Title: The Mature Plan 3/?
Author: Cat D
Email: cat_5555@hotmail.com
Disclaimer: The characters and situations from 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' and 'Angel' depicted herein are the property of Twentieth Century Fox, and the creations of Joss Whedon et al. Ain't mine. "Heroes" was written by Howard Gordon and Tim Minear - much of the following is based on their work.
Spoilers: BtVS/Ats up to and including "Heroes".
Distribution: If anyone is crazy enough to want this, please ask first.
Author's notes: This is unbeta'd, so constructive criticism welcome. Parts one and two can be found here http://www.escribe.com/tv/bafluff/m10966.html and here http://www.escribe.com/tv/bafluff/m12892.html in the escribe archives, or at FanFiction.net.
All threats, stakes, exploding emails, horses' heads etc can be sent to the address above.
Part Three A
"If you need help, then look no further." Doyle crossed his arms and leaned one hip against Cordelia's desk, his attempt at casual sincerity coming across as self-conscious and awkward. "Angel Investigations is the best! Our rats are low..."
"Our rates!" Cordelia insisted from her place behind the camera.
"It says 'rats'," Doyle countered, pointing to the misspelled cue taped to the wall behind her. Seeing the brunette's glare, he bit back the rest of his retort and continued the spiel. "Our rates are low, but our standards are high. When the chips are down, and you're at the end of your rope you need someone that you can count on. And that's what you'll find here, someone that will go all the way, no matter what. So don't lose hope. Come on over to our offices and you'll see that there's still heroes in this world." Clearing his throat, Doyle shifted his gaze from the lens to Cordy. "Is that it? Am I done?"
"I don't know," she replied, hitting the stop button on the camera. "I'm not getting every man, I'm getting ... weasel. We don't want weasel?"
"I don't know," Doyle sniped to cover his hurt feelings, "I think people will be pouring in as soon as they hear about our low rats." Seeing Cordelia's weary expression, he quickly changed tack and put on his supportive face. "I could take another crack at it."
"I don't think so." As she took down the cue cards, Doyle watched her inquiringly.
"Weasel factor, huh?"
"Doyle, I didn't mean it like that. I'm sorry. I'm just ..." Cordelia sighed. "I feel kind of hopeless with him down there doing the non-profit brooding. He's been in a permanent funk since his little excursion to Sunnyhell. I know he's got a broken heart, but am I just supposed to stand by and watch our business go belly up?"
"I guess seeing Buffy again just got him where he lives."
"That's all very sad," Cordelia replied, her tone not echoing the sentiment of her words, "But we live here too. And now that Angel is in the realm of the living we can't take on any cases that require super vampire strength. We need all the non-powerful-demon business we can get."
"We'll manage, princess," Doyle said comfortingly, "We always do. I'll talk to him." Leaving the exasperated brunette behind, Doyle headed through Angel's office, and down the stairs into the apartment below. Dull thuds and the sound of heavy breathing filled the room, emanating from a tall dark-haired man who was engrossed in pummelling a punching bag within an inch of its life.
"Hey," Doyle interrupted, a little concerned about the intense expression on his boss' face. "Is this a private catharsis or can anyone watch?"
"What do you want?" Angel snapped, not missing a punch, his whole body tense as fist after fist connected with the bag.
"Well, there's a girl upstairs who's not quite sad enough to cry in my arms, but keep up the dark cloud. I might get lucky."
"I just need some time," Angel growled; sweat glistening on his red face and staining his light grey t-shirt a darker shade.
"Believe me I know. Last time I saw my ex, she was around for five minutes and I was a wreck for days. Amazing how they can do that to you."
"I saw Buffy for a little more then five minutes." Throwing one final punch, Angel then pulled the bag towards him, panting heavily as he hugged it and let it support his weight.
"And you need to see her for a hell of a lot more than that man! What's your problem? You're a real live flesh-and-blood human, you have the one thing you wanted most in your unnaturally long life and you and Buffy ... you're not gonna do anything about it?" Doyle couldn't comprehend what was running through the ex-vampire's head.
Angel closed his eyes, resting his forehead briefly against the punching bag before slowly making his way to the couch. Unable to hold back the sigh of relief that escaped his lips, he sank heavily into the cushions, leaning his head back and gazing blankly at the ceiling as he pondered Doyle's question. Why wasn't he with Buffy? Now he could have the one thing that he'd wanted so badly that he could hardly let himself dream about it ... and he was holding back.
"I'm weak," he sighed, after several moments had passed. "I'm weak and I'm mortal, and I'm no use to Buffy like this."
"What?" Doyle sat down opposite Angel. "What are you talking about?"
"Buffy needs someone strong, someone who can take care of himself, someone who doesn't need rescuing."
"Angel, you of all people are more than capable of looking after yourself!"
"Yeah, so capable that I needed you to rescue me from the Mohra demon!" Angel looked pointedly at Doyle, who shifted uncomfortably as he tried to come up with a suitable rebuttal.
"Well, hey, who runs across demons everyday?" he offered weakly.
"Buffy does!" Angel stood and started pacing the room, the tension in his body needing an outlet. "She's a slayer, on the hellmouth ... demon's are part of her everyday life. She doesn't need me there to distract her - which I will if she has to worry about saving me all the time."
"You're right," Doyle said. "She doesn't need you here to distract her. She doesn't need you to fight with her, she just needs you to love her."
"And I do." Angel paused, and sighed. "It's just ... fighting with her gave me a purpose. I was helping her ... it wasn't just about righting wrongs, or doing good ... I was helping keep her safe. Even when I came here to LA ... I wasn't with her but I felt like I was still helping her by doing my part for the Powers That Be. And now ..." Angel snorted, "Even Xander was more help than I was."
"What exactly happened in Sunnydale?" Doyle's face was alight with curiosity. "You disappeared and then showed up hours later without barely any explanation. Cordy thought you'd finally come to your senses and were going to sort it out with Buffy, but you came home even more depressed than ever!"
Taking a seat on the couch once more, Angel grimaced as he recalled the look on Buffy's face when Willow's spell was lifted, and everyone's minds were freed from magical influence. Her expression had been a combination of fear and embarrassment and disgust ... she had obviously been less than impressed with his fighting abilities. And like the coward that he was he left without a word - too ashamed and afraid of rejection to speak to her. He was weak physically, and he was weak emotionally - wallowing in self-pity and writhing with jealousy over Spike.
"What about Spike?" Angel snapped out of his reverie at Doyle's question, realizing that he had growled the vampire's name out loud in bitter jealousy. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to remain calm enough to offer an explanation.
"Willow performed a spell that went wrong, leading Buffy and Spike to announce their engagement." Doyle blinked.
"Come again?"
"The spell made them think they were in love, and they got engage..." Angel sat motionless on the couch, his expression stone-faced as Doyle erupted in a fit of laughter.
"Oh man!" he gasped through his hilarity. "Engaged ... what a classic! I can just see it ... them all lovey-dovey and you all green-eyed monster ..." Doyle took in Angel's stiff posture and unamused glare, and quickly sobered up. "Come on ... you can't be jealous, you know it was the spell."
Intellectually Angel knew Doyle was right - it was Willow's spell that had convinced Buffy that Spike was the love of her life, and forced Angel to so shamefully beg her to come back to him. But just the memory of Spike kissing her, caressing her, running his hands over her body ... Angel frowned and forced himself to stay in control. He had left Buffy of his own free will, had resisted going back to her now that he was human; he had given up all right to claim her as his own, to feel anger at the thought of someone else touching her. That didn't make it any easier though.
Taking note of the expression on his boss' face - one that indicated serious brooding was in the works - Doyle decided to change the subject.
"So what's the plan for Angel Investigations now? What do we do?" Gazing back at his friend, Angel pushed the painful thoughts to the back of his mind for the moment, and tried to focus on the future.
"I guess we keep on doing what we've been doing. The Mohra demon said that a great darkness is coming, an 'End of Days' kind of bad."
"So much for the security of long-term savings bonds, huh?" Doyle joked, trying to lighten the mood.
"I feel something coming Doyle," Angel was suddenly quite serious. "I don't know what, but I know we're a part of it."
"Well, if it's a fight they want ... can't someone else give it to them?" Doyle finally managed to drag a smile out of Angel. "It seems unfair, you know? You're human now ... and you've still got to save the helpless types and fight the apocalypse?"
"Well it's not like I'm going to be much good at the actual fighting, but I still have to do what I can, I can't just stop and pretend that we're living in Disneyland." Angel sighed. "Fight the good fight ... whichever way you can."
"Tell you what," Doyle offered. "You fight, and I'll keep score."
********************
"You're sure this is the place?" Angel asked later that day, as he and Doyle gingerly made their way through an abandoned apartment building.
"What, you don't think I'd recognize this award-winning interior design anywhere?" Doyle replied sarcastically, gesturing to the threadbare and damaged furnishings. "I don't get it, I thought these visions were over now that you're human?" Angel shrugged in response, moving his search further down the corridor.
"The Powers move in mysterious ways."
"That they do," Doyle agreed, trailing behind his boss. "I was just working up to telling Delia about my not-so-human half, and wham, instant migraine."
"Doyle." Angel quietly caught his attention, nodding towards a table with a meal laid out upon it.
"Signs of life." Doyle reached out a hand to touch the food. "Still warm. They left in a hurry."
Scanning the room once more, Angel moved towards the hallway, frustration at their lack of success evident in his features. Following the ex-vampire Doyle was almost out of the room before he suddenly stopped, his hand reaching out to grab his companion's arm. As Angel stared at him in curiosity, Doyle tilted his head to one side, obviously straining to hear a sound. Nodding back the way they had came, he raised a finger to his lips and made a shushing gesture, then lightly stepped further back into the room. He stood there for a moment looking around, before bending over and grasping one end of a rug, throwing it back to reveal a trap door in the floor. Angel came to stand beside him as he lifted up the door, and their powerful torches cut through the darkness below.
"Don't be afraid," Angel said to the group of demons that were revealed by the light, huddling below them in fear. "It's okay," he reassured. "We're here to help."
********************
A short time later the demons had reluctantly emerged from their hiding place, and were now gathered in their living are, sharing their story with Angel and Doyle.
"We gave all out money to a man who promised to get us passports and safe passage on a ship." The male leader of the group explained. "We didn't know. It was stupid of us." The demon spread his hands, shaking his head at his own naiveté. "He disappeared with our money and the ship never came."
"Where were you going?" Angel asked, from the armchair his hosts had insisted he take.
"Briole. Small island off the coast of Ecuador. Others of our kind have found sanctuary there."
"Sanctuary from whom?" Before Angel's question could be answered two demon children - a small girl, a young teenage boy - rushed into the room, obviously exhausted and distraught.
"They're close," the boy panted urgently. "They almost got us. We lost half of our supplies." The elder demon, who had risen at the children's entrance, laid a reassuring hand on the boy's shoulder.
"Rieff, we have a guest," he chided mildly. "It's the Promised One." Turning, the boy caught sight of Angel and Doyle for the first time, and rolled his eyes in annoyance.
"Terrific," he said with disgust. Angel cleared his throat, knowing that he had missed out on some vital information, and not at all easy with the fact.
