' whatever they ask - no matter how it makes you feel - chasin' success. Or you can be more selective, like. Turn down things you don't wanna do, but accept that might mean you never become a big star.' He kissed her on the temple, 'whatever you decide, you'll always have a place here, with us. We don't want you to go anywhere.'

She nodded, and finally smiled.

'You feelin' better?' he asked her.

She nodded again, 'yeah.'

He squeezed her tight. 'Good, 'cause Wesley might need his head checkin' over. And I don't wanna worry y', but my leg may never be the same again.'

'Let me see?' She pushed his trouser leg up, and surveyed the wound, 'you've been hurt in more serious places,' she told him, 'remember the vartite monster last summer?'

He winced at the memory: 'yeah, that was bad.'

'And you wouldn't even let me check out the damage', she reminded him, 'you just left it to heal on its own!'

'Well we weren't datin' then - it would have been inappropriate! You lookin' at ...stuff''

She actually laughed then, and got up to go get her first aid kit. Doyle smiled to himself, as he watched her go, pleased that he had been able to cheer her up - even if it was only by distracting her with his injuries.

Over near the door, Angel observed them both; thinking about how Doyle had managed to talk Cordelia into smiling, how he had made her feel better - just like she did for him, when he'd had a particularly painful or distressing vision. They always seemed to know just how to make the other feel better - as if they were two halves of the same whole - and so could make the other feel complete just by being there with them. The vampire sighed to himself, he could never have that …

Cordelia returned to the sofa with her medical kit, took out an antibacterial wipe and began cleaning up Doyle's leg. He gasped as it stung him, 'don't be such a baby,' she said, smiling at him. Then she wrapped a bandage around the cut and stuck it in place. 'That should be fine,' she told him, 'you want some painkillers?' He shook his head, and she waved the other two over so she could check them. 'I thought Gunn was with you?' she asked, frowning, as she noticed the final member of their little team was missing.

'He was,' Wesley said, sitting down on the sofa so she could check his head. 'After the fight he had to go home to take care of some vampire business.'

'And how was the fight?' she queried looking around at them, 'injuries aside - big and fighty?'

'I lost my axe,' Doyle told her, 'I buried it into the Haklar's...I'm not sure where - and I couldn't get it back out again.'

'We did manage to kill it, though,' Wesley said cheerfully, 'right before it managed to devour some power walkers.'

'Horrible,' Angel shuddered at the memory.

'I know,' Cordy said, sticking a bandaid on Wesley's forehead, 'I sketched it from Doyle's vague, rambling description, remember? So Wes could identify it.'

'Hey - it was big and bloaty - and there wasn't much else to say about it!' Doyle defended his descriptive skills, 'like Angel said - it was horrible.'

'No,' contradicted the vampire, 'not the Haklar. The power walkers. I mean - what's the point?' He looked at his friends as if expecting them to be able to explain it, 'why not just jog for a shorter time? Besides one of them hit him.' He nodded at Wesley.

'The power walkers did this to you?' Cordelia had naturally assumed all injuries were Haklar inflicted.

'She felt that I disrespected the Haklar's culture by killing it,' the watcher informed her.

Cordelia shook her head, 'some people are just cranks,' she muttered, 'this town sucks!'

Just then, the front door opened, and everyone turned to look. It was the Host - looking more harried than usual. 'Am I happy to see you!' he said to Angel, 'you're still a knight for hire, right? Well I'm hiring. I need you to kill something. I suppose you want the particulars, so here they are: it's called a Drokken.' He spoke without pausing for breath, and when he finished there was a moments silence as everyone digested his lengthy pronouncement. Angel looked confused. He didn't understand what had got the Host so wound up - he remembered the last time the green demon had come to him for help, over the end of the world no less, and the long meandering tale he had told. Angel had found it difficult to get the chatty psychic to stay on topic and tell him what the problem was. Now here he was - straight to the point and sending them out to kill.

'Drokken?' asked Wesley, he wrinkled his forehead as he tried to place the word. He didn't think he'd ever heard of one, not even in all his long years at the watcher's academy.

'You won't find it in any of your books,' the Host told him, 'it's not from any world you've ever heard of.'

Angel folded his arms, he wanted more details before he went out and killed the monster that had the Host acting so jumpy. 'So how did it get here?'

'Portal. Right in the middle of my Stevie Wonder tune. Threw me off - and you know how I hate to disappoint an audience.'

Doyle and Cordelia smiled at each other, amused that the Host's main concern when a monster bounded into his club was how it had affected his performance.

'But I digress,' the Host remembered his purpose and forced the train of his thoughts back onto the tracks, 'What's important is that you kill this Drokken. And this part I can't stress enough,' he leaned forward and his tone became more forceful, 'kill it you must.'

'Where is it?' the vampire wanted to know.

'I've no idea. But I imagine it's getting pretty hungry by now.'

The two men walked down the street. The Drokken tracked them, sniffing the air and following their scent. Gradually, the men became aware that they were no longer alone, that something followed them through the night. By the time they heard the beast's low growling, it was too late. The Drokken pounced, knocking them both to the ground and tearing into their flesh; ripping and guzzling, and lapping up the blood.

...

A woman walked towards her car. She used her keys to unlock it from a distance, there was a clicking sound and the headlights flashed. She looked up when she heard a noise, and saw the Drokken barring her path. His mouth was still smeared with the blood of the men he had already eaten. The woman dropped her keys and ran.

'That's all you've got for us?' Angel asked the Host. The green demon looked annoyed, he felt he had given quite enough information, and been perfectly clear on what needed doing. But Wesley was inclined to agree with the vampire. 'What is it doing here? What does it want? What is it capable of?'

'Who cares?' The Host looked around at the team like they were insane, 'it trashed my club, my clientele.'

Angel looked confused, 'I thought violence wasn't possible in Caritas? Isn't it supposed to be a sanctuary?'

'That's the way you always told it,' Doyle agreed, looking at the Host. 'Ah - that wouldn't all be just a big fib now would it?'

'Caritas is blessed by the furies every month,' the Host said, sounding snippy, 'It is a sanctuary - no demon violence whatsoever...I never said the Drokken killed anyone - It knocked over a couple of regulars...there were some nasty glances, I sensed some bad intentions.'

Cordelia giggled, 'oh, heavens forfend!'

'Look,' The Host told them all, impatiently, 'It's not a nice fellow. Bad bad beast. Did I mention the teeth?'

'You mentioned the teeth,' Angel and Doyle chorused in unison. Neither man seemed to be particularly concerned by this new threat - and the Host could sense that the team was not bringing its A game to his problem. And they didn't understand - they would need their A game to face off against a Drokken. 'Look, are you gonna help me? Or do I need to break out my champion rolodex?' he asked.

Angel relented. 'Okay, we can start at Caritas. Do a circular search, say one mile in diameter, keep moving out and hope we get lucky, huh?'

Doyle cleared his throat and looked uncomfortable, but Cordelia spoke up. 'Uh - Angel?' The vampire looked across at her, and she raised her eyebrows and tilted her head towards Wesley.

He immediately unfolded his arms and took a step back, allowing Wesley space to lead to the situation. 'Sorry, Wes. I didn't mean to step on your toes.'

'That's quite alright.'

'Wesley is kind of our new leader, now,' Cordelia explained to the Host.

The green demon smiled, broadly, 'Well it's been a long time coming. Congrats.' He looked over to where Angel stood, trying to look unobtrusive. 'And kudos to you. Nice choice of conductor to lead your symphony.' He turned back to Wesley, 'so what do we do now?'

Wesley stood up, and cleared his throat, 'well - ah...Angel's right. Barring more promising leads, a circular search pattern for the beast seems best.'

'I like it.'

Doyle suddenly felt his head twinge. He brought his hand up to his brow and groaned. 'I think the big guys have other ideas,' he gasped out, before the vision pain crashed into his skull in waves, and the force of the images knocked him back against the sofa.

Cordelia patted his leg whilst he twitched beside her, 'I hope it's not too freaky, this time,' she said to the others, 'the gross ones always take a lot out of him.'

The pain subsided, and Doyle sat back up, rubbing his forehead, 'ow - this is not gettin' any easier,' he complained.

'Are you OK?' Cordelia asked him, 'you need anything?'

He shook his head, 'I'm fine...it wasn't - it wasn't as bad as some of them are. It was just the regular, mind splittin' skull crackin' pain to deal with this time - nothin' too awful in the vision.'

'Well - what did you see?' Angel asked.

'It was a girl,' Doyle told him, still rubbing his head. 'Pretty, little thing she was too. She was at the public library - I'm pretty sure she worked there. She was readin' a book and then -' he shrugged, 'she wasn't.'

'She wasn't reading the book?' Angel asked, his brow lowered in confusion.

'She wasn't in the library,' Doyle told him.

'As scary as that sounds,' the Host said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, 'crazed, rabid Drokken on the loose here? Kind of in first position.'

But Doyle wasn't listening. 'I've heard of this sort o' stuff happenin' - but I never saw it before. It just opened up right behind her and then sucked her in. Poor kid.'

'What opened up?' Cordelia asked him.

'A portal,' he replied. 'God knows where it took her - or if she's still… maybe it hasn't happened yet - we can save her.'

'A portal?' Angel asked, his voice was heavy with significance.

Wesley got it too. 'Like the one from which this Drokken beast materialised in Caritas?'

'We - we don't know that for a fact.' The Host protested.

Doyle gave him a look, 'well it's a hell of a coincidence that the higher powers sent me that vision just as you come in here telling us there's a portal behind your karaoke machine,' he pointed out. 'And I don't believe in coincidences - especially when it comes to mind wrenching, brain numbing pain taking control of my nervous system and killin' off my brain cells.'

'This is our connection,' Wesley agreed. He checked his watch, 'we'd better get to the library - they'll be closing soon.'

He and Angel walked out, and Cordelia helped Doyle get to his feet and wrapped her arm around him as they made their way to the front door. 'You sure you're OK?' she asked. He nodded, and then looked at the Host, 'you comin'?'

'Right - how fortunate, the powers that be taking an interest in my... I mean in the problem I brought to your ...Ah it's really quite a break..'

'Hurry up if you're comin',' The half demon called back, over his shoulder. The Host stood and watched the team leave, for a moment, before he sighed - and followed on.

Gunn arrived at the base camp after it had already grown dark. Killing the Haklar had taken longer than he had expected, but he was here now...but the building was quiet - completely still, though the glow of lights told him it wasn't deserted. The silence unnerved him, and he was relieved when he found a lookout, standing guard over the entrance. 'Junior, where is everybody?' he asked. But Junior turned his head from him, not answering - not even looking at his former leader. And Gunn felt something very like dread grip his heart. He knew something was wrong, and he slowly made his way into the building, afraid of what he might find.

He found everyone in one room. But despite the crowding, the place was still blanketed by that same deathly hush. Everyone was looking towards the middle of the space, and the street fighter shouldered his way through. Realising who was amongst them, the crowd parted to let him through - and then Gunn saw it…

George was laid out on a pallet, resting on the floor. Rondell was crouched over him, his head bowed low. Gunn crouched down beside his friend, and looked at the body of his fallen comrade. 'What…?' he began to ask, though he knew the answer.

Rondell reached out and turned George's head, displaying two deep bite marks just underneath his ear. Gunn swallowed and closed his eyes for a moment, as he felt the enormity of their loss crash over him. It was like last year… with Alonna...another soldier down, because he, Gunn, hadn't protected them. He took a deep breath and opened his eyes again. He looked at Rondell and asked the question that needed asking, though God, how he feared the answer. 'Did they make him drink?'

'We don't know.'

Gunn remembered last year… all alone in the vampire nest, just him and Alonna.

'Say goodbye to everything you ever knew,'

'Goodbye,'

He remembered the raw grief, the aching loss - and he felt it again. And he saw it etched into the faces of all the old crew. He thought about how it had felt, to plunge that stake into Alonna's heart, to watch her vampiric features melt away, leaving the face of his beloved little sister - her startled expression as she realised her big brother had killed her. And then she exploded in a cloud of dust, and scattered to the floor. His sister.

He couldn't do that again. And he couldn't ask any of the crew to do it either - there were just some things that a man shouldn't have to do - shouldn't have to bear. They would have to make sure that - whatever the vamps had done to him - George did not rise again. He owed that to George. He owed it to Rondell. He owed it to the others.

He closed his eyes, and turned his face away, as he realised what they would have to do.

The five of them walked into the public library, the Host lagging along at the back. 'Call me crazy, but I'm getting the weirdest sense of deja vu here,' he said to Angel. 'How come every time you and me hit the big city, we end up in a library? Snoresville. What say next time we do something fun?'

'Like what?'

'Elton's in town next month. What do you say - you and me - back row seats?'

'I don't do big and crowded,' the vampire pointed out.

'Mr. Elton John hits the first few keys of 'yellow brick road', I defy you not to feel like the only other person in the room,' The Host told him.

Doyle and Cordy laughed as they heard this, 'I'm having trouble imagining Angel at an Elton John Concert,' Doyle said, though he screwed his face up trying to visualise it. 'I think Elton might be a bit too flamboyant for Mr. black on black.'

'It's not like I wanted to take him to see Liberace!' the green demon protested.

'Hey! I saw Liberace play - back in the day,' Angel told them. He scowled at Cordelia when she giggled, 'and I wasn't even evil then. I used to go to gigs. Hang.'

Cordelia snorted.

They rounded a corner and came face to face with one of the librarians. Her face took on a look of frozen shock when she saw the garden hue of the Host's skin. 'Hi. How are you?' he said, turning on the charm, trying to cover the awkwardness.

Her face relaxed as her brain found an explanation. 'You're - you're here for the children's reading program!' she smiled at him.

He smiled back, 'yes I am.' Humans always found a way to explain the unexplainable. And anything that resolutely refused to make sense they just forgot. They were so predictable that way - the whole species.

'It's not until tomorrow morning,' she told him, her smile fading as she spotted the flaw in her own explanation.

But the Host was quick to reassure her. 'Yes, I know. I never perform without checking the space first - get a feel for the room.'

'Oh.' She looked him up and down. 'The kids are gonna flip over your costume. It's so authentic looking...except for the horns. But I suppose they're difficult to fake.'

He leaned in and smiled conspiratorily, 'you have no idea.' She smiled back, and then directed him to the children's reading room. He walked off, leaving the others stood amongst the stacks, wondering what exactly had happened.

'If you're planning on checking anything out, you've got about five minutes,' the librarian told the others.

'Actually - we were looking for someone who works here,' Cordelia told her, 'a woman?'

'Oh, who's that?'

They all looked at Doyle, and he began to describe the woman he had seen in his vision, 'um she's tall - her hair is long...and...brown. She had glasses. Young. Pretty.'

The librarian shook her head, 'sorry.' The team all looked at Doyle, expectantly, wanting him to give more information that would help them identify this mystery woman.

He shrugged, 'y' sure that doesn't match anyone who works here…'cause I'm sure…'

The woman smiled, 'I'm sad to say we don't have anyone who could be classed as 'young' working here,' she gave a small laugh, 'I'm afraid those days are long behind me. We used to employ grad students part time, but we haven't ever since…' she trailed off and her smile faded off her face.

'Ever since when?' Wesley pressed her.

'Well - now that you mention it. That description? It does sound a bit like Fred.'

'Fred?' Asked Angel. That name didn't really fit Doyle's description.

'Winifred,' the librarian explained, 'everyone called her Fred.'

'Where can we find her?'

The woman just stared at them.

...

She took them over to the counter, and pulled out a folded up flyer - it was old, and clearly had been shoved away a long time ago, and not looked at since. She handed the picture to Cordelia, who glanced at it and then handed it across to Doyle. He looked down at the face of the woman from his vision. 'Fred disappeared five years ago,' the woman told them, 'they never found her. Police said if she didn't turn up in the first week…. Well, we all stopped hoping a while ago.'

'This is her,' Doyle said softly, frowning as he looked at the image of the vanished girl. Five years - that was so long ago. Back when he'd only just found out about his demon half and Harri had left him, and he was stealing cars. Back when Cordelia was only just starting out in the good fight, and Angel was still dating high school girls. Why would The Powers send him a vision of a girl who had been taken from this world five years ago - what could he do to help her now?

He sighed very deeply. He hated the ones when he knew he was too late to do anything - like that very first vision, with the clan of Brachen demons - or the time Bethany Chaulk had been attacked in the alley - or the time Joseph Kramer stabbed himself in the eye. Those visions - all the pain, and no chance of making a difference - was when Doyle remembered, more clearly than ever, that these visions were a punishment. That The Powers were making him pay for what he had done - that they actually wanted him to suffer. He wanted rid of them, so badly. He wanted his atonement done - and all the bad things in his head; the sights, the sounds, the feelings, all gone. He'd do almost anything to get rid of them.

Wesley took the picture off him, noting how the half demon had gone very still, as he looked at the woman he was too late to save. He held the flyer out to the librarian, 'Can you tell us anything about her?' he asked.

'She worked in the library with me. She was studying to be a physicist.'

'The day she disappeared…?'

'Oh it was creepy. One minute she was cataloguing in the foreign language section - and the next she was gone.'

...

The team moved over to the foreign language section, Doyle glanced around and then nodded. 'This is where she was - in my vision. The portal opened right over there.' He pointed, and the others moved off to search the book shelves for the book Doyle had seen her reading.

The Host found them combing the bookshelves. 'The children's reading room,' he said, 'to die for! I've half a mind to come here tomorrow and bring Harry Potter.'

'If you don't mind - we're working here!' Angel said, over his shoulder. He sounded irritated. 'You know that thing you wanted us to work on?'

'What happened to that circular search pattern idea?' The Host asked. 'I liked that, any chance of going back to that?'

Doyle scanned the shelves. One of the books just seemed to jump straight out at him. He pulled it off the shelf and looked at the cover, 'Hey guys - I think this is it! This is the book that that girl - Fred - was holdin' in my vision.'

They all gathered round him, and he opened the front cover, revealing the fly page. 'SCQGRWN,' Wesley read out, over Doyle's shoulder. 'What kind of language is that?'

The Host eyed the book warily, and began to back off - but the others didn't notice.

'I don't think it's any human language,' the Irishman said, 'though I'm no great shakes myself. I only speak English, bad English, and a few swear words in Irish...didn't pass my Leaver's cert on that. Oh..I know a couple of French swear words too ..and 'schweinehund'.'

'What's that mean?' Cordelia asked.

'Pig dog - it's a German insult.'

'I like it.'

'It isn't any demon language I recognise, either,' said Wesley, frowning. 'And I am familiar with a fair few of them, watcher's academy and all.' The Host backed off even further.

'Well - not surprisingly, nobody checks out the unreadable book,' Cordelia pointed out, 'look it was last checked out May 6th 1996, and returned May 7th 1996.'

Angel checked the date on the missing persons flyer. 'That's the day she disappeared,' he said.

'So what - she was puttin' it back on the shelf after someone returned it, decided to have a look at it and then - poof - vanished?'

Cordelia flicked over to the next page, she stared at the jumble of consonants staring right back at her, and began to laugh. 'Crvdr pff lr ploos pls,' she read aloud. Behind her, the Host raised a finger, as if to stop her, but then remained quiet.

'Voz strp umpt pls plrtsz in uft frm pltz… yeah, Pat, I'd like to buy a vowel.'

As she finished reading, the air began to shimmer and distort around her. The wind whipped up and white lights began to flash. The Host began to scream. Angel grabbed hold of Cordelia and forced her away from the swirling air, as it condensed into a vortex. He shielded her with his body making sure that she didn't fall through. Behind him, Doyle wrapped his arms around his girlfriend and held onto her, dragging her back a couple of steps so they were both further away from the whirling disturbance. The Host stood still, staring into the portal - screaming out one, long note.

Chapter 75: Belonging: Part Three

Chapter Text

The team cowered from the swirling onslaught, as the white light flashed and the air rippled around them. The Host's scream was joined by another; as out of the portal crashed a large, muscular, green skinned demon, with red eyes and horns. He flew headfirst out of the whirling vortex and fell to the ground, where he immediately rolled to his feet and drew his sword. Doyle pulled Cordelia further away, and Angel launched himself at the new arrival. Behind them, the portal closed up - and the air became still - as if nothing had happened. Except there was now a rampaging warrior demon in their midst.

It swung its sword, and Angel ducked the blow and threw a punch. Then he kicked it in the gut, the demon doubled over and the vampire was able to knock its sword from its hands. He grabbed hold of the demon, and pushed it against the stacks - keeping it pinned there...and it was at this point that the others noticed that the new demon was the exact same shade of green as the Host - and that his horns were the same size and shape. He looked just like the Host, in fact, except he was dressed up like a viking instead of a lounge lizard.

'Landok?' The Host said, his voice incredulous, 'is that you?'

Angel, who was about to punch the demon once more, pulled his fist back and glanced over his shoulder, 'You know him?'

Wesley, Doyle and Cordelia all exchanged a look, and then turned to the Host - waiting to see what was going on. The psychic demon shrugged, 'Yeah. But just because I know his name doesn't mean you can't knock him unconscious,' he made an encouraging gesture with his arm. 'Please continue.'

The viking demon was staring at the Host, his expression clearly showing that he did not quite believe his eyes, 'Krevlornswath of the Deathwok clan, can it really be you?'

The team all looked back at the Host, again. 'It's clearly rabid,' the Host told them, he looked at Angel, 'do your thing.'

But Angel wanted to find out more. 'Krevlornswath?'

'Of the Deathwok clan?' Asked Cordelia.

'That's even more of a mouthful than Allen Francis Doyle...or Wesley Wyndam Pryce,' the Irishman noted.

'Er - ah.. That's why I generally prefer 'Lorne',' the Host admitted, looking embarrassed. 'Though I don't tend to go by that name here because..'

He pointed to his face, and Angel began to chuckle, 'right.' The others looked at the two of them with completely blank expressions, whatever the joke was, it was clearly going over their heads.

'I think I'm missin' somethin'?' Doyle said.

'Lorne Green,' Angel told him - as if that cleared everything up. Cordy, Wes and Doyle shook their heads. 'Bonanza?' the vampire spelled it out for them, his tone making it clear that they were missing something obvious - that the joke was staring them in the face and they were being a little bit dim not getting it. But they continued to look nonplussed. 'Fifteen years on the air not mean anything to anyone here?' They all continued to stare at him - their faces devoid of understanding. He put his hands in his pockets and looked down at his shoes, sadly, 'OK - now I feel old.'

The viking demon - Landok - ignored the human conversation and addressed only the other green skinned demon. 'What is this place?'

'It's called Los Angeles,' the Host - Lorne - told him, 'and this isn't exactly one of the hot spots.'

'Is it a prison?' Landok suddenly raised his sword, and his voice became fierce and angry, 'are these your captors?'

Lorne swatted his arm down, 'woah, big fella - put the sharp metal down. These are my friends; Angel, Doyle, Cordelia and Wesley… everyone, this is Landok.'

The green warrior put his sword down, so that the tip touched the floor. He held it's hilt in both hands and gave them a slight bow: 'Landokmar of the Deathwok clan.'

'There's that Deathwok clan thing again,' Cordelia noted. She looked between the two demons, 'does that mean you two are…?'

'Yeah,' Lorne sighed, 'cousins.'

Finally believing that he was in no immediate danger, that his kinsman was not held prisoner, and that there was nothing that need killing right this instant; Landok sheathed his sword, and then addressed his cousin once more. 'Your vanishing was a great mystery to our clan.' His words were formal, and his tone was stilted - the way he spoke was much more traditional and archaic sounding than the way the Host spoke - whose tone was always full of the wit, banter and sarcasm of a native,big city boy.

Everyone turned to look at their anagogic friend, this was the first they had ever heard of any mysterious vanishing on the Host's part. As a loud, green demon, in a loud, yellow suit, it seemed impossible that he could vanish anywhere. He tended to stand out in a crowd. He shrugged sheepishly, and then tried to gloss over the whole thing. 'Long story, boring ending. Really - it wouldn't interest you at all.'

'It was hoped that you had sought atonement by forfeiting your life in the sacrificial canyons of Trelinsk.'

Lorne paused for a moment as he digested this, his expression was frozen. He decided it was time to bail out of this conversation and get rid of his clansman. 'Well, it's been fun,' he said brightly, trying to cover for the way having Landok here, in L.A, made him feel. It was an uncomfortable feeling, like he was useless - a crushing disappointment. He hadn't felt that way in years, and he didn't intend to get reacquainted with the emotions home brought up. 'We have to skedaddle,' he told his cousin, 'You'll be just fine. New people come to L.A all the time and manage to find their way around.'

But Landok still had questions, and was not about to let his kinsmen disappear again without finding out more. 'Were you abducted into this world as I was?' he asked.

Lorne looked uncomfortable, and then nodded. 'I came through a portal, yeah.' The others all looked surprised. Doyle whistled. They had never realised before that the Host was not a demon born and bred in their own world - that their friend came from another place entirely, a different dimension - was news to them all.

'Then we will find a path back to our home, Krevlornswath of the Deathwok clan. We shall return together.'

'Naha, I don't know about you - but my ticket was strictly one way.' If any one person was born to live in L.A, it was the Host. That he managed to stumble across this place, fallen through a gap between the walls that held the worlds apart, was nigh on miraculous. For him, there was no going back. Home was not where he had started, it was where he had ended up.

Landok was aghast at his cousin's selfishness in refusing to return where he belonged. 'You will not return home to remove the shame that you have visited upon your life giver?'

'Is anyone else getting peckish?' Lorne laughed awkwardly, and looked at his friends - wanting out of this conversation more than ever. 'How does Italian sound, huh?' But no one was helping him out - the four team members continued to look between the two green demons as if they were watching a tennis match, and each line either Deathwok demon spoke was a thrilling serve.

'Your mother's burden is terrible,' Landok said solemnly.

'Misses her little green boo, does she?'

'She rips your images into tiny pieces, feeds them to the pigs, butchers the swine and then scatters their remains for the dogs.'

'Sounds like Ma,' he turned back to his friends. 'Tell you what, you pick the spot - I'm up for anything.'

'Does your cowardice really know no limits?'

'The nice people really don't wanna hear about our family issues,' Lorne said, through gritted teeth.

'Sure we do!' Cordelia interrupted, eagerly.

'Yes, let's hear all about the cowardice and shame,' agreed Wesley. This sounded very much like family relations as he knew them - it was nice to see them played out elsewhere.

The Host gave them both a dark look, he wouldn't be forgiving this any time soon. He turned on his cousin, 'OK, not a coward. For your information me and my friends were just partaking in a Drokken hunt - which we really must get back to so…'

'There is a Drokken nearby?' Landok gripped his sword hilt, 'I will assist in the kill.'

'Find your own Drokken,' Lorne snapped.

But the others, whilst mildly sympathetic to the Host's plight, understood the importance of having an experienced Drokken killer in their midst. This was a creature from another world, which they knew nothing about. If Landok could help them - they couldn't refuse that aid just because he made the Host miserable and snappish. 'You know how to kill it?' Wesley asked. He had found it discomfiting, not being able to look the beast up in his books, and was eager to hear from an expert on what needed to be done.

Landok nodded his head, 'All that is required is to pierce it with a weapon dipped in thromite,' he told the group.

But the Host, quite happily, poured cold water all over that idea. 'Sorry cus. Thromite? Not exactly existing in this world. Thanks anyway.'

'Then killing the Drokken will be most difficult,' the green warrior frowned. 'It is impervious to most wounds.'

'What if you chop its head off?' Angel asked,

'Or run it through with a sword?' asked Wesley.

'Or electrocute with - oh say - a fifteen thousand volt charge?' the vampire added.

'We've been thinkin' about maybe gettin' a flamethrower,' Doyle chimed in, 'that might work.'

Cordelia nodded, 'we've had a lot of luck with all the classics, in the past,' she said, 'Drokken schmokken!'

'Without thromite it will take a mighty blow to kill it,' Landok informed them, 'it is quite strong and fast - difficult to hit.'

'Well in order to hit it - we need to find it first,' Angel said.

'I can track the Drokken for you.' He was able to track the waves of hostility that the Drokken left behind - all Deathwok demons could do this if they were willing to submit to the training. The look he gave Lorne left the group in no doubt as to which particular demon had not bothered to learn this skill. 'Lead me to where the Drokken entered this world,' Landok told the group, 'I will help you slay it.' He gripped his sword and led the way out of the library. The others following on behind. The Host stood still for a moment, left behind in the stacks - staring after the cousin who had arrived from his own world and immediately impressed his friends and ruined his evening. After a moment, he followed on too.

Gunn's truck pulled up at the park and after a moment he climbed out from behind the wheel. He walked round to the back of the truck, where a load of broken, wooden furniture was piled high on the bed. As he walked past Rondell, his hand shot out, and he grabbed the other man by the collar, slamming him against the truck. 'You should have waited for me,' he said. His eyes shone with tears, but his tone was furious and his expression was menacing.

But Rondell refused the guilt trip. He looked Gunn right back in the face, his own expression hard and unapologetic. He shook his head, 'we've been waiting on you for months, bro,' he said. He pulled himself free and stalked off, leaving Gunn to feel the weight and guilt of his abandonment of his crew. He had left them - to move up to Hollywood and play detective with Angel and the others - and his old gang had had no choice but to move on without him… but they were dying without him.

He'd moved on up and left his old boys behind, barely glancing back at them. He'd expected them to stay in place whilst he was gone - that he could always return to his crew, be welcome - take charge again. But nothing could stay the same forever. Actions had equal and opposite reactions. The gang couldn't stay leaderless forever - nature abhors a vacuum, so George and Rondell had stepped up to the plate. But they were a soldier down.

Never knowing when they could rely on Gunn to show up and fight - to take an interest - they had learned to just get on without him… but that had led to tonight. And now George was dead - and who knew if he was going to stay that way?

Gunn took a broken chair from the truck bed, and added to the already large pile of furniture that they were building in the park.

Landok followed the waves of hostility which the Drokken left in its wake. The team followed Landok. Eventually, they stumbled across the mauled bodies of the two men. The green warrior demon crouched down and examined the bite marks. 'Our path is true,' he said in his old fashioned, formal tones, 'but our arrival untimely. The Drokken has consumed. It will be at maximum power.'

He stood up again, and waved his arm in front of his face - like a blind man searching for something just out of reach - channelling his mind to read the aura of the Drokken. 'Can you believe it?' the Host said, 'I use this power to tell people their destinies and I'm considered a freak. He uses it to hunt and he's the golden spawn. Go figure.'

'So he's like a big hero back in your world?' Angel asked him, as they stood watching Landok work.

Lorne nodded and began to explain what the world he had been born into was like. 'A world of only good and evil, black and white - no grey. No music, no art, just champions roaming the countryside fighting for justice - bo-ring. You got a problem? Solve it with a sword. No one ever admits to having actual feelings and emotions - let alone talks about them. Can you imagine living in a place like that?'

Angel's face took on a wistful expression '...not really.'

...

A little further away, Wesley clicked his cell phone shut - frowning. 'Why isn't Gunn answering any of his pages?' he asked Doyle and Cordelia - who had sat down on a bench whilst they waited for the viking demon to do his mystical mojo. 'Do you think he's in some kind of trouble?' the watcher asked.

'Or maybe he's in the middle of his stake-o-rama,' Cordelia answered, reasonably, 'besides - last time we went chasing after him on a mission - you got shot.'

'Point taken.' He frowned at Doyle, who had stolen the mysterious book from the library and was now ignoring everything that went on around him as he leafed through the pages. He couldn't possibly be reading it - the consonant groupings and lack of vowel sounds made this demon language more incomprehensible than Welsh - so the half demon must just be rifling through the pages staring at the strings of letters… and there didn't seem much point to that - especially when Gunn was missing and there was a Drokken to kill. 'What are you doing?' The British man asked him.

'Just lookin',' he replied, turning over another page.

'At the gobbledegook?' Cordelia leaned over him, so she too could look at the book, 'prt glrb fzzn knghf,' she read, 'boy, that's fascinating - I wonder if there's gonna be a sequel?'

Doyle glanced up at her, and gave her a brief smile, 'the words don't make any more sense to me than they do to you, darlin' but...I dunno?' He closed the book and turned it over in his hands, examining the cover, 'it just seems like it's important...I'm gettin' vibes off of it.'

'The book is vibey?' Cordelia looked sceptical, she took the book off him and held it in his hands with her eyes closed, as she concentrated, trying to feel the mystical influence that Doyle spoke about. She got nothing. She opened her eyes again, 'really?'

But her boyfriend nodded - that's what he felt, yeah. 'That girl - Fred - held onto this book and vanished off the face of the earth. You read from it in the exact same space - and Landok comes flyin' through a portal… and then there was that portal that opened up in Caritas. I just think The Powers wouldn't send me a vision o' that particular girl - and this particular book - if it wasn't important, y'know?'

'Well - you're the boy wonder,' Cordelia said, 'I trust you, if you say this is important then …' she handed the book back to him, 'but I just read from the book again and nothing happened… are you sure you're getting a vibe?'

'I'm sure,' he nodded, more sure than ever now it was back in his hands - it practically hummed beneath his fingers, it was so vibey. '- I can't explain it - but I'm sure.'

'Well I suppose I can look into deciphering it once we're back at the office,' Wesley told him, 'if there's something important about it, Doyle, I might be able to figure it out.'

'Thanks.'

...

Over by the mauled bodies, Landok finished interpreting the traces of the Drokken's aura. 'The Drokken goes this way,' he said - pointing in the direction he felt the waves of hostility leading, 'it is not far.'

'What do you want, a medal?' Lorne snapped.

'Krevlornswath of the Deathwok clan mocks me?' He stepped closer to his cousin, his hand on his sword hilt.

The Host seemed unimpressed by his posturing. 'Just the L.A in me coming out, I guess,' he shrugged.

'The same Krevlornswath of the Deathwok clan who refused the ancient traditions of hunting and gathering.'

Lorne's expression became even more irritated than it had been all night, and he stepped up so he was toe to toe with his fearsome kinsman. 'I'll let you in on a little secret, Landok, while the rest of you boys were out hunting - I was down at the waterhole, chatting up the senoritas - gathering a little love.'

...

'Huh,' Doyle muttered to Cordelia, over on their bench, 'I always figured the Host was gay.'

She nudged him and giggled, 'he's a demon,' she hissed, 'I don't think our human kinds of labels apply - he's y'know, demonsexual.'

'I'm a demon,' Doyle protested, 'and I'm personsexual.'

'Well, maybe you're just an abnormal pervert - ever think of that, huh?'

'Hey! You're a person, and you're halfdemonsexual - if I'm a pervert then so are you.'

'Nuhuh,' she disagreed, 'I only tolerate you because you make me breakfast and hold my hair back when I vomit.'

'Yeah? What number are they on the list of reasons you love me, then?'

'12 - and 64.'

'Pretty big list,' he looked pleased with himself.

She nudged him again, harder this time, 'oh get over yourself - you're ridiculous.'

'Actually - if I recall this morning correctly - I'm the King of all boyfriends - isn't that what you said?'

'Doesn't sound like me, no.' They both laughed.

...

But over by the mauled bodies, the argument between the two demons was still continuing. 'Your cowardice even extended to the sacred joust!' Landok remembered, his voice choking on his outraged fury, as he was reminded of the shame his kinsman had brought to their clan.

'Again, not a coward!' The Host claimed, angrily, 'I just saw both sides of the joust.' He turned to Angel for support, 'how are you supposed to joust someone if you partially agree with their viewpoint?'

Landok shook his head, he had heard these excuses before - and he was weary of them. 'The Drokken has taken more food to consume later,' he told the others.

Cordelia quit her giggling, and looked up, 'more food?' she asked, 'oh - you mean people?' Then her brain engaged, and her thoughts clicked into place. Her face took on a look of disquiet, 'Oh - you mean people?'

The convertible pulled up outside a warehouse, stacks of pallets were piled up, creating a labyrinth around the building. 'You're sure this is where the Drokken came?' Angel asked, scanning their surroundings.

A flash of movement caught their eye and, just for a moment, the Drokken came into view amidst the forest of pallets. It was carrying a woman under its arm. It sensed the car, and turned to look, growling once. It then disappeared back inside the maze. 'I am sure,' Landok said to the vampire.

'What do we do, Wesley?' Angel asked, not wanting to step on his new leader's toes twice in one evening.

But Wesley seemed unsure - weighing up all the problems they faced, 'ah - we don't have Gunn, and if it's as strong as Landok says - uhm…'

'Yeah?'

'Perhaps a diversion?' the British man glanced around at the others, as if he was not truly confident in his plan. 'I -I have some flares...maybe the light will be enough to distract it from..'

'Enough of your words!' Landok exclaimed, he jumped out of the car, drew his sword, and ran into the labyrinth of pallets.

'Patience not really a virtue amongst my people,' the Host explained.

Angel got out of the car, and followed Landok into the maze. He also gripped his sword in his hand. Wesley looked flustered and got out of the backseat, 'Angel! What are you.. What are you… we don't have a plan!'

Doyle leaned out of the car, and spoke to his agitated boss. 'You think we ought to follow them in there? Strength in numbers?'

'That woman might be hurt,' Cordelia chimed in, 'I need to go in and find her...but I don't wanna do that without backup.'

Doyle nodded, and then turned back to Wesley, 'what about it? You take a flare, I'll take an axe.'

Landok followed the aura of the Drokken, it was easy now it was so close, and he soon came upon it. It looked up at him and then abandoned the frightened woman to charge at this new threat. The woman scrambled to her feet and fled, whilst the Drokken was too distracted to notice. Landok swung his sword, and hit the beast, but inflicted no visible damage - he would need thromite laced into his weapon if a simple cut was to do the job. He swung again, but the creature got in under his sword blows, and grabbed the warrior demon. It bit down on his arm, and Landok cried out.

And then Angel appeared and kicked the Drokken off the fallen demon. They began to fight - moving further away from Landok, as they grappled.

...

The others found Landok slumped and bleeding against the pallets. Cordelia immediately bent down, and examined the wound - it looked nasty, infected. Black tendrils, under his skin, seemed to shoot out from the wound itself and were growing longer, even as she looked. 'I need something to stem the bleeding,' she said. She looked back at the others, and then pointed at Lorne's breast pocket, 'your handkerchief, give it to me.'

But the warrior pushed aside the woman's aid, 'where is my sword?'

'You're hurt,' his cousin told him.

'Fetch my sword.'

'You've been poisoned.'

'Poisoned?' Wesley asked, but down on the ground Cordelia nodded to herself - that would explain the vicious looking black streaks that surrounded the wound.

The Host looked over to where Angel and the Drokken fought, a little distance away. 'The Drokken's bite contains a venom deadly to my people,' he told the others.

'Is there an antidote?' the watcher asked.

'Only back in my world.'

...

The Drokken kicked out with both back legs, connecting solidly with Angel's chest. The vampire flew through the air, and crashed to the ground. The Drokken scuttled away further into the maze. Doyle went over and helped Angel to his feet. 'It's going after the woman,' Angel said.

'Landok's hurt,' the smaller demon told him.

Angel thought for a moment. 'Get Landok out of here,' he told the half demon, 'I'll find the Drokken - Wes, Cordy - you find the woman, get her to safety.'

Doyle passed his fighting axe to Cordelia, 'you take this, then,' he said to her, 'and be safe.' He and Lorne got Landok to his feet, and then with one of the warrior's arms around each of their shoulders, they began to limp towards the car.

...

Angel walked off in one direction, gripping his sword. And Wesley and Cordelia went in the other - Cordelia held tightly onto her axe, ready to swing it at the slightest sound. Wesley lit a flare.

...

'Krevlornswath of the Deathwok clan, my sword!' Landok commanded.

'Hello! Martyr complex? You can't even lift your arm for crying out loud.'

'You want to listen to him, bud,' Doyle grunted, struggling under Landok's not inconsiderable weight, 'we need to get you to safety and figure out a way to fix you up. Cordelia'll think o' somethin'…'

'This tiny creature would tell me what to do?' Landok said to Lorne, his voice incredulous, even as it thickened with pain. 'Who does it think it is?'

'Hey - you're in the tiny creature's world, now,' The Host told him, 'the rules are different - and you'll die without all my friends' help.'

Angel walked alone, his sword raised, his senses alert for any noise or movement. 'Hey you want food?' He called out to the Drokken. 'I can be food - pretty tasty here… here kitty kitty ...here kitty.'

Wesley and Cordelia turned a corner. He still held his flare aloft, Cordelia gripped tight onto her axe. They heard the sound of the woman sobbing, and hurried towards the noise. They rounded another corner and saw her, huddled up against the stacks. 'Hey it's OK,' Cordelia assured her, 'we're here to help, are you hurt?' she hurried forward towards the other woman, to check her over.

'It's alright,' Wesley said, 'we're going to get you out of here. Don't be scared.' The frightened woman looked up at him - and began to scream. Cordelia's eyes widened in alarm, as she saw what the other woman was looking at. Wesley span around to find the Drokken charging straight at him. It knocked him down to the floor, and pounced...

Chapter 76: Belonging: Part Four

Chapter Text

Wesley pushed himself upwards, so he was in a half sitting, half lying position, and thrust the flare into the Drokken's face. Behind him, Cordelia shielded the other woman and held her axe, ready to swing. The Drokken took one look at the flame that was pushed into its face, and then bit the top off the flare - swallowing it in one gulp. Wesley stared in horror at the bitten off stump in his hand.

But, before the beast was able to do anymore damage, Angel was there. He kicked the creature off Wesley and then slashed at it with his sword. The Drokken, once more, sent the vampire flying into the air with a forceful kick. Angel crumpled to the ground and his sword clattered out of his hands. He grabbed it and, as he stood back up, threw the weapon as hard as he could. It hit the Drokken in the throat, dead centre, piercing its neck and driving all the way through. The tip of the sword stuck out through the creature's back, glinting in the moonlight. Cordelia grimaced and looked away. The beast gurgled and choked, and then dropped to the floor, dead. Wesley and Angel looked at each other.

