Here we go, a sequel to Across Time! This is going to be fun. I've decided that it will be about Ashling, but that there will be a lot of Cordy and Doyle in it as well. And, to all my faithful readers, I would appreciate plot suggestions, and I need someone who has had experience beta reading to read the novel I just finished. It isn't about Angel, or even the supernatural, but I need it read before I submit it to the publisher. So, let me know if anyone is interested. This is also going to be a bit of a crossover. I know I've never written anything like that in the past, but I'm going to borrow Hannibal King from Blade:Trinity, simply because he's soooo hot.

Title: More Than Meets The Eye

Rating: PG-13 to R, depending on where you're reading. Warning: There will be sex. If you don't like it, skip that part.

Summary: When Ashling Doyle returns home after a scandal, she finds that some things have changed. Especially when she and another new addition to the Fang Gang have to go undercover together on a case of demonic proportions. Sequel to Across Time.

Dedication: To the class of 2005, and all of my friends. You've kept me grounded, you've kept me happy and you've made me feel loved. Good luck to you all. I'll see you in life. Also to Glenn Quinn, my muse for all my Doyle stories. You were loved, you are missed. We will never forget you.

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New York was a tougher city than Ashling Doyle had ever imagined it was. Of course she'd heard Uncle Angel and Uncle Spike warn her about what went on in the alleys late at night, but she hadn't listened. And at age nineteen, she'd left to strike out on her own. Four years later, she was back in Los Angeles.

Things had gone great at first. She'd started to make a mark on the stage, and in a few low budget movies, had had one relatively mentionable role in a science fiction thriller. But she'd missed her parents, her siblings, and her family. And when the man she'd been dating had forged a sex tape and she'd become the object of ridicule in the world of theater, she'd decided to go home. At least for a while.

And she knew her parents would take her back. They'd always told her that she could come home if things became more than she could take. She was going to take them up on the offer. A few months at home, working with Angel Investigations, it would be good for her, help her find her direction. She, like her mother, had wanted to act. Unlike her mother, she had succeeded. Like her mother, acting wasn't for her. She needed something more.

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Cordelia Doyle paced. It was what she was good at. And at forty-seven, she thought she still looked pretty damn good doing it. She was waiting for her eldest daughter to arrive, and was waiting anxiously. Her husband of twenty-four years was watching her with amusement evident in his blue eyes.

"She'll be here when she gets here, 'Delia, darlin'. And it's a long drive from New York to LA."

"I don't know why she wouldn't have that car shipped and fly out. It would be much safer."

"Cordy, she's been slaying vampires since she was twelve, and she's been driving since she was sixteen. I think she can handle it. Nothing's going to happen to her. Especially not with my heritage."

Doyle was half Bracken demon. Ashling had inherited some of his traits, and some of her mother's. With Cordelia's adventure twenty-four years before, and the time traveling that she had done to save Doyle's life, Ashling was a very talented girl. Her strength exceeded that of either parent, her Sensing abilities were magnificent, and she was a Seer, but had none of the pain that had accompanied, and still did accompany, her father's visions.

"Okay, okay. Maybe she can take care of herself, but she's still my baby and I'm still her mother, and it's my job to worry about her."

"Actually," Olivia said, walking in, her newly acquired car keys dangling from her fingers. "I'm your baby. When is Ash gonna get here?"

Doyle closed his book, giving up on getting any reading done. "She'll be here when she gets here. Where is your brother?"

"Gray stopped by Uncle Angel's. He said he'll be home by eight."

"And Tristan and Quinn?"

"Class until five. They'll be home for dinner."

Cordelia and Doyle had originally only planned on four kids. They'd had Ashling, Tristan and Quinn, then begun trying for another. It had taken them two years to get pregnant again, and they'd had twins. So, instead of four, they'd had five. Their lives were hectic and lightning speed. Neither wanted it any other way.

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Ashling looked at the LA skyline as she drove into town. It never failed to amaze her. She'd lived in New York, which was surely impressive, but nothing could compare to her home. It would always make her smile.

She turned a corner and slid into a parking space between her parents' cars. God, it felt good to be home. She couldn't wait to see her siblings and her quasi family at the office. It had been entirely too long since she'd been home.

She lifted three of her suitcases out of the back of her car and started up the steps, pausing to take in the all too familiar sights and smells of the house where she'd grown up. Not bothering to knock, Ashling twisted the doorknob and went inside.

It was chaos. Four siblings were running around, her mother was hurriedly preparing dinner, and her father was sitting in the living room, going over a case file. It was home. Just as she remembered it. Just as she had prayed it would be when she arrived.

