Five By Five

Part One

Three guys were huddled around a trashcan fire under a bridge. Whatever they were burning smelled vile, and they were on Marquez's gang's turf, so he was going to move them along. Guys had to show some respect, you know? 'Yo! You're hanging in the wrong place , man. My boys ain't gonna be happy when they see the mess you made…' he trailed off. The three men had turned to look at him, they weren't men at all. Hideous and disfigured, they were like nothing he'd ever seen before, and the fuel they were burning? One of them lifted up the object he was about to throw on the fire, it was a human arm holding a gun - what was left of one of Marquez's boys. They were burning the dismembered parts of Marquez's gang. Marquez turned and fled. The demons gave chase.

A squeal of tyres announced the arrival of the Angelmobile, Wesley was driving at breakneck speed, bringing the car as close to the running demons as he could. Angel stood up in the passenger seat and beheaded one of the demons. 'That's him!' Doyle, sitting in the back, pointed out the guy from his vision, and the vampire swooped down on the fleeing human and dragged him inside the car. 'Hi, I'm Angel; this is my team, we will be rescuing you this evening.'

Wesley turned the car around, the smell of burning rubber rending the air as the wheels squealed in protest. On their way back past, Angel beheaded the final two demons. 'Nice work, man', Doyle commended his friend, from his place at the back. Marquez sat next to him, breathless and uncomprehending.

Across town, at the Los Angeles Bus Station, a greyhound pulled up and the passengers began to disembark. One was a young woman, couldn't be more than 18, but she had a look in her eyes that suggested she had seen way too much. She was also looking a little the worse for wear, her hair was lank and her skin had an unhealthy pallor; she looked very much like someone only just recovering from a long and serious illness... or an eleven month coma.

As she began to walk away from the station, unsure as to where she could go, a man detached himself from the shadows and followed her. New in town and with nowhere to go, she was exactly the type of girl he hung around the depot looking for: the type of girl he could entice and then pimp. 'This is a dangerous part of town to be in at night', he warned her, as he fell in step beside her. She barely glanced in his direction. 'A lot of people might try and take advantage of a young lady, like you. Especially if you got no money … no place to go. Maybe I could help.'

The young woman stopped and faced him, she would be one hell of a looker if she just cleaned herself up a bit, there could be a lot of money in this one. And damn! Was she vulnerable - those eyes! She wrapped her arms around herself, adding to her air of fragility and then, in a small voice, opened up to the man: 'I'm cold.'

'Well, warm is my middle name!' he began to take off his jacket and she hit him. He had never been hit like that, and this was a man who had been hit many times in his life. It was like a massive glove of solid steel had just collided with his jaw, he hit the ground. But this tiny, vulnerable looking, little girl did not stop hitting or kicking, and each blow was more painful than the last. Eventually, mercifully, he fell into unconsciousness, and only then did the woman rein in her onslaught. She reached down and took the jacket that he had proffered her; she slipped it on and went through the pockets, finding a wallet and some keys. 'Now I got money... and a place to go', she said, 'I think I'm gonna like it here.' And Faith the Vampire Slayer walked off into the night.

Darla had blindfolded Angelus and was now leading him into a house. They were in Romania, and it was the anniversary of Angelus' siring. Her darling boy was now 145, a fledgling no longer. 145 years of bloodshed, cruelty and mayhem; it had been a whirlwind and she still thanked the providence that had led her to a small inn in Galway and the most vicious creature she had ever known. For this special occasion she had found him an extra special gift, better even than the cursed seer she had found him in London in 1860, though she hoped he would not sire this one as well. This new girl was young, and ripe, and plump - and terrified. And she was trussed up like a Christmas goose by the fireplace, ready to be unwrapped.

'Can I take this thing off?' her boy laughed.

'Not yet'

'Can I take something else off?'

She kissed him and smiled, 'after you've unwrapped your gift.' She lifted his blindfold and showed him the girl. 'Happy Birthday, Angelus.'

'She's a gypsy?' His voice was wondering, as he took in the frightened woman trembling on the floor.

'An innocent… and a favourite of her clan.'

'What would I do without you?'

Darla smiled again, proud of what she had found, proud of what she meant to this most depraved monster. 'Wither and die', she told him. 'But she's not just for you … I get to watch.'

Angelus changed into his demon face, and bit into the rounded thigh of the gypsy girl. Darla licked her lips as she looked on...

Angel slammed Marquez back into his seat. 'The only way you're going to keep from getting killed is by doing the right thing.'

'Right thing for who?' Marquez was defiant, talking to the law never worked out for him and his.

'Next time they come for you, I won't be there, and neither will your boys - they've been cut up and incinerated. That what you want for you?'

