Part Four

Gunn pulled his axe out of the demon's back. The Wainakay lay dead on the floor. Patricia's father patted the young street fighter on the back, to show his gratitude. 'Good job, man - we're very grateful.'

Wesley crouched down beside the demon - and began to examine its feet. 'Yes, we've found the killer - just not the murderer,' he pronounced, letting the leg drop back to the floor. He got up and looked around at the whole family, who were gathered in the room -sitting on couches and chairs.

'What's he talking about?' The old maiden aunt whispered to her niece. She was huddled under a blanket to guard against chills.

'This demon was a puppet,' Wesley told them all, solemnly. 'Acting under the control of someone else - someone in this room.'

Cordelia eyed the silver tray of hor d'oeuvres that sat on the table. Running from the demon had left her ravenous. 'Are these for everyone?' she asked. No one answered. They were all watching Wesley, intently.

'What do we know?' Wesley mused. 'We know that when we arrived there was a noticeable scent of foxglove and hellebore…' Cordelia picked up the tray and began to snack on the hor d'oeuvres, her eyes switching between Wesley and his pronouncements- and the family - checking they hadn't noticed her. 'Not to keep the demon out,' Wesley was continuing, 'as one might suspect, but rather to keep it in so it could carry out the murderer's clever plan.' He tuned to face Patricia's father, 'such a plan would require the skills of a master wizard.'

'I don't do that stuff anymore,' the father shrugged. Wesley turned away from him, 'Then we have the footprints in the soft soil under the window outside the solarium - far too small and not webbed to belong to this demon.'

Cordelia nodded, as she chowed down on the fancy snacks. But the family wanted to argue. 'But Kevin told you those were his,' Kevin's aunt protested.

'He snuck in late last night,' his father agreed.

'Loudly,' said Wesley, 'so we could all hear. Supposedly from seeing that shop girl in town. But we all know that Kevin is impotent, so why put on the show?' Everyone's heads turned to look at Kevin, and the unfortunate boy blushed deeply under their gaze. Cordelia crunched down on her volovant . Wesley began to muse once more, 'perhaps to cover for the real killer - unless Kevin is in fact the real killer. With Derek gone, the family inheritance would fall to you', the British man pointed out. 'The younger brother, and the black sheep of the family...Unfortunately you had neither the opportunity nor the intelligence to perpetrate this crime.' Wesley seemed to consider his words and decide they were a little harsh, considering Kevin hadn't done anything wrong. 'Sorry about the impotent remark,' he apologised. Kevin only blushed even deeper. Gunn and Cordelia watched the show, riveted, their only movement the constant snacking of the young woman.

'So - if Kevin was to have control of the money - who was to have control of Kevin?' Wesley asked. Cordelia's tray was empty. 'Are there any more of these little..?' she began to ask, pointing to the tray. Wesley cleared his throat. 'Sorry!' she squeaked, and shut up - letting the watcher continue with his Miss Marple impression.

'His sister? His mother?' Wesley thought aloud, as if there had been no interruption. 'Both powerful forces in his life. Both with their own agendas. But only one person knew the secret that would allow them to blackmail Kevin for the rest of his life.' His voice began to rise, growing louder as he reached his conclusion. 'Only one person took pains to hide their muddy shoes.'

Cordelia nodded along - the cute little Chanel flats - she knew that had mattered.

'Only one person reeked of foxglove and hellebore. Only one person was responsible for the death of Derek Bointon,' he raised an accusatory finger and pointed, 'his own dear, sweet Aunt Helen!'

The Bointons gasped, en masse - and the maiden aunt jumped to her feet and began to scurry for the door. Cordelia side stepped and blocked her path. 'Not so fast, sister,' she exclaimed. Aunt Helen seemed to wilt.

Gunn was nodding his head. 'That was cool!' he told Wesley, smiling broadly. His praise made the British man smile, in a bashful sort of way. 'It wasn't that difficult, you just have to keep - sifting the evidence until the truth finally hits you.'


BAM. Angel was suckerpunched in the face. He was in a crowd of lubber demons, his fists and feet flying outwards, connecting with them and forcing them back. But the lubbers were not afraid of getting hurt, and they always came back for more. The Host stood on the sidelines, watching - not joining in. He flinched in sympathy, as Angel took a nasty hit, but didn't do anything to help.

