Research Party
So the guy The Powers that Be wanted him to help was a vampire. That was a piece of weirdness right there - vampires not being known for being Good Samaritans, as a general rule. But, then, perhaps a vampire champion was no more left field than a half demon seer, who had inadvertently allowed his entire family to be slaughtered, being chosen to act as a messenger.
Actually, of all the things that worried him about this - and a lot of things worried him about this - it was how messed up and pathetic this guy must be if Doyle was supposed to act as his guide. Talk about the blind leading the blind. Doyle was the most hopeless person he knew, and if he was the one supposed to advise and cajole this vampire, help him grow into his own heroism, then that said nothing good for where this vampire must be - emotionally or mentally.
However, the psychological state of this new hero-to-be would have to be something he worried about and assessed once they met. For now, he needed to find out everything he could about him. The visions - as excruciatingly painful as they were - really didn't come up with a whole lot of info. He pretty much just had the name to work with: Angel.
So that was where he would start.
...
He returned to the bookshop where he had been given the first book, his first set of answers, and asked for every book the guy had on vampires. The old man raised an eyebrow at that. 'Vampires - man - they're not something you wanna be messing around with.'
'I know,' Doyle nodded. He dug his hands into his pockets and his fingers curled around his deck of playing cards. 'There's just some stuff I need to find out. I'm not gonna go out huntin' them or nothing.'
'Well make sure you don't - they're dangerous, son. Though not all vampires are the same.'
'They're not?'
'Nope. There's at least one out there who's different. A real champion. He changed my life. Made me see the world in a whole new way. But for the most part … they're killers. Animals.'
'Well, I'll be careful. I'm just readin' up - nothing more.' He watched while the old man scanned the shelves for vampire texts and then he handed over the money for everything the shop carried. There were five books in total, of varying thickness and length, and it would take him a good, long while to work his way through all of them- so, with a nod of thanks, he left the shop; returned to his apartment and put on a pot of coffee ready to start his mammoth reading session.
...
He read all day and through the night, finding out about the origins of vampires: the last old one to leave this dimension feeding on a mortal man and mixing its blood with his; the race of the Turok Han - extinct now; the legend of the holy grail of vampires, a mystical gem which rendered the wearer 100% unkillable and the patron saint of vampires, St. Vigeus - who led a bloody crusade through Europe slaughtering children.
From there he read up on famous vampires of legend: Kakistos - so old his hands and feet were cloven; the Prince of Lies - as old as the darkness itself; Heinrich Joseph Nest - also simply known as 'the Master' and leader of the Order of Aurelius; The Three; The Anointed One; Nostroyev - an old lover of Rasputin's and - most surprising of all, the Count himself: Dracula.
It was as the sun was beginning to rise - its first rays shining in on the mess of notes, screwed up balls of paper and dirty coffee cups that his living room had become - that he found his first mention of Angelus, the vampire with the face of an Angel.
He frowned as he began to read. It must be pretty embarrassing, he thought, being this big, bad vampire - everyone terrified of you - only to have 'face of an Angel' added after your name. Sort of took away from the knee trembling terror. Made him look a bit prissy. Gave his underlings reason to chuckle up their sleeves.
But silly name or no, it seems he had done some serious damage in his time: slaughters, massacres, various dismemberments. He'd stalked more than his fair share of pretty girls, killed Princes and paupers alike and travelled the surface of the known world offering ugly death to all who crossed his path.
Until one day he didn't. Just like that, Angelus fell off the radar - there were accounts of him moving to America at the beginning of the 20th century and then - nothing much. No slaughters, no massacres, no bloodshed following him around. Which Doyle figured must be on account of his poor tortured soul being restored by gypsies - everything Angelus had done, this new man, Angel, now carried with him.
That was as far as the books went and, realising the time and that he hadn't slept in 24 hours, Doyle figured here was as good a place to stop his research for now. But, lying in his bed and waiting for sleep to catch up with him, his mind turned over the more recent history he had gained from his vision. Somehow, this Angel had turned up in Sunnydale - which if the name was anything to go by was a stupid place for a vampire to live - and somehow his soul had been lost again. Doyle would have to look into that...
...
Having gone to bed as the sun rose, he woke up just as it was setting. Feeling more than a little groggy, he treated himself to a belt of whisky in his cup of coffee - no one could object it was too early in the day for that - and then settled down on the sofa to start investigating the mystery of Angel's lapse in soul ownership.
It was all too recent to have made it into any of the books, and it wasn't going to be in any newspaper - he was only going to find the answer to this by talking to someone who was there at the time. Picking the phone up, he dialled Kizzie's number and listened to the tone as it tried to connect. Kizzie answered after a few rings.
'Hey man - it's Doyle …' he listened to Kizzie's reply. 'No way, man - I definitely paid that back … over a month ago… well, you must be mistaken … listen,' he eventually cut through the demon's demands for repayment of debts. 'Can we discuss this later? I'm on a mission. I need to speak to someone who's been in Sunnydale in the past year or so. You know anyone?' He grabbed a pen and a pad and balanced the phone between his ear and shoulder as he scribbled down the details. 'Uhuh - uhuh … a vampire? Y'sure that's safe? … OK OK… I was jus ' … nevermind.' He wrote down the name of the bar where he would be able to find the vampire in question. 'Well, thanks, man - I owe y'... what's that? Ah - listen, bud, there goes my other line - I gotta … bye.' He slammed the phone down and smiled in satisfaction. Now all he needed to do was find this vampire and find out if it knew what had happened to this Angel to make him all soulless again.
He glanced around the apartment - maybe he would take a stake and wear one of his cross necklaces to the meeting ... just in case.
