I don't own BTVS or AtS. I truly wish I did, but I don't deserve them and that's the honest truth about it. I don't own any of the characters in this story, except Skittles, but he isn't really a main character, per se. Joss is boss, and I am merely a girl who likes to write down these little figments, for fun. I am so sorry for the wait on this story. I have been dealing with family and work and school and I am about to just fly off the handle and join my friends down at the 'health resort'. (Doesn't that make it sound all nice and fun?) Anyway, thanks for your undying patience. I throw myself on your mercy. Anyway, I should really be getting...

On with the show.

::Stuff and Nonsense- Prowler::

Fred sat there staring at the new man, who was apparently named Doyle, and sighed. "So, you were dead."

Doyle chewed on his bottom lip and nodded his head. It was the third time the girl had said the statement, and he was starting to wonder if she was just a little bit slow. "That would be correct."

Fred looked down at her feet and then over at Doyle's. Something struck her as odd, and then she realized what it was. "You aren't wearing socks."

Doyle lifted his foot up off of the ground and smirked. "I'm not, am I? Huh..." He chuckled.

"Doesn't that make your feet sweat?" Fred asked, curiously. She was dying for something to talk about that didn't involve the dead or death, in general.

Doyle shrugged. "I seem to get away with it."

Lorne looked at the man's feet and grinned. "Yup." Lorne sighed. "As do I, pet."

"Pet?" Doyle smirked. "Do you have these little terms of endearments for every one?"

Lorne shook his head. "Only the ones that I like."

Doyle chuckled. "Oh, well... I consider myself honored, if that's the case."

Lorne chuckled and shook his head. He had been watching Fred closely, as the new man spoke and had suddenly felt a flash of heat pass over his mind. "Fred, I'm going to go pick some things up from Tony's. Would you like to come, or would you rather stay here?" Tony's was, in the simplest terms, a demon convenience store. It carried everything from newt eyes, to beer and cigarettes.

Fred shook her head and screwed up her nose. "I'd prefer to stick around here. Someone might call, or something."

Lorne grinned. "Good thinking, doll." Lorne put his glass down on the table and walked over to the desk. He crouched down and pulled out a little box. He opened it and pulled out some cash. "This is Spike's 'play' money, as he so calls it."

Fred leaned in toward Doyle and whispered, conspiratorially. "That means it's Angel's cash stash."

Doyle bent his head back and laughed. "Of course, it is."

Lorne straightened up his shirt, as he stood up and headed for the door. "Bye, all. See you guys later."

"Bye, Lorne." Fred called out, after the demon. She looked back at Doyle and smiled. "He's kind of strange sometimes, but you don't have to worry about him. He's a nice sort of fellow."

Doyle nodded. "He's certainly not the average sort of fellow, so I suppose that would probably make him nicer than most."

Fred nodded, slowly. "I guess so." There was a rumbling sound coming from upstairs, which made Fred smile.

Doyle looked toward the ceiling and quirked a brow. "What was that?"

Fred snickered. "That was Skittles."

Doyle looked worried for a moment. "Skittles the name of a giant Saint Bernard?"

Fred shook her head and grinned. "Skittles is the name of a little bitty kitten. It's Connor's cat. Angel got it for him."

Doyle nodded and sighed. "Did he, now? Well, that was awful nice of him." Doyle bit his bottom lip. "Who's Connor?"

Fred opened her mouth, as if she were going to say something and then she shut it. After taking a moment to think, she tried again. "You don't know Connor?" Fred laughed. "Well, of course you don't know Connor!"

Doyle scooted back in his seat and chuckled uncomfortably. "Of course. Now, who's Connor?"

Fred leaned back in her seat and smiled. "Connor is Angel's son."

Doyle's eyes almost seemed to light up, as he heard this. "His son? As in his biological son?"

Fred nodded. "I know. It sounds crazy, but Connor is his and Darla's son."

Doyle arched a brow and sighed.

Fred nodded. "Okay, Darla was his sire and Angel killed her before he moved to L.A. Wolfram and Hart brought her back and... Do you know who Wolfram and Hart are?"

Doyle nodded and smiled.

Fred returned the smile and sighed. "Good. That would take years to explain. Okay... Darla was brought back as a human woman and there was this whole territorial thing over her between Angel and Lindsey. Lindsey got his hand cut off, Darla was turned by her grand-childe Drusilla, and Angel slept with Darla, which got her pregnant."

Doyle tried following the story, as close as possible, but the girl was almost babbling and he wasn't sure that he was catching all of the details. "So, Lindsey's hand was cut off?"