It took a moment for anyone to realize that she was there. And then, it was Cordelia. She turned around, and locked eyes with her eldest child. "Ashling." She breathed, and ran across the room, enveloping her daughter in a bear hug.

"Hi, Mom." Ashling said, returning the hard embrace. "Miss me?"

Cordelia could barely speak, her emotions were so strong. Her baby was home. Where she belonged. "Welcome back, baby. We missed you so much."

Ashling valiantly fought back tears. "Oh, I missed home." With that, she turned and flew into her father's arms. Doyle held her tight, resting his cheek on the top of her head. It had been four, nearly five years since his little girl had been home, and he'd seen her just a handful of times in those years. "It's good to have you home."

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Ashling gave herself three days of pampering. She let Cordelia fix her breakfast and slept late, and lounged around. By the night of the third day, she was bored out of her skull. Which was why, on the morning of the fourth, she rose early, dressed in a suit and headed into the office.

No one was in. Well, at least, there weren't any cars in the driveway. Mumbling to herself, Ashling fished out her keys and went in the lower level entrance, which was to Angel's on site apartment, where any of them spent the night if they were working late. She'd used it herself as a teenager as a place to make out. She'd always gotten caught, though. Still couldn't figure out how.

She made her way through the apartment, marveling at how much it had changed over the years. It had been four since she'd been there, and it was obvious that Buffy had redecorated a couple times since. It looked good.

As she climbed the stairs, Ashling became aware of a voice that was very unfamiliar to her. It was heavily accented with an Irish lilt. Being very careful, so as not to disturb the person, she made her way up the stairs and into the main office, her hand on the stake she'd withdrawn from her purse. She didn't get very far before he spoke.

"You'd might as well put that away. It won't do you any good on me." He turned around, and Ashling caught sight of vivid violet eyes. "I'm human. You can kill me with that, but it would be quite messy. I wouldn't recommend it."

"Who are you?" Ashling demanded, no dropping the stake, even though she could already smell that he was human.

"Oh no, I think I'll be asking the questions since you're the one breaking and entering."

"It's not breaking and entering when you have a key." Ashling snapped, her heels clicking on the tile as she walked toward the man. "Now who are you?"

"That, lady, I'll tell you when you tell me who you are and why the hell you are in my office sneaking around like a burglar."

"My name is Ashling Doyle. I'm Cordelia and Doyle's daughter. I've just returned from New York and wanted to come and spend the day with my parents. I am in your office, if it is yours, because I grew up here. I have a key to all the doors. Now what is your name, before I call Angel and have him come down here."

The man rose, and Ashling saw that he was tall, towering over her five nine frame by six, maybe seven inches. His eyes were violet, his hair black, and he was wearing a beard that managed to be scruffy and groomed at the same time, without hiding his rakish good looks. He crossed the room, and she took in his faded jeans, that were tight in all the really good places, and wonderfully low on his hips and the black sweater that stretched tight over a broad and obviously muscled chest.

"Hannibal King, at your service. Formerly a member of a Fuck the Vampires gang, and now one of the Fang Gang."

"Good for you. How long have you worked here?"

"Six months and counting. Since Wesley retired. They needed another set of strong arms."

"I know. They're my family. How the hell am I supposed to believe you know anything about vampires or demons anyway?"

"Your mother asked me that same question. I'll give you the same answer." He pulled the waistband of his jeans down, revealing a mark, a tattoo, like that some vampires put on their victims. She knew the mark, knew that clan had been taken out not long before when Dracula had risen again. "I used to be one. How's that for starters?"

Ashling shrugged. "So that brings the question, how do I know I can trust you?"

King rolled his eyes, walked across the room and threw open the weapons cabinet. "See those, girlie? Those are all the weapons I could get to a lot faster than you. And your stake wouldn't hold up against any of them. They're all the weapons I brought from my lab before my group disbanded. I could kill you with any one of them. Instead, I'm letting you stand there and annoy me with all these stupid questions you would already know the answers to if you had checked with Angel or your parents before coming down here."

"I don't think I like you very much."

"I'm reserving judgment. From the stories your brother tells, you're a hellion."

"Tristan's twenty one. He's the hellion. And if it's Gray, he's sixteen, and doesn't properly know what a hellion is. He'll be one when he gets a little older though."

King liked the way she spoke of her family. It was, thus far, her only redeeming trait. However, he didn't get to say anything before they heard a crash downstairs. Both dashed for the weapons cabinet, withdrawing their weapon of choice, him a gun, her a sword. When they bounded down the stairs and saw two big, horned demons, King swore.

"Well fuck me." He said, and when a third charged in, his face sank. "Fuck me sideways. Ready to rumble, little girl?"

"I'm always ready to rumble. Little boy."

King decided that maybe he'd like her after all.

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