Two of the lubber demons detached from the crowd and headed towards the green demon - their axes raised. The Host opened his mouth and let out a piercing high note, which caused the lubber demons to fall to the floor - dropping their axes as they covered their ears in pain. In the distance, there was the distinct sound of glass smashing. The Host then kicked one lubber right between the legs, and slugged the other one across the chin. Both demons out for the count, the Host turned back to watch Angel.


The awkward couple were sat at the table. Denise pushed her food around the plate with her fork. The silence hung between them - almost tangible. Gene cleared his throat, 'so how was scene class?'

'Well - you know - Jack - he thinks he can't play the role without a goatee.'

'The footstool would have a goatee?'

'Well, you know Jack…' she fiddled with the necklace that now hung around her neck - her anniversary gift from Gene. 'Thanks for the - uh -' she said, still fiddling, 'it's really pretty.' Gene smiled. 'It made me think of you.' His girlfriend glanced down at her plate, and bit her lip in discomfort.

'Are you all done?' Gene asked.

'Yeah. I'm not that hungry. It was good - it was really good.'


Doyle sat at the bar, he held his shot glass in both hands, examining it. It was empty - for now. He'd gone through a quarter of the bottle and was taking a rest. Three years. Three years. He knew he should be grateful. That he could have got more than three times that length - but - three years. Thirty six months. And days - how many days? He began to mumble as he added it up, 365 add 365 and then - he screwed up his face, was one of the years a leap year? That would just be his luck. So that was….well OK maybe he was too drunk to do the math properly right now - but it was, like, a thousand days. Slightly more.

That weekend, those three days he spent in jail already - had been more than enough for one lifetime. And that was just three days. Three years! Three years of strip searches and being locked in a tiny cell with three other violent men, and communal showers, and the constant terror - and the beatings - from guards and prisoners alike, and … it was all just too much.

And then there would be the loneliness, and the worry. Locked away, wondering if Cordelia was alright - if she was sad, if she was in danger. Unable to do anything to help her or protect her. Just hoping that one day Wes or Gunn didn't turn up to tell him she'd been killed in some fight - because he wasn't there - to look out for her - to save her - to die in her place, if necessary.

And on top of worrying about her safety - and her well being - there was also that small kernel of hope that now treacherously flickered inside his heart. Three years was not so very long. Time off for good behaviour - and he intended to be a model prisoner -maybe he could be out in two. It wasn't impossible that she might wait that long for him. That he could still be with her after his release. But that hope was a traitor - and he knew it. No - three years wasn't forever - but it was a long time when you were young. More than long enough to heal from a broken heart, get tired of being lonely and go out and search for someone else. Meet someone else. Fall in love with someone else.

If it was ten years then that would be it - relationship over - no chance of survival. He'd made a clean break, and now he just had to get along with it - and accept her falling in love with someone else. Someone better. But that hope that she might still be waiting for him - because his sentence was short - made the fear that she would move on even harder to bear.

It was the hope that killed you, in the end, he reflected gloomily. That tiny part of you that clung on, believing there was a chance things might be OK, that refused to give in to desperation. It only made things worse in the long run. Desperation was where he lived - where he belonged. He had to get rid of this hope - kill it stone dead, once and for all- if he was to survive. Three years.

He poured himself another drink, and tossed it back, shuddering as the sour taste hit the back of his throat. When he thought of going back to prison in a few weeks - of going into Lindsey's office, a free man, signing a bit of paper, and then being cuffed and carted off - searched and locked in a cell for the next three years - he felt like curling up in a ball and crying. No. Worse than that. He felt like crawling back to Cordelia and crying. Falling into her embrace and letting her make the pain go away, taking his comfort in her. And he knew she would let him - would welcome him with open arms. But he couldn't do that.

If he went to her bed tonight - then it would only be worse in the morning, when he had to leave again. And he wasn't sure that he would be able to. Once he gave in to her solace he might not be able to force himself away again. He might just stay - clinging to her. But that couldn't happen. Wouldn't be allowed. If he couldn't walk away from her, then they'd come and take him, drag him forcibly away from her side. And that would be so much worse.

So, he had to be strong.

He had to deny himself Cordelia and comfort, and stay here by himself - bear the misery alone, to make it easier to live with in the long run. But, damn! Did he want to crawl back to Cordelia... Instead, he poured himself another drink.


Angel knocked down the last of the Lubber demons and jumped back into the car. The Host climbed in beside him, and the vampire hit the gas.

...