"I think there's been some kind of misunderstanding?"
"Oh, I don't think so," the older demon replied confidently. "Many of our prophecies are cryptic, but on one thing they are all clear - in the final days of this century the Promised One will appear and save us from the Scourge." Doyle paled at those words, before moving unnoticed across the room to gaze out a window.
"The Scourge." It was clear Angel had no idea what they were talking about.
"He doesn't even know who they are," Rieff snorted. "How's he supposed to protect us from them?"
"Rieff ..." the leader tried to calm the boy, but to no avail.
"They're coming and no matter how many promised guys you throw at them, they're not going to stop until every last one of us is dead. You're going to get us all killed." After his heated outburst Rieff stormed out, the older demon turning to follow.
"He's young," he said to Angel. "I'm sorry. Excuse me." Angel watched him leave the room before standing and joining Doyle at the window.
"We need to deal with this," he spoke quietly, so the remaining demons couldn't overhear. "They think I'm some promised saviour." Looking closely at Doyle who was gazing out the window, Angel realized that he didn't have his full attention; something was obviously troubling him. "What?" It was a moment or two before Doyle answered.
"The Scourge."
"You know them. What are they?" Doyle looked at him.
"Death."
The answer shocked Angel, not so much for what Doyle said but the way he said it. The Irishman often feigned cowardice or reluctance to fight, mouthing off about his wish to stay out of the line of fire. Yet when it came to the crunch he was always there to back Angel up, always putting himself on the line no matter what sarcastic comments came flying out of his mouth. But now ... now Angel could see real fear in Doyle's face, his wide eyes flickering in something akin to panic. He was obviously disturbed by the mention of the Scourge, his face pale and his whole body tensed as if ready for flight. Angel was eager to find out all Doyle knew on the subject, but he was content to wait until his friend was composed and ready to share before digging for information. So they stood in silence for several long moments, before Doyle spoke up again.
"They're an army of pure-blooded demons," he explained. "They have a big hate-on for us mixed heritage types. Very into pedigree." His next words were tinged with hate and remorse. "They hunt us down like animals."
"No one fights back?" Angel questioned.
"Sure they do. All the time. You can kill them, but these guys believe in what they're doing. They're ready to die for the cause."
"Hard to fight fanatics," Angel observed.
"More like impossible." Doyle paused for a moment, his expression strained as he reluctantly began his story. "A few years ago a Brachen demon came to see me. His clan were on the run, hiding out, and they wanted my help until they could skip town." He shook his head shamefully.
"I punked out. I'd only just found out about my demon side. I didn't know what it meant." Doyle's tone was anxious, his eyes pleading for understanding. "The idea of having family obligations with guys that looked like big blue pin cushions, it was just a little bit too much to take right then."
"And what happened?" Angel asked, already knowing the answer.
"A few days later I got these painful flashes, all these images in my head of the clan being murdered." Doyle shuddered at the memory. "I thought I was having a stroke. I didn't know what the images meant. But I had to know if what they showed me was a dream, or real." He paused, his face ashen. "It wasn't a dream."
"You couldn't have known." Angel reasoned, trying to ease his friend's guilt.
"These people are going to need more then their mythic promised one. The contractually obligated 500 might be a start. You can't fight the Scourge, Angel."
"It won't come to that," Angel replied determinedly, "Because we're going to get them out of here."
********************
"Hello?" Cordelia called out, as she walked gingerly through the abandoned building she had been directed to. "Angel?" Slowly making her way down a corridor, she peered through the half open doorways that she passed, not seeing any sign of life. "Hello?" At that moment a demon stepped into the doorway in front of her, and Cordy gasped in shock as she whipped a small bottle out of her jacket pocket.
"While this may look like a ..." Cordelia glanced at the bottle she held defensively in front of her "... popular brand of breath freshener," she quickly uncapped it, "It really a cunningly disguised demon repellent!" A few puffs of moisture sprayed into the air and the demon, unfazed by Cordelia's behaviour, sniffed inquisitively.
"Wintergreen," he commented mildly, as Doyle appeared at the end of the hall.
"Cordy, it's okay," he said, pushing his way through the demons that had gathered. "We're here to help them."
"Oh. Oh, hi!" she offered weakly to the demon she had assaulted with breath freshener, smiling shamefacedly as she pocketed the bottle. "Where's Angel?" she hissed to Doyle.
"He's trying to secure documents to get them out of the country," he replied. "Did you get the truck?"
"Yes! It's out front. Hey, Doyle" she whispered urgently, "You did notice that these folks are demons?'
"Yeah, I know that," he responded to her sarcasm. "That doesn't make them bad people."
"Excuse us a sec?" Cordelia said to the demons, as she grabbed Doyle's arm and dragged him around the corner into an empty room. "Mission statement check. Aren't we supposed to be battling the forces of darkness?"
"They're not forces of darkness," he argued. "They're half-human, and they're in trouble. Now, we don't have a lot of time. Angel wants you to go down to the LA harbour, pier 12, slip 4, the 'Quintessa'." Doyle handed over a piece of paper with the details. "Use Angel's name. He knows the Captain."
"So, we're booking them on a cruise?" Cordelia queried irritably.
"Basically, yeah."
"I'm guessing not Carnival," she sniped.
"The guy runs a freighter." Doyle explained. "He owes Angel some money. He does this, they're even."
"Ho, ho, hang on!" Cordelia was outraged. "This guy owes Angel money? Why aren't we collecting it?"
"Cordy, oppressed demon people here, not getting any safer!"
"So, we're sending them on a cruise, and we're paying for it?"
"Please. Just do it?" Doyle pleaded. "We need to know the ship is ready before we can move everyone." His urgent tone got through to Cordelia, who suddenly became aware of the gravity of the situation.
"Bad things are coming aren't they?" she stated quietly.
"Very bad things," was the grim response, and she sighed heavily.
"I'm on it."
"Just give me a call on the cell the minute it's done," Doyle instructed.
"Okay." Cordelia hurried away on her mission, while Doyle headed back to the demons, finding them in heated discussion.
"We don't have time for this," the elder Lister fumed. "What's wrong with that boy?"
"What is it?" Doyle asked.
"Rieff. He took off." The demon shook his head. "He does this every time. He'll be back."
"No he won't." The girl demon who had come in with Rieff earlier spoke up hesitantly, instantly getting their attention. "He says there isn't any promised one. He wasn't going to stay here and get killed with the rest of us." The girl's voice trembled as she continued. "We're not going to get killed, are we?"
"No," Doyle denied instantly, "No one's going to get killed." Turning quickly back to the adult, he handed over his cell phone. "Cordelia is going to call. When she does, clear out and go to the ship. If you're not here when I get back, I'll bring the boy to you there." Walking over to the little girl, he crouched down in front of her speaking gently so as not to frighten her. "Hey, do you know where he went?"
********************
"Rieff! Wait!" Doyle caught sight of the younger demon as he made his way along an empty, dirty street. "Wait," he repeated, as he hurried up to him. "You're fast."
"I'm walking," Rieff snorted. "You're just old."
"Yeah, okay." Doyle agreed, acknowledging that his attempt at being friendly was pretty lame. "You know what, we ought to go. Angel's got a way out, a ship."
"Great. Have fun. Take some Dramamine," was the mocking reply.
"You're not coming with?" Doyle asked.
"You can't make me," Rieff said defiantly.
"You're right." Doyle stopped walking. "You're old enough. It's your choice."
"Right." Rieff halted, and turned back to face Doyle. "A choice. Where do I want to be hated? You wouldn't get it. You're passing." Doyle walked closer, as Rieff became more upset. "My mother was the same way. You can walk down the street. She took me out with her one day, I was so excited, just out in the neighbourhood with all the other kids. You know what day it was?" Doyle sighed and looked away, unable to meet the boy's eyes. "What day was it?" Rieff demanded.
"It was Halloween."
"So that's my choice - I can be hated by humans because their scared of me, or by pure-bloods who want to kill me. It's so easy, it's not much of a choice."
"Seems to me your family is one place where you know you belong." Rieff turned away with a dismissive wave of his hand, and Doyle grasped for something that would get through to him. "Hey, I bet you that little girl is going to miss you."
"Yeah, well, she's dead by now." Rieff stopped again, obviously disturbed by the thought. "Or might as well be. They're coming again. I can feel it."
"It's going to be different this time," Doyle assured him.
"Why? Because your friend is the promised one?" The boy nodded as Doyle sighed and looked away. "So you know it's not true."
"No, I don't!" Doyle retorted immediately. "I don't know anything about your people's myths and legends. But I do know Angel, and he's the genuine article."
"My hero," Rieff mocked.
"Yeah, that's exactly what he is." Doyle was earnest - he needed to get through to the boy and he needed to do it quickly. "And your people can call him 'the promised one' or the 'dark avenger', what does it matter?"
"It matters because it's a lie!"
"They put their faith in something, Rieff. You don't have to if you don't want to. Maybe Angel doesn't know what he's doing. It's possible," Doyle admitted. "But the other option - losing yourself somewhere, hoping it all goes away, I know that never works. Rieff swallowed, the older man's words sinking in. "How about we go find your family?" The boy didn't resist as Doyle put a hand on his shoulder, and urged him back the way they came. Hurrying they jogged along the road and down some steps, where Doyle took the lead.
"Hey. This way," Rieff said, pointing in the opposite direction that Doyle had taken,
"Huh?"
"I thought all Brachen demons had a good sense of direction."
"Yeah and we're all pretty good at basketball, too," Doyle joked, before looking down the alley, tilting his head as he strained to hear something.
"What?" Rieff followed his gaze, his expression turning fearful as his ears picked up the sound of marching soldiers, and looming shadows on the side of a building heralded their arrival. "They're here."
"Come on, let's go!" Doyle cried, pulling Rieff with him as he ducked down behind a large bin, crouching low to the ground as they then dashed down the street away from the soldiers.
"In here." Pointing to a building Doyle dragged the boy inside, slamming the door behind them just as the Scourge came into view. Panting heavily they peered through venetian blinds, watching fearfully as the demons spread out along the street.
"Sit tight," Doyle ordered, as the demons searched the neighbourhood, storming into buildings and running up fire escapes. A tall demon, who appeared to be the leader of the group, tossed a flaming torch into an abandoned car, setting it alight.
"Destroy it all!" it cried at the top of its voice, and the others hurried to do its bidding - smashing windows and kicking over rubbish bins.
"Doyle." Rieff shrank away from the window, terrified as he saw one of the demons making its way towards their hideout.
"Stay here," Doyle ordered. "You understand?" Barely waiting for the frightened boy to nod his assent, Doyle brought his demon side to the fore and darted out of the building. Knocking a soldier out of his way, he ran up the street, only to find it blocked by a number of the Scourge. Spinning around he ran back the other way, pushing a demon to the ground as he raced down the block, desperately acting as bait to lead the demons away from Rieff. Relieved that they seem to be following his mad dash, he put on a burst of speed as he rounded the corner, trying to get out of sight so he could find a hiding place. As he sprinted past the building that the Lister demons had been squatting in, a hand reached out from the doorway and pulled him inside.