'Well, that was fun,' Angel said, retrieving his weapon. Cordelia turned to the woman, checking she was alright, and then ushered her out of the maze of pallets.

They returned to the car. Lorne and Doyle had stashed the wounded Landok in the back seat, the Host was sitting with him. Doyle had moved to the front of the car, out of their way. He sat on the hood, still examining the stolen book - his forehead creased with frown lines, as he considered it. He looked up as the others arrived, and immediately slid off the hood and went to Cordelia's side, 'you OK?' She nodded. He looked relieved and kissed her, briefly, on the lips, 'I was worried.'

'I had the axe.'

'I know - but I was still worried.'

In the back seat, Landok was gasping with pain, and making his final requests, anxious that, in the event of his seemingly impending death, the proper rites be followed. 'If I am to perish tonight...' he breathed.

But the Host cut him off. 'Stop right there, no perishables allowed, here.'

'If I perish,' the warrior insisted, 'you will perform the rituals!'

'I certainly will not!' Lorne sounded indignant. He had not escaped from his native world to go about performing their barbaric customs and primitive religious rites in his new found home.

'I will not receive glory unless you perform the rituals.'

'Then glory you will not have.'

'You are the only one here who can officiate.'

...

Cordelia climbed into the car, and the Host moved out of her way so she could look at Landok's wound. It was worse than before - although the handkerchief had slowed the bleeding a little, the black streaks of poison were worse than ever. They snaked out under his skin, reaching almost down to his wrist, and Cordy feared that they would be snaking in other directions too; that beneath the warriors clothing, the poison would be stretching across into his chest - nearing his heart. She looked up at the others, and shook her head, 'I don't know what to do,' she told them, 'this poison… it's killing him and I don't have a cure.'

Doyle and Angel exchanged a worried glance. They were so used to Cordelia being able to patch up any injury they presented her with, but talented as she was, even she was no match for venom. Mystical poisons required mystical cures - Angel knew that well enough from his experience with the Interfectorem Mortuorem toxin - and no first aid certificate, no matter how naturally gifted the first aider was - could equip someone to heal the unhealable.

'So what do we do?' Doyle asked, looking at the others. He didn't want his girlfriend to feel that this was on her - that Landok was her responsibility and any failure to cure this was her fault. He was a demon from another dimension, dying from the bite of a creature from his own world - due to a venom that didn't exist in this one. There was no way the Irishman was going to let Cordelia feel, even for a moment, that she should be the one to solve this. This was mystical in nature - and there were people here better suited than Cordy to solve mystical problems.

'We need to get him back to his own world,' Wesley said, gravely. 'According to the Host there is a cure there, he can be saved. But only if he goes back, right now.'

'How do we do that, then?' Angel asked.

Landok groaned in pain, and shut his eyes. 'I don't know,' the watcher replied.

'Well, we need to think of something fast,' Cordelia said, 'he doesn't have long left - Doyle? What about the book? You said it was vibey… he came here when I read from it ...d'you think - maybe…?'

'But you read from it back on that bench, darlin' - and y' said yourself, nothin' happened.'

'The Powers sent you that vision - sent us to that book - for a reason, Doyle,' Angel told him, 'you're the one that's getting something off of it - what? What is it trying to tell you?'

Doyle held the book in his hands and stared down at it, focusing his whole mind on what he could feel emanating from the pages… there was a message in all this - it was just that the message didn't seem to have any vowels in it. 'Right,' he said, 'we know that that Fred girl read from the book and the portal opened - and she disappeared. And then Cordelia read from the book - and the portal opened and Landok arrived… but when she read from it again later on ...nothin' - why not?'

'We'd moved,' Cordelia said, her eyes suddenly lighting up with realisation. 'Maybe you can't open a portal any old place - maybe there are only certain places the portals can exist. One is the library. Both me and Fred opened it up. To open a portal, you have to be close to where one already exists.'

'We're miles from the library, now,' Doyle said, 'we won't get there in time - and then we'd have to break in - it's closed remember?'

'Caritas,' Angel said suddenly, 'The Drokken came through a portal in Caritas - there's one there - and it's closer...But what if - when we open up the portal it sends something here - instead of taking Landok back?'

'It won't,' said Doyle, 'the portal can work both ways,' his voice was certain.

'How can you be sure?' the vampire asked him.

He glanced down at the book in his hands and felt the way it tingled in his fingertips - telling him, without language, that he was right. 'I don't know,' he said, 'but I am.'

The team all looked at each other, wondering whether to trust this intuition - it was a big risk, opening a portal - possibly allowing another creature to fall through into their world. But they had no better way of helping Landok. 'Let's go,' Wesley said, after a moment. The men all got into the car, and Angel drove off.

Landok gripped the Host's hand, 'Krevlornswath of the Deathwok clan, give me your pledge. Will you perform the rituals?'

'I won't have to,' his cousin told him, 'no one's dying.'

Gunn stood in the park, staring straight in front of him. George was laid out on top of the mountain of wooden furniture that the gang had built. If it wasn't for the deep holes in the side of his neck - he could have been sleeping.

Beside his former leader, Rondell struck a match and then threw it into the wood pile. The flames caught hold and began to lick up the wood; unsure at first, but gathering strength and heat as time went by. Smoke began to billow out into the night sky, and soon enough the body of George was obscured by the leaping, flickering fire. They would keep the bonfire fed until his remains were engulfed and destroyed completely. George would never rise as one of the undead - the flames would see to that.

Gunn stood very still, and watched. The fire crackled and spat, sparks shooting outwards. He watched as the flames grew taller, and hotter. He could feel the burning heat against his skin, feel his skin dry out and begin to crack. The night was warm, the air was balmy, and the heat of the fire was intense, blistering. But on the inside, Gunn felt nothing but the cold.

The whole crew stood and watched, in silence, for as long as it took. For the whole night, they waited; their heads bowed, as they sent this fallen warrior off on his funeral pyre.

The team piled into Caritas, Angel and Lorne supporting Landok between them. 'The portal was just here, before,' the Host nodded towards the stage, 'it opened up there - talk about upstaging me.'

'I got him,' Angel grunted, between the two of them they heaved Landok up onto the stage, and then turned to Doyle to retrieve the book. 'Doyle?' The Irishman handed it over to his friend, and Angel passed it onto Landok, giving him his final instructions, 'all you have to do is read it aloud,' he turned to Cordelia, 'that worked for you right?' she crossed her fingers at him, to show that she hoped this was the case.

'Readin' the book opens the portal,' Doyle assured them all, 'it should be … easier… now we know what we're doin' - no nasty surprises this time, I swear.'

'Well - that's the theory,' Angel said to Landok.

The green warrior suddenly gripped the vampire's arm. 'To defeat the Drokken, you must be a great and noble warrior,'

Angel looked a little uncomfortable at his words - he wasn't good with praise. 'well...I try.'

Landok nodded slowly, he looked thoughtful - even in the midst of his pain. 'I am pleased to know you,' he told Angel, clasping his hand. Angel clasped his hand back, briefly, and then nodded and backed away from the stage.

The Host watched from down near the bar. Landok's sudden appearance had been painful for Lorne, and had brought up a lot of bad memories… but this was - gods of music willing - the last time he would ever see or hear of someone from his home world. And that meant something - even if he wasn't sure what it meant, or how it made him feel. He couldn't just let Landok leave without saying anything. If this was the last he would ever know of the world he had once belonged in - then let them part on good terms. 'Landok, be safe,' he said to his kinsman.

Landok bowed his head to him - 'Goodbye Krevlornswath of the Deathwok clan.'

'Tell my mother I …' he paused. He had no message for the lifegiver who despised him - not one she would care to hear. So let her be told what would make her happiest. He sighed. 'Tell her I threw myself into the sacrificial canyons of Trelinsk.'

'I feel we will meet again someday,' his cousin told him, solemnly.

The Host's eyebrows shot to the top of his forehead, in alarm, 'Oh God - I hope not!'

Landok opened the book and began to read from it, not stumbling over the gutteral sounds and strings of consonants. He read fluently, and with purpose - this was his home world language after all - and as he spoke the ground beneath them all began to shake. The air began to shimmer and shudder and then became a rippling disturbance which condensed into a swirling vortex.

The wind picked up, the bright, white lights flashed, and the air itself howled. The team all flinched backwards, raising their arms to shield themselves from the distortion in the walls between the worlds. The portal opened up like a great, gaping maw, and sucked Landok backwards into it's centre. And then suddenly, it closed again, and everything lay still.

They all stood and stared at the empty stage, their expressions a little shell shocked.

'Wha- what say we all forget this ever happened?' the Host said to them.

Angel nodded in agreement, I'm down with that, Wesley?'

'Fine with me, Cordy?'

'Sounds good - portals give me the heebiejeebies - all those things flying to and fro between the worlds. Doyle? You up for forgetting? Doyle?' She turned to look at her boyfriend, smiling as she expected his answer.

But there was just silence - and an empty space where, moments before, Doyle had been standing.

'Doyle?!' Her voice took on an edge of panic, as she swung around, looking for him. The others too, twisted and turned to see where he could have got to. 'Doyle!'

The Irishman lay on the ground, in a patch of sunlight. He opened his eyes, and pulled himself into a sitting position, staring around at the strange woods which surrounded him. There were animal noises emanating from beyond the tree line - but they didn't sound like any animals that Doyle could identify. He looked up into the sky, and felt his heart plummet into his kneecaps, as he saw two suns shining away merrily in the sky. Twin suns. That couldn't mean anything good.

He looked around and saw structures made of sticks and draped in animal skins. Wherever he was, he was somewhere savage and primitive. He looked again into the sky, and digested the meaning of the double suns… this was not his world...

'Dear...sweet …'

Chapter 77: Over the Rainbow: Part One

Chapter Text

Wesley was searching round the club. Angel was up on the stage, peering behind the curtains. Cordelia stood in the middle of the room, her hands covering the lower part of her face. Only her frightened, brown eyes were visible over her fingertips. 'Doyle?' her voice was barely above a whisper.

'Oh God,' Wesley said as his search bore no fruit - and he reached his crushing, inevitable conclusion, 'how could this happen? How could I let this happen?'

'No!' Angel said, from up on the stage, twisting so he could glare angrily at the British man, 'this is… he is.. He's here somewhere - he has to be - Doyle? Doyle!'

Cordelia began to shake her head, her eyes brimming with tears, 'Oh God Oh God Oh God,' she said over and over again - she didn't know if she was swearing or praying - she just didn't want this to be happening.

'Cordelia! It's fine,' Angel barked, 'he's-'

'Angel,' Wesley's voice was firm, and cut clean through the vampire's sentence.

Angel looked at him, 'what?' he demanded.

'He's gone. Doyle was sucked into the portal. He's in the Host's dimension now.'

Cordelia continued to shake her head, her nails were digging into her cheeks, and the tears were now falling from her eyes. 'Oh God, Oh God, Oh God.'

Angel jumped down from the stage and approached the Host. 'Where is he?' he yelled at the green demon, 'where's Doyle?'

The half man in question was all alone, in a strange forest, with a disquieting number of suns shining over head. He got to his feet and began to brush himself down, knocking the twigs and dead leaves off his clothes and back to the forest floor. Then he glanced around, hoping to find someone else nearby, 'Angel? Cordelia? Wes?' His voice went higher with every name, as he became less hopeful, and more worried, as each person failed to answer. 'Landok?' he asked finally, but even his fellow traveller did not seem to be nearby. Wherever he was, he was all by himself.

'Um - OK,' he said to himself, nodding his head slowly as he thought things through, 'so what do we know? … there's two suns - so this is the Host's home world? I hope? I'm in the woods - it could be worse. It's sunny and warm and…'

As he scanned around, he spotted a massive four legged creature sitting on a close by rock, growling at him, '...there's a giant, hairy, hell beast staring straight at me. That's...upsetting. OK beastie...good beastie - you're a good fella - aren'tcha? You're just gonna sit right there on that rock…' He turned and fled in the opposite direction, 'whilst I run for my life!'

Behind him, the hell beast bounded off the rock and began to chase after him.

The Host stood behind the bar and poured himself a drink, 'look - I don't know where he is,' he told the others. 'I-I mean , my world sure...but who knows if he's even..oh god, no and then there's the…' he gestured to his neck, cut himself off and shuddered, 'but he can put his spikes on, right?...he'd think to do…oh god.' He knocked his drink back in one gulp and began to pour another, 'God I wish I could get drunk.'

'Oh God, Oh God, Oh God,' Cordelia continued to chant her desperate mantra, rocking back and forth with her words.

The men all glanced at each other, uneasily. Wesley cleared his throat, 'if we think about this logically…' he began to say.

But Angel interrupted him, 'logic went out the window - we need to get him back,' he glanced at Cordelia, 'Cordy needs to get him back,' he said, more quietly.

'The - the book,' the heartbroken woman's voice trembled as she spoke, but she finally lowered her hands and looked at her friends. 'We still have the book - we need to open a -another portal and br - bring him home.'

'Cordelia, I'm not sure that's a good idea,' the watcher warned her, thinking of all the problems that may arise if they tried that strategy.

She turned on him, angry now, her eyes flashing dangerously, as fury replaced fear, on hearing Wesley cautioning her against saving her boyfriend. 'I don't care,' she snapped '- I don't wanna hear "not a good idea" or- or "we can't do that". I will rip the dimensional walls to pieces if I have to and I don't care how many hell beasts run loose into our world. I don't care! I'm bringing Doyle home. I'm - I'm not losing him. Not now… not after….'

'Cordelia's right,' Angel agreed, 'I'm not even talking about leaving Doyle where he is. That is not a conversation we are having.' She looked at him, gratefully.

But, even though he was outnumbered, Wesley held his ground. 'We're completely unprepared!' he protested, 'we should head back to the hotel - do some research.'

Behind the bar, the Host sank down, so that he was hidden behind it. He opened and closed his mouth as if he wanted to speak, but no sound came out.

'We so don't have time for that!' Cordelia argued, and, once again, Angel agreed with her. 'I don't wanna research,' he said, 'I want to jump through the big swirly hole and go and rescue my best friend - understood?' he grabbed the book and began to read from it. Wesley grabbed hold of him and made him stop.

'Don't you see? We might never be able to get back!'

'That doesn't matter,' Angel said, 'it's Doyle.'

Behind them, Cordelia sniffed. Wesley looked between his two friends, and then took a step backwards and nodded his head. He went to stand by Cordelia, and wrapped his arm around her. 'You don't have to come,' she told him, 'but I..I'd rather be trapped in a demon dimension with Doyle, than be trapped here without him.'

'No,' Wesley shook his head, 'We're family - one goes, we all go.'

Cordelia closed her eyes, one lone tear still tracking down her face, 'thank you,' she whispered.

Angel began to read from the book. 'Krv drpglr pwlz..'

'Oh crap,' Lorne ducked lower behind the bar.

'...chkwrt strplmt dwghzn prqlrzn iffrmtplzt...' Everyone watched expectantly, waiting for the screaming air and the whipping wind and the flashing light...but there was nothing. Lorne peeked back over the bar. 'Maybe I have to be standing over where the portal is,' Angel said, irritation and disappointment evident in his voice. He went up onto the stage, and the Host ducked back down as Angel began to read the strange, vowelless words again.

'Krv srpglr pwlz chkwrt strplmt dwghzn prqlrzn iffrmtplzt.'

Still nothing.

Wesley and Cordelia watched from down on the floor. Up on the stage, Angel shook the book and looked up angrily, 'what? is it - out of batteries?' he turned and thrust the book in the direction of the Host, who was still hidden behind the bar - peeking over the top. 'Is this thing out of batteries?' The vampire demanded.

'I don't know,' the green demon replied, 'I don't know how it works.'

'Damn it!' Angel threw the book down and sat down on the edge of the stage, trembling with frustration and fury. Cordelia went over to him, and sat beside him. She picked the book up, and rested it on her lap, leafing through it. Then she rested her head on Angel's shoulder. 'We'll find him,' she said, 'we have to… The Powers...The Powers would never have sent Doyle to this book if it was gonna get him lost forever. He's their messenger - they need him - this is...this is all part of a plan, and we'll find him and bring him home.'

Angel put his arm around her, and held onto her tightly. 'I hope so,' he said, feeling her warmth and finding himself comforted by it, as she pressed up close to him.

Wesley looked at the pair of them, and thought about what needed to be done next… what steps he could take to reunite Cordelia with her boyfriend - and make their little family unit complete once more. 'Well,' he said, carefully - not wanting to upset anyone, but wanting them to see that his way was the only way forward. 'There's obviously not going to be any big swirly hole jumping without a big swirly hole - so I suggest that we head back to the hotel, figure out a way to make one… I can solve this Cordelia, I promise - I just need time.'

'You know,' the Host had stood up from his cowering spot, and was pouring himself another drink, 'maybe it's best that you can't get in.' All three heads turned to look at him in disbelief, 'what?' they all cried in unison.

'Just saying? My world - maybe..if he's smart..the little guy might stand a chance - but the three of you? You do not want to jump into my world looking like that.'

'Like what?' asked Angel, his brow lowered, his eyes menacing.

'Like a human,' the Host replied, tossing back his new drink.

Doyle ran as fast as he could, but his legs were short and the terrain uneven, and the creature bounded effortlessly over the very ground that tripped up the Irishman and caused him to stumble. The hell beast caught up with him, and pounced onto his back, bringing him down. They tumbled to the ground and rolled over, and Doyle felt the course fur and hot breath of the beast as it pinned him to the floor. He twisted his face away as far as he could, and squeezed his eyes tight shut, waiting for the pain of tearing flesh, as it began to devour him. The hot breath came closer and the half demon tensed, saying goodbye to Cordy in his mind... And then he felt a rough, wet tongue begin to lick his face. He opened his eyes in confusion. The Hell beast was licking him, like a big friendly dog. 'Oh sweet mother of God! Thank you!' Doyle breathed out, then he wrinkled his nose, 'that's kinda disgustin' though, bud, could y' maybe not do that?'

He heard running footsteps approach them, and a voice call out to the hell beast, 'come here boy! Seekul!' The creature climbed off Doyle and ran to its master. Doyle got to his feet, brushing the dry earth and twigs from his clothes, once more. The hell beast belonged to an old demon man, and was bounding around him excitedly, whilst the old demon man patted his head. 'Good boy, Seekul, good good.'

'Uh - that's a really nice - uhm - thing - y' got there. Y'know I've always wanted a uhm - thing - myself - never got around to buyin' one. Very friendly.'

'Very good boy, Seekul,' the old demon man said to his pet, ignoring Doyle. 'You've found me a nice cow.'

'Hey who are you callin' a cow?... I'm all bull, bud.'

The demon man took out a long piece of leather, with a weighted tip. He whirled it about his head, like a lasso, and then flicked it out towards the Irishman. It wrapped itself around his upper arms and body, pinning his limbs to his sides and tying him up tightly. Doyle looked down at the cord that bound him, 'Oh boy, this can't be good,' he muttered to himself.

'A fine old cow,' The man said to the creature. 'A good cow. It'll fetch a pretty price at the market.'

'OK three things - still not a "cow", less o' the "old" and - uhm - this place is like India, right? You don't eat the cows…?' he glanced down at his pinioned arms, '...though I think worshippin' 'em might be expectin' a bit much.'

'Kind of a chatty cow, Seekul, huh? That'll drag down the price.' He pulled out a piece of cloth and strode towards Doyle. The half demon tensed up. The old man shoved the cloth into his mouth as a gag, and tied it on, then he dragged Doyle away. Seekul bounded along, happily, behind them.

They had reconvened at the hotel, Wesley was gathering his books, Cordelia and Angel were interrogating the Host. The green demon sat on the round sofa, where he was pinned down next to Cordelia. Angel leaned against the front counter, 'start talkin',' he said, his arms were folded across his chest, and his face wore its deepest scowl.

'About my dimension?' asked Lorne, 'OK, sure, let's see. I was there. I came here. I like here. I don't wanna go back there. Is that all? Because I have to go clean up the club.' He began to rise from the sofa, Cordelia put her hand on his shoulder and pushed him back down.

'Sit,' Angel commanded.

The Host sank back down, and glanced between the two of them, 'I really don't know what I can tell you,' he said to them, 'I'm sorry, Cinderella - but there's nothing I know that will bring your little Prince Charming back to you.'

'Let's start simple, then,' Angel said to him, keeping his voice even. 'How did you get here?'

'Through a portal.'

'Did you open it with a book?' asked Cordelia.

But the Host shook his head, 'I didn't do the opening.'

'You're not exactly helping us here,' Angel warned.

But even with the menace that exuded from the angry vampire, the Host had nothing more to offer them. 'Look, it's no secret that I hate Pylea,' he said to them both.

The pair of them exchanged a glance, 'what's a Pylea?' Cordelia asked.

'My home dimension. Back when I lived there I would have done anything to get out. Anything! So one day, five years ago, I'm in the woods when suddenly, out of nowhere, a portal appears right in front of me. It was like - all my prayers had finally been answered.'

'You knew it was a portal?' Angel checked.

'well - no not right away.'

'So what? You just thought hmm I wonder what the screaming, swirly hole with the flashing lights and great sucking vortex is? Gee I think I'll take a closer look?' Cordelia sounded disbelieving.

'Look,' the Host told her, 'I didn't know what the heck it was, but it was right there - in my path. And...for whatever reason - I didn't run screaming. But when I got closer to it, the forest went all bendy, there was a big flashy light and then - woosh!' He snapped his fingers, 'I'm in another dimension. This dimension. Your dimension. Which I love and adore and I'm never never never never leaving.'

'But then who,' Angel snapped his fingers, copying the Host's earlier action, 'opened the portal?'

The Host raised his hand and made it into a sock puppet shape, 'gift horse' he said, he opened the sock puppet's mouth, 'mouth,' he pointedly stared in the other direction.

Cordelia sighed, 'this isn't getting us anywhere,' she said to Angel leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees, and pushing her hair out of her face. 'Doyle is trapped- we need to get to him - somehow - anyhow - I don't care how -and I don't think Mr. green Mojo guy, here, can be any help. He doesn't know anything.'

'That's what I've been saying from the beginning,' Lorne protested.

Angel came over to sit beside them both. He sat next to Cordelia, and put his own hand on her knee, squeezing it, comfortingly. 'I'm not out of questions yet,' he told her, 'I'm just getting started.' She looked up, and smiled a sad, but grateful smile.

'So - where exactly in this dimension did you wind up?' He asked the Host, Cordelia turned to look at the green demon, expectantly.

'In an abandoned building. A building unlike any I'd ever seen before. And that's when I realised I'd been delivered from hell. I created Caritas in that very spot.'

'You built your club in the very place where you knew the swirly portals were?' Cordy snorted, 'no wonder a Drokken crashed through your Stevie Wonder routine.'

'Hey - I keep saying - I know nothing about portals. I didn't realise another one would open up - and for five years I've had no trouble at all. My luck just ran out last night. How was I to know? When you find yourself free of hell on earth - you wanna commemorate the moment - pay tribute, you get what I'm saying? Caritas is my love song to this dimension, my paean of thanks to the gods for delivering me from my torment. Of course I built it where I landed.'

'I'm hearing a lot of words - torment - hell - are you saying Pylea is a hell dimension?' Angel asked, 'that Doyle is stuck in hell?'

Cordelia turned to look at Lorne, her eyes wide with fright. 'It's just your world right? A different world. Different rules, sure - but it isn't a pit of eternal torment and suffering or anything? Doyle isn't being roasted on a spit by a demon with a pitchfork?'

'Well the demons have pitchforks - farmers mostly, you see - and they can can get pretty nasty with them. Especially with intruders. Doyle might not be being roasted on a spit - but whatever is happening - it's probably not good. Pylea isn't a hell dimension exactly, but it runs a close second.'

'I find that hard to believe,' Angel told him. He'd spent three hundred years in a hell dimension. He knew about torment. He knew about suffering. Lorne, Landok - they weren't people who had just been spat out of the mouth of hell. Pylea may be very different from home, but it wasn't a hell dimension if the natives were anything to go by.

But the Host disagreed. 'Try this,' he said, 'they have no music. It doesn't exist. Do you know what that's like? No lullabies. No love songs. All my life I thought I was crazy. That I had ghosts in my head or something. Simply because I could hear music. I didn't know that's what it was of course. All I knew was that it was something beautiful - and painful - and right. And I was the only one who could hear it. Then I wound up here and heard Aretha for the first time...well…' he broke off and laughed.

'Uh - I don't think Doyle will be suffering over much just because there's no music,' Cordelia pointed out, 'he doesn't really care that much about..'

The Host stopped musing on the first time he heard the various divas sing, and gave her a sad, solemn look. 'Don't kid yourself honbun,' he told her, though his voice was gentle, 'Doyle is in a very very bad place.'

...

'It's cold,' Wesley pronounced, appearing in the doorway to his office, and carrying a book.

The others glanced up at him, Angel looked irritated, 'so, put on a sweater.'

'No no no - the hotspot is cold.'

The three people on the sofa all looked at each other, and then back at Wesley. 'Say what?' said Cordelia.

'Certain geographical areas are rife with psychic energy,' the watcher explained to the others, 'These areas tend to function as dimensional hotspots - natural gateways between the worlds. Like Cordy said last night, portals only open in certain places - Caritas is one, the public library is another. But the catch is-'

'We have to have one of those,' Angel groaned.

Wesley continued as if there had been no interruption. 'Creating a portal tends to deplete a hotspot of its psychic energy and as we'd already opened one - to send Landok through - the hotspot is cold. That's why it wouldn't reopen when you tried it.'

'See - I said it was the batteries.'

'Does this mean the hotspot in the library will be cold too?' Cordelia asked. Wesley nodded.

'So why not just wait til it recharges?' The Host suggested.

But Cordelia shook her head, 'we have no idea how long that will take,' she said, 'and no idea of what Doyle is going through whilst we sit around here and wait for the hotspots to get toasty - he's counting on us..'

'She's right,' Angel said, getting to his feet, 'we've wasted enough time as it is. We need to find another hotspot - fast.'

'That won't be our only problem,' Wesley was frowning as he looked down at his book.

Cordelia rolled her eyes, and Angel sighed and dropped back to the couch, 'of course it won't.'

'When separate entities enter a dimensional portal they tend to - well - separate. Assuming we find another hotspot, and manage to open another portal - if we just jump in then we could literally end up on opposite ends of the world.'

'So that means Landok and Doyle…'

'Didn't arrive together,' Wesley confirmed.

'So he's completely alone out there?' Cordelia's voice was small. Angel looked down at his shoes, wishing there was something he could say that would make this better for her.

...

The door opened and Gunn walked in. 'Hey,'

'Gunn - where have you been? We've been ...we spoke hours ago.'

'Sorry,'

'No - it's fine - Angel, update him?'

The vampire began to outline the two problems - the depleted hotspots and the pressing need to find a new one, along with the need to find a way to ensure they arrived in this new dimension together. But Gunn interrupted him. He wasn't going. Everyone stared at him. 'Last night I lost one of my crew,' he explained to them. 'I shouldda been there… Wes said this trip was one way and I can't - I can't… I know that makes me ...I don't know what that makes me. I just figured I owed it to you all to tell you face to face. Wish you luck. But...please ...find him - Cordelia…' he turned and looked at the young woman, '...I know you'll get him back - be happy, yeah?'

She nodded. She would be happy if she found him - no matter what hell dimension they ended up stuck in. As long as she had Doyle, she didn't care where in the multiverse they wound up. They could be happy in Pylea - or bizarro world - or... Sun Valley ...just as long as they were together.

Gunn and Angel looked at each other for a long moment, but the vampire remained silent - and eventually the young street fighter turned and left. The Host watched him go. 'Hmmm tough decision. But I'm right there with him.'

'Yeah - I guess I am too,' Angel agreed.

'Uh - no,' Lorne contradicted him, 'I mean about the not going part. You know I'm not going, right?'

'What? But it's your world! We need a guide.'

'Remember when I said that I love this dimension and I'm never never never gonna leave? Well exactly which 'never' did you not understand?'

'I don't believe this!' Angel turned to the others, looking exasperated. 'First Gunn and now…'

'You really won't help us?' Cordelia asked, looking shocked.

'I won't go,' Lorne corrected her, 'but I can still help. I have an idea about finding you a new hotspot,' he got off the sofa and headed for the door, 'excuse me - back in a jiff.'

...

The three team members were left all alone in the lobby, they looked at each other - not sure what to say. It was Angel that broke the silence. 'Wesley...find him.' The watcher nodded and went back to his books. Cordelia went out to sit on a bench in the courtyard, the vampire watched her go...wishing he could follow her into the sunlight, so that he might comfort her.

Doyle was carried into a village square by two demon men. He was tied wrists and feet to a long pole, hung from it like a deer which had just been killed on the hunt. He was still gagged. The pole was balanced, in the middle of the square, on a couple of braces; and then the demons walked away. Doyle just hung there, craning his neck to look around.

The square was sparse, the floor was mud caked - not paved - and the buildings he could see were made from wattle and daub, and then thatched. It was like he had been hogtied and carried into a very realistic renaissance fair - but one with demons.

The old demon man approached him, accompanied by another demon man - this new one looked like Lorne - whereas the other was a pale, lumpy, purple, with a disgusting stringy neck. 'It's a good cow,' the purple demon told the Deathwok man, 'it will work for many years before it drops.'

Doyle furrowed his brow, 'mmmfff' he shouted through the gag.

'It talks a lot, ' the old man admitted, 'but it's nothing a good whipping won't cure.'

'They all look the same to me,' the green demon said, 'tell me, Trensiduf of the Gathwok Clan, is this a male or a female cow?'

Trensiduf cut Doyle down, and he landed on the floor with a thump. 'Mmmff' he protested again. He was then dragged to his feet and scrutinised by the demons. 'I think it it a male cow,' the pale demon said. He reached out and squidged the Irishman's chest, around his nipples. 'It has not the round swellings that the female cows grow.'

'Disgusting creatures!' the Deathwok demon spat on the ground. 'It makes working the land more difficult - having to look upon their hideous countenance.' He also reached out and squished Doyle's chest.

'Mmf!'

'Are you sure it's a male? It's chest is soft like a female - not muscular like a male cow's.'

Doyle furrowed his brow even more - glaring daggers at the two demons. 'Mmmfff mfff mmmf!' he yelled through his gag. But worse was to come. Trensiduf stuck his scabby hand right between Doyle's legs and squished. 'Mmmfff!' Doyle squealed in pain and indignation.

'It's definitely a male cow,' the Gathwok demon reported.

The green demon looked disappointed. 'Shame,' he said, 'I have a young female cow - I cannot have a male around her, you know how they get - forever mating and making yet more cows - disgusting.'

'You could have him fixed.'

Doyle's eyebrows shot to the top of his forehead, and he successfully managed to spit his gag out in his desperation. 'Hey - now! There will be no "fixin'" of me of any kind - understood?'

But the Deathwok demon turned down Trensiduf's offer, 'castration makes the male cows weak,' he told the other demon.

'Cas…? Hey - y'know, I heard they can do amazin' things with the snip now - there's really no need to…'

'Quiet, cow,' Trensiduf kicked him in the shins. 'farewell then, Hathtomak of the Deathwok clan.' The green demon walked away. 'Let us hope we can find you another buyer,' Trensiduf told Doyle.

'OK… that's great - honest...but I'd really prefer it if they didn't castrate me!'

Another demon approached, this one was an old woman, and she seemed to be of the same clan as Trensiduf. She looked Doyle over, holding his nose to check his teeth.

'He is a good cow,' the demon man told the potential buyer, 'strong, young, it's a male cow..'

'And I intend to stay that way - so if that's a problem for y' then just move along now, lady, yeah?'

'He's talkative and insolent,' Trensiduf admitted, 'but hard work and a good whipping will see to that.'

'It will,' Doyle agreed, 'I'll be quiet as a mouse - just don't cut any of my bits off!'

The demon woman nodded, she prodded his belly. 'Hey!' Doyle protested, though he had had worse - just in the last few moments.

'It's a bit fat in places,' she commented. She gripped his underdeveloped bicep, 'and scrawny in others.'

'I don't work out.'

'Ugly too.'

'Well that's a bit rude!'

'How much?' she asked Trensiduf.

'Two pigs.'

'For this old cow? It'll probably croak before I get it home.'

'A pig and a pint then. Flip liquor.'

'Fine - put the collar on.' The old demon woman rooted in her bag and took out a round, metal collar which she handed to Trensiduf. He snapped it around Doyle's neck.

'Ever since the last cow died, we've been mucking out the flehegna stables ourselves...you should see my rash….'

Trensiduf cut the cords that bound Doyle's hands, and the Irishman immediately began to fiddle with his collar - which felt tight and cold around his neck. 'Hey, what does this thing do?' His new owner pointed a little silver implement at Doyle and pressed. An electric current ran through the collar and into Doyle's neck - shocking him. 'Ow! Hey! That hurt!'

'Cows are for working - not talking,' the woman said, she spoke to the demon man, 'you can come by tomorrow and pick up your stuff,' then she looked back at Doyle. 'Come on then, cow.'

'Yeah, but - before I come with you - you're not gonna "fix" me in any way…' she shocked him again, the pain was sudden and it hurt, but he wasn't going to be put off, ' 'cause I think it's really important that we all understand that choppin' important bits off a fella is not…'

The demon woman sighed, already regretting her purchase. She turned up the voltage on her silver implement and then shocked her cow again. The sudden charge of electricity running into Doyle's body sent a jolt through him that knocked him to the ground and forced his demon face to the fore - his spikes pushing through his skin in response to the pain.

Both the demons stared at him, utter disgust etched onto their faces. 'Trensiduf of the Gathwok clan, what have you tried to sell me?' the old woman demanded. She spat on the ground, right beside where Doyle lay. 'My cow is a …. Half breed.'

...

Unnoticed by the demon people and Doyle alike, hidden behind a market stall - her dirty face half covered by her straggling, long, brown hair; the girl from Doyle's vision - Fred - watched in fright, as the small man in the strange clothes - made of half remembered fabrics which had no place in this world - fell to to the floor, turned into a hideous monster and was then dragged away by Constable Narwek.

Chapter 78: Over the Rainbow: Part Two

Chapter Text

Gunn sat outside the hotel in his truck, the engine was idling. He stared straight ahead. Whatever he did now - there would be no going back. He had two families, now, and was caught between the both of them - both groups pulling him in opposite directions. And he had to make a choice. But his new family, they were headed somewhere else now - a whole other world - and his crew would be left behind in this one, to fight and die. With Angel and his team gone forever, that would be a whole gang of champions missing from the city - meaning more demons and more vampires for the rest of them to fight. More chance that the little street gang would eventually lose their battle. He had to stay. He was needed far more here than he was in that other world. Angel and Wes and Cordy would find Doyle - they didn't need him - they'd all be together - they'd be OK...and Gunn would just have to get on without them - take care of his old family… he sighed, deeply, and then put the truck into gear, and drove away.

Lorne snuck into the big office, he had obscured half his face with a large pair of shades, and hidden his horns under a baseball cap. He covered up his garden hued skin by hiding behind an open magazine… he just hoped no one would look too closely.

The office was divided into lots of little cubicles and he made his way across to one where a young woman, with long dark hair, had her feet up on her desk and was talking on the phone. 'You don't know where you're going,' she spoke into the receiver, 'you're lost - miles away from anything that grounds you. I get a deep sense of longing - separation.'

'Is this a bad time?' Lorne asked her, peeking out over his magazine.

'It's like you're feeling cut off,' she said, and pushed the button cutting off the phone call. Then she jumped up and hugged the Host. 'Lorne!'

'Hey Aggie, how's business?'

She rolled her eyes - it was the same as always. Life on a psychic hotline - vague predictions, lengthy pauses, anything that kept the numbers rolling in. She looked at his getup, 'so are you hiding from the mob?'

'Don't get me started, I know it's Hollywood chic going incognito - but this hat is really chafing my horns!'

She laughed, and asked him what brought him there. He gave her a look. She already knew, he knew she already knew, and she knew that he knew that she already knew - so there was no need for the nth degree. She shrugged, sure she knew - but she wanted to hear what spin he was going to put on the situation. It was the only part of this that held some mystery for her - and she liked surprises. She got so few of them.

'Dimensional portals,' the Host told her, trying to keep it brief, 'psychic hotspots - I need to find one.'

'Why?' she looked innocent, as she asked her question, and Lorne knew she was laying a trap.

'Uhmmm - some friends of mine are planning on taking a little trip,' he said - keeping his voice overly casual. Keeping Pylea out of it.

But Aggie wasn't fooled. 'Hmm, I see. And the big, flashing, neon warning light in your aura means what?'

'Eat at Joe's - can you help me?'

'No.'

The Host visibly deflated - he had been sure Aggie would be able to find them another portal. Now it looked like they were back to waiting for the batteries to recharge - and in the meantime Doyle would be enslaved, wearing a shock collar and cleaning out some demon hag's flehegna stables, if Lorne knew Pylea at all - unless he had the sense to pass as a demon, himself. But when did Mr. "I hate my demon half" ever have the sense to present in his Brachen form - even when his life might depend on it? It was a good job Cordelia didn't really have any understanding of what sorts of things might be happening to Doyle. She was only worried that she might never see him again, or that he might be killed. She wasn't thinking about what life was like in a world where humans were treated as livestock.

The Host suddenly gulped as he thought about what people did to male farm animals that they weren't planning on putting out to stud - time might really really be of the essence if Cordelia was going to get the whole of her boyfriend back. He needed Aggie to come through on this.

'I'm getting all these ugly conflict vibes off you, Lorne,' Aggie told him, waving her arm around to illustrate the jagged mess that was his aura, 'and they're all pointing at that portal.'

He tried to deflect, 'are you sure you're not just seeing that chilli I had for lunch yesterday - because -whohoo - you wanna talk about conflict!' she just stared at him, pointedly, and he left the joke behind and confessed. 'They need the hotspot because they're going to Pylea, my home dimension.'

'And you're not going with them?'

'Hey! I'd rather have a hydrochloric acid facial, I'd rather invite a hive of wasps to nest in my throat, I'd rather sit through a junior high production of 'Cats'! You see where I'm going with this?'

'Not Pylea?'

'Exactamondo.'

'Well that's too bad,' Aggie shrugged, 'now they'll never rescue the girl.'

'Boy,' Lorne corrected, 'we are missing one little, Irish, prince.'

'You're sure?' the psychic wrinkled her nose up, 'I'm getting that this a rescue the damsel mission...I don't see much in the way of a man, there.'

Lorne's green face paled - Oh God - not already! They couldn't be that late could they?

'Well boy - girl - something in between - whatever. They're gonna stay lost if you don't agree to go and find them.'

'Come again?'

'I can find your hotspot for you, Lorne,' Aggie told him, 'but on one condition - you've got to go with them.' The Host began to shake his head, in protest, but his psychic friend pressed home her point, 'it's the only way that you'll ever resolve all these issues that are clouding your aura. I can see it! And be honest - deep down you always knew that you were going to have to take that one last trip home.'

The Host looked uncertain - and none too pleased. It was the 'last' part that scared him.

Angel stepped out into the courtyard, and stayed in the shadows. He knew he had made no noise, but Cordelia must have sensed his presence, as she turned to look at him. 'How are you holding up?' he asked her.

She shrugged. 'Honestly - I don't know... You know it's nearly his birthday?' she asked, seemingly out of nowhere.

Angel might not understand her train of thought, but he nodded anyway. 'I guess it is, yeah.'

'So I'm wondering ...is this gonna be, like, a yearly event? We get to Doyle's birthday and - instead of cake and presents - I nearly lose him?' She looked down and bit her lip, 'I don't think my heart can take that every year,' she whispered, softly.

'Cordelia… you know we will find a way to get him back? I won't let anything happen to Doyle - same as I would never let anything happen to you - you do believe that, don't you? You do trust me?' He didn't know why, but it seemed imperative to him that Cordelia had faith in him, that she knew he would always be there for her - would always come through for her...and Doyle, of course.

She nodded her head, slowly, and the vampire felt pleased - in spite of the terrible situation. 'I suppose we'll find a way into the Host's dimension,' she said, '- and track Doyle down...and then...we wait for the next bad thing to happen.'

'Cordelia…'

She wiped her eyes, and gave herself a shake. 'So how is Wesley doing?' she asked, 'any breakthroughs yet?'

'Let's go in and see?' He held his hand out to her, and she got off the bench and took it. She wrapped her arm through his and, together, they walked back into the hotel.

...

Wesley was out in the lobby, leaning on the counter reading from his books. He looked up as they entered. 'You got anything, yet?' Angel asked him.

'I suppose I could always use a binding spell of some kind,' the watcher told them, 'something to fuse us together as we enter the portal.'

Angel and Cordelia looked at each other and nodded, 'good,' said the vampire, 'let's do that, let's...'

'Of course, we could emerge on the other side as a freakishly hybridised set of Siamese triplets.'

'Maybe keep looking?' Angel told him.

Cordelia nodded in agreement, 'damn skippy! I'm not resuming my romantic relationship with Doyle with you two guys fused to my sides. Love you both, as I do… some things just aren't supposed to be shared between coworkers.'

Angel didn't know why, but his insides went a little funny when Cordelia so casually mentioned that she loved him. He didn't understand it, so he shrugged it off; but he couldn't help but notice that he was unusually aware of Cordelia's closeness, and her warmth, as she stood beside him - her arm linked through his. He looked down at her, she glanced upwards and smiled, but her expression became a little uncertain when she looked into his eyes. She looked away, and then slipped her hand out from under his arm, walking towards Wesley. Angel missed her presence at once.

'Is there anything in else in that big ol' book of yours?' she asked the British man, 'times a wastin' and Doyle's counting on me - on us - to get him out of there.'

'Well - you know -' Wesley pointed to a section of his book, 'this is the third reference I've seen to iron or metal. Might be a clue as to how to prevent us from scattering.'

'So what? We handcuff ourselves together?' Angel asked, 'who do we know that has handcuffs?'

