When I rewatched all the Doyle episodes again recently (because my love for Allen Francis Doyle knows no bounds), I started wondering about what things would be like if Doyle were a woman. 13k later, and I'm ready to post this monster.
This is canon-compliant up through The Bachelor Party, touching mostly on City Of, Rm w/a Vu, and The Bachelor Party. It diverges from canon after that because I hate I Will Remember You, and then pointedly doesn't involve Doyle's death in Hero. The end game was Doyle/Cordelia, but as I got farther, I realized that a lot of it could be read as a prelude to Doyle/Cordelia/Angel. Feel free to read it either way. Also, please ignore that Doyle and Harry, as two women, couldn't have gotten married at this point in time. I wanted to keep most of the plot of The Bachelor Party the same as the original, so I kept Harry as a woman and decided to screw (homophobic) legal accuracy.
Disclaimer: I don't own Angel.
When Doyle had the first vision of the vampire with a soul, living in some basement in L.A., she was determined to ignore it. She had been having the visions for nearly two years now, and other than causing her to kick her nicotine habit - having a seizure-like vision while holding a lit cigarette was a bad idea - they hadn't actually changed her life all that much. She wasn't about to allow them to. She had been paired with another so-called Champion a year before, and it hadn't lasted very long. Doyle still wasn't entirely sure what had happened to her. Her name had been Melenda, and her family had been killed by demons when she was young. She had been fueled with an intense desire for revenge, which apparently hadn't been enough to save her, since one night, Doyle relayed a vision to her and never heard from her again. She could only assume the vision had been too much for Melenda to handle. Doyle didn't blame her; the vision had been full of huge, scaly demons that looked even worse than your average demon did. Since then, Doyle hadn't been paired with a Champion, and she didn't particularly want to be.
So going to see this vampire with a soul, who was apparently named Angel (or possibly Angelus; Doyle wasn't quite sure), was out. Completely. She wasn't going to do it.
But then she had another vision of him, and another, and another, until Doyle had been given enough image-filled migraines to suss out most of the vampire's life story. She had no desire to see the more grisly details, which she had a bad feeling were upcoming, so when she had a vision one morning of a girl named Tina at the "coffee spot" (which wasn't vague at all), she decided that it was time to finally go and meet this Angel. Maybe, if she helped her Champion to redemption, she would find it herself. God knew she would need to do quite a bit of redeeming to make up for her past, but so did this Angel fellow, so she could hope.
That night, Doyle left her apartment, barely avoided getting caught in the middle of a fight between a vampire and a succubus in the lobby, and walked down the streets of L.A. to find Angel. Her hands were trembling slightly, so she pulled an old, dog-eared set of playing cards out from her pocket and began to fiddle with them. She had thought it best not to drink before going out to meet her new Champion, not wanting to start out on the wrong foot and stinking of whiskey, but she was regretting the choice. Alcohol would have been helpful at calming her nerves a little, and she could have used something to calm her nerves. After all, she had seen a lot of what Angel had done when he was evil and soulless, and all in vivid technicolor. She had reason to be a little worried.
Before too long, Doyle reached the building she had seen in her visions. It seemed to be full of offices, which she thought was a bit of an odd choice for a vampire, but hey! It was better than her place (not that that was saying much), so she didn't have much room to judge. Luckily, the front door was unlocked. Doyle tucked her playing cards back in her jacket and slipped in, hoping she looked like she belonged. The door to Angel's office was locked, as she had expected, but she was good at picking locks, so that wasn't much of an obstacle. Once inside, Doyle relocked the door, just in case, and looked around. There wasn't much to see, but she also didn't have the lights on, so she couldn't really see anything that well anyway. Hating that she was going to do it, Doyle slipped into her demon face for a moment, sniffing the air. If she smelled any human blood, she was out of there, no matter what the Powers wanted. But, thankfully, there was nothing but the faint smell of pig's blood, so Doyle cautiously crossed to the elevator and descended to the lower level. Angel wasn't there, as she had expected, so she tucked herself into a shadowed corner and pulled out her playing cards again, ready to wait.
She only hoped Angel was a better champion than Melenda had been, because Doyle wasn't at all prepared to fight the monsters in her visions herself.
Angel stepped out of the elevator and pulled his coat off. All in all, he thought it had been a fairly successful night; he had staked the vampires and hadn't bitten any of the girls he saved. He crossed the room, tossed his coat over the back of his couch, and pulled the wrist sheaths off. They had been useful; that night had been one of their test runs, and they had done better than they had the night before. Angel unbuttoned and pulled off his shirt, tossing it on the couch as well, when he heard footsteps behind him.
"Well, I like the place," said a female, Irish-accented voice. Angel looked over his shoulder to see a young woman, probably in her early twenties. She was pale, with dark hair in a long braid down her back. Her clothes had seen better days - her leather jacket especially looked rather beat up - and she was holding a set of playing cards in her hands that looked to be about as old as she was, if not older.
"Not much with the view," the woman added, gesturing around the room, "but it's got a nice…Batcave sort of an air to it."
"Who are you?" Angel asked, giving the woman a quick once-over. She didn't seem to have any obvious weapons, but there was something about her that didn't seem quite normal.
"Doyle," she replied, as if that explained everything. Angel turned around completely.
"You don't smell human," he remarked, identifying the thing that had been nagging him about his unexpected and fairly unwelcome visitor.
"Well, that's a bit rude," Doyle replied, a hint of humor in her voice, mixed with some anxiety. "As it happens, I'm very much human." As if on cue, she sneezed and a change came over her face, the skin turning green and little blue spikes protruding from it. She looked back at Angel and shook herself, her face turning back to normal. "On my mother's side," she added defensively.
Angel stared at Doyle for a moment, not quite sure what to make of her. "Well, I come in uninvited, so you know I'm not a vampire like yourself," she remarked, walking past him with a casual air that Angel was pretty sure was entirely affected.
"What do you want?" he asked in a low voice.
"I've been sent," Doyle replied, turning away from the weapons cabinet she had walked over to. "By the Powers That Be." From the look on her face and her fairly sarcastic hand gesture, Angel was pretty sure she knew how stupid she sounded.
"The powers that be what?" Angel asked, not really in the mood for games. Doyle didn't reply.
"Let me tell you a little bedtime story," she began, walking past Angel.
"But I'm not sleepy," he quipped half-heartedly, really not wanting to do this. Then, without any more warning than that, Doyle proceeded to tell Angel his own life story, along with her own little sarcastic additions. Clearly, she had done her research, although how she knew some of that information, Angel wasn't sure. Most of it wasn't exactly common knowledge.
"Say, you wouldn't happen to have a beer of any kind in here, would you?" Doyle asked as she finished the story, leaning down behind Angel.
"No," Angel muttered, still more stuck on the fact that Doyle seemed to know his plans as well as his future. Being a champion of the human race - but staying behind the scenes - was what he was going to do in L.A., if Doyle ever left him alone.
Doyle set down her playing cards and walked over to the kitchen in a bit of a huff. "Come on, you must have something besides pig's blood," she remarked, looking in Angel's refrigerator as he made a quip and a threat they both knew he wouldn't carry through on. Until he found out more about Doyle and figured out how she knew what she knew, he wasn't going to kick her out, and Doyle knew that as well as he did. Still, Doyle played along.
"Cause now I'm gonna tell you what happens next," she replied, shutting the refrigerator, which really did only have pig's blood in it. And suddenly, Doyle was outlining Angel's fears, that helping people wouldn't be enough and that he would snap, killing the ones he was trying to save. And then…
"You know, I'm parched from all this yakking, man," Doyle said, a hint of mischief in her eyes. "Let's go treat me to a Billy Dee." She wiggled her eyebrows a bit and strode over to the elevator and, despite everything, Angel followed.
The night went fairly well; Doyle was pretty sure she had convinced Angel to go after the Tina girl and had thus found herself a new Champion. Which, while meaning Doyle would probably keep having visions, meant that at least she wouldn't be expected to stop the demons and vampires she saw in them. She could hold her own in a fight, and she was sure she'd be even better at it if she were in her demon form, not that she would do that unless she couldn't help it. But, considering what she had seen of Angel's past, Doyle was fairly sure he could handle anything her visions threw at him and then some.