"They're coming."
********************
"They were here, Sir, recently." In their search for the fugitives, the demons had spread out, scouring the run-down buildings in search of their missing prey.
"And when the lights go out, where do the vermin go?" The leader of the group, a particularly vicious looking demon, surveyed the room they were searching. Kicking the threadbare rug aside, he smirked as a trap door was revealed. Another demon knelt down and wrenched the trap door open - to find nobody hiding inside.
"Keep looking," the commander ordered, snarling in frustration.
As the Scourge looked through the rooms, Angel and Doyle watched them from their hiding place - a cavity between the walls of the building, where the plumbing and wiring ran. Barely daring to breathe, they tried to remain as still as possible, freezing as one demon moved in their direction.
"This is a waste of time! Clear the area! Move!" Exhaling heavily as the Scourge hurried away, the two men eased themselves out of their dusty confines.
"You get to the ship," Angel ordered as they headed towards the exit. "I'm going to follow them and try to find out what they're up to."
"Don't be stupid man," Doyle argued. "You won't stand a chance if they catch you."
"That's why I'm not going to get caught," Angel retaliated. "Look, you need to look after the others, make sure they get away safely." And with that he hurried out the door, not wanting to lose sight of the Scourge.
As Doyle made to follow him, Rieff suddenly appeared in the doorway, looking around worriedly.
"Where is everyone?" he asked.
"Right where they're supposed to be, I hope."
********************
"Look, I've got my clearance from the Harbour Master. We have to go now. I have a schedule to keep." The captain of the vessel Cordelia had visited was anxious to get underway, both because of his schedule and the unlikely cargo he was carrying.
"I'm sure they'll be here, Captain," Cordy assured him, as she helped some of the Lister demons down the ladder into the hold. "Just a few more minutes."
"Angel said he'd cut my debt in half if I do him this favour, right?"
"Yep, half, that's what he said," Cordelia lied. "Big whopping fifty percent - quite a deal."
"He takes 60% off," the captain retaliated, "Then I'll wait." Pretending to think about if briefly, Cordy drew on her excellent acting skills as she put a resigned expression on her face.
"You drive a hard bargain." As the captain headed for the bridge, one of the Lister demons approached Cordelia.
"I can't thank you and your friends enough," he said. "I'm sure Rieff is in safe hands."
"Doyle will get him here," she reassured him.
"Yes, he is a good one. He understands our suffering."
"We both do." Cordelia's tone was more than a little tart, as she took offence at the slight on her compassionate qualities, or lack thereof.
"I apologize," the Lister said sincerely. "I didn't mean to say that you didn't. It's just more familiar to Doyle." Seeing Cordelia's confused expression, he elaborated further. "He has to live with a certain amount of persecution. You always do when you're half demon."
"Demon?"
********************
Angel pressed himself to the concrete wall, peering around the corner as he tried to see what was happening. He had followed the Scourge back to an abandoned warehouse where all the members of the group appeared to be gathering, preparing for some sort of event. At one end of the warehouse a demon, obviously the leader, stood on a raised platform, addressing the demon troops as they stood stiffly before him.
"The other day I was asked - 'Why hunt the mongrel? Doesn't its very inferiority guarantee that it poses no threat? Won't it die of it's own innate mortal stupidity?' Let me tell you, even the smallest of vermin need be addressed. Half-breeds. Worse. They keep crossbreeding. Forever diluting our precious demon blood with their weak simpering humanity."
"Yeah!" the soldiers chorused.
"If we allow this to happen," the commander ranted, "It's as good as giving up the call to evil altogether. It's as good as becoming human ourselves. Well, I say never!" The soldiers cheered, wholly caught up in the angry tirade. "I say we will not stop until each and every half-breed is erased and our purity rules this planet! We will not stop because the Higher Order demands it!" More cheers reverberated around the warehouse, as the leader worked the other demons into a frenzy.
"Now, this very evening we take a giant step towards our goal. Tonight the half-breeds that have eluded us will be destroyed. And we know just where to find them, thanks to this good man ..." Angel watched, immediately concerned, as a nervous looking man was led towards the stage by two demons "... first mate on the ship they think means salvation, not annihilation. He comes to us for money, but he is a brother to our cause, and we invite him ..." the speaker paused dramatically, "... to witness the power of the beacon."
At those words two of the Scourge moved to open a large door behind the commander. From inside they dragged out a multifaceted giant light, that was supported by a metal frame. On top of the strange machine there appeared to be a control panel, and as the demons flicked some switches there the machine began to glow, light radiating out through its panelled sides.
"Tonight the Lister half-breeds will attempt to flee the country, but they shall not escape us. Along with any creature contaminated by human blood, they will perish the moment the cleansing light touches them. When the beacon reaches critical mass and detonates its reach will extend a quarter mile in every direction." Angel recoiled in horror, his distress only increasing as the commander turned to address the first mate. "Want to see how it works?"
Itching to rush forward and fight the demons, Angel could only watch in horror as the demons forced him forward into the light's path. As it touched him he screamed horribly, and then was gone.
"A fitting end for a sorry mutation." The soldiers were wound up by the display of power, eager to hunt and put it to use. "Go now and deliver this, our message!" The commander cried. "Our victory depends on it!" As the crowd cheered and rushed towards the exit Angel quickly backed away into a recess in the wall, the shadows hiding him from a casual observer. Luckily the Scourge were too caught up in their mission to notice him, and they rushed on by. After they had passed him, Angel quickly slid through a nearby doorway and spotted a lone demon preparing to ride a motorbike. Leaping forward quickly before the element of surprise was lost, Angel threw himself at the demon's back, putting all his strength into a blow to its head. Stunned, it fell to the ground, and Angel wasted no time in clambering aboard the motorbike, and zooming out of the warehouse.
********************
Cordy paced the deck of the ship anxiously, the captain mimicking her agitated movements. Her head whipped around to look at the gangplank at the sound of movement.
"Someone's coming." Doyle and Rieff appeared at the top of the gangplank, out of breath and unsettled.
"Do you have any idea what you put us through?" the Lister demanded of Rieff. "We got to get out of here!"
"I'm sorry," he answered contritely.
"Lets get you down with the others." As he turned to go, Rieff reached out and slapped Doyle's outstretched hand.
"Thanks." The smile Doyle displayed for the departing boy slipped from his face as he became aware of Cordelia's annoyed expression.
"What?"
"You're alive!" she said, her expression implying she was anything but pleased by the fact.
"And you're not happy?" Doyle replied, half jokingly, half hurt.
"We were worried."
"Oh." Doyle was irrationally pleased by Cordy's distress, and by the fact that she was more than sincere. "Well, its all going to be okay ..." Those words were barely out of his mouth before a stinging slap across the face stunned him. "What was that for?" he cried indignantly.
"Why didn't you tell me that you were half demon?" Cordy demanded. "I thought we agreed that secrets are bad!" Doyle swallowed, not sure how Cordy found out, but sure that the conversation was only going to get worse.
"I wanted to tell you. I was afraid." Going with the 'secrets are bad' theme, he decided to lay all his cards out on the table. "I thought if I did, you'd reject me."
"I've rejected you way before now!" Cordy exclaimed. "So, you're half demon. Big Whoop! I can't believe you'd think I'd care about that. I mean, I work for a vampire! Hello?"
"It's true. I just..."
"What do you think I am, superficial?" The expression on Doyle's face was a curious one, raised eyebrows indicating that he had entertained that idea, and a growing smile showing he was pleased to be proven wrong. "So you're half demon. That's so far down the list, way under 'short' and 'poor'! Is there anything else I should know?" Struggling to contain the huge grin that threatened to spread across his face, Doyle endeavoured to keep calm until his burgeoning hopes were realized.
"The half demons thing is pretty much my big secret."
"Good. That's out. It's done." Cordy hesitated. "Would you ask me out to dinner already?"
"Yeah?" Doyle could hardly believe his luck, but the enormous smile on Cordelia's face gave him all the confidence he needed. "Cordelia, would you like ..." At that moment she looked past him, distracted by movement on the dock.
"It's Angel." The captain came out to join them as Angel pulled up on a motorcycle, and then hurried on board.
"We have to shove off now," he instructed the captain.
"What's going on?" Cordy asked.
"I can't! I can't find my first mate!" the captain replied anxiously.
"You won't. We're going. Get to the bridge." Responding to the authority and urgency in Angel's voice, the captain hurried away just as Doyle spotted the enemy's approach.
"Angel, they're here." A convey of trucks and motorcycled pulled up on the pier beside the freighter, the beacon visible on the back of one of the trucks.
"Angel."
"Get below," he ordered Doyle and Cordelia. "Lock the doors."
"What? You can't fight them!"
"Look Doyle, I need you to protect Cordelia and the Listers."
"But Ang..."
"Move!" Angel yelled. "Now! Stay with the others." Doyle and Cordelia turned and ran, racing as fast as they could into the hold.
"Lock the hatches," Doyle called to the assembled demons. "The Scourge is here. We're shoving off. We're gonna make it."
Back up on deck Angel stood his ground, watching as a group of the Scourge demons approached up the gangplank. As they neared, he smiled faintly as his heartbeat thundered in his ears - no matter what happened, it was good to feel so vital, so alive. Clenching his hands, Angel then felt his clammy palms. His smile slipped. So maybe he hadn't missed everything that came with being human.
Seeing Angel standing on deck, the four demons turned to the commander who was following them, as if asking what to do.
"A weak human, not worth our attention. Find the Lister demons," it ordered. Moving to obey, the demons found their path blocked by Angel, who stood tense and pale before them. He had often heard of the expression 'he was quaking in his boots', and had not really understood how fear could affect a human. But now, now he was more than familiar with the concept. There was nothing more he wanted to do at this moment than run away and hide, but he couldn't. His life, Doyle and Cordy's lives, the Listers and countless others all relied on him, and they needed him to be strong. Even more so Angel needed to be strong for himself, to prove he was worthy. Worthy of what? Angel didn't have time to follow that train of thought, but the face he conjured in his mind to give him strength, a face with wide hazel eyes and framed by golden hair - that face proved enough motivation.
"Kill him, painfully." The soldiers lunged towards Angel and he ducked, calling on the fighting skills he had developed over centuries to help him toss one of the demons over his shoulder. His success was short-lived however, as two of the remaining soldiers grabbed one of his arms each, restraining him as the third laid into him with a baton. Successive blows to the torso left Angel gasping in pain, the hard pole cutting painfully into his flesh.
"Why don't you pick on someone more your own level of ugliness?" Angel had never been more relieved to find Doyle disobeying his orders, as his friend in full Brachen mode whacked a length of pipe down on his attacker's head. As the demon crumbled to the ground Angel wrenched free from the others' grips, reaching out to grab the pipe that Doyle tossed to him. Spinning he whipped the pipe around as hard and fast as he could, slamming it into a demon's stomach, leaving it moaning on the deck in agony. As Doyle engaged the remaining soldier, Angel turned to face the Commander, who had watched the fight in growing anger.