'Well I ... wouldn't know,' The watcher changed his sentence half way through. Cordelia wrinkled her nose in disgust - even though Angel didn't notice anything.

'What about Cagney and Lacey Kate?' she asked, 'she might be able to spare us a couple of sets.'

'I don't think handcuffs will work anyway,' Wesley told them, 'it's not enough.'

'Well, what will work then, Wesley?' Angel demanded, 'it's been twelve hours since he got sucked through that portal. There's no telling what might have happened to him.'

'Or even how long he's been there!' Cordelia pointed out, 'don't you remember? You were in a hell dimension for three hundred years, but it was only three months here. Doyle might have been there for years already… he might have grown old without me.'

'I'm sure that's not the case in this particular instance,' Wesley sought to reassure her, 'Neither Landok nor Lorne had aged noticeably faster than the other when they met up again last night. Time may not run in exact synchronicity between our worlds - but it can't be too far out.'

'Unless Deathwok demons are immortal,' the woman muttered, 'does anyone know the life cycle of the Host?'

...

'What do you want?' Angel's sharp voice cut through the lobby, and Wesley and Cordelia both turned to see what was going on. Two men had entered the hotel, both dressed in sharp business suits, and carrying briefcases.

'Angel,' one of the men greeted him, 'good afternoon.'

'Lawyers,' Angel growled, 'I thought you people slept during the day?'

'I'm Gavin Park, this is my associate, Mr. Hayes- we represent Wolfram and-'

'Already bored,' the vampire interrupted.

But Gavin Park was not put off. They had come to appraise the hotel. Angel's lease was up in six months and the law firm was interested in purchasing the building. 'You gotta be kidding me!' Angel snorted, 'you guys couldn't turn me evil - so now you're trying to evict me? What? You're trying to annoy me to death?'

Gavin just smiled his pleasant, but dangerous, smile. 'We'd like to take a walk around the hotel, if you don't mind.'

Angel's features vamped out, 'you think I don't mind?'

Hayes stared at him, disconcerted, but Gavin Park remained completely unruffled. 'Very well - we'll notify the real estate company of your non-compliance. They should send you a notice of obligation. After that, if you still refuse to cooperate - well,' he smiled again, 'there must be one or two loopholes in your lease agreement that can be - exploited.' The two lawyers turned and left.

Angel looked across at Wesley, 'how soon can we get out of this world?'

Doyle sat huddled in the corner of a dark, dank, dungeon. Much like his experience in jail back in his own world, they had taken his own clothes off him, and given him a prison uniform. However, unlike the natty blue jumpsuit he'd been handed back at L.A county - he was currently covered only by what appeared to be a raggedy burlap sack, with some head and arm holes. He also wore heavy, iron shackles on his wrists and ankles. It seemed that being a half breed was an even worse crime in this world than it was back home - as in, it was an actual crime, and not just something to be mildly ashamed of.

The floor he sat on was hard and mud caked. There was dirty straw strewn about, which appeared to be what passed for bedding in this cell. The only light came from a barred window, high above his head. He jangled his handcuffs, and thought about things. There was a bright side - and that was, as squalid as this prison was - it was far less terrifying than the men's county jail he had spent a weekend in, back in December. A dungeon to himself was practically a luxury.

And there was no need to panic this time as - not only was he not actually guilty of anything - he also knew his friends would come and rescue him, eventually. Cordelia would come for him, of that he was certain. If she had to punch a hole in the dimensional walls with her own fist to do it, she would get through to this world - she wasn't going to leave him here. There was nothing she wouldn't do to find him. He knew that - he had never been more sure of anything in his life. It was what he would have done for her - had the situation been reversed - and he knew, with every fibre of his being, that she would do no less.

And she would bring Angel with her. There was no way the big, strapping hero of the piece was going to let little Cordelia go dimension jumping all by herself. And he might bring Wes and Gunn - and between the four of them they would break him out of this dungeon - then they would kill all the demons - and then they would go home. All Doyle had to do, in the meantime, was survive until they got here.

He fiddled with the iron collar that was still around his neck. It felt no less heavy and cold than it had when it was first placed on him. 'There must be a way to get this thing off,' he muttered.

The light in his cell went dim, as the window above his head was blocked. 'Don't do that,' a high pitched, female voice rang out.

Doyle jumped, and looked around. He realised the noise had come from outside of his window - it must be ground level, whilst he was sunk beneath, underground. 'Do what?' he asked, keeping his voice low, in case his jailers heard him.

'If you take the collar off - bad things will happen to your head,' the voice said. It sounded squirrely and nervous.

'Bad things like what?'

'It'll implode.'

Doyle immediately dropped his hands from around his neck.

'And I can't talk to you if you don't have a head,' the voice continued.

'Well you can try - but I might not answer - who are you?'

Up on ground level, the girl looked around furtively, checking that there were no demons about. 'I- I I'm not anybody, really. I think I had a name once. I think maybe I dreamed it...It was a boy's name… at least I think the names used to be different. I guess it must have been made up.'

Doyle wrinkled his face up, as he thought: a girl with a boy's name - that seemed familiar for some reason. Then it dawned on him, 'Fred? Are you Fred?'

'Sshh! That's - that's who I was... it's not who I am... it's not…' she sounded distressed. 'Fred was from the other place, I belong here now ...where did you come from?'

'Los Angeles - same as you - I came through a portal, where is this place?'

'Pylea -it's…. Bad things always happen here.'

'You came here five years ago, right? You were in the library?'

'Oh no…' Fred corrected, 'I was born here…' Down in the dungeon, Doyle frowned to himself - if this was the girl from his vision then she certainly wasn't born here… maybe she wasn't quite right in the head?

'I - I mean not really,' the girl continued - her fluting voice trembling, as she tried to get her words out in the correct order, ' I I j-just sometimes I think I was - I don't think it was my thought. I forget certain words.'

Doyle grimaced to himself, crazy it was, then. Poor kid. He just hoped Cordelia got to him in time, before he ended up like Fred - babbling incoherently about thoughts he hadn't had.

'You're not a human - though - are you?' Fred asked, 'I thought I saw...you look so normal … and then you looked ...but then I see so many things.'

'I'm half human,' he told her, shuffling to the window, struggling in his shackles. He stood on his tiptoes and reaching up to grab hold of the bars to help him balance, 'I'm not a bad guy...I have human friends - a girlfriend. They'll come and rescue me and we're going to go home - you can come with us…'

She laughed, a nervous laugh that was halfway to a sob, and immediately covered her mouth, 'oh laughter - I forgot….but you don't go home...they work you until you drop. They use you as a slave. And then your body gives - zip! Gone.'

'Well - they're not usin' me as a slave. They've just locked me up in prison.'

'They'll probably execute you,' Fred told him. Doyle looked glum. 'They… they like to pretend there are no half human half demon people - though they happen all the time...they get rid of them.'

'Well that won't happen to me,' Doyle assured her, 'My friends will come - I'm going back.'

'I tried to go back,' Fred said, her voice sad, 'I didn't have the math. Which is strange because… how did you say you got here?'

'I was sucked in by a portal - same as you.'

'Where was it?' she asked, her voice suddenly urgent.

But before the Irishman could answer her, he heard a male voice yell: 'fugitive!'

'Oh no!' Fred cried, and she got to her feet and began to run.

From his vantage point in the dungeon, all Doyle could see were her bare feet and shins running away from him, and then the clothed legs of the demon's chasing her. 'There she is, get her get her!' one of them cried.

'Hey!' Doyle shouted, from his underground cell, poking his chained arms out through the bars, 'you leave her alone, now - you hear me? You leave her alone!'

A pair of legs walked slowly towards him, the right leg was lifted back and then the booted foot came swinging in between the bars, connected directly with Doyle's face. He was thrown backwards by the impact, and tumbled face down onto the floor. Even with his face buried in the soiled straw, he could still hear the demon spit in disgust. 'You keep your filthy mouth shut; worthless, half breed, cow trash.'

The Irishman rolled over, and gazed helplessly up at the window.

...

Outside, Fred had been caught, she was held firmly in place by two demons. The constable approached her, and lifted her shock collar, 'a disabled collar,' he told the others, 'clever little cow, you should have stayed in the woods,' he said to Fred. He motioned at his flunkeys and the two demons began to drag her away.

Let go let go!' she cried, struggling to free herself, but the men were too strong.

...

On the floor of his dungeon, Doyle heard her cry out - and closed his eyes in despair. He only hoped that, when Cordelia and the others came for him, they would be able to locate Fred, wherever she might be taken to - and that she wouldn't have, yet, come to any harm.

Angel sat at Wesley's desk - the phone receiver was lying next to him, and he had it on speaker phone. 'So as soon as Wes solves our scattering problem, we'll be leaving. Don't know if we'll be coming back,' he glanced at his watch. 'It's eleven sixteen, Doyle's been gone for nearly 24 hours now - Cordelia is...well, it will be better once we can go. I think that's everything. Oh. The mortgage for the hotel - is under the company name. The lease is up in six months...at least that's they what tell me. I guess that's it. Take care of yourself.' He hit the button to end the call and hung up the receiver.

Cordelia appeared in the doorway. 'The Host is back, ' she told the vampire, 'he's found one.'

Angel scrambled to his feet and ran out to see the green demon. 'You've got one?' he asked, 'so we can go?'

Lorne nodded, and Angel smiled, for what might have been the first time in twenty four hours. He looked at Cordelia, 'all we need now is for Wes to have that Eureka moment.'

'Eureka!' Wesley's jubilant voice sounded out from across the lobby.

'You mean he actually says 'Eureka'?' the Host said, incredulously.

Cordelia nodded, 'he really does.'

The watcher came running over to them - 'I know how to get us through the portal.'

Angel grabbed his coat, 'great - let's go.'

But Wesley hesitated: 'there's one thing I need to do before we leave,' he told his friends...

The door to Doyle's cell was opened, and two demon guards entered. 'Uh - hey guys, just checkin' the prisoner's OK, right?' Doyle smiled at them, weakly, 'I'm fine, thanks for checkin'.' They said nothing, but grabbed hold of one of his elbows each, and dragged him out. 'This is just my time in the exercise yard, yeah? You're not gonna, you know, execute me?'

He was led through the dungeons and out; the two big guards keeping such a tight grip on him, and marching him so fast, that his feet barely touched the floor. They were met by an escort of four more guards, and then the little group set off down an uneven path. There were fields either side of the pathway, and other humans worked out in them. Like Doyle, they were also dressed in only burlap sacks, and wore shock collars around their necks. They didn't stop work, as the prisoner and his guard detail passed them by, but some of them glanced upwards, curiously, before quickly ducking their heads back down.

The demons out in the fields stopped what they were doing, however, and came in for a closer look. They began to jeer at the little party. One of them picked up a clod of earth and threw it at Doyle, and then the others followed suit. As he was pelted with mud and grass, the half demon was forcibly reminded of the time he had been held prisoner in a gladiator ring, and the human punters who had stood around and bayed for his blood - jeering at him for being demon. It seemed that the lot of a half breed was to never be able to win - no matter what world he ended up in. The species in charge would always hate him for not being pure.

The fields began to give way to more wattle and daub buildings, and the Irishman realised that he was being brought back to the town. They entered the wretched little plaza, and Doyle saw that it had been set up ready for a trial. He could only assume that, for the second time in his life, he would be the defendant.

Three demons sat along a bench, facing a hastily erected, not too solid looking, wooden scaffold. These must be the judges, Doyle figured. The guards pushed him up into the makeshift dock, and the half demon swallowed nervously, his prominent Adam's Apple bobbing up and down, as he looked down at the three demon men who sat in judgement of him.

A crowd began to gather.

Once the town square was full, and a deathly hush had descended over the gathered masses, the middle judge began to speak.

'We are gathered here today, to sit in judgement upon this lowly, worthless vile excrement of a creature that stands before us.' In the dock, Doyle blanched on hearing his words - that was pretty strong stuff! 'You stand before us, cow trash, because it is believed that you are a shameful and abhorrent abomination, an unspeakable monstrosity that causes offence to all of our being. It is said that your parentage is not of pure stock - but that you are an odious mixture of both the craven cow beast, and the exalted demon. What say you - is this true?'

'Uhm,' Doyle glanced around the town square, there didn't seem to be a friendly pair of eyes in the whole place - though he recognised Trensiduf, and his creature, Seekul, watching near the back. 'Uhm -I I'm half human, if that's what y' mean and ...and half demon.'

There were roars of outrage and disgust from around the square. Doyle flinched from the onslaught. The judges all leaned forward, on their bench and whispered to each other. Once quiet had been regained, the middle judge spoke again. 'What of your parentage? Who was it that lay with a cow?'

'uhm...I'm a demon on my dad's side?' His voice went up at the end, turning his statement into a question - as if he wasn't sure what the correct answer should be, so he didn't want to make any definitive pronouncements - and risk angering the mob. 'It's my mother that's human.'

Muttering broke out, again. The right hand judge shook his head, sadly. 'It's always the way,' he said.

'And what clan does your father hail from?'

'He's a,' Doyle gulped again, 'he's a Brachen demon.'

'I have never heard of the "Brachen" clan. What is his name?'

But Doyle shook his head, 'I don't know - I never met him...I didn't even know I was a demon until I turned 21.'

'Then what is your name - half breed scum?'

'Francis Doyle?' Again his voice turned his fact into an opinion, lest his accusers not like what he was telling them.

The judges all leaned forwards and whispered to each other again. Doyle strained his ears to try and hear what they were saying, but they were too quiet. He heard the occasional word - "execution" was bandied around, along with "banishment" - which was less terrifying. One seemed to be arguing that he simply be kept as a slave, like the rest of the cow trash. But the others felt that it would be unseemly for someone with half demon blood to wear a shock collar and work alongside the other beasts - it set an unnerving precedent for enslaving full demons. Eventually, they seemed to reach a consensus - and they turned back to him.

'So - Francisdoyle of the Brachen clan - it is the decision of this court that - worthy of neither life and citizenship amongst the demon peoples - and unsuited to cow labour as a half breed - you shall be banished to the scum pits of Ur. Where you may act as squire to the Groosalug. And may you never show your worthless cow trash face here, in town, again.'

The guards gripped hold of him once more, and began to drag him back down to the ground. But, as they did, he felt the unmistakable twinges of an incoming vision. 'Oh no,' he groaned, as the pain slammed into his mind, and he brought up his hand to cover his face. He fell off the dock and onto the ground, where he lay in the mud - twitching. 'A Drokken!' he gasped out, 'It's attacking one of your villagers. Near the forest - by a big, yellow rock.'

He looked up, once the vision pain had subsided. The whole crowd stood in silence, staring at him - their eyes wide with shock. 'You don't understand,' he told them, 'you have to go - help him!'

The middle judge levelled his hand at Doyle, pointing one, trembling finger at the half breed that lay on the ground. 'This half breed cow is cursed!' he cried. The mutterings and rumblings picked up again.

Doyle found himself staring down the pointy end of several pitch forks, that were all waved menacingly towards him. He put his arms up to shield himself, and ward the farming implements off. 'No - it's not a curse. They're just - they're visions - you have to save this man or else the Drokken will…'

But the townspeople had started to chant, 'cursed cursed cursed,' and Doyle found himself being picked up, and dragged out of the plaza once more.

Wesley arrived back at his apartment. As he expected, Virginia was there - waiting for him. 'Hey!' she said brightly, 'you're home for once!' she kissed him, 'this is a nice surprise.'

But Wesley shook his head, and took his glasses off, he rubbed his eyes before speaking to her. 'I'm sorry, Ginny, I'm not staying.'

She pouted, playfully, not understanding. 'You have to go back to the office?'

'No - yes - but no, that isn't what I meant.'

She looked confused, she tried to smile through her bemusement - but she was worried. 'What are you babbling about?'

'It's Doyle,' Wesley told her. 'He's been - he's been sucked through a mystical portal and ended up in another world - a demon dimension.'

Virginia raised her hands to her mouth in horror. 'Oh my God - Cordelia?'

'Is going through the portal to get him back.'

'Of course.'

'Angel too….' then Wesley didn't say anything for a while, and, slowly, Virginia came to understand: 'You're going with them - aren't you?'

'I have no choice.'

'But you do! You do have a choice! You can stay here, with me!'

'These people are my family, Virginia. Doyle is my brother.'

'And you're choosing him over me,' she said sadly, she closed her eyes. When she opened them again, they were bright with tears, but she forced a smile again. 'I get it - Wesley - I do. You're a man on a mission - and the mission will always come first. It's noble and good of you, I'm proud of you… I am ... but I won't be here waiting for you when you get back.'

Wesley looked down, but he hadn't really expected anything else. 'I really do care for you, Ginny,' he said.

'But not enough,' her smile was growing ever more watery, 'not enough to give up the mission and have a life with me and I…' she took a deep breath and sniffed '...I deserve more than that. I deserve a man who will put me first - who thinks I'm the most important thing in his world.'

'You're right.'

She picked up her purse, and grabbed her jacket, headed for the door. She stopped before she left. 'I hope you find Doyle, Wesley. I hope you get back safely. I hope - I hope you find everything that you're looking for.'

'You too.'

She smiled again, and then bit down as her bottom lip began to tremble; controlling her face, her tears. She kissed the watcher on the cheek. 'Goodbye Wesley.'

'Goodbye.'

The convertible drove down the road. Angel was behind the wheel, with Wesley beside him. Lorne and Cordy sat in the back. 'Here!' the anagogic demon called out, 'stop here.'

Angel pulled up and looked around, 'but isn't this a movie studio?'

But Lorne was sure - Aggie was never wrong when it came to hotspots. 'You got the book?' he asked. Wesley held it up. 'You keep a tight hold of that baby - it's bad enough I got to cross over. The last thing I want is to be stuck on the other side, waiting for a mystical locksmith.'

'Alright then,' Wesley looked at Angel, 'should we begin?'

'Should I put the top up?' Angel asked, but Wesley shook his head. He was reasonably sure that being encased in metal on four sides should be enough to get them through the portal without separating. 'How sure?' the vampire wanted to know.

'Ninety - six percent?'

'Guys!' Cordelia leaned forwards, 'I am ready to go - so let's do this thing, before I read from that book and jump in there by myself - OK? Doyle is waiting.'

'Let's just hope he's waiting in one piece,' the Host muttered to himself, he smiled nervously, 'but then it was never the manly timbre of his voice that attracted you to him, right, Cordy?'

'What?'

'Nothing.'

'Look - guys!' Angel interrupted, 'this is a big deal.' He turned to Wesley, 'only ninety six percent?'

'It's not like I've ever done this before! And with the time factor…'

'Ah suck it up, English,' Gunn appeared at the side of the car, carrying his hubcap axe. He hopped over the car door and squashed himself into the middle between Lorne and Cordelia.

'Gunn! How did you…'

The street fighter looked at the vampire. 'Got a phone message,' he explained, 'sounded like the Captain of the Titanic about to go down with the ship.'

Everyone else stared at Angel, and the vampire shrugged. 'I just thought it would be best if someone on this side knew the details… in case...'

'A backup man!' The Host exclaimed, delightedly. 'Great idea - and now that Gunn's going along, why don't I….' he reached for the car door. Everyone else pushed him back down in his seat with a chorus of 'shut up.'

'Everyone set?' Wesley asked.

'Let's go already!' Cordelia yelled at him

'Right' he opened the book, 'here goes..Krv Drpglr chkwrt strplmt dwghzn prqlrzn iffrtplzt.'

Everyone stared, as the portal opened in front of them. 'Cool,' Gunn breathed, this was the first time he had seen one.

Cordelia gripped hold of her seat, 'hang on Doyle,' she muttered, 'we're coming!'

Angel looked back at Wesley 'ninety six percent, huh?'

'Give or take.'

'Okay everyone,' Angel spoke to the whole group, 'take a look around.' They all buckled up, 'and then say goodbye.'

He gunned the accelerator, and drove the car straight at the portal. The road bent around them and they flew through the centre of the whirling vortex, as the light flashed around them. The car disappeared and the portal closed up. The book fell to the floor, on the road outside of the movie studio. It was smoking slightly...

Chapter 79: Over the Rainbow: Part Three

Chapter Text

The convertible was spat out of the portal and crash landed in a sunny meadow, surrounded by trees. The screams of the passengers reverberated around the open space, bouncing off the trees and echoing into the nearby forest. The car came screeching to a halt, and they were all thrown forwards and then back. As they came to a rest, Angel jumped in his seat reacting to the sunlight that streamed in at him from all angles. 'The sun, daylight. Quick hand me a blanket! Hand me a blanket or I'm gonna catch fire!'

Wesley scrambled to find a blanket, and the desperate vampire pulled his leather duster up over his head, in an attempt to shield himself from the sun's deadly rays. 'Hand me a blanket I'm gonna catch fire!'

Finding one at last, the watcher thrust the blanket under Angel's nose… but instead of taking it, Angel pulled his coat down from over his head and looked around in confusion, staring down at his hands and then at his wider surroundings. 'Why am I not on fire?'

Wesley frowned, squinting at the vampire who had not burst into flames as he should. 'Well,' he reasoned, 'this is a different dimension. Perhaps their sun….'

'Back up there, Copernicus,' Lorne said, reaching forward to tap Wes on the shoulder, and then pointing to the sky. 'That's "suns" plural.' The whole group turned their faces upwards to look at the twin suns that shone in the sky.

'Trippy,' Cordelia said.

'Suns, yes,' Wesley looked upwards, and then rolled his head so he was looking back at Angel. 'Well, perhaps they don't have the same effect on vampires.' He reached out and tried to pinch Angel's cheek.

The vampire jumped away from him, 'quit it!' Wesley pinched him again, 'Hey!

'Fascinating,' said Wesley. Angel pinched him back.

'So - did you all see the street do that bendy thing?' Gunn asked them, ''cause that was phat - I wanna dimension jump again!'

'My hair's probably all over the place,' Cordelia grumbled, trying to smooth down her short tresses, 'what's Doyle gonna think when he sees me?'

'Believe me, lambkin, your little cuddle muffin's gonna look a lot worse than that when you see him,' Lorne told her.

'He is?'

Lorne nodded his head, 'think shackles, think burlap, think animal droppings. The little guy's probably been here long enough by now to collect the whole set.'

Cordy wrinkled her nose, 'is he gonna smell bad?' Lorne nodded again. 'Oh well,' she sighed, 'he'll wash.'

Angel turned around so he could speak to the green demon. 'So - we made it into your home world?'

'Yeah - home sweet hell.'

'Ha! And I'm not on fire!'

'Yes,' Wesley agreed, looking down at himself, across at Angel, and then into the back where the others sat, 'and we didn't merge into some freakish, five man, Siamese twin.'

'That was a risk?' Gunn asked looking around at them, 'how come nobody told me that was a risk?'

Angel jumped up to stand on his seat, and spread his arms out - embracing the warmth - turning his face up to greet the dual suns. 'Can everyone notice just how much fire I'm not on,' he grinned.

'Yeah, it's a beautiful day in the neighbourhood, alright,' the Host sighed, 'now can I suggest we find some way to hide the car. It'll be a little conspicuous what with us not having convertibles in this world - or you know, cars.'

They all climbed out over the sides of the car, Cordelia glanced around at the meadow. 'So do you think this is where Doyle landed?' she scanned around, as if hoping to see some sign of him. 'He might be close by, right?'

'Perhaps,' said Wesley.

'I don't wanna burst your bubble, Cordy,' Gunn said to her, 'but if short dark and Irish were close by, he would have over heard all the yellin' and screamin' and car crashin' we were doing a moment ago. He'd have turned up by now to see what the what was.'

'I guess,' she agreed, 'if this is where he came through he must have moved on by now...I just hope he hasn't gotten himself into too much trouble already.'

'We'll find him Cordy, it's just a matter of time,' Angel told her. 'Now,' he said to everyone, 'let's start gathering some branches, some brush, anything to start covering up the car. Oh. hey. Look! There's some over in that patch of sun. I'll get them!' And he ran over, gleefully, to the shrubbery. But rather than start collecting it, he just stood in the sunlight, his face turned upwards, his eyes closed and his arms spread wide - a big smile spread across his face.

Cordelia watched him with amusement, 'what a dork,' she snorted, as she went to gather up some branches of her own.

'Hey, I gotta hand it to you,' Gunn said to Wesley, 'trip into an alternate universe? Pretty damn cool!' They performed their elaborate handshake. 'But I wanna find Doyle quick,' the street fighter added.

'Me too,' Lorne said, the others looked at him, 'I mean for his sake - of course. If I know Pylea, Doyle's gonna need a friend right about now.'

Doyle was dropped, face down, onto the stone flagged floor. He was in a large hall, with vaulted ceilings. The room was illuminated by torches, held in wall sconces, and they made the whole chamber thick with smoke. The light, such as it was, flickered and crackled, casting long shadows against the walls.

Doyle's hands were still shackled in front of him, from his time in the prison, and he was able to use them to push himself up into a sitting position. He curled his legs up as close to his body as he could, in an attempt to preserve what little modesty the burlap sack had to offer. He looked around. The townspeople were lined up around the walls. In the gloom they looked frightening, devilish - and from his vantage point on the floor - impossibly tall.

'OK - so...I know you're all thinkin' "curse" right about now,' he said to the gathered villagers, 'but I gotta tell y', that isn't the case. They're just visions that I get sometimes…' He noticed the way the demons were staring at him, hostile and afraid. 'I don't get 'em very often,' he finished up, his voice smaller and more meek, as he tried to downplay his abilities as a seer.

The constable entered the hall, 'we found the body out by Dester's rock. A Drokken beast had fed on his flesh.' They all gasped at this confirmation of the truth of what Doyle had seen, and then stared down at him, more hostile than ever.

'Look, bud - everyone - I'm really sorry about what happened. I am, honest. But y' gotta know that I didn't make it happen, I don't cause the stuff I see to happen, I just see it - in my head.'

'Before it has come to pass,' the constable thundered.

'Uh - yeah.'

'It is the curse!'

'No. no. not a curse. Visions. From the higher powers. I use them to help people - I work for a champion, see. I get the migraines with pictures, I tell my friend - he saves the people. The visions aren't dangerous - they don't make anythin' happen, I swear.'

'Enough,' a new, deep voice rang out through the chamber, and a tall figure in a dark red robe stepped forward. He had reddish skin, strange markings on his face, and his eyes were completely black. As Doyle looked at him, he felt his insides go completely cold. This, here, was where the real danger in Pylea lay. The hunting, the slavery, the shock collar, the prison, the trial - it had all been nothing in the grand scheme of things. Whoever this new demon was, he held the real power in this world.

The demon looked down at him, with his strange black eyes. 'We must discover beyond all doubt if this half breed is cursed with the sight.'

Another red robed demon stepped forward. 'Silas,' it said to the first demon, 'this creature cannot carry the curse - it is a male cow.' Doyle wriggled, and curled his legs up even tighter.

Silas looked surprised, 'that is most ...disturbing… if it is truly cursed then...' he cut himself off. 'There is only way to know for sure. We will commence the test.' he decreed.

'Test?' Doyle asked nervously.

'Bring forth the instruments,' the demon, Silas, commanded.

'Instruments?' His tone became more horrified.

More red robed demons brought in a table, covered in sharp, fierce looking instruments.

'Listen, bud,' Doyle's voice began to rise in panic, 'I can tell you now - a hundred percent I am cursed with the sight. Male cow and everythin'. I have visions - you really really don't have to stick those things in me….but I promise, I won't mention them again - I'll be good - I'll try my best not to see anything - ever.'

But Silas did not listen, instead he picked up an awl from the table, and approached the frightened half demon, shackled on the floor. Doyle tried to shuffle backwards, but there was no where he could go - no possible escape.

'Now we shall see if you are truly cursed, my child,' the red robed demon said to him. 'I pray that you are not.' He came closer, the awl raised, and as he began his examination, Doyle began to scream out in pain...

The car was now completely obscured by branches. Of course, they couldn't hide the shape and bulk of it, but at least it's details were concealed. They could only hope that no one in this world came and investigated it too closely. 'I think this should do it,' Angel said, 'are you ready?'

'I was born ready!' Cordelia told him, 'let's get this rescue mission on the road already, Doyle needs us!' She looked around her, 'so - uhm - where do we go?'

'We need to head into the town, sweet cheeks,' Lorne told her; he also looked around at the meadow, trying to weigh up, from his memory, whereabouts they were. 'I think we're a couple of miles away - we'll have to walk it.'

'No problem here,' Angel shrugged, happily - a big, goofy smile lighting up his face. 'Walking in the sun - hey, do it all the time!'

The others all sniggered at his exuberance. 'You really are a dork,' Cordelia told him, as she set off through the meadow. She turned around and walked backwards for a few steps, so she could talk to the others, 'come on - get those little legs moving! We need to get there!'

But Angel was still stood, basking in the daylight. Wesley clapped him on the shoulder as he walked past, 'yes, we are all heartily aware that you're not on fire,' he told the vampire, 'now shall we go?'

He walked past. Cordelia was skipping on up ahead, and Lorne and Gunn were keeping pace with her, striding on their much longer legs. Angel was still basking. As he caught up with the others, the watcher twisted his head, calling over his shoulder to the still stationary man, 'don't forget the book!'

Angel - whose arms had been spread open wide, embracing the sunlight - dropped his hands to his sides with a clap. He stared after the others - the smile no longer on his face. 'What's wrong?' Wesley asked, turning to him.

'I just don't think that's funny.'

'I wasn't trying to be ...what?'

'Wesley - I don't have the book!'

The others had realised there was a problem, and had turned back to see what Wes and Angel were arguing about. 'Guys - what's going on? - we need to go,' Cordelia motioned to the path, which led up to the town - anxious to be on her way. Wesley and Angel just stared at each other for a moment and then - 'he doesn't have the book,' they said in unison.

'What?' Lorne's voice was horrified and furious at the same time, his eyes were like bright red flints of anger as he stared between the two men. 'What was the last thing I said before we came through - hold onto the book!'

'OK OK,' Gunn put his hands up and tried to take charge of the situation. He looked between the two arguing men and kept his voice calm, like a grade school teacher sorting out a squabble over a toy they both wanted. 'Who had the book?'

Angel pointed at Wesley, 'he had the book!'

'I don't have the book!' the watcher shook his head.

'Well who had it last?' Cordelia asked, sitting herself down on the grass, as they didn't seem to be going anywhere fast. She was far less upset than the men were over this. She was in the same dimension as Doyle again, now - that was all that mattered. Going home was just a bonus.

The two men pointed at each other, 'he did,' they chorused. The others all rolled their eyes - this wasn't getting them anywhere.

'I didn't have it!'

'Yes you did!'

'OK whoa - did we look in the car?' Lorne wanted to know, hoping desperately that this was a fuss over nothing, and it would turn out that he had just been left on one of the seats. But it was not meant to be.

'There's nothing in the car,' Angel said sullenly, 'I checked it before we started hiding it to make sure we didn't leave anything.'

'Like oh say the book?' the Host screeched.

'Hold on.' Wesley employed his watcher trained logic to the situation. Everyone turned to look at him. 'The book was in the car,' he told them, 'that much we know.'

'Yeah - you read from it to open the portal - so we had to have it before we left,' Cordelia pointed out. She began to pick at some wild flowers that were growing beside her - some kind of demon daisy, maybe she'd make herself a chain - as they clearly weren't going anywhere soon. Book schmook - that wasn't going to go anywhere by itself - it didn't have legs. Doyle - on the other hand - had two legs, and was therefore completely capable of wandering directly into any kind of trouble that might care to find him. They could look for the book once Doyle was found, she figured - these guys needed to get their priorities straight.

'Aha - I told you I didn't have the book!' Angel pointed at them in triumph, 'I was driving - Wesley had it.'

The watcher looked irritated, 'that as maybe - but I don't have it now...but I never let go of it. Perhaps - perhaps its only function is to open portals to Pylea,' he mused - trying to find a way to make this not his fault, 'and therefore it only exists in our dimension.' The others all nodded, that made a kind of sense - as much as any of it did.

But the Host still looked less than impressed. 'You know,' he told the team, 'I usually handle bad news pretty well. I usually just drown my sorrows in an ice cold gin and tonic, little squeeze of lime, except where they don't have them here!' Everyone opened their mouths and began to argue at once.

'It isn't my fault that the book can't exist -'

'I never even had the book - I was driving - so how come….'

'And why did no one mention that we might all get fused together like a giant Siamese twin…'

'Did I not specifically say I did not want to get stuck here…'

'I'm fed up of this book - I wanna find Doyle…'

'OK guys GUYS!' Angel shouted over the mess of voices, and they all fell quiet and looked at him. 'We will figure another way back,' he promised them, 'we will. But right now our priority has to be finding Doyle, okay? That's why we came here, right? He needs us! Now, let's go.'

He began to stride off in the direction of the town. 'Finally!' Cordelia got to her feet and ran a couple of paces to catch up with him. He smiled down at her, as she fell into step, and she linked her arm through his. The other men all followed on behind, still arguing amongst themselves, as they came.

'So do you think Doyle's missed me?' Cordelia asked Angel, as they walked along together.

'I'm sure he has - I just hope the Host is exaggerating when he says how bad it is here.'

'Oh please,' Cordy snorted, 'he is such a drama queen - I bet it's all hyperbole. How bad can it possibly be? And why on earth would they want to hurt Doyle?'

'You're right, I'm sure he's fine,' the vampire agreed, turning his face to the sun once more.

Doyle lay curled up on the stone floor, his face pressed into the cold, hard surface. Everything hurt. His whole body throbbed and vibrated from where they had used burning hot pokers and pincers and awls to test his reactions and reflexes, and find evidence of the sight. His head pounded, and the pain thrummed through his veins - like an extra heartbeat. He was whimpering a little.

The demon townspeople still stood congregated around the walls, waiting for a verdict. They were quiet for now, staring down at him, as he moaned and trembled on the floor. Once upon a time, it would have been humiliating to be seen like this - unable to stand, tears tracking down his face, handcuffed, and barely covered by his burlap sack. But he was in too much pain to be humiliated. He didn't care who saw what. He just wanted to retreat into himself, into the broken shell of his body, and flee from the pain.

After what seemed like forever, Silas stepped forward and addressed the throng. 'The tests are complete. It is the unanimous decision of the covenant that the boy - the half breed - is afflicted.' A susurration of shock ran through the crowd, and they began to murmur. 'He carries the curse of the sight!' the red robed demon pronounced.

The mutterings grew louder, their tone offended. Even face down on the stone floor, and wracked with the hurt from the tests, Doyle was able to hear how angry - and scared - the townspeople were by this proclamation. And more than once he heard the same whisper of disquiet: 'But it is a boy cow!'

'Your worship,' one of the demons stepped forward and addressed Silas. The others fell quiet to listen, and Doyle attempted to raise his head to see what was happening. 'What can this mean?'

'It means…' Silas said slowly, '...what it means.' He looked back at some of the other red robed demons and nodded his head. 'Take the poor, afflicted child away.' And two of them stepped forward and seized Doyle by each arm and began to drag him from the chamber. The room broke out into an angry buzz of noise, as the little half demon was pulled, forcibly, from the hall.

Through the mist of his pain, Doyle glanced up at the demons that held him, and then back at the chamber filled with angry townspeople. 'Where are you…?' But then he fell quiet, as he realised he did not want to know the answer.

The team had reached the outskirts of the town, and were creeping down a twisty and very narrow alley. There were wattle and daub huts built on either side, and they tilted so far over, at the top, that they almost met in the middle - forming a tunnel and blocking out much of the daylight. Underfoot, the path was squelchy, caked in mud and rotting vegetation and other - less pleasant - things. Cordelia sighed, as she thought of the damage done to her shoes. It was one thing to risk your life for love - but risking your wardrobe?

She ducked under the wet laundry that hung out on the washing line stretched out between two houses - and then nearly tripped over a chicken that ran past her feet, clucking. 'OK,' she said, irritated, 'the homeowners association in this place needs to get some community upkeep rules in place - stat.'

'Community upkeep rules around here - crumb bun? Keep your cows out of sight, and your flehegna stables mucked out,' the Host told her. 'Two birds one stone… speaking of which - remember to keep your heads down - and let me do all the talking. Xenophobia kind of a watch word where I'm from.'

'Why they afraid of Xena?' Gunn asked, frowning to himself, 'she seems kinda fly to me.'

'Xenophobia,' Wesley corrected, 'fear of foreigners?'

'Oh - well can you all just pretend I didn't say that?'

Cordelia laughed, but was cut off when she got hit in the face by yet another wet shirt hung out to dry. 'Ngh -hh,' she choked, pushing it out of her way, 'tumble dryers - get one already!'

They reached the end of the alley, and Lorne pointed to the house across the street. How he was able to identify it, Cordelia had no idea - because to her it looked like every other little mud hut that was built up around them, forming an impenetrable maze of crappy dwellings. But the Host seemed sure of himself that this was the correct spot.

'Now right over there is Blix's house,' he told them, 'a boyhood chum of mine. Ah we were the best of buds, always playing games, watching out for each other. Close as a Torto demon and his parasite,' the others stared at him. 'I'll make the approach,' he said, 'you all stay here, we gotta keep a low profile.'

'Why?' asked Angel.

'Because otherwise you might get beaten to death with sticks, be right back.'

He crept away from them. The three humans and the vampire lurked in the alley, keeping their faces low - hoping not to be noticed. 'So what's the plan?' Cordelia hissed, 'we get this guy to help us - sure...but then how do we find out about Doyle?'

'Well - I guess if people aren't really a thing here - then Doyle should have been pretty easy to spot.' Angel reasoned, 'Maybe this Blix will know what happened to him, or be able to ask around for us.' He watched as the Host entered the house, glancing around him nervously.

'And if Doyle's already been beaten to death with sticks?'

But Angel was cut off from answering her by a loud scream emanating from Blix's house. The Host came sprinting back out of the door, chased by his former best friend - who was waving an axe as he thundered after him. 'Traitor! Deserter! Betrayer!'

Lorne reached the alley, ducked inside and then pushed the others along in front of him. 'We should run. Now.'

The others all turned and fled, following their green demon friend as he led them through the twisty, narrow passages and alleyways. Behind them, Blix called for the attention of other local demons, many of them dressed in the same warrior garb that Landok had worn. They all drew their swords and followed Blix as he chased the small group that sprinted down the alley.

Angel grabbed hold of Cordelia, and pulled her along - making sure that she didn't fall behind and get captured by the Viking demons. The last thing they needed right now was to lose another team member in this strange world. She stumbled as she followed him, and he pulled her back upright, and they raced onward - pulling wet laundry out of their way and tripping over buckets and chickens, as they tried to navigate the enclosed spaces of the town.

Eventually, they found their way to the exit from this warren of hovels, and they ran, gratefully, out into the comparatively wide open space of the meagre market plaza. As they ran into the middle, passing a rickety looking wooden scaffold, Lorne skidded to a halt and glanced around - noting which directions the warriors were now approaching them from. 'This way,' he pointed down another alleyway, and began to lead them towards another maze of little buildings. But, as they reached the opening, more Viking demons poured out towards them - swords raised. 'Seize them!' one cried out.

The little group backed up, falling back to the centre of the town square, and looking around them. Demons poured out of every alleyway, and began to close in on the team. There was no escape. 'Hey! What now?' Angel demanded of Lorne, staring around, frantically - trying to find a route to freedom. 'Where do we go now?'

But Lorne's whole body slumped. He shook his head. 'Probably to the nearest jail,' he told the vampire, 'we're completely surrounded.'

Chapter 80: Over the Rainbow: Part Four

Chapter Text

Doyle stood before the red robed demons. They were priests, it seemed - and it appeared they held all the power and knowledge in Pylea - and everyone else just did what they told them, or tried to stay out of the way. It kind of reminded him of his childhood in Ireland, now he thought about it.

He was still clad only in his thin, burlap sack, which didn't even reach down to his knees, and his wrists and neck were still encircled by the chains the demons had placed on him before they had known he was cursed. He realised that the shock collar actually belonged to the old demon woman who had bought him at the market - that seemed like years ago! And he wondered, rather wildly, if she would ever get the collar back when he was done wearing it; or if she would have to buy a new one, along with a new cow...person.

He forced his mind back to the situation at hand. They were in a dark room, and the priests were all seated around a table. Doyle stood in the corner, flanked by two of the more junior red robed demons. Silas entered the room, and took his place at the head of the table.

One of the other demons immediately leaned forward and began to speak. 'This cannot be!' he hissed at the head priest, 'this creature - this cow. It cannot be cursed. You know that a male was not foretold.'

'That things are not as they were foretold is true,' Silas agreed, 'but nevertheless - the time has arrived my brethren - he is indeed cursed with the sight. Measures must be taken. Blood must be spilled.'

He arose from his seat at the table; and Doyle gazed nervously up at the black eyed demon, as it walked, slowly, towards him.

Wesley looked around at the encroaching, angry warriors. 'Well, we've been through a lot, fellows,' he said to his friends, 'fought a lot of fights. Faced some pretty steep odds.'

Gunn leaned over to whisper to Angel, 'I take the twenty on the right, you take the fifty on the left.'

'Sounds like a plan,' And they all launched themselves forwards. Angel downed one with a punch, and then scissor kicked another in the chest, taking his sword from him, and using it to knock a third to the ground. Gunn threw punches in every direction, and swung the axe he had brought from home at anyone who came near. Cordelia kicked the first demon that came near her right between the legs, it doubled over and dropped to the floor grunting in pain. She then danced out of the way of another demon, positioning herself behind Angel, as the vampire swung a liberated sword at the next warrior.

Lorne had been wrestled to the ground, but he was putting up a decent fight. Wesley ducked under the sword arm of one demon, pushed another away from himself and then thumped a final demon in the face, taking his sword off him, as he fell. The watcher climbed up onto the stone block in the middle of the plaza - the very block which held the braces that a captured Doyle had once hung off - and twirled his sword in the air. 'I think we're winning!' he cried...

