DISCLAIMER: I do not own any of the "Angel" or "Buffy" characters, so don't sue me.

As Darkness Overcomes

Doyle, Cordelia, and Oz watched as Buffy, Willow and Xander emerged from the sewers, draging Angel behind him. "The tranq gun, that's how they got him," the werewolf mummered.

Doyle gritted his teeth. No one was going to treat Angel like this. Angel was his friend, someone who didn't care that he got all blue-prickly face with red eyes and fangs, but saw Doyle for who he was on the inside. Angel had been through enough all ready, and this was it.

Doyle was going to fight now. To the death if he needed. Cordy took his hand and met his eyes. He could see fear in the dark depths of her huge eyes. She whispered, "Now what?"

Oz asked in his subtle way, "Where's Giles?"

They walked into the sewers. Cordelia screamed when she saw the body and crumbled into Doyle's arms. Normally, he would be overcome with glee at the prospect with holding his Princess, but right now there were other things to contend with. Oz looked away and took several deep breaths, placing his head between his legs. He stroked Cordelia's long hair as he observed the two crossbow bolts imbedded in the Watcher's heart and shoulder.

"Princess, could you let me go for a second?" he asked. Doyle couldn't believe he just asked that. Cordelia did and moved over to Oz. They took hands and watched Doyle, wide eyed, as he looked at the Englishman. He didn't know him that well, but Rupert Giles seemed like to be a fine man, for an Englishman, and Angel held him in the highest respect. He was regretful that his death had to be so senseless, but he would go on.

Now, Oz and Cordelia on the other hand, had known Giles for a very long time and was his friend. They weren't going to get over this for a long time, perhaps never. If they survived this.

Doyle suddenly wondered what was going to happen to Angel when this was all over. He wondered what was happening to Angel now.

Angel awoke with a start and tried to sit up only to find out that his arms were chained. He looked above his head to see that heavy, iron chains bounded his wrist to a head board. He looked down around him. He was lying on a bed with a red velvet comforter. Also, that he was clean, not covered in sewage, but shirtless.

He remembered the tranq gun, and Giles's body. He growled deep in his throat in frustration and yanked on the chains. Well, to look on the bright side, at least he was healed. But Angel wasn't one to look on the bright side, most of the time anyway. He twisted around to see his surroundings.

The room was heavily curtained, so sunlight couldn't get in. Candles were lit in various places around the room. Angel could smell the scented voiltives. Vanilla, lavender, cinnamon, and jasmine, all innocent and sweet smells. He continued to look around the room, not finding much out other than he was in an expensive home. The room had high ceilings and wide walls. He closed his eyes and laid his head back on the pillows.

What was he going to do?

Xander watched as Cordelia, Oz and the other guy who didn't smell right talk. Cordy whipped tears off her face. She was upset, and scared. He could smell her fear on her, thick and heavy. As that wacked chick Drusilla would say, "It's delicious." Xander was hungry, and Cordy was gonna have to die anyway.

He started to follow the trio.

Angel heard someone walk into the room and opened his eyes to see whom he had expected. He asked Buffy as she walked into the room, "Do you know how tiring it gets to be chained up all the time?"

She smiled at him as she took off her leather jacket and tossed it to the floor. She looked at him and answered, "Well, it looks good on you."

He caught her eye. Maybe he could make her mad enough to kill him. Doyle would have to take on the fight, but he knew in his heart that he could handle it. He leered at her, "Then that's why women always chain me up then."

Her eyes narrowed. Good. He was getting her pissed off now. Then she smiled at him as she sat on the bed beside him. He didn't like that smile, in fact it frightened him. She was looking at him like a cat would a mouse. Hungry and predatory, and determined. She wasn't going to stop until she had what she wanted.

Which happened to be Angel.

He asked, "So, what's it gonna be, torture?"

Her smile was serphinic as she answered, "Nope. Not torture." She leaned in close, he twisted his head away so he wouldn't look into her eyes. She whispered, "There are more fun ways to make you scream, you know."

He jerked to look her in the eye. Then he laughed at her. Right in the face. She was startled as she sat back from him. He chuckled, "That's the best thing I've heard in a while, Buff." He drew her nickname out to surprise her even more. He never called her Buff, except when he was evil. He didn't call people their nicknames. He always went on the full name, or what they wanted to be called.

She pushed her hair out of her face and frowned at him. He smiled at her, hiding his fear. He told her, "You know I've been in worse situations than this."

Then it was her turn to smile as she quipped, "And I was the one to always bust your ass out."

He chuckled and shook his head. He replied, "You haven't been to Los Angeles, lately haven't you? The Hellmouth is nothing compared to it."