With a snarl it leapt towards him, Angel shifting out of its way barely in time. Turning to face it, he was stunned by a quick punch to his head, and another to his stomach moments later. The force of the blows pushing him backwards, Angel managed to block the next before a powerful kick sent him tumbling onto a pile of wooden crates, the pipe dislodged from his grip. Standing over him the commander lifted its foot up to strike a punishing blow, but Angel threw himself away just in time, the crates shattering in his place under the demon's boot.
As he stumbled away, the demon lunged after him, grabbing at him awkwardly before stumbling, sending both of them tumbling through a hatch and down a long metal stairway into the cargo hold. As Cordy and the Lister demons watched in fear from below, Angel and the demon struggled, their hands at each other's neck, before they tumbled over the railing to a lower catwalk. Fortunately the demon broke Angel's fall, and his weight served to stun the commander sufficiently that Angel was able to stand unhindered. As he grabbed onto the railing to support his battered body, he saw in horror that the beacon was being lowered into the hold.
"It's going to detonate!" he shouted. "Get out! Everybody out!" The floor below erupted into frenzied movement as the demons rushed to the exits. As Angel watched the beacon in horror, the demon commander rose from the floor, and grabbed him by the neck.
"Welcome to a cleaner world," it snarled. "Soon only the pure bloods will be left standing." Angel struggled, tearing at the hands at his throat, his face twisted in pain. Just as his vision began to swim the pressure was lifted, and he heard Doyle's voice behind him.
"Actually, pure boy," Doyle gripped the back of the demon's jacket, "You'll be on your ass." With that he heaved with all his might, and pushed the demon over the railing to the floor below. It landed awkwardly, head first, an audible crack as its neck broke with the impact.
"Ahh!" Cordy cried, from where she and an adult demon were trying to force a door open. "They're locked from the outside. We're trapped!" Hurrying up a ladder, she crossed to the platform where Angel and Doyle now stood opposite the glowing beacon.
"What does that thing do?" Doyle asked.
"Its light kills anything with human blood," Angel said as he gazed across at the machine, his mind working frantically to come up with a solution.
"Well, it's getting brighter and that doohickey ..." Doyle caught sight of the control panel's flashing lights, "It's fully armed, isn't it?"
"Almost." Angel hesitated. "If I pull the cable, I think I can still shut it off."
"How're you gonna do that without touching the light?" Doyle asked, as Cordelia bluntly sized up the situation.
"Angel, that's suicide."
"There's got to be another way," Doyle urged desperately. Angel looked down into the hold, seeing the Lister demons there watching in dread. Turning to Cordelia, he tried to put on a brave face to cover the fear and despair that were coursing through his body.
"It's all right."
"No!" Cordy denied, as Angel put a hand on Doyle's shoulder, silently asking him with his eyes to understand.
"The good fight, yeah?" Doyle said, putting his own hand on Angel's arm. "You never know until you've been tested. I get that now." Before Angel could react Doyle drew back and threw a hard punch, sending him flying to the cargo hold floor below. As Rieff ran over to where Angel lay, groaning in pain and straining to stand, Doyle turned to Cordelia and kissed her. It was bittersweet moment, expressing their unspoken feelings and what might have been. A blue light shimmered between their lips as they parted, unnoticed as their eyes were locked on each other.
"Too bad we'll never know ..." he said, as his face morphed into its demon appearance, "...if this is a face you could learn to love."
"Doyle." From his position down below, Angel struggled to his feet, a terrible dread in his heart as he anticipated his friend's plan. Seeing Doyle step back from Cordelia and turn his gaze on the beacon, Angel ran over to the ladder that led up to the platform.
"Doyle! Doyle!" Scrambling to the top of the ladder, Angel looked over in time to see Doyle jump over towards the beacon.
"NO!" Grabbing hold of the metal frame that supported the weapon, Doyle turned his head to smile at Angel and Cordelia. "No!" Angel cried once more, but Doyle turned away, slipping back into his human features as he gripped hold of the cable. The killing light of the weapon grew brighter while he strained to rip the connection apart. As Cordy, Angel and the Lister demons watched in horror, the light began to tear at his face, his skin melting away. With a final, wrenching scream he pulled the cable apart, disappearing into nothingness as the beacon went dark.
********************
"If you need help, then look no further. Angel Investigations is the best! Our rats are low ..."
"Rates!"
Cordy sat on the couch in Angel's office, her knees drawn up to her chest as she watched the video she and Doyle had recorded earlier through red-rimmed eyes. Angel leaned on a chair beside her, his black clothing reflecting his mood.
"It says 'rats'." On the screen, Doyle pointed to the cue sheets. "Our rates are low, but our standards are high. When the chips are down, and you're at the end of your rope you need someone that you can count on. And that's what you'll find here - someone that will go all the way, no matter what. So don't lose hope. Come on over to our offices and you'll see that there's still heroes in this world." Doyle looked away from the camera, clearing his throat. "Is that it? Am I done?"
As static filled the screen, neither Cordelia or Angel moved to turn the TV off, remaining motionless as the buzz of the videotape filled the otherwise silent office. After a long moment, Angel rested one hand on Cordelia's shoulder, squeezing gently so as to offer a little comfort. As her hand came up to rest on his, Angel's face twisted in grief, and an uncontrollable sob racked his body.
All the tension and anger and despair that he had been feeling swelled to breaking point, and he fell into a fit of tears, shaking within the arms Cordelia immediately wrapped around him. Hunching over, he hid his face against her shoulder while she gently stroked his head, making soft shushing noises as salty tears slid quietly down her own cheeks. Angel's grief overwhelmed him, and he clutched at Cordelia as he wept, feeling as though he was about to burst. Slowly though his sobs eased and his tears stopped flowing, and he straightened up, looking into Cordelia's understanding eyes. As he gazed at her and saw his pain mirrored in her face, a sudden resolve went through him, and he smiled sadly. Pressing a soft kiss to her forehead he then turned and left the office, leaving Cordelia staring after him, fearful of what was to come.
********************
"Why are you here lower being?" Angel stood in the Oracles' chamber, bristling with anger and glaring at the two supernatural beings who stood in front of him.
"What have you brought us?" the female asked.
"Don't you think you've taken enough from me tonight?" Angel snarled in response. "Why did you let this happen? You told me that I was released from my duty. Why did you send Doyle the vision?"
"Your work is not yet complete. There are still battles to be fought, the war rages on." These words caught at Angel's mind, reminding him of something he had heard recently.
"When we fought the Mohra demon, it said the End of Days had begun, that others were coming, soldiers of darkness. Was he was telling the truth?"
"As far as such things can be told," the male replied.
"The Mohra demon came to take a warrior from your cause, and it succeeded. Tonight the Scourge took another. Doyle was a good man, a good friend, he didn't deserve to die."
"His journey was complete," the female said calmly, "His time at an end."
"Doyle was my sole contact to the Powers That Be. Without his visions I'm fighting blind. Bring him back."
"To what end?" the female asked. "To nullify his noble death? To leave his atonement unfulfilled?"
"If it means he lives," Angel argued angrily.
"He doesn't so that you may," the male said.
"What is done cannot be undone," the female continued. "All will soon be made clear. For every door that closes, another opens ..." Angel looked at them helplessly, knowing that his arguments weren't working. This was wrong, Doyle should not have died - he would not have died if Angel had still been a vampire. The visions were his to follow, guidance towards his own redemption, not Doyle's.
'When the chips are down, and you're at the end of your rope you need someone that you can count on. And that's what you'll find here - someone that will go all the way, no matter what.' Angel remembered Doyle's lines from the video - they were supposed to be about him, and now it was time to live up to them, or he'd never be anything, never be worthy of anything or anyone, let alone ...
"But what is not done yet can be avoided. Take my life back. Somehow, I know you have the power. Hell, turn back time if you have to, so I can prevent this, so I can ... so I can stop myself becoming human." Angel felt a terrible pang at the thought of abandoning the future he could have with Buffy, the dreams that he had nurtured of sunlight and kisses and family. But he knew that future would be worth nothing if it were bought with another man's life. "If I had my strength, I could stop this."
"The Brachen's fate would still be the same ... vampire or no," the male stated unequivocally. "It is was not his destiny that was affected by your change."
"Please," Angel begged. He was my friend."
"And so he shall ever be. But temporal folds are not to indulge at the whims of lower beings. Even so, too much time has passed, too many threads have been woven to be altered."
"But I'm no use to the Powers like this, as a man." Angel shook his head in despair. "I can't protect anyone."
"You must," the female declared. "With the Days' End mankind is doomed without the Slayer, and the Slayer is doomed without you."
"What?" Angel froze, his heart skipping a beat. "What happens to the Slayer when these soldiers come?"
"What happens to all mortal beings. Albeit sooner in her case."
"She'll die?" Angel was filled with a sudden resolve. "Then I'm here to beg for her life."
"It is not our place to grant life or death." The two Oracles turned to leave, unwilling to speak more on the matter.
"Wait!" The force with which Angel spoke surprised them, and they halted in their tracks. "You have to make this right. Either you turn me back into a vampire ..." Angel swallowed, the enormity of what he was asking leaving his mouth dry, " ... or I find a way to do it myself, regardless the risk to my soul. She can't die." His voice broke on that last word, his eyes revealing the horror of that prospect. "Look I can't protect her this way, not as a man."
"You're asking to be what you were, a demon with a soul, because of the slayer?" The female Oracle's eyes were alight with curiosity.
"Oh this is a matter of love - it does not concern us, lower being." The male turned to leave, dismissing Angel out of hand.
"Yes it does," he argued. "I'm no good to you like this, I can't protect her, not as a man. I know you have it in your power to make this right. Please."
"You are wrong," the female declared to her male counterpart. "This one is willing to sacrifice every drop f human happiness and love he has ever known for another." She looked at Angel with respect. "He is not a lower being." The two Oracles looked at each other, head's cocked to one side as if they were communicating telepathically.
"There is a way," the male said, "But it is not to be undertaken lightly."
"We will call forth your demon's corporeal form," the female continued, "from another time and another place. Into it we will pour your essence, binding your soul to the inanimate form even as this living one falls away. No longer will you be able to breathe in the air or walk in the sunlight. Are you willing to take this step?"
Without hesitation, Angel nodded.
"So be it." The Oracles moved to the centre of the room and clasped hands, their eyes falling shut. They were motionless, and as Angel watched the light in the bright chamber flickered, dulling even as a small pocket of light near him grew. Pinpricks of light grew and began swirling in a spiral, as if thousands of fireflies had been called forth. In their midst a figure began to form, pulsing as it took shape. Angel gasped as the face appeared, demonic features twisted in a snarl. In the past few days Angel had been fascinated with his reflection - not through vanity, but with the unreal experience of seeing himself after so many years without. This though, was something he had never seen, his own face distorted by the demon.
Totally absorbed by the display in front of him, it was a few moments before Angel realised his own body was pulsing with light, his vision slowly fading as he felt his spirit lift, and free itself from the human form. Suddenly all he was aware of was a bright, bright light, before he vaguely registered hitting the hard ground in the chamber beneath the post office, his head slamming against the rock floor before the blackness that was clouding his vision totally consumed him.