...The five of them were captured, kneeling down on the plaza floor, their hands tied behind their backs. The demons that surrounded them suddenly cleared a path, and a two wheeled chariot, drawn by a pair of horses, pulled into the square and stopped in front of them. The constable, the same demon who had arrested Doyle and discovered the body of the Drokken's victim out at Dester's rock, stepped down. He sighed when he saw who was tied up there. 'Krevlornswath of the Deathwok clan.'

'Constable Narwek!' Lorne greeted him, an insincere smile on his face. 'How lovely to see you again. So, how've you been?'

'Krevlornswath of the Deathwok clan, you have returned. Why?'

The Host didn't really have much to say to that. It was a question he had been asking himself over and over. The constable moved on, to eye up the rest of the group. 'Who are these cow scum?' He looked them over more closely, and reached out to feel Gunn's collar, 'you are all dressed most strangely.' Gunn pulled himself away from the demon's hand.

'They're not cow scum,' Lorne said indignantly, 'they're humans and they're my friends.'

'Cows are not friends,' Narwek told him. His voice was weary, as if he remembered all too well the many discussions he had had with Lorne, in the past, about what was considered the fair treatment of cows. 'They are creatures of labour. Beasts of burden! No more! I don't know where you have been Krevlornswath of the Deathwok clan, but it is clear that you have abandoned the teachings of your people.' He turned to some of his helmeted flunkies, 'take him away, we will begin interrogation immediately.'

Lorne glanced at Angel, and the vampire looked back at him in alarm, as the helmeted demons grabbed hold of the bound Deathwok demon and began to drag him away. Angel strained against his bonds, 'wait! you can't do this!' he shouted.

Lorne protested, as he was pulled away from his friends. But he soon disappeared from sight, and then it was just the four of them and a square full of angry demons. Narwek looked down at Angel. 'You dare to use your tongue in my presence?' He hauled back, and then kicked the vampire viciously between the legs. Angel groaned, and collapsed to the ground. Beside him, Cordelia flinched, and gave a small squeal of alarm.

'Unworthy trash,' Narwek spat. Angel forced himself back upright. Cordelia stayed very still, staring straight ahead of her, not looking up at the demon that paced before them. Her eyes were round and frightened. She was beginning to reassess just how much trouble Doyle might have found himself in in the past twenty four hours - and what form of unpleasantness he might have suffered. Her breathing was shallow and her heart beat faster; as she imagined, one after the other, the terrible things that might have befallen the man she loved.

Next to her, Angel found himself becoming uncomfortably aware of her fear, and of her thumping heart. He could taste her fright, and sense it pouring off her in waves. It was oddly intoxicating. He glanced to his side, hoping to make eye contact, hoping to reassure her. But she gazed firmly ahead - her eyes blurring with a film of tears, as she imagined this treatment being meted out to Doyle - when he had nobody there to suffer alongside him. If only she had been with him, then she knew he would have been brave for her sake. But by himself... it would have been harder to be brave by himself.

Some of the warriors stepped forward and pulled the four of them to their feet. Constable Narwek puffed himself up , importantly. 'For the crime of assault - against those judged to be your betters - you are to be detained until our Royal Highness passes sentence upon you.'

'I'm guessin' community service is out,' Gunn muttered, glowering at the constable - his handsome face a mask of anger as he was treated like a common slave. Narwek glared at the street fighter, and Gunn raised his chin in defiance, glaring straight back. The constable approached him, and then punched him in the stomach. The young man doubled over, coughing. Cordelia flinched again, Wesley stared down at the ground. Angel tried to come to his aid, but the warriors restrained him. Slowly, Gunn straightened up and righted himself. He stared hard at Narwek, once more, 'Too bad - 'cause I really like those orange vests.'

Narwek hit him, a hard right across the chin, and Gunn spun back with the force of it, and stumbled. 'Gunn - stop,' Wesley said to his friend. Narwek moved to stand in front of Wesley. The watcher looked up - and met his eye, but said nothing. The constable was just about to speak - to give the orders to have the group of cow trash taken to the dungeons - when he spotted Cordelia - stood between Angel and Wesley, her head down. He walked over to her, and stared down.

'This cow is smaller than the others,' he declared, sizing her up and comparing her to the tall men that surrounded her. 'And it's hair…' he reached out and ran his fingers through her short bob - pulling the strands towards him so that he could examine it. Cordelia flinched for a third time. 'This one is a female cow!' he pronounced loudly, 'look - it has the round chest swellings of a female!'

He reached out to feel her chest, and Cordy's head snapped up, 'Hey - bad touching! Watch it, buster!' she twisted herself away from him, protecting her personal space - and her chest - from his groping hands. He slapped her across the face. Her head whipped to the side, and a bright red hand print stood out on her cheek.

'Do not use your worthless cow tongue before me, trash, or I will have it ripped out.'

Once again, Angel tried to come to one of his friend's protection - but was restrained. Narwek took a tight hold of Cordelia's arm. 'This female cow can be taken to the palace,' he said to the warrior that held her, 'They all look the same to me - but we can see if she is deemed comely enough to work there - if it is an ugly beast it can be returned to the fields… but I hear that our ruler has ...proclivities towards female cow trash.' He spat on the floor in disgust. 'Let us see if this one can tempt him.'

As was always the way with Cordelia, anger overcame her fear - and then made her reckless. 'Uh - hello! Of course I'm comely enough to work in the palace! You aint never seen female cow trash as comely as me - so watch who you're calling an 'ugly beast' mister - and hey! You can't just judge women on how attractive they are - and then decide whether they should work in a palace or a field that's like, discrimination - I have rights!'

'The cow talks too much - but our Royal Highness may still find use for her - she can still lay on her back if she's gagged.'

'Hey!' Cordelia was incensed, but her arresting warrior began to drag her away from the group. She tried to fight him, to get back to her friends - but he was too strong and she was pulled out of the square. 'Angel!' she cried out, as she was lost from their sight.

The vampire began to struggle again, trying to throw his guards off from him. 'Cordelia!' he yelled after her, elbowing a guard in the face, 'Cordy!'

Narwek hit him again. 'This is a valiant cow,' he smirked, 'it tries to protect its female. But its female is lost - given as an offering to our Royal Highness. A cow cannot have the woman of its choice if the ruler of Pylea wants it for themselves.' He then spoke to the warriors that held the three men. 'Put these things away.'

And Angel, Wesley and Gunn were all dragged off, taken in the opposite direction to Cordelia...

The covenant of the priests were still gathered in their room - though Doyle was no longer held there. 'Events are arising,' Silas told them, 'matters must be taken into hand, as what was foretold comes to pass - and the heavens move into alignment.' There was more angry muttering amongst the priests. They did not all agree that things were as they were foretold - they believed there to be some mistake. But Silas was adamant. 'As it was written - the coming of the cursed one is nigh. There will be an end to all this. Let the blood be spilled - let a new dawn awaken from the ashes. We must summon the Groosalug from the scum pits of Ur. The prophecies foretell it and so it must be.'

Cordelia, her hands still bound behind her back, was bundled out of the town and led up a hill to a large, imposing, stone castle. She was dragged through the gateway, under the raised portcullis, and led over the drawbridge to the enormous oak doors. A guard put out his pikestaff, barring the entrance of the woman, and the warrior that held her. 'What is this?' the guard asked.

'A female cow,' the warrior said, thrusting Cordelia under the guard's nose and shaking her a little, 'an offering to our Royal Highness...due to his….' he looked away, embarrassed and uneasy, 'perversions…' he finished. 'A concubine for him to try.'

'They all look the same to me,' the guard said, 'is it pretty?'

'Damn skippy!' Cordelia retorted, struggling against the demon that held her, 'I'm gorgeous...but I'm nobody's concubine - let me go!'

'The cow talks too much', the warrior noted.

'Disgusting,' spat the guard, 'to think our own ruler…' he shuddered. He couldn't even finish the sentence - the very thought made him sick. 'Take her through - let's hope his Royal Perversion is happy with her.'

...

Cordelia was forced on through the doorway and down a stone flagged corridor. Braziers lined the hallway, providing light and heat. The stone walls were draped with silk banners and flags, depicting the royal crest and coat of arms of Pylea. She was pulled down the corridor towards another set of imposing, wooden double doors. These too had armed guards stood outside, and as she and her captor approached, they pushed the doors to the throne room open.

She began to struggle in earnest now, trying to fight her way past the warrior, and back out to freedom, even though her hands were bound. 'No - no let me go!' she cried, 'let me go! I won't be a concubine to your pervert demon king, you horrible, ugly demon people!' She was thrown to the floor.

...

It seemed that, as the doors had opened and she had been wrestled inside, the ruler of Pylea had jumped to its feet, and as such all the surrounding courtiers had also had to rise. Cordelia looked around at all the demons that stood along the walls, glaring down at the cow that had inadvertently caused them to have to stand. They looked hostile. Down on the floor, bound and huddled, she gazed around the crowd - her frightened eyes wandering around the chamber... until she reached the front of the hall; where, up on a dais, stood in front of the golden throne - the ruler of Pylea stared down at her. Her jaw dropped open in shock.

The three men were locked inside a cavernous dungeon. Gunn sat down on the filthy, straw strewn floor, leaning against the walls. He pulled at the metal chains which encircled his wrists. All three of them were bound hand and foot - as Doyle had been, whilst he was held in the prison. 'It's no use,' Gunn sighed, holding his wrists out, 'these things are made of some kind of magical alloy.'

'Really?' Wesley frowned down at his own cuffs, 'how can you tell?'

'I can't. I'm just making myself feel better.'

'Oh,' the watcher dropped his own hands down, in disappointment. The street fighter struggled to his feet, using the wall at his back to support him.

Angel was busy examining the walls of their cell. Wesley turned away from Gunn in order to speak to him, 'have you found anything yet?'

'No - sealed up tight. Got to be at least six - seven inches thick - you?'

The watcher shook his head, 'No, no - these impenetrable walls are proving to be rather - well….'

'If you say "impenetrable" I'm gonna kick your ass,' Gunn warned him.

Wesley looked apologetic, and changed the subject. 'I wonder if they're treating the Host any better?' Beside him, Angel shuffled his way over to the door - struggling to walk, as his feet were chained together.

Gunn considered the Host's probable fate. 'Well sure - the way that constable said "interrogation", I figure he's just in for a bit of light wrist slapping. Either that - or he's dead.'

'Shut up!' hissed Angel.

'Well - I aint sayin' it's not wrist slapping!' Gunn replied, managing to sound both sullen and contrite at the same time.

But Angel hadn't meant that. 'No. Shut up.' He pressed his ear to the thick, wooden door and strained to listen to what was going on on the other side. The other two waddled over to stand with him, their chains clinking as they moved, and also tried to listen in. But they heard nothing - the door and the walls were too thick.

'How are we supposed to - ?' Gunn began, but Angel waved his hand at him, impatiently, to shush him. 'I can hear two men talking, out in the hall,' he told them.

Gunn looked at Wesley, confused. 'Vampire,' the watcher mouthed silently at his friend. The street fighter nodded in understanding.

'They're talking about a man - a half breed - with visions,' Angel reported.

'Doyle!' hissed Wesley.

Angel continued straining his vampire hearing to listen in to what was said. 'A covenant - a curse - something about testing the male cow for sight,' he reported back - then he frowned, '… they say he screamed out in pain.'

'What did they do to him?' Wesley looked horrified.

'There's something else - shh - a female cow...she's been accepted as concubine by the ruler of Pylea.'

'Cordelia?' Asked Gunn.

'That bastard!' breathed Wesley.

'They say - they say the ruler was very pleased with her.'

The men all shuddered. 'Poor Cordelia,' lamented Wesley, 'forced to be the consort of some hideous demon monarch - we have to rescue her!'

'We're havin' a bit of trouble rescuin' ourselves right now, know what I'm sayin'?' Gunn pointed out.

'They're gonna take us up to the castle,' Angel told them - his ear still glued to the door, 'we're gonna be sentenced - maybe we'll see Cordy there - they're coming!' He pushed himself away from the door, and the other two trotted off - their shackles still jangling as they moved. They tried to look like they hadn't been listening, when a grate in the doorway was slid open - and a helmeted demon peered in at them. Seeing them standing, harmlessly, at the back of the dungeon, the guard unlocked and opened the door. 'Out, prisoners,' he growled.

The group shuffled towards the door, where they were instantly met by an escort of guards, taking hold of them. As they walked down the dank corridor, they could hear the crack of whips in the distance, and someone crying out in pain. Angel just hoped that that voice didn't belong to Doyle - or Lorne. 'Be ready,' he whispered to the others.

They were led up the hill, through the portcullis and into the castle; where they taken down the same corridor - leading to the throne room - that Cordelia had been bundled down earlier in the day. They met Lorne at the doors to the royal chamber, also still under arrest.

The green demon looked unbelievably relieved to see them in one piece - even shackled and held prisoner, as they were. 'Oh am I glad to see you!' he exclaimed, 'and so much less dead than I expected!'

'What did they do to you?' Angel asked, looking him over. He didn't seem to be visibly injured at least - with any luck he would have just been held in a cell, like the others.

'Oh - well, first there was that welcome home parade that they threw in my honour,' Lorne told him, sarcastically, 'ticker tape, streamers,' he held up his shackled hands, 'honestly, I was so touched, I almost wept.'

The three other men exchanged glances, and the Host shrugged at them and revealed the truth, 'locked me in a room - pushed me around a bit, asked a whole bunch of questions. You're standard film noir.'

Angel lowered his voice for the next bit, 'they took Cordy to the castle - separately... we think she's been made a concubine to this dimension's ruler.'

Lorne grimaced, 'poor kid.'

'Yeah - and we think we might have a lead on Doyle.'

'Really? you found him?'

'No.' He motioned Wes and Gunn to come closer, and they shuffled over so that they could all listen in, 'I heard a couple of guys talking out in the halls about a man with visions. Said he was cursed.'

Lorne's expression became alarmed, 'yikes - I do not like the sound of that!' he exclaimed.

'They mentioned something about a covenant?' Angel told him, scanning the green demon's face to see if this meant anything to him, 'They said something about - ah - performing tests on him?'

'Angel, I hate to state the obvious but we need to get out of here,' Wesley said. They looked around, eyeing up their guards. There was no hope of rescuing Cordelia from her enslavement to a demon overlord - and then going on to find and rescue Doyle - if they couldn't get away from their heavily armed escort.

But escape was out of their reach, as Constable Narwek walked down the hallway towards them. 'Silence!' he commanded of them, 'Krevlornswath of the Deathwok clan, you and your cow trash are not to speak.'

'Ah - debunch your panties, Narwek.'

'You - are a traitor to your home,' Narwek accused the Host, 'you abandoned your life giver, betrayed your people and now you consort with these - animals! I will take great pleasure in watching them kill you slowly.'

'Will they take us in separately or together?' Angel whispered, softly, to the Host, ignoring the threats of the constable.

'What?'

'Separately or together - quickly, we don't have much time!'

'I don't know!' Lorne hissed back at him, his voice taking on a frantic edge, 'I've never been sentenced to death before!' He tried to hazard a guess, 'together?'

'Listen up - ' Angel began to whisper his plan to his friends. Ignoring them completely, Constable Narwek was busy giving instructions to the guards, telling them how the executions should go: '...After that, drag their bodies to the village square. We will hang their corpses as a warning.'

The shackled men finished whispering and nodded their heads at each other in understanding, as the constable turned back and addressed them. 'Prisoners!' he exclaimed in his most important and impressive voice, 'The day of judgement has arrived! Approach! The Venerable Monarch of Pylea; General of the Ravening Legions, Eater of our Enemies Flesh, Prelate of the Sacrificial Blood rites, and Sovereign Proconsul of Death - is prepared to pass sentence upon you now.'

'One,' Angel murmured to the others, tensing up. The doors opened, slowly pushed inwards to reveal the grand throne chamber of the King of Pylea. 'Two,' as they stepped through the doors, Angel turned, suddenly, and slammed his shackled fist into the stomach of the nearest guard. 'Three!' Beside him the others also began to fight, elbowing the soldiers, thrusting them away from themselves, using their chains to throttle their captors.

...

'Ahehem!' A loud and pointed throat clearing interrupted the melee. The fighting men all froze and looked up - towards the dais. Cordelia was standing there, leaning her elbow against the golden throne. She was wearing a floor length, pink, Roman style, sheath dress, which laced up across her chest. It was the same clothes that the female slaves, who were in attendance in the chamber, were wearing - but with one notable difference. Rather than a clunky, metal shock collar around her neck - Cordelia wore a fabulous diamond and ruby necklace - with matching earrings and bracelet. The men gazed up at her. She looked sensational. And not the least bit in need of rescuing. 'Guys,' she said, sounding terribly amused, 'show some respect in front of the King!' And then, with a broad grin on her face, she quirked her head towards the throne - towards the Venerable Monarch of Pylea; General of the Ravening Legions, Eater of their Enemies Flesh, Prelate of the Sacrificial Blood rites, and Sovereign Proconsul of Death.

The men turned and stared in the direction she indicated. There, sitting beside her, in the golden, ornate chair - a circlet crown upon his head - and wearing an expression of such extreme mortification it seemed likely that he might be about to actually expire from embarrassment - was Doyle.

Chapter 81: Through the Looking Glass: Part One

Chapter Text

The three men gaped, open mouthed, up at the dais - at the highly amused young woman that stood there, and the highly embarrassed young man that sat on the throne. 'Cordelia?' Wesley asked in amazement, eyeing her necklace, 'Doyle?' He stared even more incredulously at the King of Pylea.

'No way!' Breathed Gunn, also staring at the throne and the crown, a look of awestruck amazement on his face. Doyle wriggled a little, most unregally, under his friend's gaze. Angel looked between them, 'you're both - safe?'

'Little bit,' Cordelia replied, fingering her diamond necklace fondly, 'they made Doyle ruler.'

Doyle cleared his throat, and stared down at his shoes. He wiggled his toes inside his silk boots and drummed his fingers on the armrest of the chair.

'My official title is "Chosen First Consort of He that is Exalted",' Cordelia continued, 'and it comes with this nifty necklace…' she reached up, again, to touch the square cut, 10 carat jewels that adorned her neck. Her face lit up as she felt it. '..."He that is Exalted" means Doyle,' she snorted a little bit at that. 'They like grandiose titles here ...I kinda love it. I also love my earrings and bracelet. You only get the best when you're dating the freaking King! Ha ha!' She was triumphant. Doyle smiled up at her, but he still looked mortified.

Near the doorway, the guards allowed the chained men to get back to their feet. 'But this is fantastic!' Wesley said.

'Worse things have happened,' Cordelia agreed.

'You can get them to release us!' Wesley and Gunn both held up their hands, showing Doyle and Cordy the chains that bound them.

'Uhm - yeah…' Doyle mumbled to his shoes, a bright red flush staining his cheeks, 'yeah, release … release the …'

Constable Narwek interrupted his stuttering King. 'Shall we gut the cows now, that you might dine on their ignoble flesh, oh most high?'

'You're most high if you think that's gonna happen,' Cordelia told him.

Constable Narwek glared at her, 'The concubine cow trash should not dare speak to its betters.'

Doyle's head snapped up, his embarrassment replaced by anger, 'you don't speak to her like that!' he snapped.

Narwek dropped his gaze to the floor, 'apologies, Highness.'

'No - to her.'

Narwek's face froze. He looked at the man on the throne in outraged indignation. His mouth dropped open slightly, and colour began to burn in his cheeks. But Doyle stared at him, until he dropped his gaze once more, and addressed Cordelia. His voice was low, and he sounded like he was choking on his words. 'My apology Chosen Consort - I spoke without thought.'

Doyle looked up at Cordelia, and reached out for her hand. 'Is that enough?' he asked, 'You want him to do better? I can make him do better.'

She smiled at her boyfriend, touched that he had gone to this trouble for her, when he was clearly so uncomfortable in his role as ruler. 'It'll do - for now,' she assured him.

An angry muttering rippled through the crowd of courtiers, as Narwek was forced, by the King, to humble himself in front of a common cow; and as the cow was allowed to decide if the demon, her better, had debased himself enough for her. One word was heard whispered many times…'perversion'. But after a moment, the murmurings died down. When the chamber was quiet again - Doyle spoke to the constable. 'Constable Narwek it is… it is my wish that the p - prisoners...' he was flaming bright red again, and tripping over his words. It was much easier to be King when he was angry… when Cordelia was belittled, spoken to the way they had spoken to him before he was ruler - like an animal - it was easier to forget all the people staring up at him, hanging on his every word. Then, all he cared about was defending Cordy. But when he didn't have that fire spurring him on, then all he could feel was the demon eyes watching him - and he found himself tongue tied as he tried to speak so that the whole room might hear.

Stood beside him, Cordelia rolled her eyes, 'he just sucks at this whole King thing,' she told the others. 'Fortunately, I'm pretty great at it.' Then she raised her voice, importantly - 'Off with their heads!'

The guards grabbed at the handcuffed men, 'if the concubine speaks for the king…' one of them said swinging his sword.

'Just kidding!' Cordy announced. The sword froze an inch from Lorne's neck. Cordelia looked down at her boyfriend, 'You gonna do this, or do you want me to say it?' she asked.

Doyle looked like he would like nothing more than to have Cordelia issue his every royal announcement for him - she was much better at using an important voice - and didn't find being the centre of attention at all humiliating. In fact she appeared to be enjoying the whole situation just a bit too much. But he shook his head. He was the King. He couldn't let his girlfriend do all his royal work - no matter how much better equipped she was to do it. ''S'OK,' he rasped, suffering from the dry mouth he always experienced whenever he had to speak in public. 'Release the prisoners!'

The guards unlocked the men's cuffs.

Recovered from his recent humiliation, Narwek began to protest the King's decision, 'your Majesty!' he cried, 'I must protest! To allow dangerous criminals to roam free in your presence?'

'They're not dangerous criminals,' Doyle told him, 'they're my friends.'

'Highness - cows are not friends. Even with your own particular ... peculiar...proclivities- ' he eyed Cordelia with disdain. Doyle shifted in his throne and looked annoyed, again, at the slight against his girlfriend. ' - You must understand that having - such large - male cows in the throne room is a risk to the sanctity of Pylea and the demon race itself?'

Doyle looked up at Cordelia. 'Do you want me to do it?' she asked, taking pity on him. He nodded. She began to proclaim in her most carrying voice. 'His Majesty, King Francisdoyle of Pylea - General of the Ravening Legions and Eater of your Enemies Flesh, wishes that you all leave us now! So get out -shoo - skedaddle.'

Narwek and all the courtiers and slaves began to file out of the door. Plenty of the demons were muttering unhappily, as they went. It seemed more than one of them was dissatisfied with the way that their new King had not only elevated a cow above all other women in the realm - but that he now let that cow speak for him. Not only was he perverted - he was weak.

...

'Thanks, Princess,' the General of The Ravening Legions said to his consort, once they were alone in the throne room with only the rest of their team for company.

'No problem,' she smiled at him. He got to his feet, held out his hand to Cordelia, and went down the steps to greet his friends.

The men ran towards the couple, 'Oh thank God!' Wesley declared. The King and his concubine smiled beneficently… and then the small group of men rushed past them. Doyle twisted himself round to look - 'wha-?'

'Yes! Food!' Gunn stood at the table and eyed up the fruit bowls, greedily. The others jostled around him.

'I thought we'd never see food again!' Lorne said, sounding delighted.

Three of them began to dig into the platters, munching on pears and gorging on grapes. Only Angel held back - there was nothing in that fruit bowl that would satisfy his cravings. 'So - what happened to you?' he asked Doyle.

The half demon shrugged, 'Ah - y'know - the usual - chased by a giant hell beast, name o' Seekul, captured, sold as a slave in the marketplace, arrested for bein' half demon, thrown in prison, put on trial for my life, banished to the Scum pits of Ur to play squire to a gruesome slug, taken into a dark room and tortured with red hot pliers until - boom - they pronounced me King. Pretty regular Saturday, all in all.'

Cordelia laughed at his cavalier tone, 'he had a really bad time of it til I got here,' she told the others.

He kissed her, 'I really did, princess, I really did.' He glanced down at his kingly outfit, 'but I gotta say - now they got me wearin' this getup - I kinda miss my burlap sack and shackles. They had more dignity, y'know?'

His royal outfit really was quite something to behold - and probably accounted for at least seventy three percent of his extreme mortification. Alongside his silk boots, he also wore a pair of very tight, very revealing silk hose - that left nothing to the imagination. He had a tunic on top - but that was cut fashionably short, in medieval terms - only reaching his hips and so doing little to protect his modesty. Over the tunic he wore a great, burnished gold breastplate - which had a rather impressive set of pectoral and abdominal muscles carved in. His little, underdeveloped arms - poking out either side - looked mildly ridiculous next to his over exaggerated chest. Like Cordelia, he was also draped in ornate jewellery and on his head he wore a golden circlet crown, punctuated with rubies.

His friends all looked him up and down. 'I'd rather you than me,' Gunn said.

'Yeah well, the feelin's mutual, bud,' the exposed half demon growled.

'But this doesn't make sense, does it?' Wesley spluttered out through a mouthful of fruit. 'I mean, in a world where humans are slaves and chattels - why would they elevate one - even a half one - to monarch?'

'The half breed thing really was a sticking point,' Doyle admitted. 'They like those of us of mixed heritage types even less than they do in our world! It's how come I ended up in prison...I was just gettin' sold as a slave before that, when they thought I was normal.'

'Well - jail may have been a blessing in disguise, green eyes,' the Host said to him, 'I didn't want to worry Cordelia - but can I just say how pleased I am to see ...all of you … in one piece?' He raked his eyes over the King's revealing outfit, and grinned at him.

Doyle glanced down at the bulge in the front of his hose, blushed bright red, and tried to pull his tunic further down. He didn't have much success.

'But I think I get it,' the Host continued, 'you had a vision - didn't you dreamboat?'

'Yeah - just as I was on my way to the scum pits.'

'I'm glad we didn't have to go look for you there,' Cordelia told him.

'I'm glad I didn't have to go!' agreed Doyle. 'Though I wouldn't have minded skippin' the bit with the pokers.'

'You see?' Lorne said, 'he had a vision - it explains everything.'

'It does?' Gunn munched down on another pear, wrinkling his brow as he tried to work out how Doyle having a vision changed him from being half breed cow scum to He that is Exalted.

'Well, see,' Lorne explained, 'there's this prophecy…'

Angel rolled his eyes when he heard that, 'A prophecy? Great! Because those always go well.'

Lorne wandered up onto the dais and sat down in the throne, lounging so that his feet were dangling over one of the arm rests. Cordelia gave him a sharp look, but Doyle didn't say anything. So Lorne had another mouthful of fruit and went into the details. 'Well, the priests have been running this mess for the last several millennia, the covenant of Trombli - humourless bunch. Anyway, they teach of a coming Messiah.'

Cordelia turned to stare at Doyle, he raised his eyebrows and smiled at her, and she began to laugh in delight.

'The cursed one,' Lorne continued, 'A being with the pure sight, who would one day claim the throne and restore the monarchy.'

'When you say pure sight….?' Wesley questioned.

'I mean a direct link to The Powers That Be… I mean him,' he nodded at Doyle.

Gunn burst out laughing, 'Yo - let me check I got this straight? Irish is the Messiah?'

'Well I'm the guy in the crown, bud.'

'You're the guy in the pink pantyhose!'

'And the crown!' Doyle pointed to his head. 'And I think it suits me... but not everyone here is convinced I'm the right man for the job.' He sat down on the dais steps, and took his crown off, rubbing his head where the weight of it had begun to make him ache. Cordelia looked at her boyfriend sitting on the floor, and Lorne still lolling on the throne, and frowned again.

'Is it because you're a half demon?' Wesley asked, 'or, more problematic for them, half human?'

But Doyle shook his head, 'no - literally I'm the wrong man for the job. They all seemed very concerned when they realised I was a male cow - they really seemed to be expectin' a girl for a Messiah.'

'Well that's pretty enlightened of them,' Cordelia said, sitting down next to him, she wrinkled her nose, 'apart from the bit where they call people 'cows' and use them as slaves, of course… what do you mean 'when they realised you were a male cow'? What did they think you were before?'

Doyle shrugged, 'I kinda get the impression that they're really not that good at tellin' the difference between human men and women - we all look the same to them.'

'Uhuh - so why are we sitting on the floor?' she glared up at Lorne, 'it really cheapens my whole "dating a King" experience if just anyone can sit on the throne!'

'Sorry, sweetcheeks!' the Host vacated the golden chair, and Cordelia nudged Doyle until he went back to sit in it. Then she sat herself down on his knee, dangling her own legs over the armrest, and wrapped her arm around his neck.

'Not that I don't like havin' y' right here, darlin' - but maybe I could get them to give you your own throne?'

'Now that's more like it!'

'So - Doyle is King but not everyone agrees that he should be?' Wesley said, leaning against the table that held the fruit, and biting down on his apple, thoughtfully.

'How can that be?' Angel asked, looking between the watcher, the Host, and the man on the throne. 'How can they get a prophecy so wrong?'

'Well...it is possible to tamper with prophecies,' Wesley said, 'outside sources can change the material making it say something other than it should - changing the interpretation of the holy words… but I'm not sure why they would in this case… I don't see what difference the sex of the Messiah makes. And in a patriarchal - priest led, warrior based society - one would expect a male Messiah as a matter of course…'

'I'm supposed to be dead,' Doyle said suddenly. Everybody looked up at him. Cordelia pulled away from him, so she might better stare. 'What?' she hissed.

Doyle shrugged - 'over a year ago - a higher power intervened on my behalf and changed my destiny. I was supposed to die destroying The Scourge's beacon - but I didn't...obviously…'

'Well whoever that higher power was, remind me to send them a big bunch of flowers,' Cordelia told him.

He smiled. 'Maybe the demon tapped to inherit my visions was a female demon? But I didn't die… so she didn't get 'em... and because that one prophecy was altered - it's had a bearing on this one. Someone else was supposed to be the Messiah. A female someone.'

Cordelia leaned in closer again, and kissed him on the temple. 'Well, whoever this vision having lady was - she couldn't possibly have been as good a Messiah as you.'

'Ah - you're just sayin' that 'cause this lady wouldn't have made you First Consort and given you a pretty necklace.'

'Damn skippy! And I wouldn't have been able to boss her around - we all know I'm the real power behind the throne. I get to make all the important decisions.'

'Uhuh - remind me again when we came to that agreement, princess?' He asked her, chuckling.

'Right around the time that I was tied up on the floor and I noticed that you were the King.'

It was Doyle's turn to kiss Cordelia, he was still laughing, softly. 'Well - it's a good job we were able to make such a sensible decision so quickly - I really am a good King!'

'Don't I know it!' they kissed again.

Down on the floor, Angel coughed, pointedly - and the happy couple pulled apart. 'So - uh - how do you guys get here to find me in the first place? - And thanks, by the way.'

'Through a portal - same as you,' Cordelia told him, 'we came in the car.'

'Nice - so we know how to get back?'

Wesley cleared his throat, uncomfortably. 'We read from the book in order to open the portal - but since arriving in Pylea we appear to have misplaced it.'

'The portal or the book?'

'Both actually.'

Angel wandered away from the conversation - something had caught his attention…

'Well I can't help you with the portals…' Doyle was saying to Wesley, Angel was barely listening - 'but books? Those priest guys have got tons o' them. They used some when they swore me into office.'

'I've got to see those!' The watcher said, his voice eager and urgent.

From her place atop Doyle's lap, Cordelia frowned down at him, 'You're in kind of a hurry to go back to the dimension where Cordy isn't dating the King - aren'tcha?'

'I think it's like Narnia, princess - once King of Pylea always King of Pylea.'

'Yeah but - you don't have a castle back home.'

Gunn interrupted their bantering - he had spotted a flaw in their plan to use the priest's books to go home. 'OK but say we do find the instructions… don't we still need to find one of those interdimensional hotspots?'

'Yes that's true,' Wesley said slowly, trying to think of a way around the problem, '- Angel?' he turned to the vampire to see if he had any solutions. But Angel wasn't listening, and so didn't answer. The others turned to find out what was keeping their former boss so quiet. Cordelia gasped.

Angel was standing in front of a large looking-glass, staring at his reflection. The Chosen First Consort leapt off the King's knee and ran down to her friend, to examine both him and the image in the mirror. Doyle followed on behind her, more slowly.

'He's got a reflection here, as well!' Cordelia exclaimed, staring at the two beautiful people that looked back at her and Angel from inside the mirror. They were joined by a third reflection - shorter, more plain, but wearing a crown. 'What d'y' mean - he's got a reflection as well - as well as what?'

'The metaphysical laws which govern our world don't seem to apply here,' Wesley explained to the half demon, also coming to stare at the vampire in the mirror.

'Huh?' Doyle didn't understand.

'He can walk in the sun, too,' Gunn told him helpfully.

'Hey, bud, you could get a tan!'

'Why?' Cordelia turned to look at her boyfriend, 'you go in the sun all the time and you never tan.'

'I burn.'

Cordy snorted and turned back to examine Angel, who was peering deep into the mirror. He was using his hand to pat down the tips of his hair, trying to make it lie flat. 'OK - but this is because of going through the portal, right?' he asked.

'No - it always looks like that.'

Angel turned to look at Cordelia, and then turned to look at the rest, his expression confused and concerned. Wesley took the opportunity of the moments silence to start fleshing out his plans for finding a way home. 'Angel, whilst we start searching for the proper incantation, it might save time if you go with the Host. Hit the streets- see if you can document any portal activity.'

'I don't get it,' the vampire replied, still patting his hair.

'Well,' Wesley began to explain, wondering what exactly there was in his simple instruction to not get, 'the Host knows this world, we need to ascertain if…'

'No,' Angel still stared deep into the mirror, uninterested in anything else around him. 'I mean why didn't anybody tell me about this? I mean it's..' he squinted, critically at himself and continued to play with his hair.

Cordelia gave him an impatient nudge, 'uh - you look good.' And growing weary of the vanity of the vampire, she pulled Doyle back over to the throne and then sat back on top of him.

'You're not just saying that are you?' Angel asked, everyone rolled their eyes.

Wesley pulled him away from the mirror, 'Angel - please! Go with the Host…' in front of him Angel bobbed around so that he could still look past Wesley and stare at himself in the mirror, the watcher moved so that he blocked the vampire's line of sight, 'track down his cousin, Landok. Speak to his family and find out…'

'Woah woah woah - hang on there!' Lorne began to protest the plan in dismay. 'Backup - you want me to speak to my family? On purpose?'

'Well it's either that - or face the possibility of never returning to our own dimension,' the British man reasoned with him.

The green demon emitted a very deep sigh, and then pulled Angel away from the mirror and towards the door. 'Come on gorgeous - you can stare at yourself in my grandmother's glass eye. Oh and whilst we're here it's just 'Lorne' OK? To the people of Pylea a host is just one more thing to lay your eggs in.'

The pair of them left, and Wesley turned back to the man sitting on the throne. 'Those books - can you get us access?'

'Um - yeah -I guess I can - probably.'

Cordelia tutted, 'is he not the King?' she asked rhetorically, as she fondly stroked his hair.

Silas sat at the head of the table, watching as another priest paced back and forth in front of him. 'To allow a half breed - a cow - to wear the crown is sacrilege,' the red robed demon exclaimed.

'He is cursed,' Silas replied patiently, 'we all agree - he has the sight.'

'Not all - why would The Powers choose as their vessel this craven beast?'

'It doesn't matter why. He is our sovereign now and no harm must come to him. At least - not until after the Com-shuk. If the King survives the Com-shuk, then you may have his head, Barshon.'

'And what of the Com-shuk?' the other priest demanded, 'How can this be?'

'The Com-shuk will go ahead as planned,' Silas informed him, 'the Groosalug has been summoned - events will proceed as prophesied.'

But Barshon was unconvinced. 'It is a male cow,' he protested, 'he shall refuse the Com-shuk!'

But Silas smiled grimly, and gripped the table until his knuckles turned pale. 'He shall not refuse the Com-shuk,' he told the other demon, 'he will be given no choice.'

Angel and Lorne rode through the Pylean countryside on the back of a local demon's donkey pulled farm cart. They passed by farm dwellings and fields, being worked by humans, wearing burlap sacks and shock collars. It was a pretty land … if you ignored the slavery. After a while, the Host nudged Angel, 'this is our stop,' he hopped down from the still moving cart in front of one of the farm houses. Angel jumped down after him.

On the lawn in front of the dwelling, a large family of green demons were enjoying the sun, teasing each other, chasing each other and laughing, as their cows worked the land around them. 'Hi de Ho,' Lorne greeted the demon family, cheerfully, as he approached them. They all turned to look, and a very large demon stepped towards him. This demon had long, flowing grey hair and an equally long, flowing grey beard. Angel had not yet seen a bearded demon in Pylea - but the fulsomeness of this particular Deathwok member's facial hair more than made up for any previous absence.

'Guess who's back?' Lorne grinned nervously, trying to sound upbeat - though the waver in his voice belied his true feelings.

'Krevlornswath?' The bearded demon asked, 'can it be true? I have often prayed that I might look upon your face again.'

'Well - you're in luck then.'

The bearded demon spat straight in Lorne's face. The Host took his handkerchief out, and wiped the spittle away.

'Thanks mom.' Angel's head snapped up at the word. 'Mom?' he mouthed, silently. No wonder the demons hadn't been sure if Doyle was a male or a female cow - if this most masculine creature was the Host's mother!

She continued to speak to her disappointment of a son. 'Every morning, before I feed, I go out into the hills where the ground is thorny - beat my breast and curse the loins that gave birth to such a cretinous boy-child… You're father was right - we ate the wrong son.'

'Uhuh - well enough of this sentimental reminiscing,' having come face to face with his life giver, after an absence of five years, he was more than ready to make himself scarce again - and so he began to question her on whether she had seen anything unusual around the time he had vanished.

'Your brother Numfar did the dance of Joy for three moons. Numfar do the dance of Joy!' Behind her, Numfar began to hop, kicking his legs out, and tapping himself on the head repeatedly.

Lorne grimaced, 'you know how I said we don't have music here?' he said to Angel, 'well sadly the same can't be said for dancing.' He turned back to his mother and clarified what it was he was looking for - signs of strange flashing lights or weird, pulsating air.

'Cease to do the dance of Joy, Numfar,' his mother called out - cutting off Lorne's words. She had nothing to tell her newly arrived son. 'Now take your cow and get off my lawn!' she told him.

'That is no cow!' Landokmar of the Deathwok clan came striding out of the house, he pushed Lorne out of the way and clapped Angel on the shoulder. 'My friend!' he proclaimed, 'it is good to see you again. I would have perished in your strange world were it not for your bravery.' Angel shifted his feet, uncomfortable at the praise, and threw an awkward glance over at Lorne - who was stood, where he had been pushed, all alone.

'You know Krevlornswath's cow?' The bearded demon woman asked.

'He is Angel!' Landok told his aunt, 'the brave and noble drokken killer!'

'Just Angel is really…' the vampire began to protest, but he was cut off by Landok continuing to extol his virtues in his archaic tones. 'He is as valiant and courageous a warrior as I have ever known.'

'Then he shall be welcome in our home and we shall honour him!' Lorne's mother decided. Lorne's mouth dropped open in shock and annoyance. 'Numfar do the dance of Honour!' Numfar immediately began a sequence of leaps and jumps and bunnyhops to bestow honour on their guest.

Lorne tried to get Landok's attention - to ask him about the portal and where he had fallen through, but the warrior demon was not listening, still intent on celebrating Angel's presence. Some of the family took Angel's coat from him, and he was adorned, instead, in a fur cape and a drokken's tooth necklace.

Angel began to protest the necessity of such actions, but trailed off when a mirror was held up in front of him - and he was given a chance to admire his reflection, '...nice.' He twisted and turned so that he could see himself from every angle.

'Come!' Landok said to him, 'you will be our guest of honour at the village feast. There you will tell the tale of your bravery and courage against the vicious drokken.' He began to lead Angel down the road - the rest of the demon family following on.

Lorne stood still. He glanced over his shoulder at the still leaping Numfar and shook his head. 'Why, it's the homecoming I always dreamed of,' he said to himself. Reluctantly, he began to walk after Angel and the rest - leaving Numfar to do the dance of Honour alone.

The rest of the team sat sequestered in the library, though only Wesley was actually reading. The rest of them flicked through the books, staring at the strange language and hoping for pictures that might better explain what they were looking at. Gunn glanced over at his busy friend, 'you can actually read this stuff?' he asked.

'It resembles certain demon languages with which I'm...familiar,' Wesley replied, his watcher's academy education coming in useful yet again. 'But whole passages of the text appear to be missing.'

'missin' how?' asked Doyle flicking through a book of his own. 'Like someone ripped the pages out?'

'Sort of - except there are no pages missing… it's almost as if…' he looked up, 'it's almost as if they forgot to print certain chapters when they published it.'

'I guess they're not big on proof readin'.'

Cordelia flicked through her own book. 'This is pointless,' she sighed, closing it and putting it down, 'foreign languages and missing parts? And we think we're gonna escape this place? Not likely! I guess I'm just gonna have to get used to being a queen in all but name.'

'You're always a princess to me, princess,' Doyle replied, not looking up from his own book.

'She wishes!' Gunn snorted, 'Irish - if you're the Messiah, then she's Mary Magdalene!'

'Hey!' Cordy protested, 'little respect for the Chosen First Consort, here?'

'Well this is fascinating!' Wesley said suddenly, the others all stopped and looked at him. 'A hart!' he pointed to the cover of the book Cordelia had been pretending to read.

'That's not a heart. It's a bambi!' she said. She turned back to the others, 'and we expect him to read this teeny tiny print?'

'Not h-e-a-r-t,' Wesley spelled out, 'h-a-r-t - a male red deer or staggard, often associated with rural mysticism.'

The Chosen First Consort shrugged, 'they've all got animals on them,' she told the watcher, 'probably just a bunch of demon bedtime stories.'