As the day went on, Doyle had to admit she was a little worried. Not much, but a little bit. It had been a while, and she hadn't heard from Angel at all. But then again, her vision had been fairly vague, so she wasn't altogether surprised that Angel hadn't done whatever he needed to do just yet. She just hoped that what he had to do wasn't too much for him. She had just been assigned a new Champion; she hoped he would last for more than just one vision.
When the phone call did come in, it wasn't exactly what Doyle had been expecting. "Tina's dead. I need your help to find out who did it." Angel had hung up before Doyle had even had a chance to respond. He was right, Doyle reflected; he wasn't really good with people.
Angel was waiting outside his little office when Doyle arrived. He was clearly a man on a mission, striding right over to the elevator and leaving Doyle struggling to keep up. "We were at a party," Angel explained shortly. "Some guy tried to take her. She had an issue with someone named Russell, but she wouldn't tell me about him. I'm pretty sure he's killed other girls in the past. She saw your note, thought I was working with him, and ran off. I found her dead in her apartment, killed by a vampire."
"So Russell's a vampire?" Doyle asked, hoping she was keeping up. This hadn't exactly been what she had been expecting with the vision. Angel nodded once. "I'm sorry about Tina," Doyle added, but Angel ignored her.
"The guy who tried to take her at the party was called Stacy," he stated, shrugging out of his coat as they stepped out of the elevator. Doyle immediately got down to business.
"First name or last?" she asked, thinking if she had heard of any Stacys before.
"I don't know," Angel replied, sounding as if he hated the admission. "Professional muscle, probably done some time."
"I can ask around," Doyle offered, walking over to the table as Angel strode directly to his bookshelf.
"Great," he replied, pulling out a phonebook. "Start with the car. Grey 87 Black Mercedes 300E, going to need some serious work on the bumper." Angel dropped the book on the table. "Call the chop shops."
"I know a couple that ain't in the book too," Doyle added. Angel didn't even seem to hear her.
"The guy in the car leads me to Stacy, Stacy leads me to Russell," he proclaimed. Doyle gave him a look of concern.
"You couldn't have known she was gonna run out on you like that," she said quietly. Angel looked away.
"Forget it," he stated gruffly. "Let's get to work."
"You can't cut yourself off-" Doyle began, because really, not cutting himself off had been the whole point of this thing, but Angel interrupted her.
"Doyle," he cut in simply. Doyle sighed. "I don't wanna share my feelings," Angel stated in a low voice. "I don't wanna open up. I wanna find the guy who killed Tina and I wanna look him in the eye."
"Then what?" Doyle asked, even though she was pretty sure she already knew.
"Then I'm gonna share my feelings," Angel said grimly. Doyle avoided his eyes and looked down at the phonebook. She knew that Angel was capable of being a vicious killer - hell, she had seen some of his past atrocities in far more detail than she'd wanted to - but it still made her feel a bit uncomfortable. She wasn't about to admit that, however, and just flipped through the phonebook, looking through the car repair shops.
She would have to be making a lot of phone calls in the not-too-distant future, it seemed.
Before too long, one of Doyle's calls proved fruitful and Angel went off to intimidate a guy into telling him where Stacy was. Angel then promptly went off to intimidate Stacy into telling him where Russell was. It was all a big cycle of intimidation and violence, and Doyle was quite happy not to be involved in it, except on the periphery.
Until Angel decided she should be.
It really wasn't fair, Doyle thought as she sat in the car, waiting for Angel to come back out. She was just the messenger, as she had told Angel, and really, making her go into combat with him had never been part of the deal. Not that they had made a deal, technically, but still. It wasn't fair.
Then Doyle heard gunshots, left as quickly as she could, promptly came back again out of some stupid sense of loyalty, and failed miserably at breaking down the gate, which always worked in movies. "It's a good gate," she muttered, not wanting to tell Angel what she had done to his car. But when Angel emerged from the house with a gorgeous brunette, Doyle figured he had better things to worry about.
You know, given the gunshot wound in his chest and everything. It was just a guess.
Doyle stammered her way through an admittedly-weak excuse as the brunette helped Angel into the back of the car. She quickly hopped into the front and pulled away.
"Okay, so that was crazy," the brunette declared, looking far less freaked out than Doyle would have expected. "And who are you?" she demanded of Doyle.
"She's named Doyle," Angel grunted as Doyle swerved the car wildly, trying to avoid the gunshots that were still coming at them.
"I'm a friend of Angel's," Doyle added, shooting the brunette a quick smile. "And you?"
"Cordelia Chase," the brunette replied, peering into the rearview mirror and doing something to fix her hair. Doyle thought her priorities might be a little whacked, but she was gorgeous, so Doyle wasn't about to complain. "I knew Angel back in Sunnydale, before he came to L.A." The name of the town struck a dim chord in Doyle's memory; she thought she had seen the sign for the town during one of her visions. It must have been where the cute blonde Slayer lived.
The gunshots tapered off as Doyle drove further into L.A., and by the time they reached Angel's office building, they were gone altogether. Cordelia and Doyle helped Angel into his apartment, at which point Doyle was given the fun job of digging the bullet out of Angel's chest. Considering that Cordelia looked as though she might, in her own words, "faint while barfing," Doyle had to admit that was probably for the best. She was thankful, as she had been through her many visions of Angel, that it took a lot of blood and gore to freak her out, because otherwise, she would have probably looked as sick as Cordelia. Digging out bullets wasn't a fun job.
"So, it's over, right?" Cordelia asked as she dabbed at Angel's wound with a bit of gauze. "We're going to be okay. You put the fear of God into that Russell guy." She taped a piece of gauze over the bullet hole. "He's not going to come looking for me, right?" she asked quietly, obviously a little scared of what the answer would be. Angel shot Doyle a look. Doyle looked at Cordelia and swallowed.
Because Russell Winters wouldn't stop. Both Angel and Doyle knew that, and Doyle suspected Cordelia did as well. He wouldn't stop unless they stopped him. And Doyle thought she knew just the vampire for the job.
Angel set the phone down with a small sigh. He couldn't talk to Buffy, not after he left her. She deserved more than that. But seeing Cordelia… He hadn't expected there to be links to Sunnydale here in L.A., and finding one had shaken him more than he'd like to admit.
Soft footsteps and the scent of a half-demon told Angel that Doyle was, once again, ignoring his right to privacy. At least she had the decency to stay in the doorway. But considering Doyle had visions of people that Angel needed to help, Angel figured he'd be seeing a lot more of her in the future.
"What happened to Russell?" Doyle asked, her soft brogue similar to the ones Angel remembered from before he was bitten. Back then, if Liam had met Doyle, he wouldn't have hesitated before throwing her down on his bed. His father would have hated him for it. Angelus would have probably done the same, although much more aggressively, considering half-demon blood was much less appetizing than pure human. But, from what Angel could tell, Doyle seemed to be more interested in Cordelia than in Angel himself, and anyway, he couldn't risk reaching perfect happiness again.
"He went into the light," Angel said quietly, answering Doyle's question. Doyle accepted the answer, probably coming up with her own idea of what exactly had happened.
"And yet you don't seem to be in a celebrating mood," she countered, taking a few steps forward, a hint of a smile on her face.
"I killed a vampire," Angel countered, shaking his head the tiniest bit. "Didn't help anyone."
Doyle nodded, although Angel could see the sarcasm. "You sure about that?" she asked, raising her eyebrows. "Cause there's a girl upstairs who's as happy as can be-"
As if on cue, Cordelia screamed, causing both Angel and Doyle to race over to the stairs, intent on rescuing her from whatever was up there with her.
"A cockroach," Cordelia told Angel when he and Doyle burst into the room, pointing to the corner. "In the corner. I'd say it's a bantam weight!" Doyle looked down, apparently searching for the cockroach, while Angel stared at Cordelia, who was holding what seemed to be a huge feather duster.
"Okay, first thing, we need to call an exterminator," she declared, gesturing with the duster for emphasis. Angel was still staring. Doyle turned around, looking a bit confused. "And, a sign painter," Cordelia added, gesturing. "We should have a name on the door!"
"Okay, I'm confused," Angel stated.