********************
Author: Cat D
Email: cat_5555@hotmail.com
Disclaimer: The characters and situations from 'Buffy the Vampire Slayer' and 'Angel' depicted herein are the property of Twentieth Century Fox, and the creations of Joss Whedon et al. Ain't mine. "Heroes" was written by Howard Gordon and Tim Minear - much of the following is based on their work.
Spoilers: BtVS/Ats up to and including "Heroes".
Distribution: If anyone is crazy enough to want this, please ask first.
Author's notes: This is unbeta'd, so constructive criticism welcome. Parts one and two can be found here http://www.escribe.com/tv/bafluff/m10966.html and here http://www.escribe.com/tv/bafluff/m12892.html in the escribe archives, or at FanFiction.net.
All threats, stakes, exploding emails, horses' heads etc can be sent to the address above.
Part Three A
"If you need help, then look no further." Doyle crossed his arms and leaned one hip against Cordelia's desk, his attempt at casual sincerity coming across as self-conscious and awkward. "Angel Investigations is the best! Our rats are low..."
"Our rates!" Cordelia insisted from her place behind the camera.
"It says 'rats'," Doyle countered, pointing to the misspelled cue taped to the wall behind her. Seeing the brunette's glare, he bit back the rest of his retort and continued the spiel. "Our rates are low, but our standards are high. When the chips are down, and you're at the end of your rope you need someone that you can count on. And that's what you'll find here, someone that will go all the way, no matter what. So don't lose hope. Come on over to our offices and you'll see that there's still heroes in this world." Clearing his throat, Doyle shifted his gaze from the lens to Cordy. "Is that it? Am I done?"
"I don't know," she replied, hitting the stop button on the camera. "I'm not getting every man, I'm getting ... weasel. We don't want weasel?"
"I don't know," Doyle sniped to cover his hurt feelings, "I think people will be pouring in as soon as they hear about our low rats." Seeing Cordelia's weary expression, he quickly changed tack and put on his supportive face. "I could take another crack at it."
"I don't think so." As she took down the cue cards, Doyle watched her inquiringly.
"Weasel factor, huh?"
"Doyle, I didn't mean it like that. I'm sorry. I'm just ..." Cordelia sighed. "I feel kind of hopeless with him down there doing the non-profit brooding. He's been in a permanent funk since his little excursion to Sunnyhell. I know he's got a broken heart, but am I just supposed to stand by and watch our business go belly up?"
"I guess seeing Buffy again just got him where he lives."
"That's all very sad," Cordelia replied, her tone not echoing the sentiment of her words, "But we live here too. And now that Angel is in the realm of the living we can't take on any cases that require super vampire strength. We need all the non-powerful-demon business we can get."
"We'll manage, princess," Doyle said comfortingly, "We always do. I'll talk to him." Leaving the exasperated brunette behind, Doyle headed through Angel's office, and down the stairs into the apartment below. Dull thuds and the sound of heavy breathing filled the room, emanating from a tall dark-haired man who was engrossed in pummelling a punching bag within an inch of its life.
"Hey," Doyle interrupted, a little concerned about the intense expression on his boss' face. "Is this a private catharsis or can anyone watch?"
"What do you want?" Angel snapped, not missing a punch, his whole body tense as fist after fist connected with the bag.
"Well, there's a girl upstairs who's not quite sad enough to cry in my arms, but keep up the dark cloud. I might get lucky."
"I just need some time," Angel growled; sweat glistening on his red face and staining his light grey t-shirt a darker shade.
"Believe me I know. Last time I saw my ex, she was around for five minutes and I was a wreck for days. Amazing how they can do that to you."
"I saw Buffy for a little more then five minutes." Throwing one final punch, Angel then pulled the bag towards him, panting heavily as he hugged it and let it support his weight.
"And you need to see her for a hell of a lot more than that man! What's your problem? You're a real live flesh-and-blood human, you have the one thing you wanted most in your unnaturally long life and you and Buffy ... you're not gonna do anything about it?" Doyle couldn't comprehend what was running through the ex-vampire's head.
Angel closed his eyes, resting his forehead briefly against the punching bag before slowly making his way to the couch. Unable to hold back the sigh of relief that escaped his lips, he sank heavily into the cushions, leaning his head back and gazing blankly at the ceiling as he pondered Doyle's question. Why wasn't he with Buffy? Now he could have the one thing that he'd wanted so badly that he could hardly let himself dream about it ... and he was holding back.
"I'm weak," he sighed, after several moments had passed. "I'm weak and I'm mortal, and I'm no use to Buffy like this."
"What?" Doyle sat down opposite Angel. "What are you talking about?"
"Buffy needs someone strong, someone who can take care of himself, someone who doesn't need rescuing."
"Angel, you of all people are more than capable of looking after yourself!"
"Yeah, so capable that I needed you to rescue me from the Mohra demon!" Angel looked pointedly at Doyle, who shifted uncomfortably as he tried to come up with a suitable rebuttal.
"Well, hey, who runs across demons everyday?" he offered weakly.
"Buffy does!" Angel stood and started pacing the room, the tension in his body needing an outlet. "She's a slayer, on the hellmouth ... demon's are part of her everyday life. She doesn't need me there to distract her - which I will if she has to worry about saving me all the time."
"You're right," Doyle said. "She doesn't need you here to distract her. She doesn't need you to fight with her, she just needs you to love her."
"And I do." Angel paused, and sighed. "It's just ... fighting with her gave me a purpose. I was helping her ... it wasn't just about righting wrongs, or doing good ... I was helping keep her safe. Even when I came here to LA ... I wasn't with her but I felt like I was still helping her by doing my part for the Powers That Be. And now ..." Angel snorted, "Even Xander was more help than I was."
"What exactly happened in Sunnydale?" Doyle's face was alight with curiosity. "You disappeared and then showed up hours later without barely any explanation. Cordy thought you'd finally come to your senses and were going to sort it out with Buffy, but you came home even more depressed than ever!"
Taking a seat on the couch once more, Angel grimaced as he recalled the look on Buffy's face when Willow's spell was lifted, and everyone's minds were freed from magical influence. Her expression had been a combination of fear and embarrassment and disgust ... she had obviously been less than impressed with his fighting abilities. And like the coward that he was he left without a word - too ashamed and afraid of rejection to speak to her. He was weak physically, and he was weak emotionally - wallowing in self-pity and writhing with jealousy over Spike.
"What about Spike?" Angel snapped out of his reverie at Doyle's question, realizing that he had growled the vampire's name out loud in bitter jealousy. Gritting his teeth, he forced himself to remain calm enough to offer an explanation.
"Willow performed a spell that went wrong, leading Buffy and Spike to announce their engagement." Doyle blinked.
"Come again?"
"The spell made them think they were in love, and they got engage..." Angel sat motionless on the couch, his expression stone-faced as Doyle erupted in a fit of laughter.
"Oh man!" he gasped through his hilarity. "Engaged ... what a classic! I can just see it ... them all lovey-dovey and you all green-eyed monster ..." Doyle took in Angel's stiff posture and unamused glare, and quickly sobered up. "Come on ... you can't be jealous, you know it was the spell."
Intellectually Angel knew Doyle was right - it was Willow's spell that had convinced Buffy that Spike was the love of her life, and forced Angel to so shamefully beg her to come back to him. But just the memory of Spike kissing her, caressing her, running his hands over her body ... Angel frowned and forced himself to stay in control. He had left Buffy of his own free will, had resisted going back to her now that he was human; he had given up all right to claim her as his own, to feel anger at the thought of someone else touching her. That didn't make it any easier though.
Taking note of the expression on his boss' face - one that indicated serious brooding was in the works - Doyle decided to change the subject.
"So what's the plan for Angel Investigations now? What do we do?" Gazing back at his friend, Angel pushed the painful thoughts to the back of his mind for the moment, and tried to focus on the future.
"I guess we keep on doing what we've been doing. The Mohra demon said that a great darkness is coming, an 'End of Days' kind of bad."
"So much for the security of long-term savings bonds, huh?" Doyle joked, trying to lighten the mood.
"I feel something coming Doyle," Angel was suddenly quite serious. "I don't know what, but I know we're a part of it."
"Well, if it's a fight they want ... can't someone else give it to them?" Doyle finally managed to drag a smile out of Angel. "It seems unfair, you know? You're human now ... and you've still got to save the helpless types and fight the apocalypse?"
"Well it's not like I'm going to be much good at the actual fighting, but I still have to do what I can, I can't just stop and pretend that we're living in Disneyland." Angel sighed. "Fight the good fight ... whichever way you can."
"Tell you what," Doyle offered. "You fight, and I'll keep score."
********************
"You're sure this is the place?" Angel asked later that day, as he and Doyle gingerly made their way through an abandoned apartment building.
"What, you don't think I'd recognize this award-winning interior design anywhere?" Doyle replied sarcastically, gesturing to the threadbare and damaged furnishings. "I don't get it, I thought these visions were over now that you're human?" Angel shrugged in response, moving his search further down the corridor.
"The Powers move in mysterious ways."
"That they do," Doyle agreed, trailing behind his boss. "I was just working up to telling Delia about my not-so-human half, and wham, instant migraine."
"Doyle." Angel quietly caught his attention, nodding towards a table with a meal laid out upon it.
"Signs of life." Doyle reached out a hand to touch the food. "Still warm. They left in a hurry."
Scanning the room once more, Angel moved towards the hallway, frustration at their lack of success evident in his features. Following the ex-vampire Doyle was almost out of the room before he suddenly stopped, his hand reaching out to grab his companion's arm. As Angel stared at him in curiosity, Doyle tilted his head to one side, obviously straining to hear a sound. Nodding back the way they had came, he raised a finger to his lips and made a shushing gesture, then lightly stepped further back into the room. He stood there for a moment looking around, before bending over and grasping one end of a rug, throwing it back to reveal a trap door in the floor. Angel came to stand beside him as he lifted up the door, and their powerful torches cut through the darkness below.
"Don't be afraid," Angel said to the group of demons that were revealed by the light, huddling below them in fear. "It's okay," he reassured. "We're here to help."
********************
A short time later the demons had reluctantly emerged from their hiding place, and were now gathered in their living are, sharing their story with Angel and Doyle.
"We gave all out money to a man who promised to get us passports and safe passage on a ship." The male leader of the group explained. "We didn't know. It was stupid of us." The demon spread his hands, shaking his head at his own naiveté. "He disappeared with our money and the ship never came."
"Where were you going?" Angel asked, from the armchair his hosts had insisted he take.
"Briole. Small island off the coast of Ecuador. Others of our kind have found sanctuary there."
"Sanctuary from whom?" Before Angel's question could be answered two demon children - a small girl, a young teenage boy - rushed into the room, obviously exhausted and distraught.
"They're close," the boy panted urgently. "They almost got us. We lost half of our supplies." The elder demon, who had risen at the children's entrance, laid a reassuring hand on the boy's shoulder.
"Rieff, we have a guest," he chided mildly. "It's the Promised One." Turning, the boy caught sight of Angel and Doyle for the first time, and rolled his eyes in annoyance.