But Wesley was examining the three books in front of him, moving them around as he scanned the pages. 'Of course!' he exclaimed. The rest of the team leaned in to see what the fuss was, but from their perspective it was as much demonic gibberish as it had been before. Seeing their nonplussed faces, Wesley began to explain. 'The holy books are written in trionic.' No one looked any the wiser. 'No one book is complete without the other two,' he told them, 'it's - uhm - like one book broken up into three pieces.'

'You mean like a trilogy?' Cordelia asked.

'But more excitin' than Lord o' the Rings, right, bud?'

'No - it's more complicated than that,' Wesley said, 'see this passage here-' he pointed to a paragraph in the first book, 'it continues in this volume-' he pointed to the next book, 'and then concludes in this one.' He indicated the final book.'The rhythm of the sentence structure lets one know when to jump from book to book to book.'

'Anything about the portals?' Gunn asked.

'Impossible to say - it's going to take a lot of time to decipher these...' he trailed off and concentrated for a few moments, before looking back up the rest, 'but I do keep finding references to the cursed one,' he said, looking at Doyle.

'I'm in there?'

'Really?' Cordelia asked, 'what does it say about my boyfriend, The King? And can I just point out - seeming as know one else has - that I have freaking awesome taste in men? I mean - well done me - as no one else is saying it. I do my time - dating a short, poor, badly dressed half demon and then - boom- he's the Messiah and I have a diamond necklace! It's like massive Karma for my charitable work in the area of dating. My taste in men is as good as my taste in shoes! And that's saying something!'

Doyle chuckled, wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her in close, kissing her lightly. 'Very well done you, darlin' - completely deserved… and it's always nice to know that the love o' your life considers you to be as good as a pair of shoes...makes up for the whole 'dad never loved me' and everything.'

'Hey! I have awesome shoes. That was a serious compliment!'

'And that's why I'm saying thank you… so,' he turned back to Wesley, 'what am I gettin' up to in these holy books?'

'Com-shuk,' Wesley read.

'Come again?'

'Contextually a verb.'

'So it's something Mr. General of the Ravening Legions is going to do?' Cordelia asked.

'With a 'Groosalug',' Wesley continued.

'Oh - hey - the gruesome slug - I was gonna be a squire for him...it ...before they made me ruler. So what does 'Com-shuk' mean? What are we doin'?'

'I have no idea.'

'Sounds dirty if you ask me!' said Gunn.

Cordelia shot him a dirty look, 'nobody did.'

'Look - why don't we just get someone who knows this stuff to tell us what it means?' Gunn suggested. Wesley closed the second book and looked at the cover. The animal depicted was a sheep's head, with curling horns.

'Like who?' Cordelia asked the street fighter.

'Like one of them priests the Host was talking about. They're their books, right? Look - Cordelia keeps goin' on about how Doyle is the King, Messiah, General of the ravenous legions -whatever - can't his Royal Highness just tell 'em to translate them for us?'

'Y'think they would do that?' Doyle was doubtful.

'Hey man - you're the King - the full...package...' Gunn raked his eyes over the half demon's revealing royal attire, lingering for a moment on the bulge at the front of his hose.

Doyle blushed a deep red, 'hey, bud, my eyes are up here!'

'...of Royal majesty and holy Messiahdom, with a curse thrown in for good measure,' Gunn continued. 'I figure they do what you tell 'em.'

Wesley closed the final book, and noticed the wolf illustrated on the cover.

'Yeah … yeah I guess...I might...'

'You can make a decree!' Cordelia said, excitedly, 'or I'll make it for you, 'cause you'll only mess it up. The priests must translate anything that his Royal Majesty, He that is Exalted, King Francisdoyle of Pylea, demands...and also they must get the Chosen Consort her own throne.'

'Well - as long as we remember what's really important!' Doyle smiled at her. 'What about it Wes? Wes?' He looked down at where the watcher was staring at the three books. Wesley began to shuffle them around - changing the order they lay in.

Gunn also looked down. 'Wolf - ram..' he said.

'And Hart -' Wesley finished. 'I'm not sure these priests can be trusted. I think we need to get out of this castle...'

Lorne sat at the side of the village square, separated from all the demons that thronged about. He had hold of a drinking horn, and was taking deep gulps - using the mead to try and get him through this traumatic situation. Angel, on the other hand, needed no such crutch. He was sitting in the middle of the square, with a circle of children at his feet, gazing adoringly up, as he recounted tales of his adventures to them.

'And the scroll is just tipping from her fingertips, her eyes lighting with fierce determination and then whack!' He made a chopping motion with his hand, and all the children jumped. 'I cut off the evil lawyer beast's hand and she screamed - and she screamed - and then I left.' The crowd all exclaimed in admiration and appreciation and a smattering of applause broke out. Angel smiled, got to his feet, and jumped through the circle of children, heading back to Lorne.

The Host lowered his drinking horn, 'well aren't you just a regular Hans Christian Tarantino? … we should probably get back to the palace.' He was desperate to get away from his family. They knew nothing that could help them, and even the mead wasn't helping with the bad mood that being around his lifegiver was putting him in.

Angel looked sad, 'I hate to disappoint the kids,' he told his friend. 'They seem to be enjoying this.'

'Nice to be seen as a hero without all the pesky moral ambiguities you get back at home, isn't it?'

'Yeah - maybe it is - a little,' Angel admitted.

'They see you a certain way,' Lorne told him, wisely, 'and after a while you start to see yourself that way. You become that image. I get it. I do. Because I know how they see me.' He raised his voice and sharpened his tone, 'now can we go?'

But he was out of luck, as Landok strode over and clapped Angel on the shoulder. 'Angel! You must again tell the tale of the sorcerer who could remove his limbs and reassemble at will.'

'Right right,' the Host said, sarcastically, 'because that's a good one.'

In the middle of the square, two demons were making preparations - setting a block down on the platform that was the plaza's centrepiece. Landok noticed them. 'Ah,' he said, 'It is time for the bach-nal. Angel, you will swing the crebbil!'

The vampire grinned, broadly, and shrugged, 'yeah? OK!' Lorne was right, he really was enjoying being the hero. He began to walk off with Landok.

Behind him, the Host spat out his mead. 'The crebbil? The creb...Angel! Angel!' But the vampire didn't listen… he was already halfway across the square, with Landok's arm draped around his shoulders.

'No no no!' Cordelia protested, but the men wouldn't let her leave the library and run back to the throne room. 'You heard all the things that happened to Doyle before we got here!' she said to the other two, 'dungeons and shackles and flehegna stables and...and scum pits! We don't wanna go there - we should stay here, where Doyle is the King...and I have a pretty necklace.'

'Sweetheart, we're not safe, here,' Doyle said to her.

'And we will be out there? Where we're just cow scum?'

'Cordelia,' Wesley's voice was firm and brooked no nonsense, 'there are forces at work here, we don't know who these priests are - or who they serve.'

'Well - if you wanna go - go… but me and Doyle….'

'I don't wanna stay and Com-shuk with a gruesome slug,' her boyfriend told her.

'Groosalug,' Wesley corrected.

'Whatever - I don't know what it is and I really really don't wanna find out… especially not the hard way.'

'Oh come on!' Cordelia tried to make her voice sound encouraging. 'It's probably just some old ritual - candles, getting chanty ...how bad can it be?' She changed her tone to a more pleading one, 'you know better than anyone how bad it can be out there!'

'Yeah - I do… and I still don't wanna stay, princess. If these priests are working for The Senior Partners then we're as much in prison here as we were down in the dungeons. We need to escape - find somewhere to hide, and then Wesley can work on deciphering the texts - and then we can go home... You can keep your necklace.'

Cordelia looked like she was going to argue some more, but Doyle held her gaze until she finally relented, 'fine,' she grumbled, 'so what's the plan?'

'We collect the books and find the quickest way out of here,' Wesley said. He and Gunn grabbed the books. Doyle eased the door open and peered down the corridor. Finding the hallway empty, he beckoned the others to follow him, and the four of them scurried out of the library and out into the main castle - searching for an escape.

Lorne was still trying desperately to get Angel's attention, he made an attempt to reach him, but the vampire was hoisted onto the shoulders of two warrior demons and carried around the square. Angel grinned as he was led around, like a captain that had just led his team to victory. There were shouts from the gathered demons, 'bring the crebbil, bring the crebbil!' They drowned out Lorne's own cries - as he tried to get Angel to listen to him.

Two more demons circled the plaza, they were carrying a young human woman on their shoulders. She was dressed in a burlap sack, the way all the cows outside of the palace were. As he was paraded around, Angel caught sight of her and gave her a smile and a small wave. She did not return it.

The vampire was deposited on the platform, and handed a battle axe, which he gripped in his hands. Behind the throng of onlookers, Lorne bobbed up and down, still shouting at his friend. 'Strike quickly and true, Angel,' Landok said, 'and then we can eat.'

Angel looked downwards, and saw the girl in the burlap sack knelt at his feet. Her head was rested on a chopping block. He looked from her, to the axe in his hands...and then back up at the demons...

Chapter 82: Through the Looking Glass: Part Two

Chapter Text

The demons stared back up at Angel as he stood on the platform, crebbil in hand. He glanced around at them, aghast, 'you want me to…?'

'Sever the cow's head from it's body,' Lorne's mom explained, as if such a thing should be obvious and no cause for concern.

Down on the ground, the woman was whispering to herself. Angel listened to the words - and realised that it was a prayer, aimed at him. 'Make it quick. Make it quick,' she repeated over and over. But Angel just stood there, staring.

'It is a great honour to swing the crebbil at the bach-nal,' Landok told him, noticing his hesitation and wondering what it could mean. Angel was a brave and noble warrior, who killed drokkens with no fear or thought for his own safety. How could beheading cow trash be giving him pause?

But paused Angel was. He lowered the crebbil and pulled off his fur cape and drokken's tooth necklace - allowing them to fall to the floor. A murmur of disquiet ran around the crowd, as they wondered what he was doing. 'You want me to kill her?' Angel asked his voice outraged and horrified.

'The cow is a runaway,' Lorne's mom said - as if that made everything OK. 'A scavenger that sneaks down from the hills and plunders our food stores.'

Angel looked down at the woman at his feet. She was tiny. Her limbs stuck out from under her burlap sack like undernourished sticks. Her collarbone and cheekbones stood out, giving her a skeletal appearance. 'She was probably hungry,' he said to the demons, his voice quiet.

'Will you not swing the crebbil?' Landok asked him, his voice incredulous - verging on anger.

But Angel pulled the woman to her feet and then pointed his axe at the crowd of demons, 'only if you force me to,' he said to them. He pushed the woman behind him, so he was shielding her with his body, and held the axe up - threatening the people below. 'OK,' he said, 'we're gonna back up and these nice folk are...'

'Stop them!' the bearded she demon cried, and her warrior family members began to swarm onto the platform

'...gonna kill us,' Angel finished up. He pushed the nearest demon down to the floor, and then kicked the next one in the chest, knocking him to the ground. But there were too many of them, and Angel feared that he and the girl would be over run. He continued to kick out to try and protect her as long as he could.

'Stop!' Cried out Lorne. Angel stopped what he was doing and stared down at his friend. 'In the name of love!' The Host began to sing. Around him, the Pylean demons all fell to the floor, groaning.

'What sorcery is this?' Landok moaned, gripping his ears.

'Before you break my heart!'

'It burns, it burns!' Lorne's mother fell face down into the mud.

Taking advantage of the complete incapacitation of the demons, Angel picked up the young woman, jumped off the platform and ran over to one of the horses that stood in the square - it's guard was also kneeling on the ground, moaning and crying out in distress as Lorne continued to sing The Supremes. He climbed up into the empty saddle, and then held out his hand for the woman, who scrambled up behind him. They rode out of the plaza; just as the chariot, bearing Constable Narwek, drove in.

'Think it all over,' Lorne sang as his friend escaped, 'think it..' he glanced up and saw Narwek swinging his mace right at him. 'All o- shi…' And then everything went black.

The three men snuck along the stone passageway. Cordelia trailed behind them, her arms laden with all the jewels and golden trinkets that she had been able to find as she crept through the castle. They reached a trapdoor in the floor, and Wes and Gunn heaved it open, and then stepped back - holding their sleeves against their noses. Down at the bottom of the hole, gurgling and sloshing noises were distinctly audible. Cordy wrinkled her own nose in disgust, 'OK - smells like I'm gonna try my luck with The Senior Partners after all - but you guys have fun!'

Doyle stood beside her, also covering his nose with his hand, 'so - uhm - you really reckon a Com-shuk is just candles and chanting? 'Cause I think I can do that.'

Wesley looked at them both in disappointment, 'you can do this!' he told them, 'it's our only sure bet - the sewage empties out beyond the castle. We'll be free. Just - hold your breath.'

'Why can't we just go out the front door?' The Chosen First Consort wanted to know.

'You really think you'd be able to get your booty out the front door?' Gunn asked her.

'Hey!'

'I mean that booty,' he nodded at all the gold she carried.

She looked down at the precious metals, 'oh - I just wanted something to remember Doyle being rich by...After today, it's back to a bad double polyblend, penniless, Irishman. Is it so wrong for me to want a souvenir of the time I dated a king?'

Gunn shook his head, and then lowered himself down into the hole. He groaned out loud when he reached the bottom, clasping his hands over his nose and mouth to try and ward off the smell. 'It's so bad - I think I can taste it!' he called up. Up above him, Doyle and Cordelia took another step back from the edge of the opening.

'You next,' Wesley said to Cordelia, but she shook her head, 'you first,' she told him.

Wesley nodded and then spoke to Doyle, 'help her down once I'm on the ground, I'll catch her.'

'I'm not completely hopeless!' Cordelia protested.

'No - but you got arms full o' jewels, darlin' - you don't wanna drop them in the- uh - well in what's down there.'

Wesley dropped down into the sewer, and a heartfelt 'yeuch' echoed back up. 'Go on now, love,' Doyle said, manoeuvring Cordelia into place over the trapdoor. Beneath her, Wesley stood looking up, his arms open wide ready to catch her. But she never materialised...

'We have been looking for you, Your Majesty,' Silas said, appearing in the hallway. Cordelia and Doyle both froze, over the trapdoor - and looked at the priest. The red robed demon looked down at the opening, but chose not to comment on what the King and his concubine might have been getting up to. 'I really must speak with the palace servants about leaving that door open,' he said.

One of the guards shut it, and Doyle and Cordy stepped away. 'Uh - yeah...it's a hazard leaving that thing wide open,' his Royal Highness agreed, 'anyone might fall down into the - uh - what's down there.'

'It is a bit whiffy,' Cordelia said.

Silas looked at her for a long moment, as if thinking about objecting to being spoken to by cow scum. But then he let the moment pass, and instead addressed Doyle. 'Your concubine…' he glanced at the gold in Cordelia's arms.

'Oh this! Ha ha!' Cordelia laughed, 'I was just ... thinking of getting this appraised - making sure his Royal Highness wasn't being short changed - he doesn't know much about jewels..'

'Well I never had any before,' Doyle smiled nervously, 'bein' cow scum and all,' he added to Silas.

'His Highness must not speak of himself like that,' the priest told him, 'he has been chosen by the higher powers to carry their gift - he is above the rest of the cow trash - exalted beyond even demon kind.'

'That's real kind o' you to say.'

Silas went back to staring at Cordelia. She found herself dropping her gaze. 'The palace seamstresses have been most busy - since you saw fit to elevate a cow to the position of concubine,' Silas said to Doyle, 'making an outfit fit for her standing in the palace, that flatters the female cow form - something we have never thought to create here in the castle before now.' His tone made it clear that the need to create a flattering dress for a cow was due to Doyle's own sickening perversions - and that he, Silas, disapproved.

Cordelia glanced down at her long, pink dress. 'Oh - uhm - you know this is fine, what I'm wearing now - comfy. Real flattering to the female cow form.'

'The concubine has no choice,' Silas said.

'Oh.'

'You know, bud, I'd really appreciate it if you didn't call the woman I love either a cow or a concubine - she's neither. And it's about time she was shown some respect around this castle.'

Silas looked at his King, Doyle stared back, holding his breath. But then Silas nodded, 'As Your Majesty wishes. The Consort will go now with Marelda,' he snapped his fingers and a blonde female slave stepped forward, her head bowed, 'to change into her … special garments. I hope she will prove most pleasing to His Majesty.' Marelda began to lead Cordelia off - Cordy glanced over her shoulder at Doyle, startled at them being separated.

'She's always most pleasing to My Majesty,' the King informed Silas, 'and she really doesn't have to put special clothes on...I'd really much rather she was just .. Cordelia!' he shouted after his girlfriend, but she was around the corner and out of sight. 'She better be back by my side real soon, bud,' Doyle said to the priest.

'But of course… though I will reiterate - it is unseemly for a c….human to wander the palace without a collar on. She belongs to you, she should wear the collar.'

'No,' Doyle growled, 'No shock collar! You stick a collar on her and I'll stick a collar on you, understood?'

'As you wish,' Silas bowed his head, and began to lead the King back to the throne room. 'Now, Your Majesty, the Groosalug approaches.'

'Oh... good,' Doyle tried to smile. 'For the Com-shuk right?'

'Your majesty already knows about the Com-shuk?' Silas sounded surprised.

'Yep, I guess I do at that,' Doyle told him, as they entered together into the great royal chamber.

Gunn and Wesley came staggering out of the sewer entrance, coughing and spluttering. Once they were a safe distance away - smell wise - they took deep, gasping breaths. Wesley, who had tucked his face inside his sweater to protect his nose and mouth from the stench, dropped his top back into place and stared down the sewer tunnel. 'They didn't make it,' he said to Gunn, 'they were caught.'

'So now what?'

'We find Angel.' They began to walk away from the castle.

Angel rode the horse through the countryside, the young woman clinging on around his waist. The land was hilly, with boulders, and overhanging trees and meandering pathways. It was quiet - and it seemed like they had not been followed this far out. He reined the horse in, and climbed down from the saddle, and then helped the young woman down to her feet. 'I think it's safe,' he told her, 'but we should probably continue on foot - in case they try to track us.' He pushed the horse, encouraging it to canter away from them, 'go on,' he said to it, then he turned back to the girl, and looked down at her. 'You OK?'

She gazed back up at him, a look of wonderment on her face. She clapped a hand to her head. 'Handsome man - saved me from the monsters,' she said, her voice disbelieving. He began to frown, but before he had a chance to reply, she had jumped away from him. 'Bye,' she said and ran away up the path.

'Hey - wait a minute!' Angel called out, and began to follow her up the rocky hill.

...

The young woman ran through the trees and up past a large boulder which stood against the hill face. Then she vanished. The vampire followed on, passing the boulder and then finding the crevice she had disappeared down. He slipped inside and found himself standing in a large cave.

Right at the back, the young woman was crouched by the wall, her nose almost pressed against it. She had put on a pair of crooked spectacles and was carving away into the cliff face. What she carved looked like a mixture of the strange language from the book in the library - and mathematical equations. She heard Angel's footsteps, and glanced over her shoulder at him, peering through the curtain of her dirty hair. He stopped in the middle of the cave staring around, and she decided to ignore him and get back on with her carving.

'Hey - great place!' Angel said. She peered at him again, her actions nervous and squirrely. He began to cross the cave towards her, and she flinched back and returned to her carving. 'You don't have to be afraid of me,' he said to her, softly, 'I would never…' he trailed off as he spotted a pool of water in a hole in the cave floor, his reflection stared back at him and he stopped to admire it. '...Hurt you,' he forced his mind back to the situation at hand. But she continued to ignore him. 'You don't wanna talk to me, huh?' he asked.

'I can't,' she replied.

'Why not.'

'Because you're not real,' she told him, matter of factly, 'or - I'm not real. Someone isn't real here and I suspect it's you. So if you're not real then that means that my head came off back there and that I'm dead now. Dead! And with me being dead and you being not real I can hardly be expected to have some big conversation with you, because that's just a little too much pressure to handle now, alright?' Her voice went higher, and her words came out quicker - more garbled and panicked as she finished her sentence. Crouched by the wall, her shoulder blades were quivering with the tension - and Angel realised he needed to back off.

'OK OK,' he said to her, his hands raised in surrender. He looked up at the words and symbols she had carved all over the wall, 'what's that you're doing?'

She took a step back and gazed up at it. 'I think I saw it in a dream once.'

'You've been here a long time,' he said to her.

'Always,' she shook her head to correct herself, 'not always.'

Angel scanned around the cave, realising that this desolate, lonely place was this strange woman's home. He saw something rectangular - and plastic, lying on the ground. He frowned, plastic had no place in this world. He picked the object up and read it - it was a California State Driver's license which had expired back in 1998. There was a photograph of the woman on it - naturally - though she looked different; her hair was clean, her face fuller and happier - the strain that was etched deep into every line, and which haunted her eyes, was absent in this picture of her from her own world. It also had her name written on it - Winifred Burkle.

She saw him looking, 'I had a dream. I had a name,' she told him.

'Winifred,' he read out. She ran over and snatched the license from his hand - her name spoken aloud causing her the same distress that it had back when she had spoken to Doyle.

'You're the girl from Doyle's vision!' Angel realised.

'What?'

'They called you Fred - you were studying to be a physicist.'

'That was my dream,' she told him, 'the other man knew about it too - the one in prison. He said I worked at the library.'

'Doyle, right? Short? Irish? He's my friend - he sees people in trouble. He saw you. You disappeared from the library five years ago.'

'Stop it,' she cried, she sounded in pain as her dream, half forgotten and so very distant, was put into words by a stranger.

'It wasn't a dream, Fred.'

'It wasn't?' her voice was quiet - not daring to believe. Angel shook his head. She breathed in sharply, 'and my head's still on?' He nodded and smiled at her, and she grinned back.

He pushed her glasses back up her nose, 'yeah.'

She giggled, but then the smile melted from her face and she went back to looking troubled. She shook her head and moved a few steps back from the vampire, 'no, no I don't want you to be real.'

'Why?'

'Because! You're nice. And you saved me. And bad things will happen to you here.' She continued to shake her head and her voice became little more than a whisper, 'bad things always happen here.'

'No,' Angel sought to reassure her, 'no, no - nothing bad's gonna happen. I -It's gonna be OK. We -we can take you out of here.'

'We?'

'Yeah - me and my friends - you said you met one of them? Doyle? Well - we're all working on a way to get out of here. We can take you back.'

'Can't go back,' she continued to shake her head, trying to shut out the words - the hope - that this man offered, 'there is no back.'

'No there is! If we can open the portal.'

'The portal! The man fell through a portal. He was a man...but then he became a monster - like one of them - great, big, blue spikes shooting out of his face. They put him in prison,' she laughed, 'the monsters locked the monster up. They're gonna execute him. I spoke to him... but then I was arrested.' She frowned, 'his head's probably on a spike by now.'

'No!' it was Angel's turn to shake his head, 'that was Doyle - he's fine….they made him ruler.'

She looked confused, and then put out. 'They made him…? Oh. They made him King of the monsters?' Her voice became brittle, 'when I got here...they didn't do that for me. That's nice for him.'

Cordy gazed askance at the outfit that Marelda held up for her, 'I'm supposed to put on that? I don't think so.'

'It has been designed to especially tempt His Majesty,' Marelda told her, without meeting her eyes - keeping her head bowed. 'Its form is to show off your... cow assets.'

'I don't need to tempt Doyle,' the consort told the slave, 'and believe you me - he's seen all my cow assets before now - lots of times. Why can't I just stay in the same clothes I'm wearing? Like you?'

Marelda's head shot up, 'You cannot wear the same as me,' she gasped, 'you are the chosen consort - the one woman in all the realm that the exalted one desires for the royal Com-shuk…'

It was Cordelia's turn to snap her head upwards, 'what was that?'

'And you must be dressed in attire that befits your status as beloved of His Highness,' Marelda continued, as if there had been no interruption. She held out the golden material, 'now - let me help robe you.' And grumbling, Cordelia submitted to being dressed in her concubine's robes. And, amidst her discomfort, she forgot to follow up on what Marelda had said to her...

Doyle sat on his throne, anxiously waiting for Cordelia to reappear. A female slave knelt beside him, filing the nails on his right hand. He looked down at her, and his buffed fingernails, 'um - yeah - that's great, thanks, darlin'.' She bowed her head to him. 'Um - why don't you - take a break?' He turned around and spoke to the two female slaves that were fanning him with large feathers on golden poles, 'you too - ladies - um - take a load off, yeah?'

The fanning sputtered to a a hesitant stop, as the two slaves glanced uncertainly around the throne room, not sure what to do. A murmur rippled through the courtiers. 'I mean it,' Doyle said to the women, 'I don't need you waitin' on me hand and foot - really - I don't get no one waitin' on me back home - take some time for yourselves - sit down.'

The murmuring grew louder, the female slaves still didn't move. Silas stepped forward. 'Majesty - it is not - seemly - for you to speak to the cows like so. They exist only to serve you. They do your bidding and nothing else. It is right that one exalted, such as yourself, should have those deemed his lessers to serve him.'

Doyle shook his head, putting his hand up to make sure his crown didn't fall off with the movement. 'Call me old fashioned, bud, I'm just not comfortable with slavery… and I don't wanna be a party to it. Now we got some real fundamental differences in the way we see the world - but I don't agree that these women - any of these humans - are my lessers. And whilst we're on the matter - I don't like any o' 'em havin' to wear the shock collars. I like my servants paid, and my humans collar free.' He found that it wasn't only Cordelia's honour that he could be kingly whilst defending - apparently the mistreatment of all the slave girls irritated him enough to make him forget his fear of public speaking.

The mutterings amongst the courtiers grew to fever pitch - the outrage in their tones only too audible from Doyle's position on the throne. It was bad enough, a national embarrassment, that the new King had elevated cow trash above all demon women in the land - and would no doubt partake in all sorts of physical perversion with the creature once they were alone in the royal bedchamber. But that he extended this wrong thinking to every cow in the palace - in the realm ... this was not how they had imagined the restoration of the monarchy would be.

Silas coughed, 'I am afraid, Your Majesty, we have spoken about the collars before. It is a matter of security. The cows cannot be trusted unless they are controlled.'

'Well maybe if you treated them better they could be trusted,' Doyle snapped.

'This is how it has always been,' the priest told him.

'Well - maybe it's time things around here changed.'

'Ah he-hem,' a pointed throat clearing made Doyle look up, past Silas, and towards the door - where the newly dressed Cordelia stood. The King's eyebrows shot to the top of his regal brow, and his whole face lit up on seeing her. He whistled in appreciation, 'Wow, princess, you're outfit's even more revealin' than mine! You look smashin'!'

She glanced down at her gold bikini top, and skirt, which was no more than a few silky whisps attached to a jewelled waistband. 'I look like something out of Return of the Jedi,' she said, 'what? Did you show them pictures?'

'Ah - Princess Leia's got nothin' on you, beautiful.' He reached his hand out for her, and she walked down the central aisle, past the hostile eyes of the demon bigwigs, and climbed the dais to stand beside her boyfriend.

'So - what's going on?' she asked Doyle.

'We were just... discussin'... fair treatment o' humans,' he told her.

'Oh - good - that does need sorting out,' she agreed.

A priest entered the room and approached Silas, he whispered in the chief priest's ear and Silas nodded and then spoke out loud. 'Majesty,' he said, interrupting the couple. They both turned and stared down at him. 'The Groosalug approaches, he should arrive at any moment.'

'Good…' Doyle nodded, not looking sure what to say to this information, '...that's good. Uhm…'

'I have a question,' Cordelia said. All demon eyes turned to her. 'This Gruesome slug arrives - and Doyle - His Majesty - Com-shuks with him…' Silas nodded, waiting to hear what she would say - fearful that this cow may know something that would jeopardise the prophecy from coming to pass. '...why?' she finished up, 'what for?' Doyle nodded his head thoughtfully, and then shot a questioning glance at the priest.

'Ah - I believed Your Majesty already knew. The Groosalug is to be your successor to the throne. When his Majesty's rule is over, he and the Groosalug shall perform the Com-shuk…'

'Which is?' Doyle asked

'A most sacred and holy ritual,' Silas told him, keeping the details vague so as not to cause alarm or outrage at this crucial juncture. The outrage would come - but by then it would be too late. 'The demon blood of the Groosalug will absorb the exalted one's visions and then he shall rule hereafter.'

'What?' Cordelia breathed in disbelief, 'his visions… Doyle can't give up his visions - he needs them to help people.'

But the half demon stayed quiet. He thought about the Brachen demons he saw slaughtered by The Scourge, and the telekinetic girl sexually assaulted in the alley, and the man who had stabbed himself in the eye. He thought of the pain that each vision brought, and all the evil and desperation that he saw. And he thought of the shame and the guilt that he always felt when the images crashed into his mind - the physical reminder of the harm he had done - and his need to be punished. He had said, on more than one occasion over the year, that he would do anything to be rid of them. And now here was his chance. A quick ritual - a Com-shuk - whatever that was, and he'd be free - forever.

Cordelia stared down at her thoughtful boyfriend, 'Doyle!' she hissed. He looked up at her, and she read his expression, 'you cannot be serious,' she said to him, 'no!'

'Cordelia-'

'No! Our entire life together revolves around your visions. It's our business model - it's our reason for being. We help the hopeless! You can't turn your back on that.'

'His Majesty must Com-shuk with the Groosalug - it is written,' Silas stated.

'Then you need to write something else. His Majesty needs those visions far more than any old Gruesome slug,' Cordelia snapped. 'He needs them when we go home.'

A look of confusion suddenly crossed Doyle's face, 'Hey!' he said, 'did the prophecies know that the cursed one would arrive here from a different world - and would want to go home?'

'Nothing was written of it in our holy books of such an occurrence, Exalted one. Indeed your presence in this world is...unprecedented, as far as we know.'

'Then why do you have my replacement already lined up?' Doyle asked, furrowing his brow.

Silas kept his face impassive, giving away nothing. Too much rested on this - the cursed half breed must not discover his own disposability if the prophecies were to come to pass. 'When your time is done - you will need a successor,' he said - keeping his voice neutral. 'The Groosalug is destined to be he. That is all.'

'Well - y'know, in our world - it's usually the King's children that get the crown next - why aren't you just waitin' for me and Cordy to... y'know..' he whistled '...bring forth the next Exalted One?'

Silas looked genuinely puzzled at that. 'Your Majesty is, forgive me, a half breed,' he said.

'Yeah - so?'

'A flehegna may mate with a gromelma and a drenegno will be the result. But the drenegno cannot mate.'

'I don't understand - like half o' those words make no sense to me.'

'A horse and a donkey can breed together and bring forth a mule… but the mule shall have no offspring of its own,' Silas gave an another example.

'What? I don't… what?'

'Oh,' beside him, Cordelia breathed out a sad noise of understanding.

He turned to look at her, and found her gazing down at him, an expression of something very like pity etched on her face. 'What?' he asked, 'I don't get it - what's he sayin'?'

But she had no chance to answer him, as a barrage of trumpets announced the arrival of the Groosalug.

Angel had managed to convince the strange young woman to leave her cave and return with him into town - to go to the palace where His Majesty King Francisdoyle of Pylea, General of the Ravening Legions and Eater of his Enemies Flesh, would be able to keep them safe until the far less impressively titled Wesley Wyndam Pryce - rogue demon hunter - found a way to take them home.

'I've never been up to the palace before,' Fred was babbling, 'I've seen it up there on that hill. Watching me.'

'It doesn't have eyes - Fred. We just gotta find my friends.'

'And - and you're sure this Irish Doyle monster King - is safe? Because if the monsters made him their ruler then he must be - the king of the monsters,' she laughed a little hysterically, 'a monster to the power of ten to the twenty two if you can believe that could ever happen.'

'I ...don't understand what that means.'

'Billions and billions and billions reachin' on forever. Is he evil?'

'No - he's not evil. He's just ...this is actually all a big misunderstanding. Doyle isn't the King of anywhere or anyone. But as long as the demons all think he's their King, then we're all safe.'

'So what's he doin' up there, sitting on his golden throne all alone? Whilst we run from demons with their big bucket helmets and their swirling crebbils.'

'Probably not much, knowing Doyle - and he isn't all alone. He's with Cordelia - she'll be doing most of the actual ruling. She's used to that - she was very popular in high school.'

'Is she a monster?'

'Well… she isn't a demon, if that's what you mean.' He chuckled to himself, as he thought about Cordy, and then felt a painful tug in his chest. He had no idea why that was. So he changed the subject. 'I just want to check if there are any guards around,' he told Fred, 'stay here.'

He left her behind a boulder and stood still, scanning the terrain. His vampire senses picked up the scent of demon on the air, and he dashed behind the rock. 'Get down,' he hissed, just as two demon guards rode past on horseback, their swords drawn and ready. They saw the fugitives and charged.

Angel pushed Fred to the ground and then spoke to her, quickly. 'Look - Doyle isn't the only monster in our family. Now you might see something that frightens you - but I want you to remember, I'm your friend, OK?'

Fred nodded, not really comprehending what he said, and Angel left her behind - jumping out from behind the boulder to attack the guards. He ducked the sword swing from the first guard and turned to find the second guard almost on top of him. He made the change for increased power - unleashing the demon and vamping out. But something wasn't right. Instead of his forehead going bumpy and his eyes turning golden, he felt his whole face begin to shift and stretch, changing into a more lumpy and ferocious shape. His skin turned green, his eyes went red, and the edge of his face erupted into small horn like protrusions, whilst his hands turned into claws.

He leapt onto the second guard, bringing him crashing down to earth. Fred flinched a little at the savagery of the attack, but the monstrous vampire laid into the downed guard with a wild ferocity. The guard screamed as Angel ripped his arm off in one go - right from the socket - and then threw it to one side. He then pushed the soldier down to the ground and dove on top of him, ripping into his neck with his teeth.

Seeing all this, the first guard turned his horse around and fled in the opposite direction - as fast as he could. Angel continued to feed on the demon's flesh, ripping and tearing at his throat, gorging on his blood. The guard struggled for a little while, but then went still. As the monster felt the soldier go limp beneath him, he turned around, scenting more live flesh in the air. He saw Fred cowering by the boulder.

The woman shook her head, as she watched her only friend in five years turn into a dangerous animal and rip the guard apart. Angel was snarling, as he looked at her, and the demon's blood stained his fangs and was smeared down his chin.

'Bad things always happen here,' Fred whispered to herself.

Chapter 83: Through the Looking Glass: Part Three

Chapter Text

The Angel beast continued to snarl and growl, as it stared over its shoulder at the cowering Fred. Feeling her warmth, and scenting her fear - he lost interest in the dead guard and left its corpse to scamper over to the frightened woman. His movements were crouched - almost on all fours - completely animalistic. There was no vestige of the man he had been just moments before. He came up close to Fred, leaning into her as far as possible, and began to sniff. She shied away, cringing, trying to make herself as small as possible. Up close she could smell the iron tang of the blood, which stained his mouth, on his breath. A gristle of meat dangled from one of his fangs, and wobbled there - both nauseating and ludicrous. She held her breath and waited …

After a moment, and for no reason that Fred could fathom, the Angel beast turned away from her - looking back across the hills towards the dead guard. He leapt away from her, bounding away in a flash of motion - his movements once more evoking the animal. Perhaps he had smelled something more interesting than a frightened, malnourished girl, on the air.

Fred drew in some deep, ragged breaths - her body shaking, almost limp, with relief...and fear. She looked over at the mutilated corpse of the guard, lying just a few feet away - seeing the bloody and visceral damage her friend and protector had done. Bad things always happened here.

'An animal, a - a beast,' the Groosalug was saying, 'to my people I was no more than this.' But Doyle wasn't really listening. As he sat on his throne, feeling the weight of his crown push into his scalp, making it ache, he worried about the priest's words - about their meaning. Cordelia seemed to understand - and understand that it was something bad… and as he ruminated on it, he began to guess at their meaning himself.

It was Cordelia who was politely listening to the Groosalug - the next in line to the throne - speak. Though she kept glancing down at Doyle, as if she was worrying about him worrying. 'Why did they think that?' she asked; though her voice was distracted, as she paid closer attention to her quiet boyfriend than she did to the strapping, muscular hunk that knelt before them.

'Can you not see why?' he asked in surprise.

Cordelia tore her eyes off Doyle and looked back at the Groosalug; taking in his broad shoulders, cleft chin and long, black hair. Her expression was baffled. 'No - you look - very nice.'

'You are truly beneficent,' he said to her - he didn't seem to mind at all that it was Cordelia, and not the King, that was paying him attention. Indeed, the longer he spoke, the more clearly he directed his words at the Chosen First Consort alone, and began to ignore the King. 'Such - compassion. To ignore the flaws of my ...polluted birth.'

'Huh?' Cordelia's face became even more baffled. The Groosalug reached out and took her hand. She looked a little irritated, and glanced back at Doyle. But the King was still not paying attention, his eyes had gone glassy, his head was bowed… it was like he had no idea there was anybody else in the room - least of all that a much larger, and more handsome man was attempting to flirt with Cordelia.

'Why - note the odd curve of my mouth,' the Groosalug said, pulling Cordy's hand towards his strong jawline and setting her finger tips to rest on his lips, which he pulled back into a shy smile. 'The odd - bulging of my limbs,' he moved her hand over to his upper arm, where he flexed his bicep and let her feel the firmness of the muscle beneath his skin. 'The heart…' he pulled her hand to his chest - where she could feel the steady thump of his heart beneath his iron pectorals, 'beating in the wrong place…'

She snatched her hand away and looked back at Doyle, again, who still hadn't noticed anything. 'That's... nice,' she said to him, 'not what I'm into - but whatever.'

'Nice?' the Groosalug asked her, his voice incredulous. 'Does your kindness know no bounds? They are defects - which became all the more apparent as I matured. The Covenant soon determined there could be no mistake. There was cow's blood in my veins.'

Cordelia shrugged, unimpressed at his plight. 'So what? I'm all cow. And His Majesty...' she looked back down at him and bit her lip in anxiety, as he remained so quiet and still, 'well, the King himself is half cow … you know, human.'

'Oh no.' The Groosalug told her, 'the King is beyond that.'

'He is?' Cordelia was sceptical.

'He has been cursed by the higher powers - he is transcendent.'

Cordelia snorted.

'And you!' the Groosalug continued, as if she hadn't interrupted, 'you are the one chosen before all others to please His Majesty. Your form… your presence… your voice… oh I can see all too clearly why the Exalted One desires only you.'

'It's the bikini, isn't it? Too much?'

'But for my people - to be part cow is to be less than whole,' The Groosalug went on with his story. 'There was nothing I could do to prove my worth. I was - incapable even of performing husbandly duties with any of the females in my tribe.'

Cordelia wrinkled her nose in disgust, 'eww.'

'I was cast from my village,' he told her - getting to his feet and beginning to pace with the distress of the memory. He swept his long mane of black hair out of his face. 'Cut off from my life givers. I was forced to make my own way.'

'Yeah?' Cordelia was staring back at Doyle, again, a worried frown line appearing between her eyes. 'My parents got busted for tax fraud, and my trust fund dried up like that,' she snapped her fingers. But her words were distracted - she didn't really care about finding common ground with the Groosalug.

Which was lucky, because the Groosalug didn't understand her meaning - and so kept on telling his own story. 'I - sought to end my suffering.'

'You did?'

'I -I foolishly entered every contest of skill and daring that I could, in an attempt to snuff out my pathetic life - but at even this I failed.'

'Huh - when Doyle found out he was half demon he drank a lot and started stealing cars.'

At the mention of his name, the half demon raised his head slightly - as if only now becoming aware that there were other people in the room. He looked between Cordelia and the Groosalug, and scowled when he saw how the well muscled, taller man was gazing at his girlfriend.

'I won every match,' The Groosalug continued to direct all his words at Cordelia, even now that the King was apparently back in the room with them - no longer lost in thought, 'I vanquished every flame beast, I defeated every drokken. It seemed nothing could stop me. The Covenant had no choice but to bestow upon me the name 'Groosalug' - the brave and undefeated.'

'Uh - yeah,' Doyle cleared his throat, 'Um - great...that's great…' he trailed off and looked down at his pointy silken boots. He wriggled his toes inside of them. 'Uh - actually - I'd - um - I'd like a moment alone with my -my Chosen First Consort….' he glanced up, scanning the room, his expression a little intimidated, 'if that's OK…'

A grumbling echoed around the room, as the courtiers thought about disobeying ...being forced out of the throne chamber so that the King could perform his perversions with cow trash - it was too much! But Cordelia cleared her throat and put on her most important voice. 'His Royal Highness, King Francisdoyle of Pylea, the Cursed One, He Who is Exalted, demands that you all leave us - Now!' She looked at the brave and undefeated Groosalug, who immediately bowed - ostensibly to the King, but really to her - and left the room. The other courtiers felt they had no choice but to follow their future King out of the chamber, though they still muttered treachery as they went.

Once they were alone, Doyle got out of the throne and wandered down to the fruit laden table. He didn't take anything, however, he just stood staring at it, his back to Cordelia.

'Are you going to tell me what's wrong?' she asked from up on the dais. She perched on the arm of the throne. Her boyfriend continued to say nothing. 'You were real quiet back there,' she continued. 'Not that I care - but you were borderline rude to the gruesome slug. You're never rude! Rudeness is my thing!'

'I was - I was thinking about what Silas said to me…' the Irishman said, after a long while. 'Tryin' to work out what it meant…'

'Oh,' she breathed that same small, sad sigh, 'Doyle … look, what does a demon - from another world - know about you? Or Brachen demons? Or humans, for that matter? It doesn't mean anything…'

'You understood what he was sayin', though?'

'Yeah,' she admitted. 'I did, yeah.'

He turned to look at her then, his eyes wide and questioning. 'Well…?' he asked, 'does everybody get to know but me? Spell it out for me, Cordelia… 'cause I...I don't know what to think.'

'I think you do,' she said softly. He hung his head.

...

The door opened and Constable Narwek walked in. He was followed by two guards who were dragging a gagged and bound prisoner between them. 'Majesty. There has been a disturbance at the bach-nal.'