"Well, Doyle filled me in on your little mission" - Angel turned to face Doyle, considering he hadn't heard anything about a mission, to see that she looked to be apologetic in the way that showed she was only sorry she'd been found out - "so I was just saying that, if we're going to be helping people out, maybe a small charge. A fee. You know, something to help pay the rent, and my salary." Angel was even more lost now than he was when Cordelia started explaining. "You need somebody to organize things, and you're not exactly rolling in it, Mr. I-was-alive-for-two-hundred-years-and-never-developed-an-investment-portfolio."
Angel gave Cordelia a disbelieving look. "You wanna charge people," he stated.
"Well, not everybody," Cordelia replied with a wide gesture. "But sooner or later, we are gonna have to help some rich people! Right? Right?" She turned to Doyle for aid, which Angel knew she was going to get; Doyle was clearly attracted to Cordelia and wouldn't turn down the opportunity to see her more often.
"Possibly, yeah," Doyle replied, nodding at Angel. Angel looked from her to Cordelia in disbelief.
"Hand me that box," Cordelia ordered. Angel looked around, not entirely sure what box she needed, but considering that she was still talking, Angel doubted she actually needed it. "So I think that we should charge based on a case-by-case analysis, but with me working for a flat fee!" Only then did Cordelia's enthusiasm flag a bit as she looked down. "I mean, um," she added slowly, "that is…if you think you can use me?"
Doyle gave Angel a look that showed she clearly agreed with the idea, which Angel had been expecting. Angel thought about it for a moment, but the disappointment on Cordelia's face as he paused made his decision for him. He couldn't just abandon her. He picked up the box and handed it to Cordelia with a slight smile. She accepted it, smiling as well.
"Of course, this is just temporary," she put in, as if the job didn't really mean anything to her. Angel wasn't falling for the act. "Until my inevitable stardom takes effect!" she added, walking into the other room. Angel stepped up next to Doyle, who was watching her as she walked, and leaned against the doorframe.
"You made a good choice," Doyle remarked, nodding. "She'll provide a connection to the world. She's got a very…humanizing influence." Angel smirked slightly, not falling for Doyle's words at all.
"You think she's a hottie," he replied. Doyle paused for a moment, as if surprised at Angel's words. Angel supposed there were people who didn't accept that she was attracted to other girls, but Angel didn't care.
"Ah, yeah, she's a pretty one, alright, I can't lie about that," Doyle replied, sounding almost as confident as before. "But, you know, she could use a hand."
"True," Angel muttered.
"You know, there's a lot of people in this city need helping," Doyle remarked. Angel knew it wasn't the casual remark it seemed to be and turned. Doyle looked a little nervous, as if worried that Angel would reject what she was about to say. Angel wondered if she would continue to have the visions without him there to fight what she saw. Doyle had made it fairly clear that she wasn't "combat ready," in her words, but Angel also saw that she was good. If there were people in danger, she wouldn't abandon them.
"So I noticed," Angel remarked.
"You game?" Doyle asked.
Angel wasn't about to abandon people in danger either. He met Doyle's eyes. "I'm game."
The relief was clear on Doyle's face, but she just smiled slightly and clapped Angel on the shoulder before heading into the office to help Cordelia. Angel just watched.
Doyle was right. Angel had made a good choice, on both counts.
And so life went on. Doyle continued to get visions, which didn't get any less painful - if anything, she felt as if they got a little worse every time - but were a little better when she had Angel and Cordelia there to help after they occurred. She came up with a pet name for Cordelia, and although Doyle wasn't sure Cordelia exactly understood how she felt, she never objected to being called Princess.
Cordelia was a bit of an enigma for Doyle, to be honest. Angel told her he wouldn't talk her up and encouraged her to make the first move herself, but Doyle was hesitant. She didn't know if Cordelia liked her. She didn't know if she was even into girls. And there was the whole half-demon thing, hanging above Doyle's head at all times like some big storm cloud. Cordelia didn't really hide her distaste for demons, which made everything even worse, because Doyle was fairly sure that her chances would drop to absolutely nothing if Cordelia found out.
Then again, her chances were fairly low as it was. No matter what she did, Cordelia didn't seem willing to return Doyle's advances. When they were in the bar and Doyle stood up for Cordelia against the two guys who thought she was a whore, she didn't get even so much as a thank you. Doyle's computer skills only got her the accusation of having done unsavory things, although Doyle probably didn't help herself there by not explaining properly. Still, she didn't want to talk about her past, so saying that she had picked up computer skills while teaching third grade wasn't exactly an option. She probably didn't do herself any favors in her critique of Cordelia's apartment, but honestly, that place had been a dump. Doyle had half-hoped that Cordelia would do some sort of post-case-solving thing with her - preferably of the date variety - but everyone had been exhausted after defeating the Talamour, so that didn't end up happening, despite Angel's offer.
Well, even if Cordelia didn't seem to be all that into Doyle, she also didn't seem to have anyone she was into back in Sunnydale; she didn't ask after anyone specific when Oz came with the Gem of Amara, which Doyle still couldn't quite believe Angel actually destroyed. Yes, he had a point with his whole little speech about not wanting to forget about the people who needed help during the night, the people everyone else forgot about. And all of the recent events pointed at the conclusion that the ring was too dangerous to keep. But still, Doyle was an ex-teacher, and the teacher part of her hated watching an incredible historical artifact get smashed.
But Doyle had to push that aside. She wasn't a teacher anymore, and she wasn't the same person she had been back then. That Doyle never would have been able to work with a vampire, not in the least because she wouldn't have believed that vampires exist. She never would have been able to withstand the visions, or fight demons. Doyle had changed, and she had to accept that. The old Doyle was gone, and a new Doyle had taken her place.
Sometimes - often - Doyle mourned the death of her old life.
Life went on. Angel Investigations helped the hopeless, just like their cards said. Doyle continued to have visions of people in trouble and helped Angel to help them.
Then things got personal one night, during which Doyle was hurt and chased out of her own apartment by some demon collecting for some other demon (or potentially human, but Doyle thought a demon was more likely) to whom Doyle owed money, not that she was quite sure which demon that was. She owed money to a distressing amount of people.
Returning to the offices the next morning wasn't fun either, considering the moment of horror when Doyle (incorrectly) put two and two together and figured that, considering Cordelia had stayed the night at Angel's place, he had swooped and seduced her, even though Doyle thought that she was potentially starting to take her advances seriously. But it turned out she was wrong, and Angel had given up his bed to Cordelia the same way he had given up his bed to Doyle before. That, Doyle supposed, was acceptable. After all, if something were wrong with Cordelia's apartment, she didn't want her staying there. She didn't want the woman she loved in anything other than a perfect place.
(Although the comment about Doyle's "part of England" did piss her off, just a little.)
That was a big part of the reason Doyle helped to find Cordelia a place of her own, although the fact that Angel was going to deal with her Kailiff demon problem was a definite plus. The first few places they looked at were absolutely horrible, leaving Doyle itching to show Cordelia the place her fictitious "guy" had found. It was a perfect Cordelia place, and Cordelia herself seemed to agree, considering the look on her face when she saw it. She was happy, and, as cheesy as it was, that made Doyle happy too.
However, Doyle was significantly less happy when she found out about the deal Angel had made with the demon for her.
"I have to pay?" she protested, pacing up and down Angel's office as he watched. "Man, I should have just handled this myself. I mean, I don't have the money. And you can't get blood out of a stone."
"They can get blood out of you," Angel replied darkly. Doyle looked over at him, a trickle of fear running down her spine. "There's a price on your head, Doyle. They weren't even looking for money any more."
Doyle paused for a moment, bracing herself on the chair and leaning over. Things were worse than she thought. Angel didn't have to spell it out for her; she knew what that meant. She paid, and paid quickly, or she was dead.
"Thanks, man," Doyle finally said, looking up at Angel. "You probably saved my life." She couldn't have fought off a Kailiff demon on her own, even in her demon form. Without Angel's intervention, she'd be dead.
"Can I ask you something?" Angel asked, as if Doyle were in any position to refuse him anything. She pushed herself upright, suspecting she wouldn't like the upcoming question. "Why do you live like this?"