"Terrific," he said with disgust. Angel cleared his throat, knowing that he had missed out on some vital information, and not at all easy with the fact.
"I think there's been some kind of misunderstanding?"
"Oh, I don't think so," the older demon replied confidently. "Many of our prophecies are cryptic, but on one thing they are all clear - in the final days of this century the Promised One will appear and save us from the Scourge." Doyle paled at those words, before moving unnoticed across the room to gaze out a window.
"The Scourge." It was clear Angel had no idea what they were talking about.
"He doesn't even know who they are," Rieff snorted. "How's he supposed to protect us from them?"
"Rieff ..." the leader tried to calm the boy, but to no avail.
"They're coming and no matter how many promised guys you throw at them, they're not going to stop until every last one of us is dead. You're going to get us all killed." After his heated outburst Rieff stormed out, the older demon turning to follow.
"He's young," he said to Angel. "I'm sorry. Excuse me." Angel watched him leave the room before standing and joining Doyle at the window.
"We need to deal with this," he spoke quietly, so the remaining demons couldn't overhear. "They think I'm some promised saviour." Looking closely at Doyle who was gazing out the window, Angel realized that he didn't have his full attention; something was obviously troubling him. "What?" It was a moment or two before Doyle answered.
"The Scourge."
"You know them. What are they?" Doyle looked at him.
"Death."
The answer shocked Angel, not so much for what Doyle said but the way he said it. The Irishman often feigned cowardice or reluctance to fight, mouthing off about his wish to stay out of the line of fire. Yet when it came to the crunch he was always there to back Angel up, always putting himself on the line no matter what sarcastic comments came flying out of his mouth. But now ... now Angel could see real fear in Doyle's face, his wide eyes flickering in something akin to panic. He was obviously disturbed by the mention of the Scourge, his face pale and his whole body tensed as if ready for flight. Angel was eager to find out all Doyle knew on the subject, but he was content to wait until his friend was composed and ready to share before digging for information. So they stood in silence for several long moments, before Doyle spoke up again.
"They're an army of pure-blooded demons," he explained. "They have a big hate-on for us mixed heritage types. Very into pedigree." His next words were tinged with hate and remorse. "They hunt us down like animals."
"No one fights back?" Angel questioned.
"Sure they do. All the time. You can kill them, but these guys believe in what they're doing. They're ready to die for the cause."
"Hard to fight fanatics," Angel observed.
"More like impossible." Doyle paused for a moment, his expression strained as he reluctantly began his story. "A few years ago a Brachen demon came to see me. His clan were on the run, hiding out, and they wanted my help until they could skip town." He shook his head shamefully.
"I punked out. I'd only just found out about my demon side. I didn't know what it meant." Doyle's tone was anxious, his eyes pleading for understanding. "The idea of having family obligations with guys that looked like big blue pin cushions, it was just a little bit too much to take right then."
"And what happened?" Angel asked, already knowing the answer.
"A few days later I got these painful flashes, all these images in my head of the clan being murdered." Doyle shuddered at the memory. "I thought I was having a stroke. I didn't know what the images meant. But I had to know if what they showed me was a dream, or real." He paused, his face ashen. "It wasn't a dream."
"You couldn't have known." Angel reasoned, trying to ease his friend's guilt.
"These people are going to need more then their mythic promised one. The contractually obligated 500 might be a start. You can't fight the Scourge, Angel."
"It won't come to that," Angel replied determinedly, "Because we're going to get them out of here."
********************
"Hello?" Cordelia called out, as she walked gingerly through the abandoned building she had been directed to. "Angel?" Slowly making her way down a corridor, she peered through the half open doorways that she passed, not seeing any sign of life. "Hello?" At that moment a demon stepped into the doorway in front of her, and Cordy gasped in shock as she whipped a small bottle out of her jacket pocket.
"While this may look like a ..." Cordelia glanced at the bottle she held defensively in front of her "... popular brand of breath freshener," she quickly uncapped it, "It really a cunningly disguised demon repellent!" A few puffs of moisture sprayed into the air and the demon, unfazed by Cordelia's behaviour, sniffed inquisitively.
"Wintergreen," he commented mildly, as Doyle appeared at the end of the hall.
"Cordy, it's okay," he said, pushing his way through the demons that had gathered. "We're here to help them."
"Oh. Oh, hi!" she offered weakly to the demon she had assaulted with breath freshener, smiling shamefacedly as she pocketed the bottle. "Where's Angel?" she hissed to Doyle.
"He's trying to secure documents to get them out of the country," he replied. "Did you get the truck?"
"Yes! It's out front. Hey, Doyle" she whispered urgently, "You did notice that these folks are demons?'
"Yeah, I know that," he responded to her sarcasm. "That doesn't make them bad people."
"Excuse us a sec?" Cordelia said to the demons, as she grabbed Doyle's arm and dragged him around the corner into an empty room. "Mission statement check. Aren't we supposed to be battling the forces of darkness?"
"They're not forces of darkness," he argued. "They're half-human, and they're in trouble. Now, we don't have a lot of time. Angel wants you to go down to the LA harbour, pier 12, slip 4, the 'Quintessa'." Doyle handed over a piece of paper with the details. "Use Angel's name. He knows the Captain."
"So, we're booking them on a cruise?" Cordelia queried irritably.
"Basically, yeah."
"I'm guessing not Carnival," she sniped.
"The guy runs a freighter." Doyle explained. "He owes Angel some money. He does this, they're even."
"Ho, ho, hang on!" Cordelia was outraged. "This guy owes Angel money? Why aren't we collecting it?"
"Cordy, oppressed demon people here, not getting any safer!"
"So, we're sending them on a cruise, and we're paying for it?"
"Please. Just do it?" Doyle pleaded. "We need to know the ship is ready before we can move everyone." His urgent tone got through to Cordelia, who suddenly became aware of the gravity of the situation.
"Bad things are coming aren't they?" she stated quietly.
"Very bad things," was the grim response, and she sighed heavily.
"I'm on it."
"Just give me a call on the cell the minute it's done," Doyle instructed.
"Okay." Cordelia hurried away on her mission, while Doyle headed back to the demons, finding them in heated discussion.
"We don't have time for this," the elder Lister fumed. "What's wrong with that boy?"
"What is it?" Doyle asked.
"Rieff. He took off." The demon shook his head. "He does this every time. He'll be back."
"No he won't." The girl demon who had come in with Rieff earlier spoke up hesitantly, instantly getting their attention. "He says there isn't any promised one. He wasn't going to stay here and get killed with the rest of us." The girl's voice trembled as she continued. "We're not going to get killed, are we?"
"No," Doyle denied instantly, "No one's going to get killed." Turning quickly back to the adult, he handed over his cell phone. "Cordelia is going to call. When she does, clear out and go to the ship. If you're not here when I get back, I'll bring the boy to you there." Walking over to the little girl, he crouched down in front of her speaking gently so as not to frighten her. "Hey, do you know where he went?"
********************
"Rieff! Wait!" Doyle caught sight of the younger demon as he made his way along an empty, dirty street. "Wait," he repeated, as he hurried up to him. "You're fast."
"I'm walking," Rieff snorted. "You're just old."
"Yeah, okay." Doyle agreed, acknowledging that his attempt at being friendly was pretty lame. "You know what, we ought to go. Angel's got a way out, a ship."
"Great. Have fun. Take some Dramamine," was the mocking reply.
"You're not coming with?" Doyle asked.
"You can't make me," Rieff said defiantly.
"You're right." Doyle stopped walking. "You're old enough. It's your choice."
"Right." Rieff halted, and turned back to face Doyle. "A choice. Where do I want to be hated? You wouldn't get it. You're passing." Doyle walked closer, as Rieff became more upset. "My mother was the same way. You can walk down the street. She took me out with her one day, I was so excited, just out in the neighbourhood with all the other kids. You know what day it was?" Doyle sighed and looked away, unable to meet the boy's eyes. "What day was it?" Rieff demanded.
"It was Halloween."
"So that's my choice - I can be hated by humans because their scared of me, or by pure-bloods who want to kill me. It's so easy, it's not much of a choice."
"Seems to me your family is one place where you know you belong." Rieff turned away with a dismissive wave of his hand, and Doyle grasped for something that would get through to him. "Hey, I bet you that little girl is going to miss you."
"Yeah, well, she's dead by now." Rieff stopped again, obviously disturbed by the thought. "Or might as well be. They're coming again. I can feel it."
"It's going to be different this time," Doyle assured him.
"Why? Because your friend is the promised one?" The boy nodded as Doyle sighed and looked away. "So you know it's not true."
"No, I don't!" Doyle retorted immediately. "I don't know anything about your people's myths and legends. But I do know Angel, and he's the genuine article."
"My hero," Rieff mocked.
"Yeah, that's exactly what he is." Doyle was earnest - he needed to get through to the boy and he needed to do it quickly. "And your people can call him 'the promised one' or the 'dark avenger', what does it matter?"
"It matters because it's a lie!"
"They put their faith in something, Rieff. You don't have to if you don't want to. Maybe Angel doesn't know what he's doing. It's possible," Doyle admitted. "But the other option - losing yourself somewhere, hoping it all goes away, I know that never works. Rieff swallowed, the older man's words sinking in. "How about we go find your family?" The boy didn't resist as Doyle put a hand on his shoulder, and urged him back the way they came. Hurrying they jogged along the road and down some steps, where Doyle took the lead.
"Hey. This way," Rieff said, pointing in the opposite direction that Doyle had taken,
"Huh?"
"I thought all Brachen demons had a good sense of direction."
"Yeah and we're all pretty good at basketball, too," Doyle joked, before looking down the alley, tilting his head as he strained to hear something.
"What?" Rieff followed his gaze, his expression turning fearful as his ears picked up the sound of marching soldiers, and looming shadows on the side of a building heralded their arrival. "They're here."
"Come on, let's go!" Doyle cried, pulling Rieff with him as he ducked down behind a large bin, crouching low to the ground as they then dashed down the street away from the soldiers.
"In here." Pointing to a building Doyle dragged the boy inside, slamming the door behind them just as the Scourge came into view. Panting heavily they peered through venetian blinds, watching fearfully as the demons spread out along the street.
"Sit tight," Doyle ordered, as the demons searched the neighbourhood, storming into buildings and running up fire escapes. A tall demon, who appeared to be the leader of the group, tossed a flaming torch into an abandoned car, setting it alight.
"Destroy it all!" it cried at the top of its voice, and the others hurried to do its bidding - smashing windows and kicking over rubbish bins.
"Doyle." Rieff shrank away from the window, terrified as he saw one of the demons making its way towards their hideout.
"Stay here," Doyle ordered. "You understand?" Barely waiting for the frightened boy to nod his assent, Doyle brought his demon side to the fore and darted out of the building. Knocking a soldier out of his way, he ran up the street, only to find it blocked by a number of the Scourge. Spinning around he ran back the other way, pushing a demon to the ground as he raced down the block, desperately acting as bait to lead the demons away from Rieff. Relieved that they seem to be following his mad dash, he put on a burst of speed as he rounded the corner, trying to get out of sight so he could find a hiding place. As he sprinted past the building that the Lister demons had been squatting in, a hand reached out from the doorway and pulled him inside.
