"Reunion," Part III
Cordelia tapped her fingernails rhythmically on the countertop, staring idly at the front door of the lobby that was blanketed in the darkness from outside. Waiting sucked. Especially, when you were waiting for your vampire boss and his loyal sidekick, aka your boyfriend, to return from slaying a newly risen vampire as well as the crazy bitch who made her.
"Cordelia, do you mind?" Wesley had come up from behind her rubbing at his forehead with obvious distress. He gestured to her tapping on the countertop in answer to her blank expression. "By the time they return, I'll be quite as mad as Drusilla if you don't stop that racket."
"Sorry." She said, lifting her hand away from the granite countertop and searching for something else to diffuse her nervous energy. "Maybe I should reorganize the files or something."
"I'm sure Doyle will be just fine." Wesley added as she moved toward the filing cabinets to make good on her project to keep herself occupied. "He knows how to handle himself in a fight—and with any luck they'll dispose of Darla before there's even a chance for a fight."
Cordelia sighed heavily as she swung open the top drawer and began perusing the hanging folders contained within. "What makes you think it's Doyle I'm worried about?" She huffed in reply. "I mean, there are so many things to worry about right now. Take your pick."
"'Cause you're always worrying about your man when he's out on a job without you." Gunn supplied, popping up from where he had been lounging on the circular sofa and crossing to the reception counter, reminding Cordelia that he was present rather than backing up 'her man' and Angel in the field. "Why'd he go with Angel, anyway?"
"Because he's Doyle." Wesley answered, with a hint of undisguised resentment. "Although, I do agree that you would have been a better companion under the circumstances."
"No argument there. I'm way better at slaying vamps than the little guy—with or without his spikes." Gunn declared proudly. "But, that ain't what I meant. There were some bad vibes earlier—as in, maybe the dynamic duo ain't so dynamic right about now."
"Just a little lovers' spat." Cordelia said dryly, not bothering to look up from her file organizing. "There are three things you can always count on—death, taxes and Doyle being at Angel's side."
"Ain't Doyle supposed to be at your side." Gunn pointed out, causing Cordelia to stop what she was doing and look up. She had thought that, too, most of the time. Certainly not lately.
"Of course." She replied, feigning an air of confidence that she didn't necessarily feel on the inside. "That goes without saying. I meant, a side other than mine…"
Wesley piped back in, blessedly pulling the focus away from a slowly drowning Cordelia. "Yes, well, as I see it, that is part of the problem. Angel goes to Doyle and only Doyle—he has a habit of cutting the rest of us out, even if we are better suited for the task at hand. All this Darla business, for example, Angel looked to Doyle for guidance, every step of the way."
That commentary took Cordelia by surprise, and she found herself shutting the file drawer, no longer interested in occupying herself with meaningless tasks. "What are you trying to say, Wesley?" She demanded, folding her arms and giving Wesley a withering look. "Doyle is a messenger and a guide—it's his job to offer guidance. Are you implying that he shouldn't be trusted to do what the Powers That Be chose him to do?"
"That isn't what I said." Wesley clarified, holding up his hands in supplication. "I trust Doyle with my life, as I do any member of this team, but I do think he's too close to the situation to remain objective. He was quite insistent that we help Darla, and now that we've failed in that regard—I think that maybe he's lost some of his own perspective."
Well, there was the hammer hitting the proverbial nail on the head. Cordelia opened her mouth instinctively, wanting to defend the man she loved. But, considering she'd all but told Doyle the very same thing that morning, she couldn't say that Wesley was wrong. Therefore, her mouth closed once again, and her eyes dropped to the floor.
It seemed as if Wesley was about to say more, when the front doors to the lobby flew open, with Angel and Doyle racing through them frantically.
"Everyone gear up! Grab something sharp. We need to move fast." Angel ordered, by way of greeting.
"Don't think I gotta ask how it went." Gunn observed as Angel made a beeline to the weapons cabinet at the far end of the room, while Doyle bent over to catch his breath.
Angel's answer was mostly spoken into the cabinet as he yanked weapons out and piled them into his arms. "They're out there, both of them." He turned back toward the group, handing a weapon to Gunn and then placing the pile in his arms on the reception counter with a loud clattering. "They're separated, for now. We need to make sure they stay that way, or things are going to get very ugly."