Denise picked up the rose, from the bed sheets, and held it to her nose - taking in its sweet scent. 'That's sweet,' she said to Gene. She smiled, but her smile was small and sad. 'I'm sorry about the clutter,' Gene said to her, but she shrugged and shook her head. 'It wouldn't be you without it.' Her heart was heavy, as she began to unbutton her blouse. Gene was a nice guy, he was sweet and thoughtful - and she hated that she had to hurt him. But he made her lonely - made her feel desperate. They had been together only a year, and already they had run out of things to say. So this was the only way she knew how to let him down gently. She took the pins out of her hair, and her red tresses flowed around her naked shoulders. Gene leaned in to kiss her.

...

Angel and The Host sped down the road.

...

Gene and Denise lay together under the sheets, kissing and touching. 'I love you,' Gene whispered into her ear.

...

Angel pulled the car up outside of Gene's building and the pair of them jumped out. 'OK,' said the vampire, looking around. 'If I had a machine to stop time - where would I put it?'

'Probably where the demons can guard it,' the Host said, pointing at the lubber demons that surrounded the building.

...

As they made love, Gene reached out and flicked the switch that he had placed on the nightstand. Down in the basement, the machine switched on and began to hum. A beam shot straight up from it, and passed through the building until it hit one of the mirrors in Gene's bedroom. The light bounced from that mirror to another, and onto another, until the bed and its occupants were trapped inside the glow. The time field began to form, above the bed, and travel down slowly, encompassing first Gene and the Denise. The pair froze in place - suspended in the moment - for all eternity.

...

Down by the machine, in the basement, a lubber demon was typing new commands into the laptop. The machine revved up, and - up at the top of the building - the time field began to grow - like a bubble expanding outwards. The lubber demon nodded to itself in satisfaction, but was then swiftly interrupted by another of its kind hurtling through the window. This second lubber demon was shortly followed by Angel, himself.

...

As the bubble grew through the apartment building, a man pouring himself a beer was carved out of the time space continuum and left in his own universe - frozen to the outside world. His beer was stopped mid flow, on its way to his glass.

...

Angel fought the two lubbers in the basement. He knocked one down and then smashed its head on the open door of a tumble dryer - knocking it out. The other demon crept up behind him, and hit him hard enough to send him flying to the top of the basement stairs. Angel landed with a crash, and rolled over. The lubber demon charged up the stairs towards him, but the vampire used his feet to catapult the lubber backwards - smashing him onto the wall. Angel got to his feet, and ran towards the machine. The lubber demon righted himself and launched himself upwards, aiming to land heavily on the vampire and prevent him from switching off the equipment.

But, the time bubble was still making its inexorable movement downwards, expanding outwards. And, as the raccoon eyed demon flew into the air - he found himself taken out of time and space - and frozen in his own private universe - engulfed by the time field.

With the time field headed towards him, Angel kept low and made his way across to the machine. He reached in and yanked out a whole load of wires - hoping that that would do the trick. It did. The bubble began to shrink backwards. The lubber demon fell - but landed on the floor instead of on Angel. The vampire used the lubber demon's own axe to kill it.

The bubble continued to shrink upwards. The man pouring his beer was released - noticing nothing amiss - and then, right at the top of the building, Denise and then Gene - unfroze. Gene collapsed on top of his girlfriend as reality rushed back in and he realised he had failed…

...

Later- when they were done - Denise sat on the edge of the bed. She had wrapped the sheet around her, and had her back turned to Gene - who was still lying down. 'Gene, we have to talk', she said. He rolled over to look at her, tears in his eyes.


Doyle had taken the bottle and returned home. He placed it on his coffee table, and squinted at the empty ones that already stood there. Man, he was really starting to accumulate them! It was getting as bad as it had been in the old days - when he'd just found out about his demon half - and after Harri had left - when he started making all these disastrous decisions that were coming back to haunt him, now.

This had to stop, he told himself. Tomorrow. He had to get a firm grip on his drinking habit again - he couldn't have one when he was in prison, so he needed to be in control of himself when he went in there - or else who knew what he might end up hooked on? He'd given up serious drinking before, and he could do it again - easy. And he wouldn't take smoking back up when he was in prison, either - and he wouldn't do anything else. If there was even a chance that Cordelia might be there waiting for him when he got out - then he had to be a man worthy of her when he did get out. He still had to be himself - Doyle. He couldn't let jail change him - in any way - not even into being a smoker.

So - tomorrow he would get rid of this bottle - and all the others - and not get anymore. Tomorrow he would slap on his happy face and tell Cordelia the good news - it's just three years, Cordy, maybe two - and then a bit of time before my green card runs out. I'll be out before y' know it. And she would be pleased - as pleased as she could be under the circumstances - and they would move forward, back into their old friendship - the one with the expectation of more. And, up until he signed those papers - things could be normal.