"By Angel." Fred filled in.

Doyle nodded, almost stupidly. "And you are sure this wasn't Angelus?"

Fred shook her head. "Angelus didn't come out, until after Connor got Cordelia pregnant and started the beginning of the end."

Doyle's eyes grew wide. Normally, the first thing he would have questioned was the relationship between Cordelia and Angel's son, but he decided that it would probably seem a little odd, asking about that first. He decided to go with the most relevant question and leave the others for later. "The boy started an apocalypse?"

Fred nodded. "But it was relatively mild, as far as apocalypses go."

Doyle slumped back in his chair. "I've missed a lot."

Fred sighed. "But don't worry. Now, that you are back again and you have visions, you won't miss a thing."

Doyle smirked half-heartedly. "Yeah, nothing to worry about."



There was another rumbling that shook the ceiling and Doyle looked up in disbelief. "What was that?" He glanced over at Fred and shook his head. "You can not tell me that was a little bitty kitten, making all that noise."

Fred shrugged. "Maybe he found a rat to play with."

Doyle stood up and glanced up the stairs. "Or maybe a demon found a kitty to play with." Doyle looked back over at Fred and saw the way her eyes had widened. He smiled, in an attempt to break the tension he had caused. "Does Angel have a shield or something protecting this place?"

Fred shook her head and chewed on her lip. "No, but that's because he's usually here to protect it."

"Well, he's not here now." Doyle muttered as he strolled toward the stairs. He glanced up them and sniffed. "You may want to avert your eyes, for a moment." He grinned back at Fred and the girl smirked as she turned her head, without question. Doyle morphed out and sniffed the air. His face shifted back into its natural, human form and he sighed. "Something else is here."

"That's a pretty good trick. Can you pull bunnies out of hats?" Fred and Doyle both turned toward the voice, which was coming from the kitchen doorway. Connor was standing in the door, grinning at Fred. "You should have watched him. He's spiky."

Fred looked over at Doyle and cocked her head to the side. "Spiky?"

Doyle nodded and frowned at the young man, who was standing in the doorway. "Where is your dad?"

"My father is probably still scraping the last beast we killed, off of the concrete." Connor chuckled. "Gunn said he was going to head on home and wash it out of his clothes. It was pretty messy." Connor headed toward the stairs and stopped in front of Doyle. "Who are you?"

Doyle smirked. "I'm a friend of your father's. He wanted me to stick around here, until he brought you home." Doyle paused a moment and watched the boy's emotionless features. "I'm sure you're tired. Why don't you go up and catch a nap?"

Connor nodded and almost smiled. "I think I will."

Doyle smiled. "I'll tell your father that you're in bed, when he gets home."

Connor shook his head, as he headed up the stairs. "Don't bother. He'll be tired. Just tell him to go to bed and get some rest."

"Well, that's quite nice of you, to be thinking about your father's welfare and all." Doyle leaned against the banister of the stairs and watched the boy make his way up the flight. "Sleep well."

Connor waved over his shoulder and started down the hallway.

"That's weird." Fred mumbled.

Doyle squinted up the stairs and scratched the back of his head. "What's weird, darlin'?"

Fred sniffed. "Connor didn't go in the direction of his room."

"I don't know Connor, but I'm pretty sure that's not him." Doyle whispered, as he turned and pushed Fred toward the front door. "That was a demon, dear. I could have smelled his sort a mile away."

Fred gasped, quietly. "A demon is inside of Connor?"

Doyle wrinkled up his nose and shook his head. "I'm doubting it's something as bad as all that, but I'm pretty sure a monster is posing as your bosses son." Doyle led Fred out into the darkness of the night. He wasn't sure where he should go, but he was positive that leaving was the right course of action.

Fred gasped, again. "What about Skittles?"

"Let's hope he hasn't used up his first eight lives." Doyle looked up and down the street. "Do you know of a safe haven, anywhere close by?"

Fred chewed on her bottom lip and glanced back at the hotel, which was now occupied by an unknown entity. "Well, I do have one idea." She sighed.

~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ * ~

"Bloody... Angel!" Spike snarled, as he pulled back on the monster's neck. He tried twisting it until it popped off, but the monster's skin was just too thick to crack through. "What are you doing, Angelus? Leave the bloody phone alone."

Angel put up a finger and nodded, as he muttered something into the receiver of his cell phone. He closed the phone and looked over at Spike, with a smirk. "Okay, now you can tell me what's wrong."

Spike growled and huffed. "His neck won't snap."