Doyle stood up, still breathing heavily. He didn't say anything, but Cordelia could see the worry lines etched across his forehead. She circled around the counter, heading straight for him even as she heard Wesley and Gunn direct their questions toward Angel behind her back.
"You know where they are?" Wesley inquired.
"Not exactly." Angel responded.
"So, where we going?" Gunn wondered.
"To the people responsible for bringing them here." Was Angel's nonchalant reply, as he chose a weapon for himself from the array he'd spread out on the countertop. "We're going to Wolfram & Hart."
By that point, Cordelia had reached Doyle, and after hearing Angel's rather absurd declaration, she was no longer interested in speaking to her paramour in the company of others. She grabbed him by the arm, urging him away from the group. He went willingly, but cast a frustrated look in Angel's direction as the space was increased between them.
"Wolfram & Hart?!" Cordelia asked in an exaggerated whisper, as soon as they were far enough away not to be easily overheard. "Does that sound like a good plan to you?!"
"Not particularly, no." Doyle replied in a muted tone.
"Then why aren't you stopping him?" She demanded, her eyes flashing with disbelief.
Doyle shifted his weight, averting his eyes to the floor and crossing his arms over his chest in a defensive posture. "'Cause I can't, darlin'." He admitted honestly, and not without regret. "I told him this was a bad idea, but he doesn't wanna hear it. He's—"
"Obsessed." She finished for him with a heavy frown. "Gee, I hadn't noticed."
"Yeah. He's a bit on the fanatical side, at the moment." Doyle agreed, with a resigned sigh. "I'm going with him, 'cause what other choice do I have? Last thing I need is for him to get himself killed doing something stupid."
Cordelia snorted derisively, as she raised her eyes to the ceiling. "I could say 'I told you so,' about the whole helping Darla thing blowing up in our faces, but I'm much too mature for that."
There was something in Doyle's eyes that made her stomach drop—something she wasn't used to seeing there. He was genuinely scared; more scared than she'd ever seen him. "Listen, Cordy, I think ya should stay here—or, better yet, go back to your place where a vampire can't enter. Just in case things go more sideways than they already are."
"Are you kidding?!" Cordelia squawked with annoyance, dropping any attempt at keeping her voice down. "Now you're trying to sideline me?! Last time I checked, I was a valuable part of this team, buster!"
"You are!" He assured her. "Y'know ya are, but your life is valuable to me. And I don't know what's gonna happen tonight with these two on the loose."
"Now you know how the rest of us feel all the time!" She shot back. "We never know anything, so welcome to the club. And, for the record, if the rest of you are doing something as incredibly stupid as marching into Wolfram & Hart guns a blazing, then I'm coming with you! And there's nothing you can do to stop me!"
"Doyle! Cordelia!" Angel shouted, from across the lobby, causing them both to jerk their heads toward him in unison. "Let's go."
With that, Angel stormed out the front doors, with Gunn hot on his tail and Wesley following more reluctantly behind the two of them. Cordelia wasted no more breath on fighting the point, she strode toward the counter, grabbing herself a crossbow and the small first aid kit she kept on hand at all times and followed in the path previously tread by the others, with Doyle close on her heels.
It didn't matter that she really didn't want to go, and truthfully, was terrified beyond belief. She wasn't going to fare any better hiding in her apartment, worrying herself sick over the others.
There was a fight to be fought, and she was going to be a part of it. For better or for worse.
"Angel, there's no good to be done, if we don't get there in one piece." Wesley spoke up from the back seat as Angel sped through the streets of Los Angeles at a breakneck speed.
Gunn, who was seated in the passenger seat, was holding on for dear life as he kept his eyes focused on the front windshield. Doyle sat on one side of the backseat, with Cordelia squashed beside him and Wesley on the far end. Under normal circumstances, Doyle usually preferred sitting shotgun, but with Angel driving as erratically as he was, the backseat was probably marginally safer. Plus, he'd opted to stay close to Cordelia, who shouldn't be there in the first place.