"Well, why not live like this? I mean, what's wrong with it?" she replied automatically, defensively. Angel clearly wasn't buying her (admittedly terrible) excuse. Doyle sighed. "Yeah, well," she replied, trying to figure out how best to word this without giving too much away, "I guess, it's the kind of life that keeps your…expectations from getting too high. Seems like you'd understand that."
"I do," Angel replied.
"Yeah." Doyle thought the conversation was finished, but from the way Angel's eyes flickered back up to her, he clearly didn't.
"I just don't know why that's important to you," he added. Doyle gulped, not wanting to get into this discussion at all. She didn't want to do it then, and preferably, she didn't want to do it ever. "This kinda life sort of…picked me," Angel added. "You don't have to do it this way. What happened?"
"Don't worry about it, okay?" Doyle replied quickly, hoping she was hiding the panic bubbling just underneath her skin. "And things aren't all gloom in Doyle City," she added, grasping at straws at this point, anything to make Angel stop asking questions. He sat down slowly, never taking his eyes off Doyle. "I mean there's bright spots, like Cordelia." Which was potentially the most honest thing Doyle had said to Angel thus far. "I mean, she loves that new place so much, man. She's gonna be grateful for a long, long time."
Angel frowned slightly. "Then what?" he asked. Doyle shrugged.
"I figure we go out for coffee sometime, just the two of us. I'm not going to use this to get in her pants or anything. I want to date her, man. I want her to feel the same thing for me that I feel for her."
"And if she doesn't?" Angel asked. "What if she never feels that way?" Doyle frowned.
"I move on, I suppose. Why do you ask?" Angel shrugged.
"I guess I'm playing the big brother role a bit," he replied. "Which isn't a role I've ever really had to play, considering my sister was just a kid when I was bitten."
"You've gotta know I would never hurt her," Doyle told Angel firmly, planting her hands on the desk and leaning over towards Angel. Her braid fell over her shoulder, but she ignored it. "Never."
"I know," Angel replied, putting a hand on Doyle's. "Sorry."
"I'm going home," Doyle declared, opening her eyes and straightening up. "Assuming you think it's safe."
"Definitely lock your door," Angel advised. Doyle nodded, hoping she didn't look as pale as she felt. "But you should be fine."
"Thanks again for your help," Doyle added. "I'd be dead without you, man."
"No problem," Angel replied, his lips twitching for a split second into the tiniest hint of a smile. "We should go to Cordelia's new apartment tomorrow morning, what do you think?"
"Sounds good," Doyle replied, nodding. "I'll meet you here around eight or so, yeah? Before Cordelia comes into the office, so we can be sure we won't run into her on her way here."
"I'll see you then." Doyle nodded again before leaving the office and fleeing for her apartment.
She had a switchblade in her pocket. She didn't relax her hold on it the entire walk home.
When Doyle found out that the apartment she'd found for Cordelia was haunted, she could have kicked herself. She hated that she hadn't checked it out herself, hated that she had been the one to recommend the apartment, hated that Cordelia was in danger because of her.
And then, of course, came the demon attack at Cordelia's apartment, where they were, once again, put in danger because of Doyle. Angel had been incredibly nonjudgemental, but Doyle knew that he disapproved of Doyle's choices. Hell, she couldn't blame him; Doyle disapproved of her own choices.
She was abruptly reminded of exactly how much her life choices sucked when she was faced with her worst one.
"Hey, Frances."
Doyle swallowed hard. She'd hoped this part of her past wouldn't make a reappearance, but unfortunately, it did, of course. "Harry," she stated stiffly.
"Frances?" Cordelia asked, but Doyle barely heard her.
"Um, where've you been?" she asked Harry, hating that she still felt flutterings in her stomach when she saw her.
"Around," Harry replied, shrugging. "Um…Kiribati, Togo, Uzbekistan…a few spots that were a little less touristy."
"Who's Frances?" Cordelia demanded. Doyle braced herself.
"That would be me," she replied. "Elaine Frances Doyle. Cordelia, this is Harry. My wife." Cordelia's smile vanished as she stared at Doyle, eyes wide.
Harry stepped in, closing the door behind her. "I'm sorry about the surprise," she apologized. "But if I'd called, I was afraid…"
"I'd run off?" Doyle asked bitterly, not about to admit that she probably would have. "That's not my style, remember?"
"But it's mine? Is that what you're saying? Do you want me to remind you who fired the starter pistol?" Harry retorted before stopping herself abruptly. "No, let's not, okay? Let's just hug and be happy to see each other." Harry stepped forward and hugged Doyle, who immediately stepped back when they separated and crossed her arms tightly over her chest.
"You look good." Harry complimented awkwardly. Doyle nodded.
"Yeah, you, too," she replied. The conversation was stifling. She hated it.
"You're still living it up?" Harry asked. "You know that drinking's no good for you."
"Yeah, you know me. I'm a fun-loving girl," Doyle replied, immensely glad that Angel chose that moment to step into the room.
"What's going on?" he asked, looking around.
"Angel, come meet Doyle's wife," Cordelia stated pointedly. Doyle winced; Cordelia was not happy.
To Doyle's relief and Cordelia's shock, Angel hardly blinked as he shook Harry's hand. "Nice to meet you."
The conversation stumbled along; the reminder of why they'd gotten married years before feeling like a punch to the gut. Then a guy stepped into the offices, told the truth that Harry was avoiding, and Doyle decided she would have preferred a punch to the gut.
"You're… You're marrying that guy?" Doyle had always known that Harry was bisexual, and she didn't care that Richard was a guy, but she couldn't quite believe it.
"I know. It's wild, huh? I'm definitely the ying to his yang, but it works," Harry replied. Her face softened slightly. "He's got a good heart, Frances, just like you."
"Yeah, maybe, but the container - can I get a side of bland with that bland?" Doyle asked, hoping her voice wasn't shaking. Humor helped her cope, but she wasn't quite sure it was enough to cope with this.
"I didn't come here for your approval," Harry stated.
"Then why?" Doyle demanded, hating that Harry could still get under her skin like this. "To see my face when I found out? To see if it would cut?"
"Of course not. I would never…" Harry's voice trailed off. Doyle knew it was a low blow, but she couldn't help it. "I just…" Harry took a folder out of her purse. "I need you to sign these."
Doyle looked inside, her heart clenching, even though she had really known what she would see. "Divorce papers."
"It had to happen. I mean one of us…"
"Yeah, well, maybe I should get my people to look at these before I go ahead," Doyle interrupted, feeling as if she might cry and hoping she wouldn't. "Make sure I'm not buying an ostrich farm."
"Sure," Harry replied, clearly not buying the excuse for a second. "Tell 'your people' that I'll come back for them in a few days." Doyle nodded, unable to do anything else. Harry lay her hand down on top of hers, but Doyle pulled her hand away. She couldn't.
Harry walked to the door, turning back just before she reached it. "It's good to see you again, Frances."
"It's Doyle, now," Doyle corrected. Elaine Frances Doyle was gone; she'd been gone for years. "It's just Doyle." Harry nodded as she left.
"Oh, Christ," Doyle whispered, sinking down into a chair. She went to run her fingers through her hair, a little surprised when she met resistance from the braid; she'd almost always worn her hair down when she was with Harry, and she'd nearly forgotten that she didn't anymore.
Seeing Harry had rattled her. Knowing that Harry had moved on and was planning to get married to someone else had rattled her even more.
Damn what Harry said, Doyle needed a drink.
When it finally came time for Richard's bachelor's party, Doyle felt decidedly out of place; for one thing, she was the only girl there. She also had never met Richard's family, all of whom were milling around the bar. She'd brought Angel along for desperately-needed moral support, but she still felt anxious about the whole thing. Of course, it wasn't helped by the fact that Cordelia was with Harry and her new soon-to-be in-laws, meaning that she was probably finding out all sorts of things about Doyle's past that Doyle really hadn't wanted her to know.
With every word that came out of Richard's mouth, Doyle felt more and more like she wanted to leave. It wasn't that Richard was a bad guy - he seemed almost painfully nice, which meant he was much harder to hate - but every word he spoke was a reminder that he was going to be Harry's new spouse, was going to be the one that Harry would love from now on…
And still, Doyle couldn't help but give her blessing when Richard asked for it.