'Jeez - don't you knock?' Cordelia snapped at the constable, her eyes flashing. Doyle continued to stare down at his feet. 'We're in the middle of something. His Royal Highness specifically requested that we be left alone.'

'But the prisoner is ready for His Majesty's swift and cruel punishment, cow trash.' The constable replied.

Doyle's head snapped up at that - 'what did I say about callin' her…' but he trailed off, as he and Cordelia realised who the prisoner was at the same moment. 'Lorne!' they both cried out.

'You wish me to execute him most Exalted One?' Narwek asked.

'No no - stop with the tryin' to execute my friends all the time.' Doyle rushed over to the guards and wrestled the Host out from in between them. 'I pardon him - release him! he is pardoned - now go away.'

Narwek bowed, curtly, 'as you wish,' and turned on his heel and left the room - to go and report to Silas.

Grudgingly, the guards unlocked Lorne's cuffs, pushed him away from themselves, and then followed the constable. The Host stumbled, and Doyle caught him, taking the gag out of his mouth. 'Are you OK, man?' he asked.

Cordelia joined them by the door, 'oh, baby - what did they do to you?'

'Oh - the usual - beating, torments, name calling, threats of execution and desecration of my corpse. Just some of the reasons I love Pylea...' He looked at Cordelia, and whistled, 'and you are a vision in gold, pudding - where'd they rustle up that outfit? - It's a knockout! Princess Leia eat your heart out! Am I right?'

'Oh - this?' she wrapped her arm across her midsection, trying to cover up some of her exposed skin, 'they made it for me - my special concubine costume.'

The green demon whistled again, and nudged Doyle, 'man - you are one lucky fella,' he laughed, 'but then I always thought that…' then he trailed off and frowned. 'One lucky fella with a storm cloud hovering over head - Doyle - your aura is blacker than my mother's heart - what's the hubbub bub?'

Cordelia glanced at her boyfriend, who said nothing, but returned to looking at his shoes, and then looked over at the Host. 'He ...we … we we're just in the middle of discussing some bad news we might have just got… could you just.. Y'know ...leave us to it?'

'Sure thing, pumpkin - where are Wesley and Gunn?'

'Um - we don't actually know - but I'm sure they're fine - stay safe,' and she ushered her green friend out of the door, shut it behind him, and then turned back to Doyle.

Wesley and Gunn walked through the forest - they had been travelling for hours, and the trees were just getting thicker. After a while, the young street fighter decided it was time to say something. 'We're lost,' he told his friend.

'Nonsense!' Wesley protested, 'I've been following the sun - we're headed due west - back to the village.' Watcher's academy training wasn't all dead languages and musty books - there was a healthy dose of Ordnance Survey Orienteering on the syllabus as well.

'Which one?' Gunn asked.

'Which village?'

'No - which sun? There's two of them. Alternate dimension.'

He came to a halt, and Wesley came to a baffled stop, beside him, as he realised his mistake. 'We're lost.' The watcher held up his hand for silence, and scanned the landscape - straining his eyes and ears.

'You havin' a Blair Witch moment or somethin'?' Gunn whispered to him.

'We're being hunted.' Wesley whispered back. 'Something is following us.'

Gunn slid around, the movement smooth and practised, and stood back to back with his British friend. They were all too used to fighting this way, these days - it came as naturally as their elaborate handshake ritual. 'Palace guards?' he asked - thinking they might have been followed, once Doyle and Cordelia had been caught.

'I don't know,' Wesley told him. They pivoted around together, scanning the forest in both directions, surveying their surroundings.

The Angel beast appeared suddenly, bounding to the top of the rock and snarling down at them. Gunn stared up at the rangy figure, at it's lumpy green face and horns - and red eyes. Deathwok demons were green and red, of course - as was Doyle - but they were people who just happened to be demons… this was an animal, except it wore clothes. It jumped down at them, knocking them both to the ground, but it overshot them and rolled away. They scrambled back to their feet and fanned out, so that the creature could not attack them both at once. 'What the hell is that thing?' Gunn asked.

Wesley had no answer. He stumbled on the rocky ground, and fell down. The creature scampered towards him but pulled up short, as the watcher grabbed a fallen tree branch and wielded it in the animal's face. Behind them, Gunn began to throw rocks at the beast, pelting it in at attempt to distract it from his friend. 'Come on! Come on!' he yelled.

The creature turned to look at him, snarling, and in that moment Wesley caught sight of a mark on its shoulder blade - just visible underneath its torn shirt. It was a tattoo - a winged creature - the evangelical symbol of Mark, the Gospel writer, with an 'A' scribed beneath it. Wesley knew that mark. 'It's Angel!' he called out to Gunn, 'It's Angel!'

Gunn just stared at the snarling monster in front of him, a look of horror and disbelief on his face. And then the creature bounded across to him and pinned him to the floor. He strained with all his might to keep the beast at arms length, to keep himself out of the reach of Angel's fangs - without harming the vampire.

'Angel!' Wesley ran over to the struggling pair, and tried to pull his former boss off his associate, 'Angel - can you hear me? Angel! Angel?'

But although the beast could hear Wesley's words - it was as if they were coming from a great distance - and the sound of them was being drowned out by the thundering of blood that he could hear rushing through the men's veins. He could hear the thumping of their heart beats in their chests, like a wild, banging drum - and the beast answered to the call of blood - not the cries of men.

...

Unnoticed by the fighting group, Fred appeared on the hillside. She had followed her friend - and now she saw him attacking more people. Humans this time - not monsters. People she didn't want to die. She had prepared for this, on the way here - snaring herself a small gremulan and gutting it. She carried its remains with her. She dipped her hand into the leather pouch that hung by her side, and then slowly brought it back out - her fist raised. It was now dripping with blood.

The Angel beast caught the metallic scent on the air, and went still, stopping attacking Gunn and turning to look at Fred - and the blood. Slowly, he straightened up and began to move towards the girl. Just as slowly, Fred backed away, her bloodied fist still raised, leading him away from the men. He followed her through the hills.

...

Left alone, Wesley helped Gunn to his feet, and then saw the deep scratch marks in his friend's shoulder. 'Oh you're hurt.'

But Gunn wasn't interested in his injuries. 'What the hell just happened?'

Wesley turned to gaze at the spot where the young woman had appeared, as if from nowhere - like a guardian spirit; and then selflessly drawn Angel towards herself. 'That strange, wild girl saved us,' he said, wonderingly, 'from Angel.'

'Something very freaky is going on here,' Gunn said.

'Yes - and I think I know what.' The watcher picked up a handful of wet mud. 'Angel's vampire self has been - sublimated - somehow - by this dimension.' He made as if to smear the the mud into Gunn's wounds, and the other man held his hand up to stop him. 'It's OK,' Wesley said. 'I'm no Cordelia - but this should help - antibacterial clay.' Gunn allowed him to pack the mud into the scratches and, as he did so, Wesley continued to explain. 'Only his human side has surfaced since we've been here…'

'You mean being able to walk around in the sun? See his reflection? Things like that?'

'Yes. And now - for whatever reason - he's accessed his demon. But he can't find the balance that he usually would in our world. His demon self has totally overcome his human side.'

'So that's what the thing inside of him really looks like?' Gunn asked, wrinkling his nose.

'In its purest form.'

'That's nasty!'

Wesley finished treating the wounds and then checked that Gunn was OK to walk. The street fighter agreed that he was. 'Then we need to help him,' Wesley said. But before they had taken more than a few steps, screaming figures began to drop down from the trees and surround them. A moment later they were ringed in by a group of very hostile looking humans all carrying crude, homemade weapons.

Gunn looked around at them. 'Oh. Good. More fun,' he said.

The couple sat on the steps that led up to the dais. Doyle had his elbows rested on his knee, and his chin cupped in his hands. He had taken his crown off, and Cordelia, sat beside him, was tentatively stroking his hair.

'How did you know?' he asked her, after he had been quiet for a long time.

'My horse - my palomino, Keanu. Daddy had him put out to stud one year… he really was a beautiful horse… I got talking to the breeder. I learned - more than I ever wanted to know about animal husbandry.'

Doyle flinched, and Cordelia's eyebrows raised in alarm. 'But that's what I mean - just because something is true in horses doesn't make it true in people! We're different.'

'Not that different,' Doyle said, 'not really. So mules can't… they can't have their own children?'

'No - the only way to breed a mule is to mate a horse with a donkey. It's the same with ligers.'

'The hybrids are sterile,' Doyle said, bitterly.

'Animal hybrids,' she said, her voice encouraging, 'key word - animal. Not you.'

'But the science is right?' he asked her.

She sighed, 'yeah … the science is right, yeah. I guess ...I guess it's a possibility.'

Doyle hung his head lower, and Cordelia wrapped her arm around him, scooching closer. 'It doesn't matter,' she told him, earnestly, 'it doesn't make a difference. I mean…' she forced a laugh, 'when would we ever have had time to have kids? When would it ever be safe?'

But Doyle wasn't cheered. 'You know, me and Harri we're talkin' about havin' kids right around the time I found out I was a demon?'

It was Cordelia's turn to hang her head, 'I know,' she said, softly.

'And then we found out what I was and…' he broke off to laugh, but it was bitter, 'those discussions just dried up overnight. It was just one more thing that I lost you know - my job - my home- my wife - myself - all gone, along with my chance at ever havin' a family. And it wasn't just that I didn't have anyone to have kids with anymore - it was more than that. I thought I was tainted. I was disgustin'... I couldn't… I couldn't knowingly do that to a child, let them be a monster, like me.'

He twisted his mouth up into a rueful expression. 'And then I met you,' he said. 'And you didn't care that I was a demon, at all. It just wasn't a big deal. You made me begin to believe it wasn't a big deal… that it wasn't so terrible a thing after all. And I got to thinkin' - I mean I'm half demon - and my demon side didn't present until I was 21. Our kid would only be a quarter demon - their demon side might never even physically manifest - and if it did - well, they would have always known what they were anyway, it wouldn't be a big shock… I guess I'd just started hoping that - I mean everything was back on track. I'm not in jail. I'm not in debt. I'm not drinking - I'm earning. And I had you. Most important - I had you. It made me think maybe I could have everythin' after all… but obviously not - my demon half - the gift that just keeps on takin'.'

Cordelia squeezed him tighter and kissed him on the side of the head. 'I'm sorry,' she said to him, 'but - Silas might not be right. He's a priest, not a doctor. And you're from another world - a more advanced world! We can work around this. You know - when it's time.'

'Yeah - well,' Doyle sighed heavily and leaned his head back against the seat of the throne. 'I guess I'll be handin' my visions over to the Groosalug as soon as possible. If the universe is gonna keeping droppin' on me like this - then I'll hit back any way I can. Powers be damned. I'm done being their messenger boy.'

Cordelia kissed him again, 'you know I'm never gonna let you do that, right?' she said to him.

He looked at her, his eyes were sad and weary. 'I'm the King,' he replied, shrugging his shoulders.

Cordelia scoffed in response. 'And I'm Cordelia Chase! No power in the 'verse can stop me - especially not you.'

Fred backed away, through the trees and up onto her hill, the Angel beast followed along - sniffing at the blood the whole time. She slipped into the crevice behind the boulder and led the creature into her cave. She continued to back away - unsure as to what she would do, or what would happen to her, when she hit up against the cliff face.

The monster crawled through the cave, snarling and sniffing; until it reached one of his claws out and, instead of hitting cave floor, his hand plunged down a hole, and came up wet. It backed away, unsure, and then peered down into the pool of water - the same pool that Angel had admired his reflection in just an hour before.

It flinched back when it saw its own hideous visage staring back up at it; ferocious and wild - animal and angry. It stuck out a claw and swiped at the pool, attempting to destroy its reflection. The water rippled, but then settled again, reflecting the creature back at itself once more.

As it stared down, it began to groan and the horns sank inwards, its face smoothed over and its skin turned white once more. The beast retreated inside, and Angel was left staring at his human reflection. He staggered back from the edge of the pool in disgust, and took a few stumbling steps- as if to get away - before he collapsed in a shivering, exhausted heap.

He lay on the cave floor, his back to Fred - shuddering with misery and shame and fear. The sun shone down on him, through a gap in the cave roof, dancing on his skin and illuminating his grief.

The young woman watched the fallen man quiver, and understood his pain. Wanting to make things better, she approached him - slowly - so as not to startle him, or to reawaken the beast. He paid her no attention as she crept towards him, isolated in his own world of horror as he was, and once she reached his side, Fred reached her hand out to comfort him.

But then she saw that her hand was still covered in blood. She stared down at it for a moment, and then withdrew it, putting it behind herself. She sat beside him for a long time - so they were both together - and completely alone.

Chapter 84: Through the Looking Glass: Part Four

Chapter Text

Night had fallen over the castle, but the royal couple were still locked alone in the throne room. 'It's my choice, Cordelia,' Doyle was still arguing, but their discussion had lasted many hours and he was growing weary. 'It's me that has to have the visions, it's me that has to do the ritual with Conan the Barbarian out there, and it's me that gets to get rid of the head wrenching, mind numbing migraines. So it's me that gets to make the decision.'

'No,' Cordy disagreed. 'It isn't your decision.'

'What - are you gonna decide this for me, as well?' His voice got louder, more annoyed.

'Well - seeming as I'm the only one of us thinking straight then - yeah - buddy - you better believe it,' she snapped.

'Right - you're the one thinkin' straight - of course you are - well I tell you what, Princess, why don't you put up with the visions for a couple of years, get used to having your mind invaded by every nasty thing that happens in a city the size o' Los Angeles - and then we'll discuss the concept o' thinkin' straight!' He was yelling by the time he finished, his face twisted in anger.

Cordelia took a step back - he'd never shouted at her before - she'd never seen him so angry. He'd never fought her before and it scared her. Not that she was scared of him, obviously she wasn't. But she was frightened that maybe their loving, easy going relationship wasn't on as solid ground as she had assumed. If they could take such a fundamentally different approach to something as important as his visions from the higher powers - and that he could get so wound up whilst defending his position. Maybe it meant that they weren't meant for each other after all...

She took a deep breath - this was just a ...a...well whatever it was it didn't signal the end of their relationship. She wouldn't let it. It wasn't really about the visions, she told herself. It was the news - out of nowhere - that he couldn't have children. Arguing about the visions was just his outlet - his way of getting back at the world. And he was so angry because he knew, deep down, that he couldn't go ahead with the Com-shuk. He'd keep the visions, and learn to cope with his infertility - like he'd learned to cope with his demon side - and he'd have no choice but to continue struggling onward. And, just for a moment, he wanted to pretend that he was going to fight back… but Cordelia still had to be the voice of reason. She couldn't let him talk himself into something that he would deeply regret later on.

He stood with his back to her, he was gripping onto the edge of the fruit laden table so hard that his knuckles turned white. His shoulders were tensed, and his head was bowed. He was breathing hard, as he fought to get a grip on his emotions. 'I'm sorry…' he said, after a few moments of deep breaths, 'I didn't mean to... but if you had to have the visions, Cordelia, if it was you that had to put up with the pain - you'd be willin' and eager to perform the Com-shuk to get rid o' them - and what's more - I'd let y'.'

'No,' she shook her head, but kept her distance, 'You wouldn't. Doyle, those visions - The Powers chose you to bear them - so you could help people - you're chosen. You would never let me just give up something like that.'

'No, the priests have got it right,' he disagreed, 'I'm cursed. The Powers didn't give me the visions because they thought I was the best man for the job - they gave them to me to punish me… they're my atonement.'

'Exactly!' Cordelia cried, he turned to look at her then, his face confused, as he tried to work out how that could be construed as a point in Cordelia's favour. She stepped towards him, now that he was looking at her, and put her hand up to stroke his face. 'So you can't just go round Com-shukking with the first person who offers to take them off you. Otherwise you'll never get a chance to put things right, to make up for what you did. And I know you, Doyle, eventually you'll start to feel guilty about that - it's your Catholic upbringing, you can't help yourself. You'll hate yourself, after a while... and we all know where that will lead... Besides, the higher powers will be mightily pissed off when they realise that you wriggled out of your atonement - they might turn you into a frog! I don't care that you're half demon, Doyle, I really really don't - but I struggle to see how anyone - even a woman of my abilities - can enjoy a meaningful relationship with an amphibian! I love you, you know? I don't wanna have to keep you in a fish tank in my room.'

He managed a smile at that last bit. 'So that's it then? I've got to keep my visions because you're frightened of what The PTB might do to me if I give them away?'

'If you had any sense - at all - you'd be frightened too.'

He leaned back against the table, and sighed deeply. 'But maybe you're wrong?' He asked, hopefully. 'Maybe The Powers sent me here to Pylea just so I could hand them over to the Groosalug. Maybe that's why I got sucked through the portal in the first place. Maybe this place is supposed to make me free?'

'Nice try, little Irish man,' she kissed him softly on the lips, 'but no way. When The PTB want you to give up the visions they'll… probably send you a vision.'

That actually made him laugh. 'I guess you're right,' he finally said.

'Oh I know I am.'

'Then I guess I should tell Silas that I won't be performing the Com-shuk with the Groosalug... I don't know what that will mean for his becoming King after me.'

'Does it matter?' Cordelia asked, 'that's for these guys to sort out - it's their world. You're just running it.'

'Yeah - hey - why d'ya think I did get sucked through the portal, then?' he asked her, 'if it wasn't to get rid o' my visions?'

'I'm not sure,' Cordelia shrugged. 'But we help the hopeless - and there sure are a lot of hopeless humans in this world. And you're their King...you could help a lot of people before we went home.'

'You mean get rid o' the shock collars? Set them free?'

'It would be a start.'

He nodded. He would do what she said - he'd keep his visions and he'd use his royal prerogative to help as many of the humans living in Pylea, as he could, before he went home. He couldn't help but feel that Cordelia made a much better and wiser monarch than he did - and that in any kind of sensible world it would be her wearing the crown. 'OK', he said, 'would you - would you go and find a messenger for me - send for Silas ... so I can tell him what I've decided?'

'Of course,' she kissed him again, 'I'm proud of you, you know?' And then she went to the door of the throne room to send a guard to summon the chief priest.

Silas marched back into the chamber where the other priests were assembled. He slammed the door and began to pace. 'He refuses the Com-shuk!' he told them, 'the cow trash concubine has convinced him that his visions are for he alone, and that he should use his power as King to do some good in this realm… he speaks of freeing the slaves - of removing their collars!'

Angered muttering broke out amongst the priests, until one stepped forward and spoke. 'The female cow has too much power over our King. The filthy cow's blood in his veins must addle his mind.'

'It is not his mind he is thinking with when he looks upon his cow concubine,' one of the others said. The muttering broke out again, as the priests murmured in horror at their King's disgusting perversions.

'It is clear what must be done,' Silas told the others, 'we must separate him from his consort, we must send that lowly cow scum away so she can no longer pervert and pollute his mind with her trash words.'

'But what of the Com-shuk?' Barshon asked. 'All our sacred writings speak of the cursed one - and the Com-shuk - passing the visions onto the Groosalug so that he might rule our land with the help of The Powers. The King cannot refuse the Com-shuk.'

'He will not be allowed to,' Silas agreed. 'The Groosalug is our creature - he works for us and has not the intelligence to rule wisely alone. If the Covenant of Trombli is to keep power beyond the restoration of the monarchy then we need our puppet on the throne.' He sat down in his chair, and picked up an apple from the fruit bowl, turning it his hands. 'We shall separate the King from his cow trash. She is strong - and he looks to her for his own strength. Once she is torn from his side, he will be weak and in no position to fight the Com-shuk - in the meantime…' he bit into the apple, 'I think we should send our little King a message… show him where the true power lies.'

A bonfire burned, bright, in the woods. The human rebels gathered around it, their only source of warmth and light, and made their plans. Beside the fire, tied to a stake, Wesley and Gunn were held prisoner, waiting to see what would happen to them next in this strange world.

'I know how we send a message to the King,' one of the rebels was saying, as he tore into a hunk of meat with his teeth, 'we storm the castle.'

The leader of the group took a long drink of his mead before answering. 'That would be suicide. Our entire number would be wiped out in minutes.'

'Yeah - but it'd be a message,' the rebel shrugged. A babble of noise broke out amongst the little group as everyone tried to talk at once, to get their ideas heard - or to tear down someone else's.

'Excuse me!' Wesley's voice cut through the clamour. The men fell quiet as they turned to look at him. 'I couldn't help overhearing...' he told them.

'Wesley,' Gunn hissed at him, from his position tied back to back on the stake. He craned his neck in an attempt to look at his friend.

But Wesley thought he had the problem in hand. 'It's alright Gunn,' he assured the street fighter. 'I believe we can help these brave men.'

But the leader of the rebels did not want to hear it. He got to his feet and approached the watcher, tied to the stake. He took out his knife and drove it deep into the wood by Wesley's head. Even tied up, Wesley flinched. 'Shut up, reconnaissance cow scum,' the rebel leader said.

'Now see here!' Wesley protested, his voice annoyed, 'I've already told you - we're not reconnaissance cows.'

But the rebels thought they knew better - they had seen where these two men had come from. 'We tracked you coming from the palace,' one of them told the two prisoners, 'don't lie.'

'I'm not lying,' the watcher was sure he could clear this whole thing up - and help these rebels - and find Angel - and rescue Doyle and Cordelia - if only this raggedy group of humans would untie him. 'And if it's a message you want sent to the King, then I know we can help.'

'Shut up, Wesley!' Gunn hissed. He did not share his friend's faith in their ability to talk their way out of this. The best course of action, to the street fighter, seemed to be to not aggravate the men who had captured them and hope that in time they would find an escape... or failing that, that Angel would come back - not a green monster this time - and rescue them. He didn't see bargaining as a valid method of getting out of the situation. But tied up as he was, he was powerless to keep Wesley quiet.

The leader took a step back, so he could better see the watcher's face - to examine it for dishonesty. 'How?' he asked. If these were not reconnaissance cow scum, then how could they help with getting a message to the palace?

'Well, we just happen to be close, personal friends and colleagues with the King.'

Tied up behind him, Gunn closed his eyes and let his head drop. That was not information that should have been shared - that was the one piece of information that they should have kept secret - there was no chance of the rebels believing they weren't reconnaissance cows now. And that would mean that they would be watched more closely, which would limit their chances of escape. Looked like they were waiting on Angel after all.

But the rebels did not believe Wesley's claims, and they all broke out in raucous laughter. The King - close, personal friends with cows? They had heard the rumours of his perversions of course - that knowledge had spread quickly and thoroughly throughout the land - there wasn't a backwoods, inbred, farmer hick that didn't know what sort of meat the King preferred. But it was one thing for a King to take a female cow slave to his bed and use it for the Com-shuk, because his twisted preferences blew that way… it was quite another to be friends with male cows - and treat them as equals.

'They know the King,' one of the rebels scoffed, his voice mocking. The leader laughed along with his followers, turning back to them to encourage the jeering. 'Close personal friends, huh?' The rebels all roared with laughter once more.

'I can prove it!' Wesley called out above the guffawing The laughter died down, and they all turned to eye him warily. This was an interesting development… the reconnaissance cow scum carried proof of his palace employment - but still wanted to pretend that he wasn't a reconnaissance cow. They wanted to see how he was going to get out of this. 'In my wallet,' he told them - and then saw them frown at the unfamiliar word, 'ah - in the leather holder in the back of my leg coverings.'

'Britches,' the leader said to him, sticking his hand into Wesley's back pocket and taking out the wallet he found there.

'That's it,' the watcher told him, encouragingly.

The leader began to flip through it, until he came to a strange picture. It was not drawn on parchment - but on a strange, shiny form of paper - and it was brightly coloured and the likeness was more lifelike than any drawing he had ever seen. Truly this must have come from the hand of a great artist - a master - a wizard. And, as the quality of the picture was so immense, he found he was not surprised to see that it contained the likeness of the King himself. Who else could afford the talents of such a master craftsman?

He stared down at the photograph. The bespectacled reconnaissance cow was sat on the edge, he had his arm around the King, who had his own arm around his concubine… the leader of the rebels had to admit that the cow trash consort was very pretty - it did not seem such a perversion now he looked at her. On the other end was another cow, tall and noble looking. The leader did not recognise this cow. All four of them were smiling… their faces must have been in agony, holding those wide grins for hours, whilst the artist captured their likeness on this funny paper. The King and his friends must have some stamina, he had to give them that...

'It's true,' he said to his rebels, 'they do know the King.'

Wesley nodded, vindicated. 'Now - if you're organisation would just draw up some sort of list of demands we would be more than happy to present them directly to His Majesty.'

'Let's do it,' the leader agreed, he spoke to his second in command, 'have Sasha write up a list of demands.'

Wesley leaned his head back against the stake, and smiled - see he knew he could get them out of this trouble, and he knew he could help these outlaws. 'There - you see?' he said to Gunn.

'Shove the list in their mouths, put their severed heads on sticks and display them outside the King's window,' the leader continued. Wesley's face fell.

Gunn groaned, 'have I mentioned just how very glad I am that I decided to leave my people behind in L.A so I could come here to die?'

Fred filled a pot with water, from the pool, right to the top. As she sat on the cave floor, she looked over at the man that lay across from her - still twitching and quivering. She had managed to get some blankets shoved underneath him - so he wouldn't be uncomfortable on the cold, hard, cave floor. He wasn't used to that. In her dream, Fred remembered beds - soft and downy, with big snuggly covers that you could wrap around you. She'd dreamed up pillows as well. And warm baths. Such silly dreams - here it was cold, hard cave floors and a naturally formed water pool. But it was hers - and she was safe here. There was no need to dream of warmth and comfort when she at least still had her head on her own shoulders. But nevertheless - her new friend wasn't used to this, and she was glad that she could give him some blankets.

Once the pot was filled she carried it over to Angel, careful not to spill, and sat down beside him. He had his back to her and he was still shaking - like he had the flu. She dipped a rag into the pot of water, wrung it out and then began to dab it against his neck. 'Are you feelin' any better?' she asked him. But he didn't react, he just carried on shaking and shivering. 'It's OK,' she told him, still dabbing away at his neck, 'you don't have to talk. I'm used to it.'

Five years, and she hadn't spoken to anybody since she had disabled her cow collar and run away from her owner. Not until the man had arrived in the marketplace, dressed in clothes from another world, and he had turned into a monster and she followed him to the prison. She didn't know how long it had been since she had actually spoken to a person who was really there. Though her mind played tricks on her a lot. And now she had spoken to two people in two days - and both of them were monsters. But one now lay shivering on her floor, ashamed of the creature inside of him, whilst the other sat up in the palace wearing a golden crown...

Angel began to mutter something, quietly, under his breath - and she leaned in so she could hear better. 'They - they saw it,' he mumbled, his voice shocked and distraught. 'They, they looked right at it. They saw it.'

'Saw what?' she didn't understand.

'The monster… They, they saw what I really am.' He began to shake his head, and repeat the same words over and over. 'I can't go back. Not now. I can never go back. No…'

'It's OK,' Fred told him, 'you-' she hesitated for a moment, hope beginning to grow in her heart. 'You can stay here with me.' She sat beside the shaking man, and looked around her little cave, wondering how different it might feel to share it with someone.

Doyle and Cordy sat lounging on the steps up to the dais. Their argument was forgotten and they were wrapped up in each others arms. Cordelia was feeding Doyle grapes, whilst he lolled around looking kingly. His attempts at regal insouciance were making her laugh. 'What?' he asked her, taking the grapes out of her hand and popping one in her mouth.

She bit down on it. 'It's just kind of crazy you being a king,' she told him. She kissed him, 'mmm, but I like it.'

'Yeah?' he kissed her again.

'yeah...I like your crown and your throne and…' she was cut off for a moment whilst he fed her another grape, '...and I love the necklace I get for dating you.'

'Yeah? You thinkin' maybe you got a future in concubining?'

She laughed. 'Well - it's probably brighter than my future as an actress - though honestly - this outfit, and the thing they made me wear on set? Not a lot in it.'

'Then I can't wait to see this commercial, darlin'... though if I can suggest you take this particular bikini home with us. You do wanna be pleasing to My Majesty, right?'

'I'll keep the bikini if you keep the crown,' she smiled. They kissed again.

'If I keep the crown - will you still sometimes call me "Your Majesty"?' he asked.

Cordelia snorted and swatted her hand against his arm. 'You wish! Dream on little Irishman… you won't get any kowtowing from me back in our world.'

''Cause you've been doin' so much kowtowin' to me here, I see!'

'What? I've been respectful! It isn't my fault that I'm a natural born ruler and you're a natural born…'

'A natural born what?' he asked, a challenge lighting up his eyes.

She kissed him again. 'A natural born too nice to boss people around person,' she said. 'Ruling is hard - I remember from Sunnydale. You gotta be ready for people not to like you… and you - you like people to like you.'

'Then it's a good job I got you to be mean and unpopular for me.'

'Damn skippy.'

She took the grapes back, and fed him another one. As he chewed, his face took on a more serious expression. 'I know you like the crown, darlin',' he said to her, 'but you'll still like me when I'm back to just plain old Doyle, General of the Ravening nothing, right? It's not just the throne?'

She pulled away from him and looked at him in surprise. 'Sweetheart - you're the one that can see the future. Not me. You think I've been involved with you for nearly two years, cheap leather jackets, polyester shirts and all, because I had a lingering feeling that someday, in a completely different dimension - you might be a king? That's ridiculous. Even for you - that's ridiculous.'

'So you'll still love me when I'm back to cheap leather jackets and polyester shirts?'

'Very very much,' she grinned and snuggled back into his arms.

'Uhuh,' he bit down on his next grape and chewed thoughtfully, 'and so - you wouldn't rather stay here, and concubine for the Gruesome slug?'

'Ha!' she actually threw her head back and laughed out loud at that. 'You have many flaws, Doyle, and believe me I can list them all - but wandering around dressed in dead animal skins is not one of them.' She wrinkled her nose up in thought, '...well- I guess technically there is that whole leather jacket thing … but that's totally different.'

'Y' sure? 'Cause he's a handsome fella,' Doyle said, 'he's a lot taller than me and - ' he glanced down at his carved breastplate, 'I don't think his muscles are drawn on.'

'He is pretty stacked…' she pretended to sigh, dreamily, then her eyes flashed with mischief, 'but I didn't get a good look at his bulge,' she teased, reaching for that part of Doyle, 'to see how you compared in that way.'

'Hey!' He rolled her over so she was lying on her back, on the stairs, and he was on top of her. 'That's no way for the concubine cow trash to treat My Majesty,' he nuzzled into her neck, as they both laughed. Then he pulled slightly away from her, looking into her eyes, before kissing her more deeply. 'You really didn't find the Groosalug attractive?' he asked her.

She shook her head, and pulled him back towards her 'no - he was - yuck. I like you.'

'Even if I can't ever have children?'

'Even if you can't ever have children.'

He went back to kissing her, starting at her mouth and then trailing down onto her neck... and then lower again…

...

'Ahem,' a sharp clearing of a throat made the couple pull apart and turn to see who had interrupted them. It was Silas. Doyle climbed off Cordelia and she sat back up, hastily rearranging her clothing.

Two other red robes entered behind the chief priest. One of them carried a small pedestal, the other a silver platter with a domed lid - the kind you got when you ordered room service. The pedestal was set down and the platter was placed upon it. Cordelia frowned. 'His Highness did not order anything,' she said.

'Hold your filthy cow tongue in my presence unless you wish it removed,' Silas snapped.

Doyle jumped to his feet and glared down at Silas, pulling Cordelia up and putting her behind him, as a modicum of protection, as he spoke. 'You don't ever speak to her like that or make threats like that again - do you understand, bud?'

'A cow may not speak to its betters without punishment. They are lowly and deemed beneath the demon. That is the way of things.' Silas said to them.

'Yeah, well, things are gonna change around here, I've already told you..'

'Ah yes - free the cows and remove their collars - foolish boy.'

'Hey, who's wearing the crown around here, pal?' Doyle snarled.

The priest stared up at the King for a long moment. Cordelia was still hidden behind him, and being blocked from view appeared to be the only thing that was keeping her quiet. Protecting his cow trash was the only time this most ineffectual creature of a ruler ever seemed to show any strength. She would have to be removed - but all in good time. 'The Powers have seen fit to place their gift in you,' he said to the half demon.

'You got that right.'

'But you have no authority here,' Silas told him.

'But he's the King!' Cordelia cried out, from behind her boyfriend, 'you don't get more authority than that!'

'Silence cow!' he turned back to Doyle, 'The King - like the Groosalug who will follow him - is merely a tool of the covenant, nothing more. You will do what we tell you to when we tell you to. You will not issue orders, you will not destabilise the kingdom and you will not overrule prophecy.'

'What?'

'If the covenant commands that you Com-shuk, then you will perform that ritual.'

'No,' Doyle protested, 'you can't force me -'

'And when I tell you silence,' Silas interrupted, 'you shut your filthy half breed cow mouth. Understand?'

Both the King and his consort looked taken aback at this sudden attack on Doyle's heritage. Whilst Silas had always treated Cordelia as any other cow trash, no matter what her boyfriend insisted, the priest had always shown respect towards the ruler - had told him, just that day, that he was elevated above both cows and demons, by virtue of the sight.

'Silence at last,' Silas smiled, pleased that he had finally shocked these lowly, disgusting creatures - parading around in their finery - into the quiet that their kind should always observe. 'Now - should you get the notion into your cow head that you can ignore the rules of the covenant and do as you please - I have arranged for a special gift - a warning - to remind you of where you stand, half breed.'

Doyle folded his arms and glowered down at the priest, 'pardon me?'

'Pardon - Your Majesty? Don't you feel you have done enough - pardoning-' the priest reached down and took the domed lid from the platter, 'for one day?'

Doyle and Cordelia stared down, and gasped in horror. Cordelia buried her face into Doyle's shoulder, and he held her to himself, in his tightest grip - frightened to let her go in case Silas meant for the same fate to befall her… for there - lying on the silver platter - was the severed head of Lorne...

Chapter 85: There's No Place Like Plrtz Glrb: Part One

Chapter Text

Cordelia and Doyle stood together in the throne room, frozen in horror. Cordelia was weeping, her hands covering her face. Doyle stood beside her, his arm wrapped around her. He just stared down at the severed head of his friend in disbelief. He felt sick. His breath came out in ragged gasps, as he tried to understand what he was seeing. But his brain wouldn't let him - there was just a terrified screaming where his thoughts should be. Because this couldn't be true - what his eyes were telling him couldn't possibly be true. Lorne couldn't be dead.

'Oh God,' Cordelia cried, 'Oh no - this is...this is all our fault,' she began to sob harder, her shoulders shaking with grief and guilt.

Doyle tore his eyes away from the decapitated head on the platter, and looked at his girlfriend. 'This isn't our fault,' he told her.

But she was adamant. 'It is - he was arrested and we let him go and then left him alone. He didn't do anything wrong - they just wanted to punish us.' She reached her hand out, as if to touch Lorne's face, but then she hesitated and pulled it back, beginning to cry again.

'No,' Doyle said to her. 'This is - this is the priests' fault. We didn't make this happen. This isn't ...this isn't …' he ran out of things to say.

'I don't like it here anymore,' Cordelia wept. Doyle pulled her to him, in a tight embrace. 'It isn't funny anymore all this King and concubine stuff...I'm scared.'

He held her even tighter, closing his eyes as he tried to take some comfort from her nearness - and so neither of them noticed when the Host's red eyes snapped open.

'I just wanna go home,' Cordelia told her boyfriend.

'Oh honey,' Lorne's head said from down on the platter, 'I'm right there with you.'

The couple broke apart, stared down at the Host and began to scream...

...

And scream...

...

And scream.

...

There was no pause for breath, there was no change in pitch, there was no getting hoarse and giving up. They screamed and screamed and screamed. In perfect unison. 'I realise this is quite a shock,' Lorne's head said to them, having to raise his voice over the din. 'But I can explain.' The screaming continued. 'OK,' the demon smiled, 'take it easy. Get it out of your system.' He gave a little chuckle, 'that's good.' The screaming continued. He began to get irritated. 'You have to breathe sometime. Good lord, guys! Shut up!'

They both broke off screaming, and began to gasp for breath. They stared at each other, in complete shock and bewilderment, and then after a beat returned to staring at the awfully lively severed head. 'It's not like I have hands to cover my ears, here, you know,' it said.

Cordelia pointed a trembling finger at the Host, or what was left of him, 'y-y -you're...it's...' she was broken off by Doyle swearing copiously.

'Hey there potty mouth!' Lorne chided, 'there's no need for that! Please just listen? My family - the fun loving Deathwok clan - you cut off our heads, we just keep on ticking til you mutilate our bodies.'

Doyle and Cordelia stared at each other again, and then back at Lorne. 'Sounds ...handy,' Doyle stammered, 'or painful? Is it painful?'

'Having your head chopped off?' Lorne asked, 'uh - let me think - Duh! Anyway, clearly they haven't gotten around to chopping up my body yet ...must be a backlog in the mutilation chamber.' This time when Doyle and Cordelia looked at each other, there was an expression of mutual disgust on their faces. Lorne saw it. 'Yeah well - didn't I tell you I hate this place? Now do you get why? But if we move quickly and quietly...'

...

The doors burst open and two slaves walked in, their eyes covered with their hands. Cordelia quickly stepped in front of the head, and Lorne snapped his eyes shut again, feigning death. 'My Lord,' the human said, still keeping his eyes covered, 'we heard the most fearful shrieking - we were afraid that maybe some harm had come to you.'

'Harm?' asked Doyle, 'no ... no harm - we're all kinds o' good, here.'

The human opened his fingers a slice, and risked a peek. Noticing Cordelia stood there, fully dressed, he removed his hand from his eyes and looked relieved. 'Forgive us Majesty, we were not sure if you and your cow were performing the… were partaking in… we did not wish to disturb you during this… sacred … ritual, but we could not run the risk that perhaps you were attacked. There have been rumblings down in the village. The rebels are making trouble, we feared they may have entered the palace.'

'Rebel rumblings, huh?' Cordelia asked.

The human slave looked at her, and then bowed his head, 'yes, Chosen First Consort - we feared both the King and his most favoured concubine may be in danger.'

'Well,' Doyle gave a nervous half laugh, 'thanks for rushin' in to defend us... but as you can see there was really no need so…'

'Of course, we beg your pardon for the disturbance. Though, if his Majesty will forgive me, if he and the concubine were not... performing a mating ritual - and nor were you being attacked, what then was the fearful shrieking?'

Doyle looked at Cordelia, wild eyed in panic, as he searched for a lie and came up short. Seeing him stumped, the Consort turned to the slave and started speaking, hoping that a cover story would appear in her mind whilst she was talking. 'Oh, the shrieking?' Cordelia asked, stalling for time. She forced a laugh, 'ha ha! That's um - that's um - that's royal - meditation... That he does… to help him with the - uh - great affairs of state...that he must manage. We do it together to ..um ...better focus his mind.' She spread her arms and joined her fingers, like she was in the lotus position, and began to shriek. She nodded at Doyle, signalling him with her eyes, and after a moment he joined in. The slaves stared at them until they stopped. 'See?' Cordelia asked, dropping her arms.

The first slave nodded, satisfied, and then turned to the other enslaved human. 'Kaldar, remove the traitor's filthy head from our Lord's august presence.'

'No!' Cordelia and Doyle both shouted at once. The slaves looked surprised. 'No no,' Cordelia continued. 'He likes the filthy head … it is - it is,' she glanced down, looking for inspiration - and saw only the wisps of her skirt, which barely covered anything. ' ...A special gift to me,' she said, the gauze of her skirts ruffling in the light breeze of the throne room was forcibly reminding her of the story of the dance of the seven veils. 'We wish to - to keep it here and defile it some more,' she hawked back and spat on Lorne's cheeks and then nodded at Doyle to do the same. He did so, but reluctantly. 'And once His Majesty is done defiling it then he shall hand the filthy head to me - as a present - and I will turn it into a planter. A traitor planter. Hung for all to see what happens to those who would defy His Majesty… or perhaps I'll use it for a candy dish.' She sighed as she ran out of ideas. 'The King wishes that you leave him now,' she told the slaves.

They looked at Doyle. 'Um - yeah. Yeah I do. Leave us now,' he agreed.

'As you wish, most noble Highness,' the slaves bowed and then left the chamber. Once the door was closed, Cordelia rushed to wipe Lorne's face with a cloth. 'Sorry about the spittle!' she said, 'I had to think fast!'

'That was some good thinkin', Darlin',' Doyle assured her.

'Yeah it was great,' Lorne agreed, 'particularly the part where you both spat on me!'

'I'm sorry, OK? I thought they were gonna take your head away. You know this is pretty unsettling for me - for both of us,' she told the severed head.

'Oh I'm sure it must be,' the Host said, 'And after all - I only lost my head! … technically - my body.'

'Hey, bud, I get this is difficult, but she's doin' her best, yeah? If it was just me in here they'd have taken you away for sure - I had nothin' - that meditatin' thing that was real smart, sure they think we're crazy now… but it got the job done. Yellin' at us won't achieve anything.'

'Just put me in a bag and take me to the mutilation chamber,' the severed head said to them, impatiently.

Doyle and Cordelia looked at each other and shrugged, 'we don't know where that is,' she said.

'So I guess I'll just sit here and die then! Find somebody who knows!'

The slaves entered the sanctum of the priests. 'How did you find him?' Silas asked.

'He seemed to be in shock, master, and greatly upset.'

'Good - and his cow trash concubine?'

'She was grievously distressed, master, they were both - most troubled - by the execution of the traitor.'

The priest smiled to himself, grimly. 'Then I shall add more heads to his collection, so that he can see who wields the true power here. Not the concubine - not at first - we must dangle the threat of her safety over him as long as we can. He will do whatever it takes - whatever we tell him - if he believes he can keep that lowly creature safe.' Silas shuddered at the perversion. 'Though I will have her head - in time,' he said. 'And I will enjoy taking it. But for now I shall just separate him from the girl. The heads shall come from his other friends - the male cows.'

