Angel glided noiselessly through the shadows of the alleyway with an air of
satisfaction about him. He was pleased by how well he and Buffy were
getting along and was secretly nurturing pointless fantasies about the two
of them getting together but he was realistic except in his daydreams and
was even more pleased that his meeting with an informant had gone so well.
Buffy could soon have her brother back and he could step back and try to stop loving her before she went home and left a gaping hole in his life. It was, after all the only sensible thing to do.
After Doyle's disappearance he had immediately gone to the demon nest they had been about to investigate. But everything, every last trace of settlement had vanished. Angel had almost despaired then, how could he find Doyle when he could find nothing to guide him?
But now, at last, he had a lead. Not a very precise lead it was true but that particular source had never let him down before, Angel smiled nastily - those Quaazberoon demons were screwed. What kind of name was Quaazberoon anyway? Stupid that's what.
He was so involved in plotting the ultimate downfall of the Quaazberoon race that he almost didn't see the axe swing at his neck.
Awkwardly flipping himself backwards Angel narrowly avoided decapitation and landed heavily amongst some trashcans. What the hell?
He scrambled upright and weighed up his attackers, two large lumpy demons with big blunt axes lumbered towards him with surprising speed, a third hung back a little. Angel resisted the urge to roll his eyes, how had he ever got cornered like this? Particularly by a bunch of demons that he was fairly sure only had brains the size of pickled walnuts.
With a shrug he drew his own axe from his bag, "C'mon then, lets see what you've got, just mind the coat okay!"
Angel dodged and ducked frantically as the demons stampeded around desperately trying to get a hit on him. He didn't want to make a run for it and leave these demons around to hurt someone else but he also needed to get back to the Hyperion in one piece, reasonably soon too. Something the lumpy trio was determined to prevent. Whenever he managed to get a hit on them, their thick body plating made the blow glance off; he was rapidly realising that he probably needed a much smaller, much pointier weapon.
Buffy could soon have her brother back and he could step back and try to stop loving her before she went home and left a gaping hole in his life. It was, after all the only sensible thing to do.
After Doyle's disappearance he had immediately gone to the demon nest they had been about to investigate. But everything, every last trace of settlement had vanished. Angel had almost despaired then, how could he find Doyle when he could find nothing to guide him?
But now, at last, he had a lead. Not a very precise lead it was true but that particular source had never let him down before, Angel smiled nastily - those Quaazberoon demons were screwed. What kind of name was Quaazberoon anyway? Stupid that's what.
He was so involved in plotting the ultimate downfall of the Quaazberoon race that he almost didn't see the axe swing at his neck.
Awkwardly flipping himself backwards Angel narrowly avoided decapitation and landed heavily amongst some trashcans. What the hell?
He scrambled upright and weighed up his attackers, two large lumpy demons with big blunt axes lumbered towards him with surprising speed, a third hung back a little. Angel resisted the urge to roll his eyes, how had he ever got cornered like this? Particularly by a bunch of demons that he was fairly sure only had brains the size of pickled walnuts.
With a shrug he drew his own axe from his bag, "C'mon then, lets see what you've got, just mind the coat okay!"
Angel dodged and ducked frantically as the demons stampeded around desperately trying to get a hit on him. He didn't want to make a run for it and leave these demons around to hurt someone else but he also needed to get back to the Hyperion in one piece, reasonably soon too. Something the lumpy trio was determined to prevent. Whenever he managed to get a hit on them, their thick body plating made the blow glance off; he was rapidly realising that he probably needed a much smaller, much pointier weapon.