But that was tomorrow. And now was tonight. He unscrewed the lid of the bottle, and poured himself another drink.


'I can't believe this!' Gene said. He was sat at his table, with the Host and a bruised and beaten Angel. 'Listen -I am really, really sorry! I had no idea I was putting the whole world in jeopardy. Or there were all these demons...I just didn't want her to leave.'

The Host looked at Angel, fixing him with a stern glare and then motioning with his head towards Gene. Angel looked back and forth between the two men, uncertainly. He took a deep, oxygenless breath and marshalled his thoughts. 'Well - you know - love,' he breathed again - this was hard - 'It's a fire.'

'You've been there,' Gene nodded. It wasn't a question.

Angel decided to run with his metaphor. It's not like he had anything else, more meaningful to say. 'It burns you - alive.' Gene frowned at the violence of the imagery. Angel didn't notice. 'Down to the bone ...and then it turns the bone to ash …'

The Host decided to interrupt before the vampire got any more graphic with his word salad. 'I think what my chipper friend here is trying to say, Gene, is the wheel keeps turning. You can't stop it. Sometimes things get worse - sometimes they get better.'

'Well - I want the wheel to stop,' Gene said. 'Which probably explains the whole time in a box disaster. And - again - I cannot emphasise enough how sorry I am about that.'

'It just doesn't work, Gene-y,' the Host told him, kindly. 'It's like a song. See, I can hold a note for a long time - heck I can hold one forever. But eventually it's just noise. It's the change that we're listening for. The note after that, and the one after that. That's what makes it music.'

'I guess,' Gene agreed. The analogy made sense to him - as a karaoke fan. 'You guys want a beer?'

'A beer sounds great', Angel said. The scientist got up and left the two demons at the table. The Host leaned over. 'You're connecting to a human - that's a start. Although I'd go easy on the bone and ash metaphors for a while.'

Angel shrugged - he wasn't good at talking to people at the best of times - that was what Doyle was for. Or what he had been for - before he, Angel, had cast all his friends out... 'Well, the guy is a disaster in love, and nearly destroyed the world. I can relate… yeah, I guess I did kinda just leave them out in the cold.'

'What your buddies? By firing them?'

'Yeah - I guess I've made it pretty hard for them.'


Light and music flooded out of the small office. It was packed with people dancing. Wesley and Gunn were in the middle - having a great time. Cordelia sat perched on the edge of her desk. She shimmied her shoulders and smiled a little. If Doyle were here with her, she'd be perfectly happy. As it was - she was a bit too concerned about him to give herself over to the party completely, the way Wes and Gunn had. But she was happy. They'd solved the case - and made the cash. Things were looking up. They could do this. All four of them - together. The way it was supposed to be.

She glanced up at the doorway, hoping to see Doyle arrive - to join in with their celebration. But instead, she saw a stranger standing there, a middle aged man with a worried expression was watching the party. She moved through the crowd, tapping Wes and Gunn, and headed towards the newcomer. 'Hi,' she greeted him. Wesley arrived beside her, 'How are you?' he asked the man. The man glanced down at his shoes and didn't seem to have an answer. 'You alright?' Gunn asked, kindly.

'I need help. Is this Angel investigations?' The man asked.

The three associates nodded in affirmation. 'Sorry about the confusion,' Wesley apologised.

'Were just having a celebration,' Cordelia explained, 'sort of a new beginning.'

' Oh well. Maybe I should just …'

'No no,' Gunn protested. 'You need help. You're in the right place. Come on in.'

'Which one of you is Angel?' The man asked, looking at them. The three of them exchanged a glance and then - after a moment - 'It's just a name,' Wesley said.


A/N - my updating schedule will be a bit different this week as i am away on Friday and Saturday night.. I think i'll post the first 2 chapters a bit earlier and then the last two on Sun/Mon as normal, but I'm not sure when parts one and two will go up, exactly.

Next time we reach the zenith (or is the nadir?) of the 'oh sh*t we didn't develop enough story arc to pad out our story arc so have some MOTW episodes instead' episodes. Zombie cops, homeless teens and Kate - what's not to love? ; )

There is some important interaction between Doyle and Angel which will lay the ground work for season 3 though, so do check it out.

The next episode is 'The Thin Dead Line' and part one will be coming... at some point in the next couple of days.