"They're coming."
********************
"They were here, Sir, recently." In their search for the fugitives, the demons had spread out, scouring the run-down buildings in search of their missing prey.
"And when the lights go out, where do the vermin go?" The leader of the group, a particularly vicious looking demon, surveyed the room they were searching. Kicking the threadbare rug aside, he smirked as a trap door was revealed. Another demon knelt down and wrenched the trap door open - to find nobody hiding inside.
"Keep looking," the commander ordered, snarling in frustration.
As the Scourge looked through the rooms, Angel and Doyle watched them from their hiding place - a cavity between the walls of the building, where the plumbing and wiring ran. Barely daring to breathe, they tried to remain as still as possible, freezing as one demon moved in their direction.
"This is a waste of time! Clear the area! Move!" Exhaling heavily as the Scourge hurried away, the two men eased themselves out of their dusty confines.
"You get to the ship," Angel ordered as they headed towards the exit. "I'm going to follow them and try to find out what they're up to."
"Don't be stupid man," Doyle argued. "You won't stand a chance if they catch you."
"That's why I'm not going to get caught," Angel retaliated. "Look, you need to look after the others, make sure they get away safely." And with that he hurried out the door, not wanting to lose sight of the Scourge.
As Doyle made to follow him, Rieff suddenly appeared in the doorway, looking around worriedly.
"Where is everyone?" he asked.
"Right where they're supposed to be, I hope."
********************
"Look, I've got my clearance from the Harbour Master. We have to go now. I have a schedule to keep." The captain of the vessel Cordelia had visited was anxious to get underway, both because of his schedule and the unlikely cargo he was carrying.
"I'm sure they'll be here, Captain," Cordy assured him, as she helped some of the Lister demons down the ladder into the hold. "Just a few more minutes."
"Angel said he'd cut my debt in half if I do him this favour, right?"
"Yep, half, that's what he said," Cordelia lied. "Big whopping fifty percent - quite a deal."
"He takes 60% off," the captain retaliated, "Then I'll wait." Pretending to think about if briefly, Cordy drew on her excellent acting skills as she put a resigned expression on her face.
"You drive a hard bargain." As the captain headed for the bridge, one of the Lister demons approached Cordelia.
"I can't thank you and your friends enough," he said. "I'm sure Rieff is in safe hands."
"Doyle will get him here," she reassured him.
"Yes, he is a good one. He understands our suffering."
"We both do." Cordelia's tone was more than a little tart, as she took offence at the slight on her compassionate qualities, or lack thereof.
"I apologize," the Lister said sincerely. "I didn't mean to say that you didn't. It's just more familiar to Doyle." Seeing Cordelia's confused expression, he elaborated further. "He has to live with a certain amount of persecution. You always do when you're half demon."
"Demon?"
********************
Angel pressed himself to the concrete wall, peering around the corner as he tried to see what was happening. He had followed the Scourge back to an abandoned warehouse where all the members of the group appeared to be gathering, preparing for some sort of event. At one end of the warehouse a demon, obviously the leader, stood on a raised platform, addressing the demon troops as they stood stiffly before him.
"The other day I was asked - 'Why hunt the mongrel? Doesn't its very inferiority guarantee that it poses no threat? Won't it die of it's own innate mortal stupidity?' Let me tell you, even the smallest of vermin need be addressed. Half-breeds. Worse. They keep crossbreeding. Forever diluting our precious demon blood with their weak simpering humanity."
"Yeah!" the soldiers chorused.
"If we allow this to happen," the commander ranted, "It's as good as giving up the call to evil altogether. It's as good as becoming human ourselves. Well, I say never!" The soldiers cheered, wholly caught up in the angry tirade. "I say we will not stop until each and every half-breed is erased and our purity rules this planet! We will not stop because the Higher Order demands it!" More cheers reverberated around the warehouse, as the leader worked the other demons into a frenzy.
"Now, this very evening we take a giant step towards our goal. Tonight the half-breeds that have eluded us will be destroyed. And we know just where to find them, thanks to this good man ..." Angel watched, immediately concerned, as a nervous looking man was led towards the stage by two demons "... first mate on the ship they think means salvation, not annihilation. He comes to us for money, but he is a brother to our cause, and we invite him ..." the speaker paused dramatically, "... to witness the power of the beacon."
At those words two of the Scourge moved to open a large door behind the commander. From inside they dragged out a multifaceted giant light, that was supported by a metal frame. On top of the strange machine there appeared to be a control panel, and as the demons flicked some switches there the machine began to glow, light radiating out through its panelled sides.
"Tonight the Lister half-breeds will attempt to flee the country, but they shall not escape us. Along with any creature contaminated by human blood, they will perish the moment the cleansing light touches them. When the beacon reaches critical mass and detonates its reach will extend a quarter mile in every direction." Angel recoiled in horror, his distress only increasing as the commander turned to address the first mate. "Want to see how it works?"
Itching to rush forward and fight the demons, Angel could only watch in horror as the demons forced him forward into the light's path. As it touched him he screamed horribly, and then was gone.
"A fitting end for a sorry mutation." The soldiers were wound up by the display of power, eager to hunt and put it to use. "Go now and deliver this, our message!" The commander cried. "Our victory depends on it!" As the crowd cheered and rushed towards the exit Angel quickly backed away into a recess in the wall, the shadows hiding him from a casual observer. Luckily the Scourge were too caught up in their mission to notice him, and they rushed on by. After they had passed him, Angel quickly slid through a nearby doorway and spotted a lone demon preparing to ride a motorbike. Leaping forward quickly before the element of surprise was lost, Angel threw himself at the demon's back, putting all his strength into a blow to its head. Stunned, it fell to the ground, and Angel wasted no time in clambering aboard the motorbike, and zooming out of the warehouse.
********************
Cordy paced the deck of the ship anxiously, the captain mimicking her agitated movements. Her head whipped around to look at the gangplank at the sound of movement.
"Someone's coming." Doyle and Rieff appeared at the top of the gangplank, out of breath and unsettled.
"Do you have any idea what you put us through?" the Lister demanded of Rieff. "We got to get out of here!"
"I'm sorry," he answered contritely.
"Lets get you down with the others." As he turned to go, Rieff reached out and slapped Doyle's outstretched hand.
"Thanks." The smile Doyle displayed for the departing boy slipped from his face as he became aware of Cordelia's annoyed expression.
"What?"
"You're alive!" she said, her expression implying she was anything but pleased by the fact.
"And you're not happy?" Doyle replied, half jokingly, half hurt.
"We were worried."
"Oh." Doyle was irrationally pleased by Cordy's distress, and by the fact that she was more than sincere. "Well, its all going to be okay ..." Those words were barely out of his mouth before a stinging slap across the face stunned him. "What was that for?" he cried indignantly.
"Why didn't you tell me that you were half demon?" Cordy demanded. "I thought we agreed that secrets are bad!" Doyle swallowed, not sure how Cordy found out, but sure that the conversation was only going to get worse.
"I wanted to tell you. I was afraid." Going with the 'secrets are bad' theme, he decided to lay all his cards out on the table. "I thought if I did, you'd reject me."
"I've rejected you way before now!" Cordy exclaimed. "So, you're half demon. Big Whoop! I can't believe you'd think I'd care about that. I mean, I work for a vampire! Hello?"
"It's true. I just..."
"What do you think I am, superficial?" The expression on Doyle's face was a curious one, raised eyebrows indicating that he had entertained that idea, and a growing smile showing he was pleased to be proven wrong. "So you're half demon. That's so far down the list, way under 'short' and 'poor'! Is there anything else I should know?" Struggling to contain the huge grin that threatened to spread across his face, Doyle endeavoured to keep calm until his burgeoning hopes were realized.
"The half demons thing is pretty much my big secret."
"Good. That's out. It's done." Cordy hesitated. "Would you ask me out to dinner already?"
"Yeah?" Doyle could hardly believe his luck, but the enormous smile on Cordelia's face gave him all the confidence he needed. "Cordelia, would you like ..." At that moment she looked past him, distracted by movement on the dock.
"It's Angel." The captain came out to join them as Angel pulled up on a motorcycle, and then hurried on board.
"We have to shove off now," he instructed the captain.
"What's going on?" Cordy asked.
"I can't! I can't find my first mate!" the captain replied anxiously.
"You won't. We're going. Get to the bridge." Responding to the authority and urgency in Angel's voice, the captain hurried away just as Doyle spotted the enemy's approach.
"Angel, they're here." A convey of trucks and motorcycled pulled up on the pier beside the freighter, the beacon visible on the back of one of the trucks.
"Angel."
"Get below," he ordered Doyle and Cordelia. "Lock the doors."
"What? You can't fight them!"
"Look Doyle, I need you to protect Cordelia and the Listers."
"But Ang..."
"Move!" Angel yelled. "Now! Stay with the others." Doyle and Cordelia turned and ran, racing as fast as they could into the hold.
"Lock the hatches," Doyle called to the assembled demons. "The Scourge is here. We're shoving off. We're gonna make it."
Back up on deck Angel stood his ground, watching as a group of the Scourge demons approached up the gangplank. As they neared, he smiled faintly as his heartbeat thundered in his ears - no matter what happened, it was good to feel so vital, so alive. Clenching his hands, Angel then felt his clammy palms. His smile slipped. So maybe he hadn't missed everything that came with being human.
Seeing Angel standing on deck, the four demons turned to the commander who was following them, as if asking what to do.
"A weak human, not worth our attention. Find the Lister demons," it ordered. Moving to obey, the demons found their path blocked by Angel, who stood tense and pale before them. He had often heard of the expression 'he was quaking in his boots', and had not really understood how fear could affect a human. But now, now he was more than familiar with the concept. There was nothing more he wanted to do at this moment than run away and hide, but he couldn't. His life, Doyle and Cordy's lives, the Listers and countless others all relied on him, and they needed him to be strong. Even more so Angel needed to be strong for himself, to prove he was worthy. Worthy of what? Angel didn't have time to follow that train of thought, but the face he conjured in his mind to give him strength, a face with wide hazel eyes and framed by golden hair - that face proved enough motivation.
"Kill him, painfully." The soldiers lunged towards Angel and he ducked, calling on the fighting skills he had developed over centuries to help him toss one of the demons over his shoulder. His success was short-lived however, as two of the remaining soldiers grabbed one of his arms each, restraining him as the third laid into him with a baton. Successive blows to the torso left Angel gasping in pain, the hard pole cutting painfully into his flesh.
"Why don't you pick on someone more your own level of ugliness?" Angel had never been more relieved to find Doyle disobeying his orders, as his friend in full Brachen mode whacked a length of pipe down on his attacker's head. As the demon crumbled to the ground Angel wrenched free from the others' grips, reaching out to grab the pipe that Doyle tossed to him. Spinning he whipped the pipe around as hard and fast as he could, slamming it into a demon's stomach, leaving it moaning on the deck in agony. As Doyle engaged the remaining soldier, Angel turned to face the Commander, who had watched the fight in growing anger.