He turned to the captain of the guards, who was standing by the door. 'His two friends that escaped through the waste canal, send a hunting party south into the woods after them.'

'Yes Lord,' the captain said.

'As for the one that they call Angel - you know what he is?'

'He is the animal that took apart two of my men,' the captain answered. He had seen the mutilated corpse of his guard after the Angel beast had finished with him. The captain had never seen such savagery.

'He is a van-tal,' Barshon informed the captain, 'a drinker of blood. He can only be killed by fire, decapitation or a wooden stake through the heart.'

'Perhaps all three - just to be safe,' Silas mused.

The captain nodded. 'I will personally drive my spear through his rump,' he promised, and then turned to leave.

As he crossed the threshold, Silas called out to him. 'Captain! His heart is where a cow's is,' he touched his chest, 'here.'

The captain stood for a moment, looking at where Silas had indicated. His lip curled. 'Disgusting,' he said, and walked out.

...

'This Angel beast has saved a runaway slave her rightful beheading,' Barshon told Silas. 'He ignores our laws and profanes our holy culture.'

But in Silas' opinion it was a worse crime than just that, there was more at stake than a few broken rules. 'He brings hope to the cows,' he told his fellow red robe, 'for, if one can be free, hope arises that all can be free.' He turned to look at the slave who had spoken with Doyle and Cordy. 'Is that not right, Markallo?'

Markallo bowed his head, and looked at the floor before answering. 'Master, as it was ordained in the beginning our lives belong to you.'

'They do,' Silas agreed, 'yet we live in strange times - where runaways become rebels. Where portals open to worlds where the holy clergy has not decreed them. Even slaves supposedly loyal to me give the enemy drawings of our sacred devices.'

Markallo's head snapped up, his eyes wide with alarm. 'I-it is not true, Master,' he stammered.

Silas smiled. He knew all that went on in the palace, this cow scum slave could not hope to defy him and keep it hidden. 'Don't be alarmed, Markallo,' he said, 'you have done me a favour. The cows need to know what we can do to them - anytime we choose.' He pointed a silver device at Markallo's neck, and pressed a jewel which was inset in its side. The slaves eyes widened as he heard a whirring sound start to emanate from his collar - and then, an instant later, his head was blown clean off his shoulders. Silas did not react.

The headless corpse fell to the ground with a thud, and there was a clatter as the cow collar fell from its neck and landed on the stone floor. 'Kaldar, please clean that up,' Silas said to the other slave. Without a word, Kaldar began removing his friend's corpse from the room.

Silas looked at the silver device in his hand. 'And if one of thy slaves offend thee, thou shalt smite him down,' he quoted the holy scripture. He pulled a cloth from the object beside him, revealing a silver console underneath. There was a hand print carved into the surface, and it was surrounded by jewels - like the one on his smaller device. He hovered his own hand above the print - it was a perfect match. 'And if all thy slaves offend thee, thou shalt smite them down, too, even unto the very last one in the land,' he said, grimly.

Wesley and Gunn had been sentenced to death for collaboration. As the sun rose on the new day, they were forced to kneel, their hands tied behind their backs, and their heads put in stocks to await their execution. The rebel leader began the count for the axe to swing. 'Forgive me, Gunn, I should never have opened my mouth!' Wesley apologised. It was bad enough that he had to die for his own actions, but it cut him deep that he had sentenced his friend - his brother - to death alongside him.

'It's OK - I got a plan,' Gunn replied.

'Oh thank God! What is it?'

'We die horribly, you go to hell and I spend eternity in the arms of baby Jesus.'

'Oh.'

On the count of two, the rebel standing beside Wesley lifted his axe. Gunn squeezed his eyes shut - he didn't want to see this.

On the count of three, the rebel swung his axe. But before he could connect with Wesley's neck - an arrow flew out from between the trees and buried itself in the executioner's chest. He fell to the floor with a scream. Gunn reopened his eyes.

The rebel leader spun around - and saw mounted guards riding out of the forest from every direction - headed straight for their little camp. 'Imperial guards,' he yelled to his men. They all lifted their crude, homemade weapons and began to fight with the demons on horseback.

Wesley and Gunn struggled to their feet. The stocks, still clamped around their necks, swung around ponderously now they were no longer supported by anything other then the prisoner's shoulders. 'This is our chance to escape!' Wesley said.

But they were prevented from doing so by one of the guards noticing them and beginning to charge. 'There they are,' he cried out to his fellow soldiers, 'Kill the otherworlders.'

Gunn groaned to himself. 'I've really had about enough of this world,' he muttered.

Stood where they were, their arms still bound behind them; Wesley and Gunn swung this way and that, watching the guards come running at them. As they turned, their stocks knocked out any soldier who got too close.

Angel lay sleeping in the cave, the sun shone down on him from the hole in the roof. He moaned once and then shuddered awake. He stared around himself, and then a slight noise made him look towards the entrance. Fred was entering, she carried a wooden bowl in her hand. She had found some Kalla berries. She popped a couple in her mouth and smiled. 'I use them to sweeten the oatmeal,' she told her new friend. It wasn't real oatmeal, of course - that was just the name she gave to her concoction of crug-grain and thistles, 'but with enough Kalla berries…' she kept on smiling.

Angel got to his feet, slowly, and Fred looked down at the blankets she had given him. 'I hope the skins were comfortable?' She told him of her half remembered dream of beds and pillows - so soft you could sleep right through the night. Angel assured her it was fine, and went to the pool. He looked down at his reflection, and then cupped his hands to splash water on his face. Fred watched him the whole time.

'What?' he asked, 'Did I snore?'

'Hmmm - don't remember any snorin',' she said. He looked relieved but she wasn't done. 'I remember caterwauling!' and she let out a small shriek. Over by the pool, Angel jumped - startled by her sudden cry - and then apologised for disturbing her own sleep with his yelling. She shook her head. 'I don't mind - sometimes it all just burbles up inside of you and you have to - bellow a little. Do it all the time. Nobody here to hear.'

She moved over to the pool, crouched down in front of him and handed him a bowl of her crug-grain oatmeal. 'You'll get better with a little rest and care,' she told him.

But Angel disagreed. She had seen what he turned into. He admitted that back home it was bad - but here…

She remained unimpressed, so he had a beast inside of him? She knew what it was like to be diff- she suddenly cut herself off and her voice became higher and panicked. 'Does it taste like oatmeal?' she demanded. Angel hastily spooned some into his mouth.

'I - I forget what things are supposed to taste like,' she admitted.

'It's good,' he assured her, swallowing and taking some more. The Kalla berries were sweet. They might be better off without the crug-grain and thistles, truth be told. He was thankful that his vampire taste buds deadened the sensation somewhat.

'Tacos!' she yelled suddenly, and jumped towards him. He fell back, looking startled. Fred looked sheepish. 'Sorry' she said, 'I didn't mean to holler at you.' She sat down again. 'I just love tacos,' she told him. 'Do they still have them? You know, back…'

'Home? Yeah,' Angel smiled at this strange, young woman. He was growing fond of her. 'They didn't outlaw tacos.'

'Oh. Of course not,' she laughed a little bit, like she knew she was being silly. 'I've been trying to make enchiladas out of tree bark,' she said.

'Tree bark enchiladas, huh?' how's that going?'

Fred paused for a moment, whilst she considered her success so far. 'There's work to be done,' she admitted.

The door to the throne room was opened, and Marelda- the slave girl - crept inside, timidly. The chamber was empty, except for the Consort whom she served and the King, himself - and the head of the traitor. She had been summoned to meet with the royal couple and was afraid.

She hurried up the dais and then knelt down in front of the bottom step, keeping her head bowed and her eyes downcast. 'What may thy lowly serving wench do for you, most noble King and his great lady?'

Cordelia and Doyle exchanged a glance. 'You don't have to bow to him - to us,' Cordelia said, 'you're not lowly, get up.' Marelda stayed kneeling on the floor.

'She's right, love,' the King said, realising that, in his presence, the slaves would wait for his commands - unless Cordy made a demand in his name. 'You can get up. You're no different from us.'

'From you, my Lord?' Marelda gasped. She looked up, 'you? The light that shines upon the darkness of this land?'

'Wait! Is that what they're calling him?' Cordelia sounded impressed. Doyle also looked rather pleased with the news. Marelda lowered her eyes again.

'Anyway,' Cordy continued, 'Mr Light upon the darkness has been impressed with your long and faithful service these past...two days. We are both fond of you Lamara.'

'Marelda.'

'I knew that!' the Consort said quickly.

'Of course you did!' Marelda gasped, agonising that she had dared to correct the beloved of the King, and in his august presence as well. 'My Lord,' she spoke to Doyle, eyes still low, 'I am grievously sorry for speaking so to the one chosen by you, the desired of your heart. You must cut out my worthless tongue from my skull.'

'Oh hey! Woah - there's no need for that!' Doyle protested.

'Jeez,' the desired one of his heart said, 'what is it with you guys and mutilation?'

'We don't have much in the way of entertainment, ma'am.'

The royal couple looked at each other again. Doyle nodded his head. 'Ask her,' he said.

'Can you keep a secret, Geraldo?' Cordelia asked the slave. Marelda's head snapped up, and she nodded. Cordelia gave her a big, confidential grin. 'Well - his Majesty and I would like you to take us to the mutilation chamber.'

'Forgive me, Chosen Consort...Your Majesty ...but that cannot be done.'

'Why not? Can't I do whatever I like? I am the King, y'know?'

'If anyone were to see you there, it would bring shame upon the whole kingdom,' Marelda told him. 'You cannot defile your holy self by entering such a place, and her radiance, the beloved of your heart, cannot remain in your intimate embrace if she herself has been defiled.'

'Huh,' Cordelia drummed her fingers against the arm of the throne as she thought. She glanced down at Doyle, 'we're going to remember that whole 'her radiance' thing for when we go home,' she said to him.

'But I don't get to still be 'Your Majesty'? How is that fair?'

She swatted him on the chest with the back of her hand. 'Life isn't fair, little Irish man.' Then her eyes lit up and and she snapped her fingers. 'I've got it. Griselda - take off your clothes.'

Marelda looked shocked. Down on the pedestal, Lorne's eyes snapped open. Doyle began to cough. 'Uh - your radiance? Did I miss somethin' there, darlin'? Why are you making the serving girl strip?'

But Cordelia was already fiddling with the back of her own bikini top. 'Don't you get it?' she asked, 'we're gonna swap clothes, now turn your back, Horaldo doesn't want an audience.'

Doyle dutifully got off his throne and turned his back, as the two women began to strip. He screwed up his face as he thought, but he still didn't get it... 'I still don't get it,' he said.

'It's simple. I dress up as Imelda and go down to the mutilation chamber - so no one will realise that I went. You can't go - you'll be missed.'

'Won't you be missed?'

'No - because Manuella, here, will be dressed up as me. Lowly serving wench in the mutilation chamber. Chosen First Consort in the throne room. Everybody happy.'

'But you don't look anythin' like Marelda,' Doyle pointed out.

'And you haven't been listening,' Cordelia said to him, 'they keep on telling us - we all look the same to them. None of the demons will be any the wiser. So I can be a slave girl, and Tramelda will be the concubine.'

Marelda's eyes began to prick with tears, when she heard that and her lower lip trembled. She gasped a little. 'It will - it will be a g-great honour to-to p-perform mating ritu-rituals with His Majesty.' She didn't sound like it was going to be a great honour, though, she sounded like she was going to burst out crying.

Cordelia looked at her, perplexed. Then her face cleared as she understood. 'No! Oh - no! He won't touch you.'

'She's right - I won't! I promise.'

'Damn skippy - not if he wants to keep that bulge in the front of his panty hose, anyway.'

'Y'know… If I could just go a couple o' days without anyone threatening to castrate me I would be one happy not a eunuch. And also - they're not panty hose, show some respect to the King, yeah?'

Cordelia snorted. And then - dressed in Marelda's sheath dress, she picked up Lorne's head, arranged her skirts in order to hide it, and left the throne room.

'Be careful!' Doyle yelled after her. He turned to wave her off, realised Marelda was not quite dressed yet, and hastily turned his back again.

Angel stood at the mouth of the cave, feeling the sun on his skin. 'Can't do this in L.A,' he told Fred.

'Why not?'

'I'll burst into flames. Part of the whole beast thing.'

A look of hope began to spread across Fred's face. 'So it's better for you, here?' she asked. Her voice wobbled as she spoke. Angel agreed that the sunlight thing was better - but then there was the whole trying to rip his friends to pieces thing which was ...less good. Fred's face fell, and she went back to the mending that she held on her lap. Angel sighed.

He wandered around the cave, feeling restless, and ended up at the cliff face, where Fred did her carving. He squinted at the symbols there and began to read. 'Krv...drpglr… hey I know these words. These are the words we used to open the portals.'

'They're not words,' Fred corrected him, looking up at him from her mending once again. 'They're consonant representations of a mathematical transfiguration formula.'

Angel paused for a beat - and then - 'well, obviously.'

'I used to think if you said them out loud and in the right order the quaking and the quivering would...'

'Oh you mean open a portal? Well that's how we got here and that's how we're getting back.'

But Fred thought different. She had tried - for years. She had tried until her tongue had swollen and her head had gone Kerpluey. The portals didn't work this side. They worked in L.A - not Pylea.

Angel disagreed though. The drokken had fallen through a portal that had opened this side - and so had Lorne, all those years ago. 'Somebody must have opened the portals for them,' he reasoned. 'Maybe you did and you just don't know where.'

'Me?' She sounded doubtful. 'I don't think so. The priests hold all the power here.'

Angel turned back to face the engraved symbols - and then heard Fred scream out. He whirled around and saw a palace guard tackling her. He grabbed the guard from her and threw him against the wall. Another guard entered the fray, and Angel threw him as well, so he landed behind the vampire. The the captain entered the cave. He thrust his spear at Angel's chest, but Angel grabbed it and twisted, causing the captain to run his own guard through instead. The second guard fell to the floor, with a groan.

The captain punched Angel, and then pulled his spear free from the body of his soldier. He used the weapon to beat the vampire around the head, and Angel stumbled against the cave wall. His eyes began to glow red, and he bunched his hands into fists, feeling the pain of his nails dig into his palms as he forced himself to stay in control. 'Not gonna change, not gonna change,' he muttered - and the red glow began to die from his eyes. Fred cowered on the floor, covering her head.

The captain swung his spear around and knocked Angel to the ground. Then he plunged the wooden weapon deep into the vampire's chest...

Chapter 86: There's No Place Like Plrtz Glrb: Part Two

Chapter Text

Angel groaned, as the captain pulled the spear back out. 'Missed the heart did I?' the soldier asked. He thrust the spear down again, ramming it home until he felt cave floor. But there was still no heart. This time, Angel screamed as the weapon was yanked out of him. Just as the captain was going to stab again - this time sure he must know where the cow's heart lay - he collapsed all of a sudden, and fell face down on the floor. Fred stood behind him, a large boulder raised above her head. The she dropped to the ground and crouched beside Angel. 'Please don't die, please don't die,' she whispered, over and over.

Angel groaned, and then passed out.

The last of the guards fled from the rebel camp. Sasha, the rebel who knew how to write, threw his sword after him. There was a groan and then a thud. The rebel turned and saw where his own leader was lying on the floor, slain, run through with a sword. He went to him, pulled the sword out of his gut, and then walked over to where Wesley and Gunn stood, still bound and locked in their stocks. He pointed the bloody blade at their throats. 'They did not come for us,' he said. 'They came for you. Why?'

'Because they know we will attempt to rescue our friends from the palace - rescue the King,' Wesley told him.

'Rescue him from what?' Sasha asked.

'We're - we're not sure… a Com-shuk? With the Groosalug? A ritual he must perform, when all we want is to go home.'

Muttering broke out amongst the rebels, they sounded shocked to hear what Wesley had to say. 'So it is true?' Sasha said, 'the priests intend for the Com-shuk to go ahead - even though the messiah is a King, and not the princess that we were foretold?'

'Why does that make a difference?' Gunn asked. The rebels muttered even more.

Sasha stared at him, 'truly - you are not from this world.'

Gunn and Wesley looked at each other. 'Was I right when I said it sounded dirty?' Gunn wanted to know.

The rebels continued to talk amongst themselves. 'The Covenant of Trombli are following a path which they know the King will resist - that even the Groosalug, himself, will resist - why?' Sasha asked his friend.

The man, Bartok, shrugged his shoulders. 'So that the prophecies will be fulfilled and they will consolidate their power,' he answered.

'Hey!' Gunn called to them, 'we don't want that anymore than you do. Especially not if…' he trailed off, hoping Doyle was still OK.

Sasha nodded. 'You're right,' he agreed. 'We are on the same side, release them!' Some of the other rebels unlocked the stocks and cut the ropes that bound the two men. Wes and Gunn rubbed their wrists to try and bring feeling back where the cords had bitten into them.

Sasha raised his sword and addressed his men, 'though their hands were tied and their necks were bared they fought with us.' He took a step closer to the two otherworlders. 'I am ashamed, we nearly cut your heads off.'

'Oh well,' Wesley rubbed his neck, 'you were just doing your job.' Gunn glared at him.

Addressing his men once more, Sasha called out, 'five cheers for the otherworlders,' and the rebels began to cheer, 'brave warriors! brave warriors!'

The two men began to walk away. 'In this world you get five!' Wesley noted.

'So our first job is to find Angel?' Gunn asked him. 'Last time we saw him he had a funny look on his face. A - rip out your guts and ask questions later kinda look.'

'So what do you suggest?' Wesley asked. They came to a stop, and Gunn pointed back at the camp. 'I'm thinking these guys have got a cause worth fighting for.'

'But what about Cordelia and Doyle? We need to get to him before…'

'Look,' Gunn reasoned, 'if we're gonna get them out of the castle - safe - and not violated - then we're gonna need a lot of muscle.'

'Muscle which might come in handy if we need to incapacitate Angel,' Wesley mused.

'Yeah. Also - look at them,' The two men glanced back to the clearing, where the rebels were cleaning up the skirmish. 'They won the battle today, but they're no match for the covenant. I don't wanna leave them to get themselves killed... I do enough of that.'

Fred had opened Angel's shirt and was dabbing at his wounds with a wet cloth. His eyes fluttered open, and she smiled down at him, 'there you are. Good.' She looked at the stab marks in his chest, that were already beginning to smooth over as she cleaned them, 'you heal fast.'

'One of the pluses of being a beast,' he told her.

She shook her head. 'But you're not! This time - when you were fighting - you didn't change!'

'I was afraid.'

'Of what?'

'That if I did, I'd never change back.'

Fred looked at him for a moment and then - 'you're not a beast,' she told him.

Behind her, the captain of the guards - tied up on the floor where Fred had left him - began to laugh. 'We'll engrave that on your bones when he tears you to pieces,' he said to the runaway slave.

Fred glanced over her shoulder at him, and then looked back at Angel. 'I'll just roll him over the cliff into the drokken gully, like I did the others,' she offered.

'Wait! I need to talk to him.' Gingerly, Angel got to his feet, and approached the bound soldier. 'What can you tell me about my friends in the palace, huh?' he asked, 'the King and his… and Cordelia.'

The demon spat. 'The little half breed pervert and that filthy cow bitch you brought into this world? '

'Call her that again and I'll remove your face - slowly.'

'Disgusting creatures. They were made for each other.'

That statement irritated Angel more than it should… he supposed he didn't like hearing his friends called 'disgusting'. That must be it. He kicked the captain in his stomach. The captain groaned, and then laughed again. 'They're dead - or they might as well be… once the King Com-shuks with the Groosalug…' he spat again.

Angel looked at Fred, in confusion. 'Uh - do you understand those words?'

Fred looked down at her feet, as if she didn't want to meet Angel's eye. 'The Groosalug is a fearsome warrior - a champion - brave and undefeated.'

'OK - and the other bit?'

'It's- um - it's a - m -mating ritual, it's a mating ritual.' she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper, her eyes cast low.

'What?' Angel turned back to the captain, 'what?' he demanded.

'It is why so many of us did not accept this male cow as our ruler,' the guard said. 'He must Com-shuk with the Groosalug as the prophecies demand the ruler must. Once the little half breed has passed on his visions, he will be killed. And they will take the concubine's head too. Just like we already did with the traitor Krevlornswath.'

'You killed Lorne?' his voice was unbelieving.

'We cut off his head and mutilated his body.'

Angel stepped away from the guard, his eyes darted around the cave in distress as he tried to process this information. 'I need to go,' he told Fred.

'It's too dangerous!' she protested, 'they'll kill you!'

'My friends are in trouble. One is already dead - and Doyle… I have to get to him.' He began to leave.

'But it's safe here,' she called to him. 'Out there it's..'

He turned to look at her, 'It's safe here with me,' her tone entreated him to stay as much as her words. She did not want to be left alone in this world again, not having got used to being with someone, sharing with someone - having someone to care for. Having someone care for her. She couldn't face alone again.

'I'm sorry,' he said to her, and she bowed her head. Unseen by both of them, the captain pulled out a knife and slashed at the rope tied around his wrists. 'They'll kill you,' Fred said, sadly. 'And you'll turn into that beast ... maybe not in that order.'

'My friends are in trouble.'

'But the beast! I know you don't want them to see you that way,' Angel looked away from her. 'But I'm not afraid of it like everyone else,' she continued.

The now free captain launched himself at the woman, wielding his knife. Angel pulled her out of the way, grabbed the captain's hand and twisted it, so the blade stabbed into its owner instead. The demon dropped to the floor and the vampire turned to check on his friend. She stood with her right hand clamped over her left upper arm. He pulled it away and saw the jagged cut where the knife had scratched at her. 'Its alright,' he told her, examining the wound- it was shallow - a flesh wound. 'You'll be alright.'

Dressed in her slave girl's garb, Cordelia crept into the mutilation chamber, Lorne's head still clutched in her hand. 'It's pretty dark in here,' she whispered to her decapitated friend, 'let me just get used to it.' As her eyes adjusted, she took a few steps further inside, and then came across a pile of chopped up body parts. 'Oh yuck! These people are crazy!' She pulled Lorne's head out from under her skirt, and held him up by his hair, 'does anything look familiar?' she asked.

Lorne's red eyes scanned the room, 'get me closer,' he told her. She extended her arm out further, and turned her head away from the piles of mutilated limbs.

'Oh God, Oh no!' she heard him groan.

She turned her head back to see what he was looking at. 'What?' then she saw a green foot sticking out of a shiny red pant leg. 'Oh boy - that looks a lot like your suit.'

'That's because it is my suit!' Lorne yelled. 'You think they have French Viscose in this hellhole?' He began to moan quietly to himself. 'Why am I still alive? Once they chop me up it's over! I'm looking at little pieces of myself.' He squinted. 'Wait a second - since when did I have five toes?'

Over the sound of her friend's voice, Cordelia thought she heard the sound of footsteps. 'Shh - someone's coming!' she hissed. She pressed herself flat against the wall, in the darkest corner she could find, and strained her ears. She was right - footsteps headed this way. She lifted Lorne's head so she could look him in the eyes, 'do you mind if I hit him over the head with you?'

'Yes!'

The door opened, and the large figure of a man was visible in the light from outside. 'Chosen Consort?' a voice asked. It was the Groosalug. Cordelia stayed where she was and held her breath. 'Chosen Consort - if it is you,' he stepped inside and the door closed behind him, plunging them into darkness once more. 'I must tell you I have done something terrible.'

In their corner, Cordelia and Lorne looked at each other.

'I was touched by your kindness the other day - the way you did not see my defects, the way you listened to my troubles, when the King himself did not. I am - so enamoured of your beauty - drunk in your presence - Chosen Consort - that I could not bear to see you grieve.'

The Chosen Consort stepped out from the shadows, 'what do you mean?'

'He was your friend,' the Groosalug said, 'and I did not want you to be distressed, could not bear to see you suffer…'

'What did you do?' she asked him suspiciously.

'I stole his body - put his strange garments on these parts to fool them.'

'Oh Groosalug - that's not terrible, it's wonderful - thank you!' She held up Lorne's head so he could see what was going on, and the Host also thanked the champion - from the bottom of his neck down.

The Groosalug nodded to him, 'I have had your body smuggled to your mother's farm. Your cousin, Landok, will meet us at the eastern watchtower.'

Cordelia bit her lip, 'But Groosalug - we hardly know each other - why would you take this risk, just for me?'

The warrior got down on one knee and kissed her hand. 'Lady, I told you yesterday how I understood why His Majesty had chosen you above all others to be the beloved of his heart. What must come … troubles me. I have never partaken in the Com-shuk before, and if truth be told I would rather perform that ritual for the first time in your sweet embrace.'

'what?' Cordelia asked, nonplussed.

'But what the covenant decrees must be. The prophecies must come to pass. I must perform the ritual with His Majesty and absorb his visions.'

'We've already told Silas - that isn't going to happen.'

'Radiant one, it must be so. Though I wish it were otherwise, for I confess, I am most uncomfortable with the idea. I shall take His Majesty's visions and be ruler hereafter - and it is my dearest wish that once the ritual is complete you will be the Chosen First Consort in my reign as well. I wish that we may perform the sacred Com-shuk together - as you do now for His Majesty. If you say it will be so, I will shower upon you such honours that the higher powers themselves will envy you.'

Cordelia removed her hand from the Groosalug's grip. She was beginning to get a funny feeling about this Com-shuk - that maybe it wasn't just candles and chanting, after all. But that didn't matter right now, because it was never going to happen, anyway. 'Groo - can I call you Groo? I'm going home,' she said to the champion. 'To my world. With Doyle. I love Doyle. I'm not his concubine - I'm his girlfriend. I can't ever be with anyone else - do you understand that?'

The Groosalug looked down for a moment, and then back up at Cordelia. 'Forgive me, most beauteous one, but after the Com-shuk - His Majesty is to be killed. He will be dead. You cannot remain his concubine. But if you will only give yourself to me, I can keep you safe from the covenant. Prevent the same fate from happening to you. It is my dearest wish.'

Cordelia backed away in horror when she heard his words, bumping into the mutilating slab as she did. She came to a stop and shook her head. 'No,' she whispered, 'they can't - he's the King … we're going home… they can't...'

The Groosalug bowed his head again. 'I am sorry to grieve you my lady. When my mission was to spare you from grief.'

She bit her lip and blinked back tears, 'Groo?' she asked in a small voice, 'will you take Lorne's head to the watchtower for me? I need - I need to return to His Majesty right away.'

'As my lady wishes.' He took the head and left for the eastern watchtower. And after another moment, Cordelia ran from the mutilating chamber, headed straight to Doyle.

The King, himself, was sitting in the throne room - alone, apart from Marelda, who was now dressed in the concubine robes. The uncomfortable silence hung heavy over their heads. Doyle wasn't really sure what to do, or what to say - and he wished that he had his pack of cards with him, so he had something to play with.

The doors opened, and Silas walked in. 'Your Majesty. I hope this new day finds you well?' the priest said.

'Um -' Doyle nodded, 'yeah, I guess.'

'And you have learned from last night - you and the concubine,' he glanced at Marelda, 'that the safety of the kingdom must come first - that what is written must come to pass. That the Com-shuk must be performed.'

'Uh… why don't we talk about this later? You know we're not comfortable with the idea o' me givin' up the visions. I need 'em in my world… and Cordelia's worried I might get turned into a frog if I give them up.'

Silas glanced at Marelda for a brief moment, once again, and then spoke to Doyle, 'with respect, my lord - you are a King - it is not seemly that your concubine make these decisions - and speak with your voice. The courtiers are unhappy that lowly cow trash…' he turned to Marelda once more and then trailed off, and began to frown.

'I told y' - stop callin' her - all o' them - that.'

Silas seemed to shake himself, refocus his attention. He bowed to Doyle. 'Apologies, Highness. Now I must away to attend to ...urgent matters of state.' And with one last glance at the couple on the dais, his eyes lingering on Marelda, he turned and hurried out of the chamber.

The rebels sat huddled around the fire in their camp, discussing what to do next. 'Do you still want to storm the castle?' Bartok asked Sasha. They were leaderless, now, and unsure what to do.

But Sasha still liked the idea, 'Yes! We have to show them!' he said.

'We can't defeat them!' Bartok told him, 'they have power, they have wealth - we have no plan.'

'I say we storm the gates!' Sasha was stubborn.

'If you do - they'll cut you down,' Wesley told the group, as he and Gunn rejoined them. 'You cannot wage a frontal attack against a stronger opponent. This kind of battle can only be won through guerrilla warfare.' The rebels all looked at each other, confused by this unknown word. And seeing their expressions, Wesley translated its meaning. 'By being sneaky! You create a diversion and then you strike at several different points all at once. While they are looking ahead, you come from behind.'

'And kill their leader!'

'Yes.'

'Silas is the head priest,' Bartok said, naming their target. The rebels agreed it was a good plan. Sasha held their former leader's sword out to Wesley, offering it to him. 'You shall be our leader.' The watcher began to protest, but the rebels were agreed. He was a good fighter, the covenant hated him and he knew the King. Plus, he was the one with a plan. Sasha forced the sword into Wesley's hands and then turned to the others. 'Hail! Our new leader!' he cried.

'Hail!'

Wesley turned to Gunn with a look of consternation. 'Why do people keep putting me in charge of things?'

'I have no idea,' his friend replied.

Cordelia moved rapidly through the castle, staying close to the wall and keeping her head down. She was on the homestretch - the hallway that led to the throne room… Nearly back with Doyle, where she could warn him of the covenant's plan, and keep him safe. But as she turned the corner, she found herself headed straight towards Silas, who was flanked by a contingent of guards... She turned, hurriedly, and tried to head back - but she was brought up short by another wall of guards. She turned back round to face Silas - and realised she was trapped.

Silas walked up to her, and she stood still and dropped her eyes to the floor like a good little slave girl. 'Concubine,' he said to her.

She kept her eyes down. 'No - no, m-master. My name is … Zemelda. I serve the Chosen First Consort - you know, the radiant one?'

'You are the cow trash concubine,' Silas spat, 'And you are up to treason.'

'No - no - no treason. I'm just Bralenda, the cow trash slave girl, master.'

'Treason,' he boomed. 'You, dressed in these robes, whilst the real serving girl wears your whore's finery!'

Cordy's head snapped up, 'Hey!' she protested.

'What are you up to cow scum?'

'Nothing - I'm I'm...'

'Arrest her,' Silas commanded the guards. Two of them grabbed hold of her arms. She tried to struggle, but they were too strong. 'Your weakling half breed cow King will be lost without you - Chosen Consort. He will do what we say. I was looking for an opportunity to take you from him, and here you are - presenting it to me, yourself. Since you and your cow friends entered our world you have brought nothing but trouble. The slaves, the runaways - they become rebels - and rise against the natural order. For this - you must pay. And pay dearly.'

'No,' Cordelia still protested, 'there's been some mistake, I'm not the -'

Silas laughed, cutting her off. 'Clever little cow, that you are,' he said. 'You thought we would not tell the difference between you and another of your misshapen sisters - but you made one mistake…' he suddenly gripped Cordy around her bare throat. 'Your half breed King will rue the day he did not allow me to place the cow collar upon you.' He dropped his grasp, and Cordelia gasped for breath. 'Now take her away!' and the guards dragged her away, down to the dungeons and away from Doyle.

Angel tied a a length of clean cloth around Fred's arm, so it acted as a bandage. 'How does it feel?' he asked her.

She glanced down at it, and shrugged, 'alright.'

'Ah - well it's best if you don't move it for a while… I'd better…' he motioned towards the exit, 'you know.'

'Help your friends,' Fred finished, 'I know - you're a good man.' Her voice was sad - broken. They looked at each other, seconds passed, and then Angel finally turned and left. Fred got to her feet and walked to the back of her cave. She sank down, with her back against the cliff face. She pulled her knees up to her chin, rested her arms on top of them, and then lay her head down on her arms. Her eyes blurred with tears and she felt more lonely than she had done since that first day, five years ago, when she had fallen through the portal.

There was a sound of crunching footsteps, and she looked back up, as Angel reappeared in the entrance. 'I don't actually know how to get there,' he said.

Her face lit up, and she got to her feet. 'Oh, I can show you.'

There was a knock on the throne room door, and the Groosalug entered. He bowed to Doyle and then glanced at the consort, his smile warm and wide. Then it died on his face. 'Forgive me Your Majesty - I do not understand - this is not your Chosen Consort.'

'Oh - um -uh…' Doyle cursed under his breath - he hadn't realised that the brave and undefeated champion could tell humans apart.

'You have not chosen for yourself another consort - replaced her radiance with a lowly creature such as this?' The Groosalug's voice was little more than a growl, his words choking out through his fury.

Doyle's eyebrows shot to the top of his forehead in alarm. 'No! No!' he said hurriedly, 'Cordelia's just busy… doin' - doin' concubine stuff.'

'A concubine's place is with her Lord,' the Groosalug told him. 'I do not understand. I spoke to my lady in the mutilation chamber, before I returned your friend to his kinsman - she was returning straight to you. She should be here.'

Doyle looked worried. He had been worrying the whole time, of course; as long as Cordelia was out of his sight, he was afraid for her - but this seemed to be evidence that something really was wrong. An iron knot twisted in the pit of his stomach, and he began to feel sick. 'What do you mean, you spoke to her? She should be here? You were in the mutilation chamber?'

'Yes, Majesty - I removed the body of your friend before it could be mutilated and sent it away to his kinsmen - a sin for which I will burn in Tarkna for all eternity. But I did not wish for her radiance to grieve. We parted ways in the chamber. I to the watchtower - and she to return to you. But she did not return?'

'No - she didn't.'

'Then I fear she may be captured. The covenant wish to remove her head after the Com-shuk. I had hoped that I could save her. But if she is already taken…'

Doyle jumped to his feet. 'Where would they take her?' he demanded. But before he could take any steps to rescue his girlfriend - he was hit by a vision. He stumbled to the floor and held his head in his hands, as the images crashed into his mind. He saw the Groosalug fighting a hideous, feral green beast - being ripped apart. Once the pain had receded, he looked up at the champion - who gazed down at him in concern.

Chapter 87: There's No Place Like Plrtz Glrb: Part Three

Chapter Text

Wesley, Gunn, and the rebels sat in a circle, drawing up their plans. The two otherworlders were told that the Groosalug was their most formidable opponent, and Wesley surmised that they would therefore have to get him out of the castle. He checked that he had understood the rules correctly, that if challenged to a direct duel, the champion could not refuse. Sasha agreed that yes, as the defender of the realm, those were the laws he was bound by - but no man could defeat the Groosalug. Wesley shook his head, 'we'll worry about defeating him later,' he said, 'our first step is to get him out of there.' He looked down at the map that was spread out in front of him. 'Once he's out, we'll create diversions here, here and here,' he lay rocks around the blueprint of the castle. 'Then a few of us will scale the back wall here,' he tapped it, 'where their defences are weakest.'

Gunn shook his head, 'I wouldn't split my crew up this much if it were me leading the charge,' he said.

'I'm leading the charge,' Wesley replied, curtly. He turned back to Sasha. 'Tell me about the killing device.'

The rebel showed him a schematic of the console - the one that Markallo had stolen for them and given his life for. It showed the handprint, and the jewels set around it. 'It sends a signal to the collar on every slave in the land,' he explained.

'What kind of signal?' Gunn asked, folding his arms and frowning.

'It blows their heads off.'

Wesley exhaled deeply as he thought about the problem. 'If Silas thinks he's losing - he'll use it. We have to get to him before he has a chance to.'

'The castle is well guarded,' Sasha told him.

'Unlike this place,' Angel said, stepping out from behind a tree. Fred followed him. The rebels drew their weapons and converged on the pair. One rebel dropped out of the very tree the vampire had hidden behind, and landed behind him. 'It's alright, it's alright!' Wesley told them, 'he's a friend.'

'Glad we were keeping watch,' Sasha said pointedly, glaring at the look out.

But Gunn shook his head. 'He's Angel, ' he told the rebel, 'he does that.' Then he pointed at the little woman that accompanied his friend. 'But how does she do that?'

Angel glanced at her, 'this is Fred and she does that too.'

'Fred?' Wesley frowned as the name seemed familiar, 'Winifred?' he asked. 'The girl from Doyle's vision?'

Sasha sent some of the rebels to check the perimeter, now that they had been breached once, whilst Angel introduced Wes and Gunn to Fred. She smiled at them and waved. Wesley tried to introduce the rebels - but then looked around and realised they had gone. 'We've joined forces,' he told the vampire. 'They've made me their General. But now that you're here…' he showed Angel the map, 'you're much better at this stuff than me.'

But Angel refused. He couldn't lead a campaign here - not when he turned into the beast if he lost control. He looked down at his feet, and apologised to his friends for the way he had attacked them the previous day.

'It's a crazy kinda place here,' Gunn said to him. 'The sooner we all get out of here the better.'

Angel's face brightened as he was able to give them some good news. He indicated the woman beside him. 'Fred here might be able to help us with that, she knows a lot about portals.'

'Not a lot,' Fred corrected. 'The trionic speechcraft formulation modification has to alter the dynamic reality sphere...Lutzbalm predicted it in Zurich in '89...laughed him off the stage...although this slavery and degradation is no laughing matter.' She began to laugh. 'It's no crug-grain and Kalla berry breakfast,' she chuckled.

Angel smiled along with her, and then caught sight of the other two's faces. 'She's been here a long time,' he explained. 'Um guys...I found something out, something that's going to happen to Doyle...'

Wesley and Gunn glanced at each other - 'yeah we know,' Gunn replied, 'why'd you think we were planning an assault on the castle in the first place?'

'Right...and uh - I have some bad news about Lorne.'

But he was interrupted by the appearance of the rebels, 'ah we captured this warrior of the Deathwok clan,' one of them called. The men turned to see two rebels being dragged back to camp by a warrior demon, his hands clamped about their necks. It was Landok. The group walked over to meet him, Fred tried her best to stay hidden behind Angel. The vampire greeted the demon.

'Angel, the drokken killer,' Landok said to him, 'I will not battle you for saving the slave girl's neck. It is forbidden to do battle whilst performing a sacred duty.' He took a panier style basket from his shoulder.'I was returning my kinsman home when these fools tried to stop me.'

'I was trying to tell you,' Angel said to his friends in an undertone, 'they cut off the Host's head.'

'What?'

'No!' both men were aghast.

'Yes. I have it right here,' Landok, told them. And he opened the basket to reveal Lorne's severed head lying within, his eyes closed. Reluctantly, the men stepped forwards and peered into the basket. Fred peered round Angel's shoulder.

'He was…' Angel began to say.

'Yeah,' Gunn agreed.

'Hmm,' Wesley nodded along.

Lorne's eyes popped open.

'That's it?' he demanded. The men all stumbled back, yelling, so that only Fred was left peering down at the talking severed head. 'Where is the praising and extolling of my virtues?' the Host wanted to know, 'where is the love?'

Cordelia was dragged down to the bowels of the castle by her two arresting officers; down twisting dark passages, lit only by flaming torches held in sconces against the wall. She could hear the sound of screaming echoing from further down the corridor - people being tortured in their cells. A heavy wooden door was opened, and she was flung inside. She stumbled, chained as she was, hand and foot. The guards followed her in. 'The chosen concubine,' one of them sneered, 'His Majesty's play thing.'

She looked up at them, her eyes wide with fear. 'Don't you dare touch me,' she said to them, 'I'll bite!' One of the guards laughed and then prodded her with his finger -taunting her. 'Hey!' she protested. He lay his hand on her chest, and she twisted away from him, 'don't you dare...' but then he flattened his hand, increasing the pressure, and he pushed her away; sending her flying backwards onto the ground, landing on the floor in a pile of dirty straw.

The guards began to laugh - and spat on her. 'We will not touch you,' one of them said, 'we do not share the king's filthy perversions, cow scum.' He spat again, and then they turned and left, slamming and locking the door behind them and leaving Cordelia trapped in the darkness.

She shuffled her way over to the door. It was difficult, she couldn't get to her feet because of the shackles encircling her wrists and ankles. But she managed to scooch her way across the floor. She pressed her ears to the wood, and listened for any sound.

She could just about make out the sound of the guards outside her cell. 'Will you stay for a game of chance?' the first one asked.

'No - I must return to our unit,' the second one replied. 'There is talk of a rebel rising. I am to stand guard on the palace walls. Let the wooden door keep the King's whore locked in - the castle may be breached this very evening.'

Cordelia frowned to herself. Being called Doyle's Concubine was one thing - but that other word was quite another matter. When she was free, they would make a decree about exactly what words they could and couldn't call human women. The conversation between the two demons continued.

'There is no need for alarm,' the first guard said, 'have you not heard tell of Silas' device?' The second guard had not. Cordelia pricked her ears up. 'In his own chambers,' the guard was saying, 'it is rumoured that he has a great machine. One touch from him and it sends a signal to every cow collar in the land.'

'What signal?' the second guard asked.

'It makes their heads explode,' the first one told him. The two guards began to laugh. Locked behind the door, Cordelia gasped, and squinted down at the collar they had forced around her neck.

'Has the Com-shuk taken place yet?' the second guard was asking.

The first guard snorted in derision. 'Silas will have it happen right away. The perverted half breed can feel for once the disgust we feel at his proclivities.' They both chuckled. 'The Groosalug shall absorb the visions. We shall have the half breed's head. The cows will be killed and peace will come to the realm. It is but a matter of hours.'

'Let us hope it is so.'

Inside her cell, Cordelia heard the second guard begin to walk away and the first to settle himself down outside her door. She moved away, again, struggling in her chains, and then leaned her head against the wall and closed her eyes. She feared for Doyle's safety… and she began to draw her own conclusions as to what the Com-shuk actually entailed.

The suns began to set, and the moon to rise. Wesley sat by the campfire, leaning on an unsheathed sword. Gunn came to stand by him. He looked into the flames for a moment, and then he spoke. 'I'm only gonna say this once. The guys you send to create those diversions are gonna die.'