"Excuse you, but I use to live in L.A. Thank you very much," she snapped at him.

He chuckled, "But you didn't see what I've seen. Sure, there was Lothos and everything, but that was nothing compared to what the city truly hides."

She laid beside him and looked at the ceiling. She said, "Yeah, the evil lawyers and everything."

Angel remembered a joke someone told him. He quipped, "Well, the only difference between a lawyer and a vampire is that the vamp didn't choose to become a bloodsucking fiend."

She laughed so hard that the bed shook beneath them. She pulled herself up on one arm and hovered above him. She told him, "Very funny." Then she laid back down on the bed and went on, "I like the whole funny thing. Never knew that you had a sense of humor."

Angel just looked up at the ceiling. He thought about how he was going to get out of this one. He had a plan. The thing was, could he pull it off?

Oz had separated from Doyle and Cordy. He held the crossbow in his hand. His palms were sweating, a problem he often had when playing the guitar. He wiped his hands off of his cargos and then tightened his grip on the crossbow.

He looked up at the half moon at the sky and frowned. If he wasn't a werewolf, he might have had a chance to save Willow. If he wasn't locked up in a cage, he could have stopped Xander and Buffy long enough to have Willow run out of the building. If Willow would have run. Willow would never desert any of her friends when it came down to it.

He sighed and stepped into the abandoned warehouse. Glass shattered beneath his Airwalks as quietly he paced the area. Oz smelled something very familiar. He looked up to see a small figure with a head of bright red hair standing on the platform above him. Willow.

She was dressed in black leather that accented her slender body. She smiled down at him and waved. She jumped off the platform and landed gracefully on her feet in front of him. Oz watched her warily.

"Board now," she told Oz in a singsong voice.

Oz felt a tiny shiver down his spine. He told Willow, "I know this isn't you, Will. I also want you to know that I still love you, and that I understand."

She laughed and said, "Silly puppy." Oz pointed the crossbow at her. He aimed, and hesitated.

That moments' hesitation cost him everything.

Willow, morphing into vamp face, batted the crossbow out of his hands. Then she grabbed onto Oz with surprising strength. Oz looked up, he had lost all resistance to fight. Then he felt a sharp prick at his throat, and everything spun into darkness. Forever.

"Why don't we curse Buffy with her soul, and she and Angel could be together forever." Doyle looked into Cordelia's hopeful face. She was smiling pleadingly, like the time she had asked Angel for a raise. Angel had only ignored her and drunk his morning coffee.

Doyle studied her. She was truly an amazing person. She had a lot more depth to herself than she let on. He frowned. What she was suggesting was impossible. Angel couldn't deal with it, and the girl would go insane. A Slayer's soul trapped into a vampire's body, it would drive her mad. Even with someone like Angel to back her up.

Besides, who was going to cast the spell to curse her? Cordy couldn't do it, Doyle couldn't do it, and Angel probably wouldn't do it. He wasn't going to let his beloved suffer the same fate that he was meant to.

Angel. The eternal hero. Or the vampiric Batman. Something like that.

He said, "Princess, it wouldn't work. Angel wouldn't want to put Buffy through all that, besides, she would go insane."

"It's not fair!" Cordelia cried in that ever so frustrated manor of hers with throwing her hands up in the air.

"Life isn't Princess, you should 'o learned that by now," he informed her.

She whirled on him with her hazel eyes snapping. She poked him in the chest, saying, "Angel's constantly getting dumped on. He's helping all these people, and getting *nothing* for it! We both see him suffer day after day, and there's nothing we can do about it. Angel's my friend, damnit little Irish Man! And nothing is gonna change that!" With that, she spun on her heel and stomped away.

It wasn't fair. Cordelia stomped on the wet pavement angerly as she separated herself farther and farther from Doyle. She was angry at the little Irish man. It didn't add to the fact that she was also attracted to him terribly. "Stupid little retard," she grumbled under her breath as she walked.

"But I've changed, Cor, really, I have." She froze as Xander Harris stepped from the shadows.

He was dressed in black leather from head to toe, and a bright red T-shirt. He looked like almost every vampire that Angel fought. In an attempt of her bravo, she snapped, "Well, being dead gives you the right to dress like every other vampire out there. God, Xander, even dead you still can't dress."

He smiled as his face morphed to the always so charming vamp face. The superior look fell from Cordelia's face. He reached out and yanked her hair. She screamed as he brought her neck closer to his fangs. She struggled uselessly.

Then she heard a familiar Irish lilt, "Let her go, Boyle, or it's not gonna be pretty."

Xander spun around to face Doyle. The little Irish man was taking off his retro jacket and balling his hands into fists. Cordy shouted, "Doyle, go get Angel! Find him!"