Angel nodded and strolled over into a patch of moonlight. "Pitch him over." Angel held his arms open and grinned.

Spike shook his head. "He catches on fire and you are going up in flames, as well. I won't risk it!"

"Nice to know you care, Spike." Angel smiled. "Now, do as I say."

"Stupid pouf." Spike muttered, as he strangled the monster, as well as he was able. Spike yanked the beast, until it hissed and spurted. "Eww! He just spit up on me!"

"Pass it to me!" Angel growled at his childe.

Spike pulled the demon back and swung him in the direction of his sire. "There you bleedin' idjit. Don't say I never got you anything."

Angel dived at the monster and wrestled him into the moonlight. The monster hissed and started to burn. It bubbled and screeched its lament. Finally, it melted into a puddle, at Angel's feet. "That was gross."

"It got on your shoes." Spike pointed out, to his already annoyed sire.

"I know."

"You'll never be able to clean those." Spike added, for good measure.

"I know."

Spike feigned a sigh and shook his head. "And they looked so expensive."

"They were." Angel growled, under his breath.

Spike looked up and caught the look that crossed Angel's face. "What's wrong? I know you're a vain sod, but this isn't about shoes."

"Someone, or should I say something, is posing as Connor, at the hotel." Angel pointed at his pocket, indicating the phone he had stuffed in there, only moments before. "Doyle called from Cordelia's house. Apparently, they have been catching up a lot, in the last few minutes. I think he mentioned something about a spiked heel print being kicked into his..." Angel pulled a face, making Spike laugh.

"That's our girl." Spike chuckled.

"Doyle's a nice guy." Angel murmured. "You should try to be nice to him. He just came back from the dead, you know."

"He's not a guy, Angel. Plus, there's something strange about him, and you know it." Spike quirked a brow at his sire. "You can sense it, just as well as I can."

Angel shrugged and shook his head. "He was dead. Now he's not. End of story."

Spike shook his head. "Buffy was dead."

"Don't bring her into this." Angel grunted.

Spike sighed. "We should address her at some point, Angel. She was important to both of us, as men, as well as demons." Spike sighed, when he realized Angel's resolve wasn't going to break, any time soon. "All right... Penn was dead. In all technical senses of the word. Darla was dead... three times!"

Angel arched an eyebrow and thought. "In think you may be counting funny."

"Just shut up and admit I'm right." Spike huffed.

Angel chuckled and started down the alleyway. "Since when have I been known to do anything like that?"

"There's afirst time for everything, you know." Spike smirked at Angel. "You should do what that red headed cartoon teacher says."

Angel flashed an annoyed look in Spike's direction. His childe knew that he didn't watch cartoons. There was no point in them. He sighed, when he realized what Spike was waiting for. "What does he say Spike?"

"It's a she ya' doof." Spike grinned, wider. "She says, 'Take chances, make mistakes.' It's about time one of them bloody cartoons got some balls and told children the way it really is."

Angel grunted. "I prefer to not make mistakes."

"I know." Spike threw his arms out, dramatically, and turned toward Angel, grabbing the sleeves of his jacket. "It throws off your extremely delicate balance, and we wouldn't be wanting that!"

Angel narrowed his eyes at his childe. "I wouldn't want a cartoon telling my son to be reckless."

"That's just a nasty way of saying impulsive and sometimes it's good to act on impulse, Angel. You used to know that." Spike let go of Angel's arm and stepped back a few steps. He shrugged and shook his head. "I don't really see the difference in letting your son watch a show that induces impulsive behavior and letting you son read a book that encourages drugs."

"What?!" Angel's nerves were starting to fray. He knew that Spike liked to play these games with him, but tonight was really a bad time. Angel knew he was a worrier. He hadn't found Gunn or Connor, yet. Doyle was back from the dead. Apparently, Skittles was still at the hotel and that couldn't end well. He thought about these things, until the drove him crazy. What type of 'guy' did that make Spike, though, seeing as how he didn't give them a second thought? Did he have more faith than Angel? More hope?

"Come on, Angel! Lewis Carroll did not write that book while he was sober! I mean... Look at the scene with the bloody caterpillar! He was smoking up a storm right before he turned into a butterfly."

Less of a conscious? Less of a brain?

TBC

-Again, I want to apologize in the delay of my story. I hope that you guys will understand and review, anyway. Reviews make me work 50 times as hard. (Although, these last weeks, I've been working me arse off and getting nowhere.) *sigh* Love you guys!-

--The subtitle was Prowler, which is a song by Iron Maiden. Hmm... Let's just say that I'm 'in a mood'.--