Wesley watched the fire leap and crackle in front of him, 'yes they are,' he agreed. He got up and looked Gunn in the eye, 'You try not to get anybody killed, you wind up getting everybody killed.'

That was a lesson straight out of the watcher's academy - where they were taught how to take one innocent, naive, teenage girl and turn her into the most fearsome weapon in the fight against evil. To train her to do battle until eventually that girl - that child - succumbed to the darkness, giving her life so that all others may live. And then they chose the next one - and repeated the process, on and on down the centuries.

Protecting these girls meant allowing chaos to rule the earth, so the slayer was sacrificed - for the good of the many. It would be that way with this battle. Some men would die, so that others might achieve victory. There were always casualties in war. To be a General you had to be willing to make the hard decisions, to do things that others couldn't - shouldn't have to.

Wesley raised his voice so that all could hear him, 'prepare to move out.'

Angel came up to speak with him - to find out what he was needed to do. Wesley had already made that decision. It was Angel that would call out the Groosalug and fight him. If anyone could defeat the undefeated champion of the realm - Angel could.

But Angel protested - he couldn't beat this unbeatable warrior without turning into the beast.

Wesley nodded. He knew that. It was a sacrifice he was prepared to make. It had to be made. And the steel put in him by those years at the council - and the hours shut under the stairs by his own father - made him ready when the call came for him.

Angel looked at his feet, 'Look - before - when I pushed you away - when I fired you...It was because the darkness was coming out in me and I didn't want you guys near that. The thing that comes out here is ten times worse. Wes - If I change - If I do this - you know I won't come back from it.'

But the watcher clapped him on the shoulder in reassurance. 'Yes you will. I know you will.' He looked at Gunn, and then back at Angel. 'We know you. We know you are a man with a demon inside. Not the other way around. We know you have the strength to do what needs to be done - and you will come back to us.'

The two men - the vampire and the watcher - stared at each other for a long moment. At his side, Fred spoke up. 'I can come with you. I know how to prepare the challenge torch.' Angel looked at her, and then back at Wesley.

Wesley nodded to him, 'I know you'll come back from this,' he promised.

The vampire looked over at Gunn for a moment, but the street fighter kept his face expressionless, impassive. And then Angel nodded - and left with Fred.

'Do you really think he'll come back?' Gunn asked his friend, once the vampire was gone.

Wesley stared after Angel's retreating back. 'I need him to think it,' he said, and then he walked away. Gunn stayed where he was, watching his friend, his boss and now his General walk away from him - unable to believe the steel that had emerged in Wesley's core.

'So how do I get there?' Doyle demanded. After recovering from his vision, and shaking off the pain, he had launched into a plan to save Cordelia. This wasn't his normal territory. He wasn't the plan guy - he was the vision guy, the internet research guy, the backup - do as he was told guy. But there was nobody here but him, now, and if didn't act then the next head he was presented with might be Cordelia's. Even if she wasn't in immediate danger - the Groosalug seemed to think she may be held as collateral to ensure that Doyle performed the Com-shuk, though he had not used those exact words - then he still wasn't going to leave his girlfriend locked up in a dungeon, where anything might happen to her.

He was done being a King. It was time to be a hero.

Between them, the Groosalug and Marelda tried to give him directions from the throne room down to the gaol beneath. If truth were told, Marelda was much better at direction giving. Doyle nodded, as she explained the way through the passages; detailing the staircases and turnings he would have to take.

They were all standing around the pedestal, Marelda using the surface to draw out the route, when the doors opened - and Silas walked in. They jumped and turned to face him. 'Leave us, cow wench,' he snapped at Marelda. She bobbed a frightened curtsy and, in a waft of gold glitter and silken skirts, she exited the throne chamber.

Doyle folded his arms. 'You know she's not Cordelia,' he said. 'Cordy would never have left when you told her to.'

'I know your cow trash has been getting up to treason,' Silas said, 'she will pay for it - but not before you pay for bringing her and your cow friends into this world. It is time to perform the Com-shuk - I grow weary of waiting.'

The Groosalug looked startled. 'I do not wish to perform…' he began to say.

'You will do as you are told the same as the rest of the cow scum,' Silas snapped, He looked between both men, 'both of you.'

'Now hang on, bud,' Doyle protested, 'I don't even know how to perform the Com-shuk. I don't know what it is. I'm gonna need instructions.'

'Fear not, Majesty,' Silas smirked, 'you will have little to do. Now,' he stepped up to the Groosalug, 'must I force you?' he asked. The Groosalug swallowed, and glanced nervously over at Doyle.

'My Lord,' the standoff was broken by a second priest entering the chamber. 'There is something in the village you will want to see.' The two priests went to the window, and stared down into the village square - where Angel stood with the challenge torch flaming in his hand.

...

He stepped onto the podium and placed the torch in a holder and then raised his voice to the castle. 'I challenge the Groosalug to mortal combat,' he yelled up. He glanced back at Fred, who had mouthed the words along with him. She stuck her thumbs up. 'Come out and face me you spineless coward,' he shouted.

Fred groaned to herself. 'Why'd you have to add that coward part?' she asked, 'that's really gonna piss him off.' She snuck away to hide behind a market stall.

...

The priests returned to the centre of the room, where the Groosalug and Doyle still stood. 'What is it?' the King asked, 'what's goin' on? Who's yellin'?'

'You have been challenged,' Silas said to the champion, 'You must fight.' The Groosalug nodded his head.

Doyle looked at him, 'uh - I don't want to worry you, bud, but I had a vision of you fightin' - a skanky hideous beast - it ripped you to pieces. You don't wanna go out there, man.'

'He has no choice - the honour of the kingdom is at stake,' Silas told them. And the Groosalug nodded, he knew his duty. The priests and the champion left the chamber, leaving Doyle alone. He looked down at Marelda's map, and studied it, trying to remember every twist and turn he would need to take to get to the castle dungeons.

The Groosalug looked out of the window, down at the torch. 'Who is that challenges me?' he asked.

'You love the Chosen First Consort, do you not - and hope to keep her once His Majesty's time is passed?' Silas asked him.

The Groosalug nodded, 'if the covenant would allow such a thing. I love her more than I thought possible.'

Silas nodded down to where Angel was visible standing in the square. 'This cow is also desirous of her body. If this filth should win - he will ravage - and he will defile her. He will use her for his pleasure again and again and when he is done - when she has no more screaming left in her - he will kill her.'

'He will not!' The Groosalug yelled, his jet black eyes flashing in anger and determination to keep his chosen concubine safe. 'He will die!'

When he was sure that the others had left the hallway outside, Doyle slipped an axe from one of the brackets on the wall, and eased the door to the throne chamber open. 'Down to the end of the hallway and take a left,' he muttered to himself, gripping tightly to his weapon. He tiptoed down to the turning. 'Straight ahead until you come to the hall of drink and chance,' he whispered. Straight ahead he went, until the carousing of his courtiers in their booze and gambling den could be heard. 'Right, right again, and then left at the tapestries.' He snuck past the noisy chamber and took his turnings. Then he stared down at the staircase that appeared before him, 'and now go right on down until there is no more stairs or light,' he murmured.

Eventually, he had gone down enough flights that the gloom pressed in on him on all sides. He put his foot out expecting another stair and stumbled as he found it wasn't there. He righted himself and continued down the passage. The torches flickered in their sconces, casting eerie shadows around him. He gripped his axe even tighter. As he walked, he could hear the sound of torture victims screaming. As awful as they were to hear, he felt relief in his heart that they were only male voices he could hear echoing down the hall. It meant Cordelia was not being harmed.

At the end of the passageway, he came up to a demon sat on a stool outside a heavy wooden door, snoozing. He woke up with a start as he became aware of someone standing above him, and jumped when he realised it was the King, wielding an axe. 'Where is she?' Doyle growled.

'My Lord - I was told the cow trash was not to be released for any reason. She is guilty of treachery.'

'Do not. Call her. Cow trash.' Doyle said, through gritted teeth, and swung his axe towards the guard.

'My Lord!' screamed the guard, ducking out of the way. But Doyle's axe hit the door, smashing into the heavy lock and destroying it.

'Now I suggest you get out of here, bud, before I swing this axe again,' Doyle told the guard. The guard ran away and Doyle kicked the remains of the door in.

The guards stood in front of the castle gates. They heard a voice ring out, 'The Groosalug has been challenged. He will fight the challenger in the village square.' Hidden in the bushes, Wesley watched, as some of the soldiers left the gate and went to see what the ruckus was. He turned and crawled further into the bushes, where the rest of the rebels waited. He gave the signal and some of the rebels moved off - to go and cause their diversions. A few moments later the same voice rang out, 'rebels at the south gate,' and then again, 'rebels at the north wall.' More guards ran off. Wesley then gave the signal to Bartok, who raised his sword and ran at the remaining guards. 'Death to the state ,' he yelled, as he ran, 'Death to the state!' Wesley stared down at the ground. His heart was heavy - but this had to be done. Bartok's sacrifice had to be made. It gave the watcher no pleasure to send good men to die, though.

As the remaining guards got caught up in the skirmish with Bartok and his rebels, Gunn threw a grappling hook up onto the south wall and began to scale it. Over by the gate, one of the rebels was slashed in the stomach by a guard. He fell to the floor, groaning, and then went still.

Huddled against the back wall of her cell, Cordelia jumped, when the door collapsed in on itself. 'Cordy?' a familiar and much loved voice asked.

'Doyle!'

'Princess!' he rushed over to her, and crouched down beside her, 'are you OK? Are you hurt?' Then he saw the collar around her neck. He reached out and touched it, gently, with his fingertips. 'I'm gonna kill him for this,' he said.

'I knew you would - I knew you'd find me. I wasn't scared for a minute. Do you have the keys for my chains?' She lifted her arms to show him her shackled wrist. He shook his head.

'Well - uh - I can't really manage a stealthy escape like this.'

'It's OK,' Doyle said - 'I can sort it.'

'How?'

He gripped his axe tightly. 'You remember the Titanic?' he asked her. Her eyes widened in alarm. 'It's OK, princess,' he promised her, 'I can do this.'

She nodded her head, 'OK, I trust you.' Doyle grabbed the stool the guard had been sitting on and Cordelia spread her hands out - as far as she could - so the shackle lay against the seat. Doyle swung his axe down. Cordelia flinched. But her chains broke apart and the axe buried deep into the wood. Doyle hefted it back out. 'OK. Now do my feet,' she said to him.

Once she was free, she flung her arms around him. 'Oh thank God.'

'I thought you weren't scared?' he asked, smiling to himself, as he held her tight and stroked her hair.

'Not for me, doofus!' she said. 'I've been so frightened for you.'

Doyle pulled away and looked at her, confused, 'um - but - I've spent the day up in my throne room bein' waited on hand and foot. It's you who's been languishing, chained up in prison, for hours.'

'I was so scared you'd be forced to do the Com-shuk…' she trailed off and decided against telling him her suspicions. 'Groo told me that after the ritual, they were going to kill you. I knew you'd save me, if you could - but I was so scared that, by the time I found a way out of prison, they would have already executed you.'

'It's OK,' he assured her. 'The Groosalug has been challenged to a fight. The rebels are rising. It seems Silas might lose his power.'

But instead of looking pleased, Cordelia's face took on a look of abject terror. 'That might not be such a good thing, right now,' she squealed.

The Groosalug arrived in the village square, riding in a chariot. He took his gauntlets off, walked up to the podium, and held his bare hand out into the flames of the challenge torch. Angel turned to look at Fred. 'This guy, he doesn't feel pain?'

'Oh, he feels it alright,' she said, 'he just doesn't let it hold him back. He is the Groosalug. He overcomes all things... Good luck.' She ducked back down behind her market stall, leaving Angel alone with the champion.

The Groosalug looked at Angel, 'you will die, barbarian,' his voice was still outraged, as he thought of the threat to Cordelia. He picked up an axe and a club and moved in to attack the vampire. Angel got in a few kicks and punches, but they did not slow his opponent down, and within a matter of seconds he was hit so hard in the stomach that he flew backwards to the ground. The Groosalug stood above him, and swung his axe down...

Chapter 88: There's No Place Like Plrtz Glrb: Part Four

Chapter Text

Doyle listened in horror, as Cordelia filled him in on Silas' mass cow killing device. 'But you're wearing a collar!' he said, his voice a mixture of shock and fear.

'Duh!' she answered. 'He wants to make my head go all kerpluey. That's why we need to find him and stop him.'

Doyle nodded, 'we don't need Silas,' he said, 'we just need to destroy that device. I can have him arrested any old time.'

Despite the seriousness of the situation, Cordelia giggled. 'I just love it when you're all Kingly,' she said to him.

He grinned, sheepishly, 'I am gettin' better at it, yeah?'

They left the cell and scurried down the corridor, 'so how do we find this device?' the King wanted to know.

'The guard said it was in Silas' priestly chambers.'

'Uhuh - and where are those?'

They stopped and looked at each other. They did not have time to get lost, hunting around the castle. 'What do we do?' Cordelia hissed.

Doyle looked down at the axe in his hand, and then nodded to himself. 'We find a demon and use my Kingly powers of persuasion to make him take us there.'

Angel rolled away and avoided the axe swing. He scrambled back to his feet and launched himself at the Groosalug. But in a matter of moments, he was kicked through the air once more. This time he crashed off the podium and down into the market stall, where Fred hid. He landed on the ground with a groan. She scampered over to him and knelt by his side. 'You can't hold back - you'll die,' she told him.

'Not holding back,' he said, 'holding on.'

Silas strode down the corridor, his red robe flowing out behind him. He was in a bad mood. The Com-shuk was delayed and every moment that the half breed kept the visions was a moment too long. It was a chance for the King to escape. He could only hope that, with the concubine locked in the dungeons, His Majesty would not dare leave the castle. Though he looked to the cow trash for strength - she was also his greatest weakness. The King would not risk doing anything that might endanger her - so blinded was he by love - that infirmity of the heart. So it pleased Silas that he now had the concubine under his control. It meant the King was a prisoner as well - and Com-shuk he must. Provided that the Groosalug was not slain in this latest challenge, of course.

A priest hurried up behind him. 'My Lord, rebels have breached the castle!' The two of them began to hurry away to their sanctum but, as they turned into the next corridor, they saw the very group of cow rebels the priest had warned about, down at the other end.

...

Wesley saw them, and raised his sword. 'It's Silas,' he called, 'stop him.' He led the charge.

The humans ran towards the priests, their sword raised, screaming defiance. But they were intercepted by the sudden arrival of palace guards. They fell to fighting, and Silas and his fellow priest hurried back the other way.

The rebels worked well together, spurred on by their cause, and well served by Wesley's leadership. Although they were outnumbered, they fought fiercely. Their blades flashed in the light of the braziers, as they whirled them through the air, hacking and slashing at the enemy. They parried blows, and used their fists and feet to strike when the soldiers were open. The tight space of the corridor worked in their favour, as it meant that the soldiers could not rush them all at once. Forced to fight one on one, their advantage in numbers meant little. As long as the guards came, the rebels kept on fighting. People fell, people were injured, but eventually the small band of humans finished off their opponents and were able to race on through the castle - looking for Silas.

Silas hurried into his chamber and barred the door. He turned around once he felt he was safe. The chief priest's face clouded in outrage when he saw the King and his concubine - out of the dungeon, and freed from her shackles - standing there waiting. He glanced at the guard that was with them. 'Forgive me, Lord,' the soldier said, 'His Majesty threatened me if I did not show him the way.'

'Then you should have died,' snapped Silas, 'rather than allow the kingdom to fall to these filthy cows.' He struck the guard hard against the face, in his anger, and the guard stumbled backwards and tripped. He tumbled to the floor and his sword clattered out of its sheath. Silas spat on him, 'stay down,' he commanded, 'before I take your head for your cowardice.'

'Speakin o' heads,' Doyle said, hefting his axe in his hand. 'Where is it Silas, where's your machine that kills all the humans?'

Silas just stared at him.

'Tell us - and maybe I won't kill you,' the King continued, after a moment's silence. His brow was furrowed and his eyes were angry.

'You are not in a position to bargain,' Silas told him. His jet black eyes glittered coldly in the torch light. All was not lost, he thought to himself, not yet. 'Your own cow wears the collar, now, as is only fitting for lowly trash such as she… She is in as much danger as the rest of the slaves - no better than the rest of the slaves. You will not wish her to come to harm.'

'I'm not hearin' the right words,' Doyle menaced.

'You will Com-shuk with the Groosalug,' Silas said to him, his voice beginning to rise in anger. 'You will Com-shuk, half breed, or your cow will lose its head!'

'And what then?' Cordelia snapped back. 'We know all about it Silas - we know that you're going to kill Doyle - and me - after the Com-shuk. So our choices are don't do as you say and die - or do as you say - and die. Oh gee - let me think? No.'

Silas turned to her, his face a mask of furious. 'Do not. Speak. To me. Cow scum!' he yelled at her. He struck her across the face, and sent her reeling to the ground. In an instant, Doyle was down by her side, helping her up. Once she was back to her feet, he turned to Silas, ready to swing his axe, not caring where the device was - just wanting the priest dead for daring to hurt his Cordelia. But he was not quick enough.

Silas grabbed Cordelia by the throat and held her close - so that Doyle could not attack him without risking hurting her. 'This is all your fault,' the priest hissed into her face. 'He was weak until you came here. You think you can destroy our way of life? Think again! I will kill every cow in the world before I allow that to happen.' He pulled the cloth from the console, revealing the hand print - and the jewels, which shone in the gloom. 'Every last one of you,' he said. He threw Cordelia away from him. She staggered into a bookcase and then fell to the floor, beside the fallen soldier. Silas raised his hand over the console and then looked at Doyle. 'So what will it be?' he asked the King, 'the Com-shuk or the cow's life?'

The duel continued down in the village square. Angel could barely hold his own against the brave and undefeated Groosalug. He had never faced an enemy so strong - not since he was Angelus and he had fought against Buffy. But then he had been protected by her love for him. The Groosalug was driven by pure anger.

The Groosalug kicked him, and he was thrown to the ground. He landed heavily by some wooden posts. Yanking one out of the ground, he forced himself back to his feet and took a swing at his opponent with his new weapon. But before it could make contact, the Groosalug had taken out a leather whip - like the one the old demon man had used to capture Doyle just a few days ago - and whirled it around his head. It snapped out and wound itself around Angel's wrist, lashing him to one of the remaining posts. He dropped his stick, and tried to wriggle free.

The Groosalug picked up his cudgel and began to bludgeon the vampire, where he was tied. 'You would defile her,' he yelled with every blow. 'You animal!' He kept on pounding.

Down in the market stall, Fred hid her face in her hands, so she did not have to witness the brutal beating being meted out to her only friend.

As the battering continued, Angel felt something inside of him begin to loosen. The tight control he held over himself began to fade under the vicious onslaught. He had barely time to register his own horror, as the animal inside him took over - fighting for survival. His face morphed, his skin turned green and the horns sprouted from his head. Out in the square, the guards horse began to rear in fright as they smelled this new predator, nearly unseating the soldiers in their terror. The Groosalug stared at Angel, and then swung his cudgel again.

But the Angel beast grabbed it in his left hand, and ripped it from his grasp. He smacked the Groosalug across the square and then tore his right hand free from its leash.

The Groosalug had barely managed to get back to his feet, before the Angel beast pounced, launching himself across the square with one, massive leap.

Doyle spread his arms out in surrender. He lowered his axe, placing it on the floor at his feet. His face was terrified, his eyes were wide. 'Silas, man - please - don't…'

'I told you she made you weak,' the priest spat. 'You would rather perform the Com-shuk, suffer the degradation, and relinquish your gift from The Powers rather than let one, miserable, cow whore die! You are not fit to be King!'

'OK OK - I'm not fit to be King - but please, man, I'm beggin' y-'

'A King does not beg!' Silas barked at him. He kept his hand hovered over the device. Doyle's eyes were locked on it. He held his breath and felt tears begin to prick against his eyes, as he strained not to blink them, afraid that if he looked away - even for a moment - he would lose Cordelia forever. Down on the floor, Cordelia began to groan as she came to.

'Oh good,' Silas smiled, 'she is awake. I did not want to remove her head until she was conscious of what was happening.'

'No - please!' Doyle pleaded with him - wanting to inch forward towards the priest, but afraid to - in case that caused Silas to lower his hand. The King and the priest stared at each other for a long moment until...BAM

The door was kicked in, and Wesley and the rebels stood there, swords raised. The watcher looked at the priest, his hand held above the console. 'You don't have to do this,' he said.

'I don't have to,' Silas agreed, 'but I'm going to…' Behind him, Cordelia slowly got back to her feet. He did not notice. 'And the cow trash concubine can go straight to-'

She swung the soldier's dropped sword with all her might, directly at the priests neck. It sliced straight through his flesh, and his head flew off his shoulders and rolled to the floor. 'The cow trash concubine has had enough of your yacking, padre,' she said. Wesley and Gunn grinned at each other.

Doyle just stood there, staring at her - as if frozen in shock. She gave him a shy smile, and that seemed to unlock him. He sprang towards her and wrapped her in his arms. 'Oh, princess, I was so scared,' he whispered to her.

'Don't fuss,' she told him, 'this isn't the first time somebody's tried to cut my head off, you know.'

He began to laugh. 'O' course it isn't, darlin'. This is just another Tuesday in your dark, and really disturbin' life.'

...

When he was done hugging her, he picked his axe up again, and smashed it into the console with all his might. He yanked it out and smashed again. Sparks flew out everywhere as it fizzed and crackled and then went dark. Then he rummaged through the headless corpse's pockets until he found some keys. 'I hope this is it,' he said and slid it into the lock on Cordelia's collar. He heard a click, and her collar opened up, and he was able to slide it off.

Free at least, she pulled him close and gave him a lingering kiss. 'Thank you, Your Majesty,' she murmured.

'My pleasure, radiant one,' he replied.

...

Wesley cleared his throat and they pulled apart. 'So is that it?' Doyle asked, 'have we won?'

'Their leader is dead and the device is smashed. I'd say we won.' Wesley agreed. 'Now we just have to hope that Angel can kill this Groosalug. Whatever it is.'

The royal couple glanced at each other in alarm. 'Angel's fighting Groo?' Cordelia asked, 'but he's nice - he saved Lorne - because he's totally into me by the way -... maybe we should stop the fight?'

'Uh - are y' sure he's fightin' Angel?' Doyle wrinkled his face up, 'I had a vision - he was fighting a really skanky, terrible beast.'

Gunn shuffled his feet and looked awkward. Wesley cleared his throat again. 'Actually - that terrible skanky beast is Angel.'

The Groosalug lay on the floor, the beast on top of him. He was being mauled - ripped apart; wound by wound, piece by piece. He had never bled like this in battle before. But the scent of the blood only seemed to drive the creature more wild, make it more frenzied in its attack.

They rolled in the dirt, and the beast landed on top, he raised his claw ready to swipe at the Groosalug's throat. And the champion closed his eyes as he waited for the inevitable. But the blow never came. He opened his eyes again, and found himself looking into Angel's human face. 'We're not gonna do this,' the vampire said, 'we're gonna find another way.' He backed off, just as another chariot rolled into the square.

The Groosalug got to his feet and punched Angel hard in the face and then in the stomach, sending him reeling back. Doyle and Cordy tumbled out of the chariot and hurried up to the podium. They were yelling something.

But Angel was pissed. 'OK - what part of me being all noble didn't get through?' he demanded.

The royal couple scrambled up and got in between them. 'Stop stop, it's OK.'

'Angel, man it's OK. Y' need to stop the fightin'.'

Cordelia pushed the Groosalug away from his opponent, and Doyle did the same for Angel, trying to hold back the irritated vampire.

'But Chosen Consort - he would defile you!' the Groosalug cried, still furious, his jet black eyes not leaving Angel's face.

'What?' said Cordelia.

'What?' said Doyle, looking between Angel and Cordy.

'What?' said Angel.

'Silas told me this beast will use you for his pleasure, again and again, until he has had enough and then he will kill you,' the Groosalug told Cordelia, 'Oh but I will not let that happen, radiant one. I will keep you safe, even if the King cannot.'

'Hey!' protested Doyle, 'I keep her safe!'

'Groo - Angel is my friend he would never hurt me. He would never use me for his pleasure. Please! We don't even think of each other that way.'

'It's true,' Angel agreed, 'she doesn't even think of me that way.'

'I mean, who was it that got her outta the dungeon?' Doyle muttered to himself, but no one was listening.

'The fight is over,' Cordelia told the champion. 'Silas is dead - you don't have to fight for him anymore and the Com-shuk will not be happening!'

She looked over at Doyle, who was still muttering away: 'And I chopped her chains off her, and I destroyed the console and I unlocked her collar. I did all that. Me.'

Angel gave him a sympathetic glance. 'I thought you were a good King.'

'Yeah? Me too.'

'Doyle, honey,' his girlfriend interrupted, 'you need to stop chuntering and make a proclamation.'

He swallowed, nervously, 'I do?'

She nodded. 'Freeing the slaves?' she hinted.

'Oh right.' He cleared his throat and raised his voice so that all in the village square could hear him. 'Silas is dead,' he yelled in his loudest voice. 'All priest have -um - well they've been defeated. So - um - all the demons - you gotta lay down your weapons, yeah? 'Cause any demon that harms a human from this day on then… well then … well..'

'They will answer to the King,' Cordelia finished for him, rolling her eyes.

'Uh - yeah that's it, they'll answer to me.' He breathed a sigh of relief, when it was over. 'Just don't make me do that again,' he said.

Lorne walked out of his mother's farm and breathed in the fresh air. He squinted up at the twin suns blazing in the sky, and smiled to himself. Angel was waiting for him outside. 'Good as new!' the deathwok demon proclaimed, proudly, putting his hand up to feel his neck. 'Though I seem to have put on about a hundred and fifty eight pounds.' He patted his midsection, and frowned down at it.

'You look great,' Angel told him, smirking at the rough Pylean clothes that the usually dapper Host was now wearing, 'love the trousers.'

'Yeah - it's been great.' Lorne turned back to his mother, 'well bye, mom - see you in a millennium or three.'

He began to walk away, but Angel caught him by the arm to stop him. 'Isn't there something you want to say to your mother?' the vampire asked.

'Hmm, may you burn in Tarkna?'

'Come on,' Angel encouraged, 'she's not that bad! I mean she didn't put your body on top of the maggot pile, like you were afraid she would, now did she?'

Lorne sighed deeply, and turned to speak to his mother one last time. 'Bye mom. And thanks for putting my body on the lice pile instead of the maggot heap.' He turned back to set off, scratching at himself. Angel gave him a look.

'I thought you were lost to us forever,' Lorne's mom said, as he walked away. He spun around. 'But you came back, you came back.' A slight smile began to bloom across the Host's face. 'The runt of my loins came back after raining such misery upon our lives.' The smile began to fade. 'And shamed us even further!' She spat at him.

Angel clapped him on the shoulder, 'alright then, we'll just be…'

'Who is supposed to do the labour now that your cow friend has freed the slaves? You know what they call me in the hall of drink and chance? Mother of the foul excrement!'

'Keep in touch!' Angel said to her, as he began to pull Lorne away.

'Begone misfit!' she called after their retreating backs. 'Back to your strange world where no one knows his place!' They scuttled down the road. 'May you rot in Tarkna,' she yelled - and then, 'Numfar - do the dance of shame.' Lorne's brother began to dance.

'Well - every family has their problems,' Angel told his friend. He thought for a moment, 'yours more than most.'

'My psychic friend told me I had to come back here,' Lorne told him. 'I didn't believe her. But then I realised I did have to come back here, because - I really always thought I had to come back here, deep down inside, you know? I had to come back here to find out I didn't have to come back here. I don't belong here. I hate it here. You know where I belong? L.A. You know why? Nobody belongs there. It's the perfect place for guys like us.'

'That's kinda beautiful,' the vampire said.

'Aint it? I'm very moved, if I do say so myself.'

Angel clapped him on the shoulder, 'please do.'

'You know? I feel a song coming on.'

'I thought you might.'

'Somewhere over the rainbow,' the Host began to sing. Two demons, working out in the fields, fell to the ground clutching their ears and groaning. 'Way up high!'

Doyle, Cordelia and the Groosalug stood up on the dais. A priest stood before them, clutching parchment and a quill. The chamber was packed with both courtiers and rebels. The former slaves no longer wore their collars. Doyle looked out across the room, noting just how full it was, and then glanced at Cordelia. 'You OK?' she asked him, 'you want me to-?'

He shook his head. This was his last act as King. He really ought to do it himself. He just wished there were a few less witnesses. At least the guys weren't in.

'OK, man,' he said to the priest. 'Things are gonna be different around here from now on - and I want you to make a record of that. Understood?' The priest nodded. 'Right,' the King continued, 'OK - make sure you get this down. From this day on - all people, whether demon or human..'

'Or both,' interrupted Cordelia.

'Or both,' Doyle agreed, 'are created equal. There must be no more slavery or religious persecution. 'Cause it's not good, yeah? All humans and demons - and both - are born free and are free to believe what they wish and live as they choose.' He stopped. The priest scribbled away.

Doyle glanced at Cordelia, she nodded at him, 'that was pretty good,' she said, 'I'm proud of you.'

The doors to the throne room opened and Wesley, Fred and Gunn walked in. Fred was now changed out of her burlap sack, and was wearing a skirt and blouse that would blend in a little better in L.A. Each one of them carried a Wolf, Ram and Hart book. 'I think we did it!' Wesley shouted up to his friends by the throne.

Fred looked up at where the two of them stood, in their finery, and dropped her eyes a little. 'I was opening portals but I didn't know where,' she admitted. 'You need the priests formulas to figure it out this side.'

'So we can go home?' Cordelia asked, beginning to smile.

Gunn held up his book, 'all we have to do is go back to the car and say these words,' he said.

The priest tried to object to them taking the holy books, but one look from his King, and he trailed off into silence. 'Well, bud,' Doyle said to the Groosalug. 'I guess all this is yours now. Good luck, man,' he clapped him on the shoulder.

The champion looked down at his hand. 'You have been a good King,' he told Doyle, 'and it worries me how I will follow you - especially without one such as her radiance at my side to guide me.'

'Ah - you'll be fine,' Doyle told him. 'But between you and me - that Marelda's pretty smart. You could do a lot worse, if you're lookin' for a consort of your very own - if she'll have you o' course.'

The Groosalug nodded. 'Goodbye then Highness, noble lady,' he bowed to them both and they walked down the steps of the dais.

'Do you think Brunhilda will get a bigger necklace than I did?' Cordelia asked, fondling her ten carat diamonds.

'Nah - I chose the biggest one in the treasury - just for you,' Doyle told her.

'I love you,' she smiled, linking her arm through his, as they walked down the aisle. As they walked past the courtiers, everyone knelt and bowed their heads. 'Your Majesty,' they all murmured, as Doyle walked past, the salute following him down the chamber. Cordelia sighed. 'I'm really gonna miss dating a King,' she said.

...

The group left the throne room, every Pylean they passed in the halls bowed down to Doyle, as he walked by. 'So, did we ever find out what the Com-shuk ritual was?' the King asked his friends, as they left the castle.

Wes and Gunn gave each other a swift glance and then said nothing. Fred bit her lip and looked at the floor. Cordy patted him on the arm. 'I'll tell you when you're older,' she said. Doyle looked bewildered. Together, they all made their way back to the meadow and Angel's car, feeling all was well with the world.

Caritas was deserted. The room was dark. But then a slight wind picked up, even though it was inside. It ruffled the table cloths and made the empty glasses begin to tinkle and quake on the shelves. The curtain at the back of the stage began to billow. And then bright, white lights appeared, flashing in the air, before coalescing into a portal. The convertible came barrelling through, with the whole gang crammed inside - screaming. It smashed through the front rows of tables and then careened to a stop, when it rammed into the bar.

Lorne looked around at the destruction. 'You know - I've been thinking about remodelling anyway. Who's up for a nightcap?'

Once the sun had set, the team headed back to the hotel. 'Are you sure?' Fred was asking, as they entered the courtyard. 'Are you sure about that?'

Cordelia laughed, 'trust me,' she said, 'tacos everywhere.'

'Mexican food stalls as far as the eye can see,' Doyle added.

'And soap!' Cordelia told the other woman.

Gunn was laughing. 'Yo,' he said to the others. 'That portal jumping is a fun ride.' He looked around at them, 'we sell it to a theme park - we get paid!'

Angel pushed his way through the group then, to get to the front. He reached the double doors that led to the lobby and grinned at his friends. 'OK I wanna say it, can I say it?'

'Say what?' Wesley asked him, smiling along.

Angel pushed the doors opened in a dramatic flourish and all his friends laughed. He took a deep , oxygenless, breath and smiled in satisfaction. 'There's no place like…' he trailed off.

A young, red haired woman was sat on the Hyperion staircase, crying. She looked up when she heard them come in.

'Willow?' Angel breathed her name. His smile vanished. The whole gang stopped in the doorway and looked confused. Cordelia and Doyle gave each other a worried glance. 'What's…?' she asked. Willow got to her feet, still crying - still looking only at Angel.

He stared up at her. And he knew.

He just knew.

'It's Buffy,' he said.

The End

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RogueVader1996 on Chapter 1 Tue 24 Jan 2023 01:53PM UTC

Doyle is playing kitten poker now? Let's hope he doesn't run into Spike again, otherwise they might join forces in that particular hobby...
Ooh, and now Lilah is taking over Lindsey's role as Darla's caretaker? That could be an interesting dynamic, especially if neither of them get feelings for the other that would only get in the way.

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RogueVader1996 on Chapter 2 Tue 24 Jan 2023 09:33PM UTC

Aww, Doyle is a kitten rescuer!
I also love how you added the extra bit that Doyle already knows about Caritas but avoided it, makes the place feel more immersed in the story.

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RogueVader1996 on Chapter 5 Wed 25 Jan 2023 10:43AM UTC

An eviction is one way to get the gang out of their offices, but they're not destroyed. I was rather fond of this location (despite how much the showrunners hated it because it was so cramped to film). I hope we now get a chance to revisit this nice place.

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RogueVader1996 on Chapter 7 Wed 25 Jan 2023 12:21PM UTC

You're right Cordy, Willow is getting big into magic now that Oz has left and she has no new guy to distract her... no new guy indeed.
And of course the Thesulac demon knows just how to hurt Doyle the most: by preying on his massive inferiority complex that he'll never be good enough for Cordelia.

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RogueVader1996 on Chapter 13 Wed 25 Jan 2023 07:43PM UTC

As funny as Angel's detective bit is, impersonating a police officer is a real crime. Kate's gonna be pissed when she finds that report of a man matching Angel's description extracting information from a crime scene.

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RogueVader1996 on Chapter 15 Wed 25 Jan 2023 09:54PM UTC

It breaks my asexual heart that young girls like Bethany have learned the hard way that their feelings don't matter when it comes to dealing with men. Girls deserve better than that.
Lilah being all alone at W&H seems to be getting to her, let's hope this personal beef she now has with Doyle doesn't land our boy in too much trouble...

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1. myheadsgonenumb on Chapter 15 Wed 25 Jan 2023 10:08PM UTC
  
  Let's hope ...
  
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RogueVader1996 on Chapter 16 Thu 26 Jan 2023 06:17AM UTC

OK wow, Wesley and Doyle bonding over being English/Irish was so unexpected and yet so perfect.
In fact all the team dynamics these last chapters have been off the charts, and I haven't been praising it enough.

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1. myheadsgonenumb on Chapter 16 Thu 26 Jan 2023 04:47PM UTC
  
  Thanks - I always think Wesley and Doyle probably have more in common, as recent immigrants from the same part of the world, to Doyle and Angel - even though they're both Irish - because Angel lived in Ireland 200 years ago, has travelled the whole world since and has lived in America since the 1900s, which is longer than some natural born American citizens' families have been there. He's probably the most American of all of them. The experiences of homesickness, culture shock and missing a decent cup of tea belong to Doyle and Wesley equally though.
  
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RogueVader1996 on Chapter 18 Thu 26 Jan 2023 09:10PM UTC

Looks like Doyle's ability to use computers better than the others is finally causing a major divergence. Who knows what his presence at 'Kramer' will do?

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RogueVader1996 on Chapter 20 Fri 27 Jan 2023 08:28AM UTC

Careful Doyle. Your meddling may have defused the current situation quickly, but you made a powerful personal enemy in the process...

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RogueVader1996 on Chapter 21 Fri 27 Jan 2023 01:08PM UTC

OMG the 'placing bets' bit was hilarious! And along came an eerie bit of foreshadowing, bad stuff is coming Doyle's way and he'll need the team to get through it.

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RogueVader1996 on Chapter 22 Fri 27 Jan 2023 02:48PM UTC

This is one of my favorite episodes, and Wesley's pretending antics are just as funny in writing as on screen, if not more so.
Meanwhile Doyle's attempt to get through to Angel hits right home, and unlike the T'ish Magev, this is real and not just a distraction. I hope it pays off in changing Angel from Darla.

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1. myheadsgonenumb on Chapter 22 Fri 27 Jan 2023 04:18PM UTC
  
  I really enjoyed writing this one. It's such a good episode for Wesley.
  Thanks for keeping reading : )
  
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RogueVader1996 on Chapter 23 Fri 27 Jan 2023 11:11PM UTC

Ooh, that scene cutting was very well done. That Perfect happiness cut was exactly like the show itself would do.

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1. myheadsgonenumb on Chapter 23 Sat 28 Jan 2023 12:08AM UTC
  
  It is the same cut the show used, I can't take credit for it - I just changed it from being Angel talking to the fake swami to the Angel talking to the sweat lodge dude.
  
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RogueVader1996 on Chapter 25 Sat 28 Jan 2023 11:19PM UTC

Lol poor Doyle, it's always him who has to try to talk to Angel when the rest of the team don't feel like it.
Constance... We never get Darla's original name (I think she herself forgot it) but Constance fits perfectly for 1609, I like it.

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1. myheadsgonenumb on Chapter 25 Sun 29 Jan 2023 12:01AM UTC
  
  I looked up the most popular names in England for the 1600s and chose one of the top 100. I liked the idea of giving her a 'virtue' name for when she was human to juxtapose against what she became.
  
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2. 1. RogueVader1996 on Chapter 25 Mon 30 Jan 2023 08:40AM UTC
    
    The contrast works very well, I really like it.
    
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RogueVader1996 on Chapter 27 Sun 29 Jan 2023 10:12PM UTC

Oh crap... so Lilah is going after Doyle by getting him sued for his past crimes? What a wonderful idea, a wholly original storyline that could only be done in a Doyle Lives plot.
The setup was perfect as well, with Lilah's grudge steadily growing after she was left all alone at W&H, followed by that foreshadowing bit last episode.

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RogueVader1996 on Chapter 29 Mon 30 Jan 2023 10:48PM UTC

I don't care much for this episode, but Doyle and Cordy on a date instantly makes it 1000% better.
I also find it hilarious that Doyle did notice Cordy's new haircut where nobody else did.

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1. myheadsgonenumb on Chapter 29 Mon 30 Jan 2023 11:30PM UTC
  
  In fairness to everyone else, Doyle spends a lot more time looking at Cordelia than they do!
  
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2. 1. RogueVader1996 on Chapter 29 Tue 31 Jan 2023 09:05AM UTC
    
    He sure does. I never really got the joke in the show, why is it so funny that nobody's been paying attention to Cordelia? Perhaps that's why they stopped commenting on her hairstyle changes altogether, even when she came home from vacation with the Groosalugg sporting a full-blown Karen haircut.
    
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RogueVader1996 on Chapter 30 Mon 30 Jan 2023 11:59PM UTC

I didn't manage to picture Doyle wearing bright pink rubber gloves to clean. Which is a shame, because the image is freaking hilarious.

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RogueVader1996 on Chapter 32 Tue 31 Jan 2023 06:28AM UTC

At last Doyle and Cordy can take their relationship to the next level! But, as per usual with this type of show, their happiness is doomed to be short-lived as Lilah's plan to get Doyle in jail for his petty theft crimes is already in motion, and now it's just a matter of time before it all goes to hell.

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1. myheadsgonenumb on Chapter 32 Tue 31 Jan 2023 04:30PM UTC
  
  Yes - you have to enjoy the good moments while you can because there is no getting way from the fact these two live in the Whedonverse and bad things always happen there!
  
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2. 1. RogueVader1996 on Chapter 32 Tue 31 Jan 2023 08:13PM UTC
    
    Exactly, you just can't have nice things in the Buffyverse, not for long.
    
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RogueVader1996 on Chapter 33 Tue 31 Jan 2023 08:40PM UTC

Oh crap, it's already begun! Doyle's being taken away after the first night? Why can't our happy couple have more than one night of perfect... happiness...
I don't know why I'm even surprised.

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RogueVader1996 on Chapter 36 Wed 01 Feb 2023 10:24AM UTC

And off to jail Doyle goes, didn't even get to make a phone call to Cordy or anyone on his team.
I find a hidden theme in this episode of "All for Nothing". Angel went through all these Trials to save Darla only to learn she couldn't be saved and the whole ordeal was for naught. And just when they start to accept that, Drusilla hammers it in by siring her again.
Doyle's story here has a similar theme, where his attempts at redemption for Cordy are all rendered moot when his past crimes catch up to him.

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RogueVader1996 on Chapter 37 Wed 01 Feb 2023 10:23PM UTC

Story time: I wasn't that impressed with Angel the Series aside from a few standout episodes. But this right here, watching Drusilla be Drusilla, this was the moment I knew for sure this show was amazing.
As for the new storyline, I'm glad to see Kate and Lindsey are on the case, they know how important Doyle is to the good fight. He's already had a new vision and he can't even let the champion know someone is in need of rescue.

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1. myheadsgonenumb on Chapter 37 Wed 01 Feb 2023 11:51PM UTC
  
  I really liked being able to repurpose Kate and Lindsey. I always felt like Kate's character got messed up in the show.
  I love Drusilla, every appearance is so memorable.
  
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