Approximately ten seconds later, she found herself really regretting it.
"You know, this is great, but I can't reach the pretzels," Doyle quipped when she was shoved into the red box, her head the only thing that she could move.
"Doyle, I just want to say how incredibly moved I am by your sacrifice. I hope that doesn't make me less of a man in your eyes," Richard stated. Doyle's heart was pounding in her chest.
"Sacrifice? Huh?" she asked, not understanding and definitely not wanting to. All of Richard's family members began to morph into their demon faces. "Okay, that can't be good," Doyle stated. One of the guys injected something into her head. "Ouch!" Doyle cried, only to find that it didn't really hurt after a second. "Hey, my head's going numb," she stated, hoping there was some misunderstanding.
"Well, I should hope so!" Richard cried as one of the others put a lobster bib on him. "We wouldn't want you to suffer when we cut into your skull." Doyle watched with wide eyes as one of the others gave Richard a curved knife.
"Cut into my skull?" she squeaked. One of the guys began to mark a dotted line on her forehead. "Oh, god, where is Angel? ANGEL!" Doyle called, struggling as much as she could.
"Apparently he started a fight," Richard told her. "He had to be ejected. Can I get you anything?"
"How are you going to explain this to Harry, huh?" Doyle protested, ready to try anything if it got Richard to stop this.
"Oh, Harry will understand. She loves and accepts our culture, just like she loved and accepted yours," Richard told Doyle. Behind him, his family members were bickering over what utensil to use to eat Doyle's brains - Doyle didn't feel entirely comfortable with that.
"Bear with us," Richard told Doyle, as if this were something entirely normal. "We're a little fuzzy on the etiquette of this. This ritual hasn't been performed in centuries. It's been so long since the last time one of the clan married a divorcée."
"Huh?" Doyle asked, not liking this at all.
"The accursed books tell us all very plainly that ingesting a priorly married prospective bride's former primary mate's fresh brains will insure a happy second marriage," Richard's father explained. "This way, Richie can incorporate all the love you and Harry shared, making their union whole. It's an Ano-movic thing, don't ask."
"Look, Richard as much as I like your family, and they're great, honest, I'd really prefer if they didn't cannibalize me," Doyle told Richard, her heart beating so fast she wouldn't be surprised if everyone could hear it.
"Oh, no! You misunderstand," Richard replied. Was this a lifeline?
"I do?" Doyle asked, tentative relief flooding her body.
"Yeah. It'll just be me," Richard replied. The relief was gone.
Nothing Doyle tried worked; Richard seemed determined to eat her brains. Then Angel burst in, breaking down the doors, and Doyle knew she was saved. The lock on her box snapped open while the box was rolled around; Doyle joined the fray in her demon face.
Then Harry ran into the restaurant, Cordelia behind her, and her words immediately stopped the fight. Doyle was painfully getting up in the booth she'd been thrown into.
"Hon bun?" Richard asked, looking over at Harry. "This is for guys only. And Doyle, of course."
"I know what you're up to, Richard Howard Straley," Harry stated angrily.
"The stripper wasn't my idea, pook. I swear," Richard protested immediately.
"Not the stripper, Richard," Harry retorted. Her face fell slightly. "There was a stripper?!" Doyle felt a moment of superiority; her bachelorette party hadn't involved a stripper.
"You really shouldn't be here," Richard told Harry, as if this were a normal bachelor party and not one that would have ended in Doyle's death.
"Well, you shouldn't be trying to eat my friend's brains! You horrible, ugly demon people!" Cordelia cried. Doyle pulled herself up on the bench, which happened to be right next to Cordelia; upon seeing her demon face, Cordelia immediately began bashing Doyle repeatedly with a silver tray.
"Easy, Cordelia. It's okay!" Angel called as he ran over, knowing that the demon was Doyle.
"It is so not okay!" Cordelia protested as Doyle shifted into her human face and stood behind them. Cordelia spun around and saw the bruises on her face. "Doyle! Oh, look what they did to you." Doyle nodded, hoping to play it off. In fact, most of the bruises on her face were from Cordelia, but Doyle wasn't about to admit that the green spiky demon was her.
Harry went in front of Richard, looking angry. "I'm only going to ask you this once, Richard, and I expect a straight answer." She put her hands on her hips. "Were you or were you not intending to eat my ex-wife's brains?"
"In a way," Richard replied sheepishly.
"And when were you planning on telling me?" Harry demanded.
"I thought maybe I wouldn't have to," Richard replied. Harry's face fell.
"You were going to start out our life together with deceit?"
"Sort of missing the point, isn't she?" Doyle muttered to Angel, who nodded.
"I was just trying to bless our marriage! Like in the ancient teachings," Richard protested.
"And since when does your family follow the ancient teachings?" Harry protested.
"We don't flaunt our beliefs, but they're very dear to us," another one of the demons stated, coming up from behind Harry.
"Oh, please Uncle John!" she cried. "When is the last time you pried your self away from ESPN long enough to spill the blood of a she-goat?"
"Are you going to let her talk to Uncle John like that?" another demon protested. Richard looked lost.
"You know how I feel about these barbaric Ano-movician customs!" Harry cried.
"Racist! You're nothing but a racist!" the same demon cried. Doyle really didn't like that guy.
"I should have told you. I'm sorry. But unless we complete the ritual my family will never consent to the marriage," Richard protested. The demons all murmured their assent. Harry looked from Richard back to Doyle, who hoped she was masking her feelings. She didn't want to tear Harry apart from the man she loved, but she also didn't want to have her brains eaten. Harry took Richard's hands in hers and Doyle prepared to fight again.
"Hon bun?" Richard asked.
Harry walked away, leaving Richard looking down at the engagement ring in his hands. Doyle opened her mouth to say something as Harry passed, although she wasn't quite sure what she would say, but Harry interrupted her before she could.
"One word, Frances, just one word, and I'll eat your brains!" Doyle followed her out, wincing slightly as her bruised ribs ached.
"You okay?" Angel murmured as Doyle put a hand to her side. Doyle nodded.
"Fine," she replied shortly.
"Well, I think that those guys were total jerks," Cordelia stated. She slung an arm around Doyle's shoulders. Doyle relished the contact, even if it hurt a little bit. "Ugh. Guys really suck sometimes."
"Hey!" Angel protested. Cordelia shrugged.
"I said sometimes," she protested. She turned to Doyle. "Maybe you're smart for avoiding them."
"It wasn't exactly a choice," Doyle protested. Cordelia sighed.
"I know," she murmured. Doyle was intrigued, but Cordelia didn't elaborate. They all piled into Angel's car, Doyle sliding into the back, and drove back to the offices in silence.
Two days after the bachelor party, Doyle was still sore from being thrown around by Richard's family. Her vision, just as mind-numbingly painful as usual, didn't help matters.
"Doyle!" Cordelia cried out as Doyle crumpled forward, tumbling off her chair as she grabbed her head.
"It's a vision," Angel replied, and Doyle was faintly aware of Cordelia replying with a sarcastic comeback, but the images flashing through her mind pushed any outside stimuli out.
"Demons," she gasped out, dragging herself back up into the chair. "They've got a kid tied up. They're planning to do a ritual of some sort." Doyle pressed the heel of her hand to her forehead, wishing she could will the pain out of her brain. "It's a rougher part of town. I caught a street sign. I'd recognize the place if I saw it."
"Now?" Angel asked. Doyle nodded, standing.
"Now."
"Does it always have to be now?" Cordelia protested, but she followed them over to get weapons anyway.
When they were all in the car, Angel sped off to where Doyle's vision had taken place. When they reached the street, Doyle guided him to the right house; she recognized it easily.
"Careful, guys," Angel stated as they got their weapons and started into the house; luckily, it was abandoned and Angel could enter it without an invitation. Doyle immediately found the door to the basement and gestured for everyone to go down; a cellar made the most sense in her vision. And, considering she could hear faint chanting coming from downstairs, it seemed a good place to start.
Angel went down first, sword swinging. Doyle followed, Cordelia after her, only to find that the kid tied up in the chair, just like she'd seen in her vision, didn't look quite as human as he'd appeared to Doyle. "You sent us here to rescue a demon!" Cordelia protested as she fought one of the other demons. Doyle shrugged as she fought another.