With a snarl it leapt towards him, Angel shifting out of its way barely in time. Turning to face it, he was stunned by a quick punch to his head, and another to his stomach moments later. The force of the blows pushing him backwards, Angel managed to block the next before a powerful kick sent him tumbling onto a pile of wooden crates, the pipe dislodged from his grip. Standing over him the commander lifted its foot up to strike a punishing blow, but Angel threw himself away just in time, the crates shattering in his place under the demon's boot.
As he stumbled away, the demon lunged after him, grabbing at him awkwardly before stumbling, sending both of them tumbling through a hatch and down a long metal stairway into the cargo hold. As Cordy and the Lister demons watched in fear from below, Angel and the demon struggled, their hands at each other's neck, before they tumbled over the railing to a lower catwalk. Fortunately the demon broke Angel's fall, and his weight served to stun the commander sufficiently that Angel was able to stand unhindered. As he grabbed onto the railing to support his battered body, he saw in horror that the beacon was being lowered into the hold.
"It's going to detonate!" he shouted. "Get out! Everybody out!" The floor below erupted into frenzied movement as the demons rushed to the exits. As Angel watched the beacon in horror, the demon commander rose from the floor, and grabbed him by the neck.
"Welcome to a cleaner world," it snarled. "Soon only the pure bloods will be left standing." Angel struggled, tearing at the hands at his throat, his face twisted in pain. Just as his vision began to swim the pressure was lifted, and he heard Doyle's voice behind him.
"Actually, pure boy," Doyle gripped the back of the demon's jacket, "You'll be on your ass." With that he heaved with all his might, and pushed the demon over the railing to the floor below. It landed awkwardly, head first, an audible crack as its neck broke with the impact.
"Ahh!" Cordy cried, from where she and an adult demon were trying to force a door open. "They're locked from the outside. We're trapped!" Hurrying up a ladder, she crossed to the platform where Angel and Doyle now stood opposite the glowing beacon.
"What does that thing do?" Doyle asked.
"Its light kills anything with human blood," Angel said as he gazed across at the machine, his mind working frantically to come up with a solution.
"Well, it's getting brighter and that doohickey ..." Doyle caught sight of the control panel's flashing lights, "It's fully armed, isn't it?"
"Almost." Angel hesitated. "If I pull the cable, I think I can still shut it off."
"How're you gonna do that without touching the light?" Doyle asked, as Cordelia bluntly sized up the situation.
"Angel, that's suicide."
"There's got to be another way," Doyle urged desperately. Angel looked down into the hold, seeing the Lister demons there watching in dread. Turning to Cordelia, he tried to put on a brave face to cover the fear and despair that were coursing through his body.
"It's all right."
"No!" Cordy denied, as Angel put a hand on Doyle's shoulder, silently asking him with his eyes to understand.
"The good fight, yeah?" Doyle said, putting his own hand on Angel's arm. "You never know until you've been tested. I get that now." Before Angel could react Doyle drew back and threw a hard punch, sending him flying to the cargo hold floor below. As Rieff ran over to where Angel lay, groaning in pain and straining to stand, Doyle turned to Cordelia and kissed her. It was bittersweet moment, expressing their unspoken feelings and what might have been. A blue light shimmered between their lips as they parted, unnoticed as their eyes were locked on each other.
"Too bad we'll never know ..." he said, as his face morphed into its demon appearance, "...if this is a face you could learn to love."
"Doyle." From his position down below, Angel struggled to his feet, a terrible dread in his heart as he anticipated his friend's plan. Seeing Doyle step back from Cordelia and turn his gaze on the beacon, Angel ran over to the ladder that led up to the platform.
"Doyle! Doyle!" Scrambling to the top of the ladder, Angel looked over in time to see Doyle jump over towards the beacon.
"NO!" Grabbing hold of the metal frame that supported the weapon, Doyle turned his head to smile at Angel and Cordelia. "No!" Angel cried once more, but Doyle turned away, slipping back into his human features as he gripped hold of the cable. The killing light of the weapon grew brighter while he strained to rip the connection apart. As Cordy, Angel and the Lister demons watched in horror, the light began to tear at his face, his skin melting away. With a final, wrenching scream he pulled the cable apart, disappearing into nothingness as the beacon went dark.
********************
"If you need help, then look no further. Angel Investigations is the best! Our rats are low ..."
"Rates!"
Cordy sat on the couch in Angel's office, her knees drawn up to her chest as she watched the video she and Doyle had recorded earlier through red-rimmed eyes. Angel leaned on a chair beside her, his black clothing reflecting his mood.
"It says 'rats'." On the screen, Doyle pointed to the cue sheets. "Our rates are low, but our standards are high. When the chips are down, and you're at the end of your rope you need someone that you can count on. And that's what you'll find here - someone that will go all the way, no matter what. So don't lose hope. Come on over to our offices and you'll see that there's still heroes in this world." Doyle looked away from the camera, clearing his throat. "Is that it? Am I done?"
As static filled the screen, neither Cordelia or Angel moved to turn the TV off, remaining motionless as the buzz of the videotape filled the otherwise silent office. After a long moment, Angel rested one hand on Cordelia's shoulder, squeezing gently so as to offer a little comfort. As her hand came up to rest on his, Angel's face twisted in grief, and an uncontrollable sob racked his body.
All the tension and anger and despair that he had been feeling swelled to breaking point, and he fell into a fit of tears, shaking within the arms Cordelia immediately wrapped around him. Hunching over, he hid his face against her shoulder while she gently stroked his head, making soft shushing noises as salty tears slid quietly down her own cheeks. Angel's grief overwhelmed him, and he clutched at Cordelia as he wept, feeling as though he was about to burst. Slowly though his sobs eased and his tears stopped flowing, and he straightened up, looking into Cordelia's understanding eyes. As he gazed at her and saw his pain mirrored in her face, a sudden resolve went through him, and he smiled sadly. Pressing a soft kiss to her forehead he then turned and left the office, leaving Cordelia staring after him, fearful of what was to come.
********************
"Why are you here lower being?" Angel stood in the Oracles' chamber, bristling with anger and glaring at the two supernatural beings who stood in front of him.
"What have you brought us?" the female asked.
"Don't you think you've taken enough from me tonight?" Angel snarled in response. "Why did you let this happen? You told me that I was released from my duty. Why did you send Doyle the vision?"
"Your work is not yet complete. There are still battles to be fought, the war rages on." These words caught at Angel's mind, reminding him of something he had heard recently.
"When we fought the Mohra demon, it said the End of Days had begun, that others were coming, soldiers of darkness. Was he was telling the truth?"
"As far as such things can be told," the male replied.
"The Mohra demon came to take a warrior from your cause, and it succeeded. Tonight the Scourge took another. Doyle was a good man, a good friend, he didn't deserve to die."
"His journey was complete," the female said calmly, "His time at an end."
"Doyle was my sole contact to the Powers That Be. Without his visions I'm fighting blind. Bring him back."
"To what end?" the female asked. "To nullify his noble death? To leave his atonement unfulfilled?"
"If it means he lives," Angel argued angrily.
"He doesn't so that you may," the male said.
"What is done cannot be undone," the female continued. "All will soon be made clear. For every door that closes, another opens ..." Angel looked at them helplessly, knowing that his arguments weren't working. This was wrong, Doyle should not have died - he would not have died if Angel had still been a vampire. The visions were his to follow, guidance towards his own redemption, not Doyle's.
'When the chips are down, and you're at the end of your rope you need someone that you can count on. And that's what you'll find here - someone that will go all the way, no matter what.' Angel remembered Doyle's lines from the video - they were supposed to be about him, and now it was time to live up to them, or he'd never be anything, never be worthy of anything or anyone, let alone ...
"But what is not done yet can be avoided. Take my life back. Somehow, I know you have the power. Hell, turn back time if you have to, so I can prevent this, so I can ... so I can stop myself becoming human." Angel felt a terrible pang at the thought of abandoning the future he could have with Buffy, the dreams that he had nurtured of sunlight and kisses and family. But he knew that future would be worth nothing if it were bought with another man's life. "If I had my strength, I could stop this."
"The Brachen's fate would still be the same ... vampire or no," the male stated unequivocally. "It is was not his destiny that was affected by your change."
"Please," Angel begged. He was my friend."
"And so he shall ever be. But temporal folds are not to indulge at the whims of lower beings. Even so, too much time has passed, too many threads have been woven to be altered."
"But I'm no use to the Powers like this, as a man." Angel shook his head in despair. "I can't protect anyone."
"You must," the female declared. "With the Days' End mankind is doomed without the Slayer, and the Slayer is doomed without you."
"What?" Angel froze, his heart skipping a beat. "What happens to the Slayer when these soldiers come?"
"What happens to all mortal beings. Albeit sooner in her case."
"She'll die?" Angel was filled with a sudden resolve. "Then I'm here to beg for her life."
"It is not our place to grant life or death." The two Oracles turned to leave, unwilling to speak more on the matter.
"Wait!" The force with which Angel spoke surprised them, and they halted in their tracks. "You have to make this right. Either you turn me back into a vampire ..." Angel swallowed, the enormity of what he was asking leaving his mouth dry, " ... or I find a way to do it myself, regardless the risk to my soul. She can't die." His voice broke on that last word, his eyes revealing the horror of that prospect. "Look I can't protect her this way, not as a man."
"You're asking to be what you were, a demon with a soul, because of the slayer?" The female Oracle's eyes were alight with curiosity.
"Oh this is a matter of love - it does not concern us, lower being." The male turned to leave, dismissing Angel out of hand.
"Yes it does," he argued. "I'm no good to you like this, I can't protect her, not as a man. I know you have it in your power to make this right. Please."
"You are wrong," the female declared to her male counterpart. "This one is willing to sacrifice every drop f human happiness and love he has ever known for another." She looked at Angel with respect. "He is not a lower being." The two Oracles looked at each other, head's cocked to one side as if they were communicating telepathically.
"There is a way," the male said, "But it is not to be undertaken lightly."
"We will call forth your demon's corporeal form," the female continued, "from another time and another place. Into it we will pour your essence, binding your soul to the inanimate form even as this living one falls away. No longer will you be able to breathe in the air or walk in the sunlight. Are you willing to take this step?"
Without hesitation, Angel nodded.
"So be it." The Oracles moved to the centre of the room and clasped hands, their eyes falling shut. They were motionless, and as Angel watched the light in the bright chamber flickered, dulling even as a small pocket of light near him grew. Pinpricks of light grew and began swirling in a spiral, as if thousands of fireflies had been called forth. In their midst a figure began to form, pulsing as it took shape. Angel gasped as the face appeared, demonic features twisted in a snarl. In the past few days Angel had been fascinated with his reflection - not through vanity, but with the unreal experience of seeing himself after so many years without. This though, was something he had never seen, his own face distorted by the demon.
Totally absorbed by the display in front of him, it was a few moments before Angel realised his own body was pulsing with light, his vision slowly fading as he felt his spirit lift, and free itself from the human form. Suddenly all he was aware of was a bright, bright light, before he vaguely registered hitting the hard ground in the chamber beneath the post office, his head slamming against the rock floor before the blackness that was clouding his vision totally consumed him.
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