'This guy's never gonna do it', Cordelia sighed, turning away from the blinds she had been peering through, to look back at Doyle, who was sat at her desk, playing with his deck of cards. 'What a waste of a vision', she told him. 'Looks like you sacrificed a whole load of brain cells for nothing.'

The Irish man smiled at her. 'We already saved his life, Angel'll get him to talk, have some faith.'

'Is it really going that badly?' asked Wesley. The watcher was lying out on the green couch, his jacket draped over him, trying to catch up on some sleep.

'I knew it when you brought him in yesterday ...someone with that much body art is gonna have a different idea of civic duty.'

'Princess!' Doyle said, reproachfully. 'We don't judge books by their covers, yeah? Everyone can be redeemed, isn't that our mission statement?'

'What? You think just because the higher powers were able to tweak your guilty conscience that any old Joe Hoodlum can be made to see the light?'

'Well ...it's just a theory.'

Cordelia snorted.

'Well, I for one have faith in Angel.' Wesley told her. 'If anyone can convince him to testify …'

'Oh come on, guys! You cannot change a guy like that! What you see is what you get…'

Doyle looked a little hurt at her words, but she ignored him, she knew she was right and she wasn't talking about her friend. It wasn't her fault if he was going to get all sappy and over identify with someone like Marquez. 'If you scratch the surface, what do you find? More surface!' she finished up. Both men were looking at her reprovingly now. It was like she was the only non bleeding heart in the office.

'One could have said that about Angel, Once upon a time' Wesley sat up, and righted his glasses, fixing her in a stern stare, but she was having none of it.

'Oh please! He was cursed by gypsies. What's Angel gonna do? Drag a whole load of them in here and get them to force a soul down this guy's throat?'

'Marquez is human and already has a soul', Wesley told her, stiffly. 'He may be a ruffian, but his soul means that- deep down- he has the desire to do what is right.' Doyle nodded along, approvingly. 'Wesley's right.'

'No way man, I'm not doing it!' Marquez stormed out of Angel's office and through the outer room where the other three were sitting. Angel grabbed him by the collar, dragged him back inside and pushed him into his chair. 'Sit down' he commanded and slammed the door between the two offices shut. Cordelia looked at her two male coworkers with an 'I told you so' expression on her face. Funnily enough, neither of them quite met her eye. 'Oh yeah,' she said, 'he's just like the Dalai Lama.'

Faith had left her stolen apartment when night fell. She hadn't gone out to do her sacred duty and hunt vampires, demons and the forces of darkness; she had gone out to cause trouble. She wound up at a club. It was a dark little place that sort of reminded her of The Bronze when there was no live band playing, but she buried those thoughts quickly - she wasn't thinking about that right now- and she joined the dance floor, grinding up with any guy that she passed. They all responded positively. Like the time her and Buffy had owned the dance floor the evening after they had slain an entire nest of vampires in the afternoon... But she wasn't thinking about that right now...

She saw a girl dancing up close to her boyfriend, making a big public show of being together. But you couldn't trust any one of them, they were all animals, men, from 'manimal' down to 'Mr. I loved The English Patient', and this one would be no more loyal than the rest of them if something better was offered. Faith would show her. She pulled the girl off her boyfriend and replaced her with herself, wrapping the boy's arms around her waist and grinding against him.

'Excuse me!' the girl was annoyed.

Faith threw her a glance over her shoulder, still grinding 'OK, you're excused'. She was right, Boyfriend had done nothing, he was enthusiastically dancing with his new partner.

'That's my boyfriend!' the girl told her.

'Yeah?' The slayer grabbed the collar of the boy's shirt and looked down it. 'You got your name on him? cos I don't see it anywhere.' Boyfriend still hadn't done anything. So predictable! Whenever a guy looked at her his priorities would - shift. It was what it was; loyalty came from puppies, not men.

'Billy! Do something', the girl complained.

'Yeah Billy! Do something', Faith urged. 'Like this!' She elbowed the girl in her face, the girl was slammed backwards and fell to the floor. Only then did Billy put on his white knight's armour. A bit too late, Billy Buddy!

'Hey!' he tried to hit Faith, but what was a puny little man against a slayer? She pushed him away and he was thrown back against the guy behind him. This second guy threw a punch and Billy returned it. The fight slowly spread outwards, like ripples on a pond; and Faith danced her way through the chaos, giving the occasional kick or elbow if she reached a place of relative calm, stirring up the trouble as she moved across the dance floor. This was never how it was with Buffy, a public demonstration of power, one true warrior amongst rabble. Buffy never got it, she wanted to melt into the background, fit in, be normal. She never understood that having power made her better, but this was indisputable now, as the normals fought and struggled and writhed on the floor and the superchick danced above them. If only Buffy could have understood... But she wasn't thinking about that ...