"The ritual needed to be stopped," she countered, taking down her demon and immediately moving on to another one. It slashed her across the arm, its claws ripping through both fabric and skin. "Ow!" Doyle protested, attempting to stab the demon. It made for the stairs, shoving Angel down them when he attempted to follow. By the time Doyle reached the house, leaving Cordelia to help Angel, the demon was long gone. Even shifting into her demon face for half a second didn't help; there was no scent for her to catch.
"He got away," Doyle stated as she went back downstairs. "Any idea what we stopped?"
"It's a ritual," the demon in the chair said, and then, to Doyle's shock and utter horror, his face changed to the human one Doyle had seen in her vision. "To summon some sort of demon god to wreak destruction on the city or something. They kidnapped me because they need a half-demon to do it."
"Half-demon?" Cordelia asked skeptically.
"One demon parent, one human," Doyle replied in a detached voice. Why had the Powers That Be shown her this vision? Couldn't they see that it hit far too close to home? Yes, it was probably important to keep some demon god from wrecking Los Angeles, but couldn't someone else deal with it?
"That's a thing?" Cordelia's nose wrinkled. "Why would anyone want to have sex with a demon? Ew."
"Cordy," Angel murmured, nodding over at the kid. Doyle personally thought that teaching Cordelia tact was somewhat of a lost cause, but the nod reminded her to untie the kid. Half-demon or not, they'd come to rescue him.
"Whoa!" Cordelia protested as Doyle bent to loosen the knots. "What are you doing? Did you miss the part where this kid is a demon?"
"Half-demon," the kid corrected. "And my name is Eric."
"Half-demon is demon enough for me!" Cordelia protested. Doyle's hands were shaking as she fumbled with the knots. Silently, Angel went over and began helping to untie Eric. "Angel!" Cordelia cried. "The kid's not human!"
"He's an innocent, Cordy," Angel replied, finishing the last knot and offering Eric a hand to help him up. Doyle clenched her fists and stuffed her hands in her pockets, hoping her trembling wasn't too obvious. "We help people, remember?"
"People! Not demons!" Cordelia protested. "Am I the only one who remembers how icky demons are? What if we let this guy go and he eats someone!"
"I don't eat people!" Eric retorted, sounding offended. "There are lots of demons who are perfectly nice!"
"Yeah, well, the last time we met a 'perfectly nice' demon, it tried to eat Doyle's brains!" Cordelia cried with a sweeping gesture. For her part, Doyle was just happy that Eric didn't seem to be able to sense that he wasn't the only half-demon in the room; Cordelia finding out was all she needed to make this horrible day just that much worse.
"Cordelia, calm down," Angel instructed. He turned to Eric. "Can you tell us any more about this ritual?"
"Yeah, a bit," Eric replied. Angel nodded.
"Okay. You'll come back to the offices with me. Doyle, can you take Cordelia home?"
Doyle nodded. "Come on, Princess," she told Cordelia, her voice a bit duller than normal. "Let's get you home."
"This is so weird!" Cordelia hissed to Doyle as they left the building and started on their way to Cordelia's house, dropping off their weapons in Angel's car. "The kid is a half-demon. Doesn't that freak you out a bit?"
"It's only half," Doyle replied with a shrug, hoping she looked nonchalant. "Anyway, the kid seems nice."
"Am I the only one who's getting the whole demon thing?!" Cordelia cried. "Demons are evil!"
"Not all demons," Doyle protested mildly. "There are some demons who are perfectly nice. Like, I dunno, Brachen demons." It wasn't entirely random that Doyle mentioned the type of demon who could be found pretty close by in her family tree.
"Never heard of them," Cordelia retorted. "And Harry said that Richard was a nice demon too! Then he tried to eat you!"
"It was just an old-fashioned custom," Doyle countered. Cordelia stared at her in disbelief.
"That almost got you killed!" she cried. "Look, trust me, the kid isn't good news. No demon is ever good news."
"We'll see," Doyle replied, a sudden wave of exhaustion flooding her body. "Come on. Let's get back to your place." Then Doyle would go back to the offices and meet up with Angel and Eric. All things considered, it would probably be best if she heard Eric's story; if half-demons were in danger, she could be next on the list.
Cordelia bid Doyle a distracted goodnight when she got back to her apartment, to which Doyle's response was equally absent-minded. She didn't want to think about this case any more than she had to, but she knew she couldn't ignore it either; it had the potential to get very nasty and very personal.
Then Doyle felt the tell-tale pain of an oncoming vision - two in one night? really? - and was barely able to throw herself into a darkened alleyway in time for it to hit, showing her the demons surrounding a new half-demon, tied to a chair. This one she recognized.
It was her.
The vision dropped in some information about the ritual too, which was unusually helpful; Doyle pulled her phone out of her pocket and immediately dialed Angel's number.
"Angel Investigations, we help the hopeless! Leave a message at the tone and we'll get back to you!" Cordelia's pre-recorded answering machine message chirped.
"It's me," Doyle said quickly, feeling a strange sense of apprehension. "I just had a vision. The demons are Vatik demons. They want to summon this god of theirs, basically a supercharged version of a Vatik, to destroy L.A. and make it some sort of demon paradise. The ritual calls for a half-demon's blood to open the portal." Doyle couldn't add that she had seen herself captured by the demons in her vision, not on a message. What if Cordelia heard it? "They're gonna try for it again. Tomorrow night. But we've still got-"
Then something hard hit Doyle in the back of the head and everything went dark.
"So you don't know the name of the species?" Angel asked Eric as he opened the door to the offices. Eric shook his head.
"No idea. I don't know much about demons. I get the demon side from my mom, and she died when I was born. Dad never taught me much."
"And you don't know anything more about the ritual?" Angel asked, frustrated. The more they didn't know, the more they'd have to research and the longer this would take.
"I only know what they said. It's to summon their god to destroy L.A. or something." Eric shivered. "You're gonna stop them, right?"
"We'll do our best," Angel replied grimly. The light was flashing on the answering machine; someone had called while they were out. With a sigh, Angel pressed the button to play it, figuring it might be important.
"It's me," Doyle's voice said, her words quick and nervous. "I just had a vision. The demons are Vatik demons. They want to summon this god of theirs, basically a supercharged version of a Vatik, to destroy L.A. and make it some sort of demon paradise. The ritual calls for a half-demon's blood to open the portal. They're gonna try for it again. Tomorrow night. But we've still got-" Then there was a thud, a soft cry, some grunting, then a crunch before the line went dead.
"What was that?" Eric asked, but Angel ignored him. It made sense, he supposed, in a twisted sort of way. They'd taken the Vatiks' half-demon, so the Vatiks had taken theirs.
But it was also a stupid move, because they'd made this personal, and Angel was not going to give up until he had Doyle back.
"You should go," Angel told Eric. "Go back to wherever you live."
"What?!" Eric protested, his eyes going wide. "But your friend just said that the demons were gonna try again!"
"And then they took her," Angel retorted. "Go home. I promise you, we'll stop them."
"I-" Eric began.
"Leave!" Angel growled, slipping into his vampire face. Eric squeaked in fear and ran for the door. Feeling a little bad - but not that much - Angel grabbed the phone and dialed Cordelia's number.
"Hello, Cordelia Chase!" Cordelia stated, her bubbly tone sounding more than a little forced. "This isn't a great time, but-"
"Doyle's been kidnapped," Angel interrupted. Cordelia gasped.
"What? Why would anyone want to kidnap her?"
"She had a vision about the demons and the ritual. I heard them take her over the phone. I'm driving over to your house to pick you up."
"I'll be here," Cordelia replied as Angel hung up and ran out to his car. He could have kicked himself for telling Doyle to bring Cordelia back to her house by herself. They had known the demons were after a half-demon, and even if they hadn't been able to tell Doyle was a half-demon by sight or smell, one of them had clawed Doyle's arm and broken the skin; they would have recognized half-demon blood in an instant. They must have followed her and Cordelia and then grabbed Doyle when she was alone.