Xander chuckled, "He's with Buffy. Just thought you should know Cordy. She's having some fun right now with him. So, that's why I'm here to bug you, and the midget."

"My name is Doyle," Doyle told Xander as he walked over to him. Doyle had never looked as pissed as he did now. He was really pissed, and he wanted Xander.

Xander gripped her neck, Cordy screeched. Xander told him, "Stay back, Drunk Boy, or I'll snap Cordy's neck."

Cordy had to roll her eyes as she said, "Gee, why does everyone have to copy off of Angel's bad boy tricks."

Xander whispered in her ear as Doyle froze, "I didn't say anything about biting."

Cordelia Chase screamed as Xander's fangs found their mark.

"NO!" The anguished cry tore itself from Doyle's throat as Cordelia's body hit the pavement with a slap.

"Something wrong, little guy?" the vampire asked.

Doyle growled, his face morphing into that of his other half. Blue spikes poked themselves out of his face as his eyes glowed red. Doyle cried out and charged him.

Xander smiled and grabbed him. The vampire lifted him up and slammed him into the ground. Doyle looked up to see Xander raise up a heavy two-by-four.

The Irish Demon's cries of agony filled the night.

Angel looked up at the ceiling, then strait into the flame of the candle. Buffy had been going in and out for the past couple of hours. He had a plan, but the question was could he pull it off before it went too far.

Well, if she was here, he could, but, unfortunately, she wasn't.

"Damn it," he cursed as he looked into the bright orange flame. He was still for a moment as he reflected on all that happened. If he hadn't of left he wouldn't be in this situation, and Buffy would still be alive. This was all. . . . No, it wasn't. It wasn't his fault. It wasn't Giles's fault. It wasn't anyone's fault; no one could have prevented this.

Now the question was, could Angel let go?

A few minutes later Buffy walked into the room and threw her leather jacket on the floor. Angel made eye contact. Sometimes being a world-class lier could come in handy. After all, he was the vampire who hid his vampirism from the Slayer. She stopped and looked at him intently.

Both of them just watched each other. None of them moved, and neither talked. She crossed the few spaces to the bed and settled herself beside him. Please, let me be able to do this. He watched her carefully. She was unarmed that was a good sign, as well as the hopeful, hungry look in her eyes.

She raised her head toward his and looked him directly in the eye. Her look was triumphant now, adding to the hunger. Now was the time to let her think that she had won. Angel was suddenly comfortable. He wasn't worried about lifting the curse now. This wasn't his Buffy. They might have some similarities, and wear the same face, but it wasn't *his* Buffy. He could do this, and he would.

He lifted himself up as high as he could, just high enough to kiss her. He did just that. He kissed her hard and long, which surprised her. She gasped and leaned into it, his brazenness surprising her. Good.

He kept kissing her, neither needing to come up for air, and he didn't have to worry about hurting her now. Her hands clutched his shoulder, his face. Come on, just a bit higher, Buffy, just a bit, Angel pleaded silently. They worked their way up to the shackles. Yes, come on Buffy, he thought. His plan was working. Her hands began to unlock the chains. I'll be damned. It worked. He was free.

He wrapped his arms around her and then rolled. He was on top now. This was the second part of his plan. He trailed down to her neck, and she moaned his name. Then he took her hands and slipped them strait into the shackles and locked them with one simple movement.

He stood up while she snarled at him. He smiled at her. He did it. He beat her at her own game. Well, he had invented it first. He said, "Good try, Buffy, but you didn't quite get there."

"You bastard," she snarled at him.

He smiled coldly at her one more time. If there would have been something wooden, then he would have steaked her right then, but there wasn't. He waved at her as he walked out of the bedroom.

Doyle was slammed into the wall. Blood dribbled from his lip as he looked up at Xander. Xander spun the board one time and slammed it into Doyle's back. Doyle cried out and curled himself up into a ball as Xander beat him.

Then, of all things, he heard a familiar voice, "Xander." Angel! He was alive! Doyle looked up. Angel was shirtless and looked very pissed off.

Xander snarled, "Dead Boy."

"Like you have room to talk, Boy," Angel replied.



Xander grabbed Doyle. Doyle flinched, he was hurt too severely to fight back. He snapped, "I'll kill Demon Boy if you come any closer." Then he threw Doyle at Angel and took off.

Doyle collapsed into his vampiric friend's arms. He grumbled, "What a pair we are, Boyle."

Angel frowned as he saw Cordelia's body. Doyle's eyes misted with tears as he thought about what happened to her. Doyle said, "I'm gonna have his head."

Angel slowly lead him out of the building.

The End.