Boy, he'd done a brilliant job of offending her back at the hotel, suggesting she should hide out while the rest of the team fought Angel's battle. He would have been better off saying nothing, but he couldn't help himself. As he stood there, staring at the woman he loved, all he could see was the bloodbath from his vision—the one that Cordelia had been right in the middle of. Doyle had thought he could keep her safe simply by keeping her in the dark, but now he wasn't so sure that was the case. So he'd done the only other thing he could think to do—he'd told her to stay out of the fight. Told her to stay safe.
Instead, he had only succeeded in upsetting her right before putting her in extreme danger. Here she was, in a speeding car, barreling toward her potential death. And, there wasn't a damn thing Doyle could do to stop it.
"We don't have much time." Angel replied, seeming to increase his speed rather than decrease it.
This was bad. Angel was out of control, and although Doyle had been telling the truth when he said he didn't know what would happen with Darla and Drusilla this evening, that didn't mean he wasn't fully aware of the possibilities. The very dark, very bloody possibilities that should be avoided at all costs.
He silently chastised himself yet again. He had been a fool to think things would be so simple—that all of this would be tied up in a perfect little bow the previous evening. The trials, the consummation, and then goodbye Darla. See you in nine months. When had anything ever been that simple? Doyle's optimism—and his desire to get to that finish line—had been his downfall, setting him up for the ultimate disappointment when he was forced to face reality. It could never be that simple.
Angel hadn't slept with Darla last night, and now she was a vampire again. That was a twist Doyle hadn't foreseen, and honestly, would have never imagined. Not that any part of this was based in logic, but Doyle had naturally assumed Connor's conception would take place in Darla's human body and that she wouldn't be turned into a vampire until a later point in the timeline. Turns out, he had assumed wrong. And now, he wasn't sure what would happen next. Aside from the ever growing possibility that there'd be a room full of dead lawyers before the night was through—like hell, would he let Cordelia end up there. Over his own dead body, if that's what it took.
Doyle felt like he was shouting at a brick wall. Or, at this rate, crashing into one.
"Aaaaaarrrrgh." Doyle groaned as the beginnings of a vision took over his mind. He slumped forward as his senses were brutally assaulted, and just like that, gone was the fear of dying in a fiery car crash. Instead, he got treated to a very up close and personal preview of what a bullet does to a human brain when entering at very close proximity.
"Angel, stop the car!" Cordelia demanded, as she held Doyle's slumped form close to her chest and tenderly rubbed his head. No matter how annoyed she was at him, she never failed him when he needed her. And he needed her now, as his body convulsed, caught in the grip of the Higher Powers' latest delivery.
"Fine, fine. I'll slow down, okay." Angel said, finally doing just that, even though he was still technically speeding.
"Doyle's having a vision!" She insisted emphatically.
"No, not now." Angel twisted his body to try and see Doyle, who was seated behind him, making it an impossible maneuver.
Meanwhile, Gunn leaned over to place a steadying hand on the steering wheel. "He's probably seeing us wrapped around a lamppost. Eyes on the road, bro!"
Doyle groaned again as the vision subsided, gingerly lifting his head from where it had landed in Cordelia's lap. His throat had gone very dry, but he still managed to choke out a few words. "Turn the car around."
Angel had turned back to face the road, and he shook his head at Doyle's request. "I can't do that. We're almost there."
"I'm not asking!" Doyle snapped back at the vampire in the front seat, losing what few slivers remained of his patience. His head ached with the memory of the bullet digging through flesh, along with the general unpleasantness that surrounded all visions. "I'm telling ya. Turn the car around now—that's an order, and it's not coming from me!"
With a giant unneeded sigh and a high-pitched screech of the tires, Angel pulled a U-turn in the middle of the intersection and headed back in the opposite direction. Doyle slumped back into Cordelia's lap, with a modicum of relief. He felt her fingers gently trace patterns in his hair, and he closed his eyes trying to focus on the pleasantness of that sensation, rather than the waves of nausea and throbbing pain still lingering in his head.
For the second time in as many days, Doyle felt like the Powers That Be were not only watching him and guiding him, but were actually on his side. And despite the debilitating ache they'd caused in his head, he silently thanked them again.
She'll be safe now, he thought. Cordelia will never get anywhere near that bloody room...