"Why would they kidnap Doyle?" Cordelia asked the second Angel picked her up. "I mean, why not one of us? Why her?"
"She was alone," Angel replied, making an illegal U-turn and driving back to the office. "After she dropped you off, she was walking alone. They must have grabbed her then."
"But why grab any of us?" Cordelia protested. "I mean, you're the only one with anything demon-y. Would a vampire work for the ritual?"
"I don't know. Probably not," Angel replied, pointedly ignoring the speed limit signs. "It was probably a revenge thing." It wasn't entirely a lie, and Angel wasn't going to give up Doyle's secret unless he absolutely had to.
"Why are we going back to the office and not out looking for Doyle?" Cordelia demanded as Angel parked the car in front of the office, having made it there in record time.
"We need to research the demons and their ritual," Angel replied, unlocking the doors and letting Cordelia in. "Doyle's vision told us what type of demons they are and a bit about the ritual, but we need to find out more."
"We're researching when Doyle's been kidnapped by demons?" Cordelia demanded. Angel started pulling books out of the shelves.
"We need to know about the ritual before we can go after the demons. Trust me, I'm as worried as you are about Doyle, but we need to know more." Angel handed Cordelia a small stack of books. "They're called Vatik demons. They're trying to summon one of their gods to make a demon paradise, and they need half-demon blood to open a portal. Get looking."
Cordelia didn't argue any more as she began flipping through the first book.
Doyle winced as she painfully returned to consciousness. Her head ached, which wasn't all that surprising, and the scratch on her arm still seemed to be sluggishly bleeding. That meant it probably wasn't that long since she'd been kidnapped, assuming the demon's claws didn't have some sort of anticoagulant in them. She hoped they didn't; she'd been through that before and it sucked.
The demons growled at each other in their language; Doyle knew bits and pieces of various demonic languages, but she didn't know whatever language the Vatiks were speaking. One of them noticed that she was awake and growled to the others before approaching her.
"You are a half-demon," it stated in English, its voice low and gravely. "You are half Brachen."
"And you're a Vatik demon," Doyle retorted. The demon frowned - or at least, Doyle thought it was frowning. She wasn't quite sure; its facial structure was different than a human's. Clearly, it wasn't expecting her to know that.
"You worked with that vampire to take the last half-demon we procured," the Vatik added.
"Well, I'm not all too pleased with the idea of you summoning your demon god and destroying the city." Letting the demon know how much she knew about the ritual was a gamble; perhaps nothing would happen, but there was the chance that the Vatiks would give up upon finding out that the group who had stopped them before knew enough to stop them again. Of course, there was also the chance that the Vatiks would just kill Doyle and be done with it, but all things considered, Doyle didn't think the risk was unreasonable.
"Your knowledge of our plans will not save you," the Vatik stated. Doyle supposed that it had decided to go with the first option of changing nothing. Ah, well, it was worth a try. "The ritual will proceed tonight. It cannot be stopped."
"You keep believing that, buddy," Doyle muttered under her breath. Either the demon didn't hear her or it didn't understand her sarcasm, as it rejoined the others, switching back to the demon tongue Doyle still didn't recognize.
Even though she knew it was most likely futile, Doyle shifted her wrists as best she could, trying to see if there was any point of weakness in the ropes. They were tight and strong, just shy of cutting off circulation. Clearly, the Vatiks knew what they were doing.
Considering the Vatiks already knew she was half Brachen, Doyle didn't see any harm in shifting into her demon form for a moment to see if her demon side's superior strength could help her escape. It couldn't.
"Brachen demons are not as strong as we are, and that rope was made to hold one of our kind," the Vatik demon told Doyle. She thought it seemed to be smirking. "We have prepared for you. You will not be able to escape."
"I wouldn't be so sure," Doyle shot back. She hadn't honestly expected that she would be able to get out of the bonds, even in her demon form, but she'd hoped.
"This city will be purged," another Vatik added. Doyle got the sense that one was a bit more of a fanatic than the first. "We will rid this city of the infestation of humanity, and it will be our paradise. From there, we will be able to spread until the human scourge has been wiped from the world altogether."
"See, the crazy part is that you actually believe the crap you're spouting," Doyle retorted. Judging by the way the Vatik's fists clenched, she guessed that provoking her captors wasn't the smartest idea. She forced herself to keep her mouth shut; she wouldn't be any help to anyone, least of all herself, if the Vatiks knocked her out again.
The Vatiks began to speak amongst themselves again. Doyle wasn't particularly religious, but her mother had been, and any good Irish knew how to pray. She'd never really bought into the whole thing very much, but she figured there wasn't any reason not to try.
She really hoped Angel got her message and found her before the ritual started, because there was no way she could stop it on her own.
"Found it!" Cordelia cried, jabbing at the book. Angel immediately moved to stand behind her, looking over her shoulder. "All we need to know about the Vatik ritual to take over the city." Angel picked up the book and began reading the relevant section.
The ritual required five Vatik demons to complete, as well as some fairly run-of-the-mill magic ingredients and the blood of a half-demon. The type of demon didn't matter; it was the combination of demonic and human blood that was needed. Angel was concerned but not altogether surprised to see that the ritual required for the half-demon to bleed out before the summoning could happen. It did give them a bit more of a timeline for rescuing Doyle, but if Angel had it his way, he hoped to reach her before the demons had a chance to lay a knife on her at all. Luckily, the half-demon had to be alive when the bleeding began, so the Vatiks wouldn't kill Doyle earlier.
"I still don't understand why they took Doyle," Cordelia stated, frowning. "I mean, if they really wanted revenge, why not just beat her up or something? Why kidnap her?"
"Maybe they wanted to distract us," Angel suggested absently, grabbing a legal pad and beginning to jot down key points of the ritual. "It says the ritual has to be done underground, so I guess that narrows things down a bit."
"But who says they have Doyle in the same place where they're planning to do the ritual?" Cordelia countered. Angel was fairly convinced she'd be there, considering she was a main part of the ritual, but if there was any way to get through this without Cordelia finding out about Doyle's heritage, Angel would keep the secret. He was fairly certain that, with time, Cordelia would be alright with finding out that Doyle was half demon, but he respected Doyle's right to keep her own secrets and wouldn't betray that.
"Either they have her there or they don't, but there'll definitely be Vatik demons there," Angel replied. "If she's not there, then I'm sure the Vatiks will know where she is."
"Yeah, I'll let you do the beating up and interrogating part," Cordelia stated with a short nod. "Where do you think they're going to do the ritual?"
"I don't know," Angel replied, feeling the urge to shift into his vampire face and actively preventing it, "but I'm going to find out."
"More beating up and interrogating?" Cordelia asked, raising an eyebrow. Angel didn't reply, grabbing his coat and heading for the door. "I'll stay here and research a bit more," Cordelia called as he left the office. Angel could hear the worry in her tone; even if Cordelia pretended not to care about Doyle, she was clearly worried. Angel couldn't blame her; he was worried too.
If anything happened to Doyle, he'd never forgive himself. He planned to make sure that nothing would.
By the time Angel returned to the offices, evening was quickly approaching. "Do you know where the ritual's going to be?" Cordelia demanded. Angel nodded.
"I've got an address," he replied. "Are you ready to go?" Cordelia nodded.
"Do you know if Doyle's there?" she asked as she followed Angel into the car, crossbow in one hand and sword in the other. Angel shook his head.
"Didn't hear anything about her," he replied. It wasn't a lie; even though he was almost entirely certain that the Vatiks were going to use Doyle as their half-demon for the ritual, Angel hadn't heard anything specifically about her in his interrogations. He slid into his car when they reached it, Cordelia getting into the passenger seat. The ritual was happening in a seedier part of town, just like last time. It made sense, Angel supposed; Vatik demons weren't exactly inconspicuous. The ritual could be done any time from sunset to sunrise; Angel knew they couldn't make it before the sun set at all, but he hoped to arrive not too long after.
"This is the building," Angel stated, pulling up to the curb. Cordelia stepped out of the car, grabbing her crossbow and handing the sword over to Angel. "If Doyle's not in there, we'll have to leave at least one of the Vatiks alive," he added. Cordelia nodded.
"The ritual needs five to work, right?" Cordelia asked. Angel nodded.