Doyle was walking Cordelia home. It was a pleasant, warm, late April evening and, as they got into her little apartment complex, the noise and lights of the traffic died away and the sweet perfume of the Jasmine bushes wafted across the atmosphere. Cordelia had slipped her arm through Doyle's, the way she always seemed to do, and as they approached her front door he was feeling himself to be a very content half demon indeed. She wasn't his girlfriend, yet, because he owed her money and that was a terrible way to start a relationship, and they were both determined to get this right. But they did have an understanding, and linking her arm with his was as close as they could get to holding hands at the moment. But hand holding would come, and kissing … and other stuff of a far more intimate nature.

They reached her door and she stood with her back to it, saying goodbye. This bit was always awkward. Other moments they were incredibly relaxed and comfortable and companionable with each other, but when it came to say goodbye the tension would rise and things would feel more like they had in the old days, before their various excruciatingly honest conversations with each other. When it came to parting, it always felt like it was time to kiss, like that was the only way to round off their day together. Only they couldn't. So instead, they hovered awkwardly and carried on talking for a bit too long, not knowing when to stop without the seal a kiss would put on the evening. Eventually, Dennis would take pity on them and open the door himself, gently telling Cordelia in his own ghostly fashion that it was time to come inside. And, with a backwards glance, she would go in, the door would close; and Doyle would look at it for a few moments before he also tore himself away and went home.

But Dennis had yet to take pity on them and so their conversation was continuing. 'Well, ...I guess I'll see you tomorrow,... when we'll find out who's right about Marquez and his body art.'

'I guess.'

'It's going to be me … I'd put money on it.'

'I'm not gonna take that bet, darlin', I'm doing the whole clean living thing remember? I don't wanna fall back into bad habits right away.'

'Right'

'Besides, if you win, I can't pay y'. And then you'll have to break my legs...'

'Ha! That's true.' They looked at each other for a long moment, their eyes holding contact for just a shade too long. And then Doyle inhaled sharply, and Cordelia flushed a very pretty pink. She broke off her gaze and glanced down at her feet. Doyle shuffled a little awkwardly, and scratched the back of his head as he wondered what to do next. Dennis must be enjoying watching the sexual tension or something, this must be like a live action soap opera for him.

'Well ...I guess…' Cordelia started to say.

'Hey, Cordelia?' Doyle interrupted. There was something he wanted to know before she left him for the night.

'Yeah'

'D'y really mean that about if you scratch the surface of guys like Marquez there's just more surface?'

'Jeez Doyle,' she rolled her eyes, 'over identify, much? You are not a guy like Marquez.'

Doyle shrugged and shuffled his feet.

'I'm serious!' Cordelia protested. 'Not least because you are thankfully lacking in tattoos.'

'I don't like needles.'

'You were chosen by the higher powers, out of every possible demon in the world, to have the visions and help people in trouble. You're like a guy, demon version of Buffy - but without the super strength - and with even worse taste in clothes - and I did not think that was possible 'til I met you!'

'Buffy's badly dressed?'

'Big time! But my point is that you have more than tragic fashion sense in common with her, you're both people who were chosen to help others because the universe itself saw something special in you. FYI I see it in you as well, her - not so much. '

Doyle chuckled appreciatively. 'That's not fair Cordy, she's saved your life loads of times.'

'Well...OK, maybe she's special too', Cordelia agreed, begrudgingly, 'But either way, people handed a destiny by... whoever it is that hands out destinies... are not the same as gangbanging street rats like Marquez - even if they do something stupid along the way.'

'Stupid like letting a whole bunch o' their family members get killed by The Scourge? Or agreeing to sell their vampire boss to an underground gladiator ring?'

'Exactly like that, If I've learnt anything from Angel it's that you never run out of opportunities for redemption, but you've got to work for it. You're a good guy, Doyle, and there is definitely more to you than meets the eye. Marquez...I'll believe that when I see it.'

'You really think that?'

'I think it, I say it. You know that.'

'Yeah?'

'Yeah'

They stood smiling at each other, wondering how to leave, not sure who would break the moment first. They were only inches apart, and looking right into each others eyes, again. It really wouldn't take much to lean forward and kiss her. Their lips were practically level anyway. Doyle tilted his head to one side, Cordelia seemed to breathe in, expectantly, and she tilted her head the other way. They moved slowly, slowly, closing the gap between them…

...Then Dennis decided to open the door.

The door giving way caused Cordy to stumble backwards, the space between them opened up again and the moment passed. 'Well, night then' she said in an overly bright voice, her biggest smile plastered on her face, covering any disappointment or turmoil she might be feeling. She went inside and shut the door...

'...Night, princess.'