"If we make sure there are four or less left, we'll stop them," he told her. Casting an anxious glance at the sky - the sun had set about fifteen minutes ago - he declared, "Let's go in."
The house was dark and quiet; for a moment, Angel was scared he'd gotten the wrong address. Then Cordelia poked him and pointed at one of the doors. A feeble ray of light was streaming in through the crack at the bottom, and if Angel listened intently, he could hear chanting. Nodding to Cordelia, he quietly approached the door, opening it as silently as he could. There was no break in the chanting; Angel assumed the demons didn't hear anything.
Angel immediately smelled blood he could identify as Doyle's, unconsciously slipping into vampire face as a protective instinct he hadn't even known he had flooded his body. He looked over at Cordelia and jerked his head towards the stairs. She nodded, tiptoeing over to him.
The stairs were wooden and looked fairly rickety; Angel doubted there was any way to get down them without making any noise. Instead of trying, he jumped forward, clearing all the stairs and landing at the bottom with a soft thud. Cordelia scrambled down the stairs the traditional way as Angel began fighting, beheading one Vatik demon and stabbing another through the gut.
"You've come too late!" one of the Vatiks cried out. For a horrible instant, Angel thought Doyle was already dead, but then he caught sight of her, tied to a chair and struggling fiercely. Blood streamed down her arms. "The ritual has been started!"
"The joke's on you!" Cordelia shouted, catching sight of Doyle and shooting at the Vatik demon closest to her. "You need a half-demon for the ritual, and you don't have one!"
"You don't know?" the Vatik demon sounded amused. "All this time, you've been working alongside a half-demon, and you never knew." Angel could see how much Doyle was struggling to maintain her human visage and suddenly knew what the Vatik was going to do, but before he could say anything, the demon turned and punched Doyle in the face. The pain was too much, pushing her into her demon face. Cordelia gasped. Doyle quickly changed back to human, horror written all over her face, but the damage was already done.
"Don't lose focus!" Angel shouted to Cordelia, yanking his sword out of a Vatik demon. There were half a dozen left; they only had to take out two more before the ritual would be prevented. One of Cordelia's crossbow bolts buried itself into the neck of a Vatik demon, shocking her as much as the demon, just as Angel beheaded another.
"You need five demons to do the ritual," Angel shouted. "You only have four left."
"I can still kill your half-demon!" the Vatik shouted, grabbing Doyle's head with its bare hands. "I will snap her neck unless you surrender right now!" Angel made eye contact with Doyle, hoping she understood what he was trying to tell her. Doyle blinked slowly and deliberately. Angel supposed he had to take that as a yes.
"Not gonna happen," Angel declared, stabbing another Vatik through the chest. Doyle changed into her demon form just seconds before the Vatik beside her twisted her head sharply to the right, snapping her neck.
"Doyle!" Cordelia shrieked, racing forward. One of the Vatik demons tried to stop her and she stabbed it through the eye with a crossbow bolt. Angel killed another before going up to the Vatik demon who'd snapped Doyle's neck.
"We win," the Vatik snarled. Angel stabbed the sword into its stomach, twisting it painfully.
"I don't think so," he spat, punching the Vatik so hard it flew backwards off the sword.
"Doyle!" Cordelia sobbed, racing to Doyle's side. "Why didn't you surrender?" she screamed at Angel. Before Angel could defend herself, Doyle groaned, opening her eyes.
"Could you put my neck back in place?" she asked Angel, who quickly went over and snapped her neck back into its proper position. Cordelia watched with shock in her eyes, staggering backwards half a step as Angel untied Doyle from the chair. The wounds on her arms were still bleeding freely, but Doyle didn't seem to notice as she looked up at Cordelia, her eyes sparkling with tears.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. Then her eyes rolled up in her head and Angel barely caught her before she hit the floor.
"Doyle's a demon?" Cordelia whispered. Angel scooped Doyle up into his arms.
"You drive," he told Cordelia, tossing her the keys and ignoring the question. "We'll take her back to the office." Angel wished he had something to help stop the bleeding, but he supposed he'd just have to wait until they got back to the office. Suddenly, Cordelia slid out of her blouse, leaving her in nothing but a camisole.
"It's ruined anyway," she told Angel, pressing it against the wounds on Doyle's forearms. To an outsider, it wouldn't look like much, but to Angel, it was more than enough; he knew it meant that Cordelia was okay with Doyle's heritage.
The bigger problem, Angel suspected, would come in convincing Doyle that Cordelia truly felt that way.
Doyle woke up slowly, her entire body hurting. She was lying in a comfortable bed she knew to be Angel's, but she couldn't quite remember how she got to be there.
Then the memories of the night before hit her and Doyle jerked upright, the pain in her head skyrocketing as she tried her best not to be sick all over Angel's bed. One part of her mind catalogued her injuries, making note of the fact that her arms were bandaged, but most of her was focused on something far more serious - Cordelia knew.
Doyle remembered the shock on her face, mingled with another expression that Doyle was pretty sure had been disgust. She couldn't blame her; Cordelia had reason enough to hate demons. Doyle had never intended to tell her that she worked with one, but now that the secret had come out, it seemed she had no option but to flee.
There was no way Doyle could stay at Angel Investigations, not now. She thought it was probably best to leave L.A. altogether. She and Harry had parted on decent terms this time around, so perhaps Doyle could go to her for a day or so. Then she thought she'd probably return to Ireland; she had family there, and it was far enough away from L.A. that she doubted she'd ever have to see Cordelia again. Of course, if she continued to get the visions, that might be a problem, but Doyle was certain she could find another Champion in Ireland. Surely Angel couldn't be the only one around.
Doyle managed to get to her feet, swaying slightly in place. She had to get out of the city before Angel went looking for her, meaning she didn't have time to go to her apartment; she'd have to make an entirely fresh start. She was halfway over to the passage to the sewers - she assumed Angel and Cordelia were upstairs, and she didn't want to deal with them, so she couldn't go out through the front door - when she heard the elevator begin to descend.
"Doyle?" Cordelia and Angel stepped out of the elevator. Doyle backed up half a step, hitting the wall behind her and immediately drawing their attention. Cordelia took a step forward, but Angel stopped her, approaching Doyle slowly, the way one would approach a startled animal. "Doyle?" he asked again.
"I'm sorry," Doyle croaked, risking a peek at Cordelia. She couldn't read her face. "I'll leave."
"Why would you leave?" Angel asked. Doyle laughed bitterly, a tinge of hysteria in the sound.
"I'm not going to stay if it'll make everyone else uncomfortable," she replied. It was crystal clear that by "everyone else" she meant Cordelia, whose expression was still as unreadable as before. Doyle wished she would say something; the silence was killing her.
"It doesn't make me uncomfortable," Cordelia told Doyle. "Are you talking about the half-demon thing? It's not a problem."
"Wh-what?" Doyle stammered. She'd never expected this sort of reaction.
"I work for a vampire," Cordelia stated, as if Doyle was an idiot. "Am I a little pissed that you kept this a secret from me for so long? Yeah. Do I hate you because you're half demon? No." Doyle's head spun, she slid down the wall until she reached the floor. Tears were prickling behind her eyes. Cordelia approached her slowly, sitting down in front of her.
"Doyle?" she asked, reaching out and taking her hand. "It's okay, really. The whole half-demon thing. I don't care." Slowly, giving Doyle more than enough time to pull away, Cordelia leaned forward and pressed her lips against Doyle's. For half of a second, Doyle was frozen, then she tentatively began to kiss back.
Doyle still would never be called an optimist - she'd seen far too much of the world for that - but in that moment, she thought that maybe, just maybe, everything would be okay.
When she first heard that the Scourge had come into town, Doyle felt her body go cold. She could still remember her first vision, seeing the deaths of the other Brachen demons at the hands of the exact menace they now were going to face.
"You okay?" Cordelia asked, slipping her hand into Doyle's and looking at her with concern.
"The Scourge," Doyle croaked. "They're…" The Scourge were a lot of things - fanatics, demons, insane - but there was only one word that sprang to Doyle's mind. "They're death."
"We'll be okay," Cordelia promised, squeezing Doyle's hand. Standing beside her, Doyle could just about believe it.