Notes: Thanks to all my reviewers so far for the encouragement - I love getting feedback:)
1.
"Okay, what do we do now?" Cordelia demanded once Angel had reappeared from his apartment downstairs, looking more presentable in a clean black shirt and black slacks. "We can't just let that thing roam the streets – have you seen the size of it? And probably not getting any smaller …"
"I think it's safe to say we noticed that, Cordelia." Angel said patiently, "We'll just have to find some other way to kill it …"
"What part of "indestructible" are you not getting? The sword – only option. And you broke it."
"Well, it was either the sword or my neck …" the ensouled vampire huffed quietly, folding his arms.
Cordelia shook her head and thought for a moment, "Could it be fixed, do you think?"
"Maybe, but I don't see what good that would do – it's too late. The demon's all grown up now …"
"Listen, buddy – this is one thing sitting in the dark and brooding over is definitely not gonna fix. Never say never and all that cheery crap – you go see whatever sword fixer-upper you might know of and leave the rest to me."
"But …"
"No buts – go on, get going. I can handle this." she said confidently, "After all, what more could go wrong? You already broke the best chance we had!"
Realising that it was pointless to even try arguing, Angel gathered up his jacket and the pieces of the sword and headed for the door. He didn't know what the girl expected to be able to do, but it was probably best to humour her …
"Got it!"
"What?"
"A way to kill our not so charming friend – told you I would!" Cordelia announced triumphantly on Angel's return. "Did you get the sword fixed?"
"Good as new." Angel said, showing her the now intact blade. "But how did you …?"
"Hey, you're not the only one with useful friends! Got on the hotline to Sunnydale …"
"Willow."
"Bingo! Am I good or what? You know, if I was the boss, I would so think about giving me a raise right now …" she smiled hopefully.
"We haven't killed the demon yet …" Angel pointed out, "How do we …"
He broke off as they were interrupted by the door opening and Doyle returned from his flat where he'd been cleaning up after their last encounter with the demon. Shooting them both a broad grin, he held up the brown paper bag he had been carrying under one arm and nodded to Cordelia.
"I got the stuff – ya all set at this end?"
"Would someone please tell me what we're doing here!" Angel asked impatiently.
Not pausing in her task of taking the bag from Doyle and spreading out the contents according to instructions she had scribbled on a piece of paper, Cordelia waited until she had everything set up to her liking and then turned to Angel.
"We're getting ready to solve our not so little problem, okay?" she said brightly. "Think you could manage not to break anything this time?"
At Angel's baffled look, Doyle stepped forward to provide further explanation, "The lass Cordy got on the blower had a spell ta regress the demon so it'll be as if it was newly risen – then ya can take yer fancy sword an' go find it ta have another crack. Good plan, ain't it?"
"In theory." Angel said cautiously, "I mean, it's a good idea but are you sure we'll be able to find it again in time? And what about the actually spell? Willow's a Wicca – she knows what she's doing when it comes to spells. Are you sure you can do this without her actually here?"
"Of course!" Cordelia said indignantly, "I wrote down everything she said – okay, the line was a little fuzzy – but I can do this, Angel. Now, shhh!"
Not giving her boss time for further protest, she ordered both he and Doyle to form a circle with her and then set about lighting candles before launching into a chant in Latin. Badly pronounced Latin.
"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" Angel whispered uneasily, "That sounds a little …"
"Shhh!"
A gentle breeze began to blow through the office, picking up a little as Cordelia kept up her chant until it was soon tossing her long hair and causing papers to fly off the desks. Although now looking less sure of herself, Cordelia was still determined to see this through and kept up the chant until there was a bright flash and an invisible force seemed to shot outwards from the circle, blasting the three co-workers apart.
With a little cry, Cordelia found herself flung into one corner, narrowly avoiding striking her head on a large potted plant. Doyle, on the other hand was not so lucky and found himself crashing onto Cordelia's desk with a pained groan for his maltreated ribs as he then slid to the floor.
"Everybody alright?" Doyle asked shakily as he sat up and looked around the room. "Hey, where'd Angel go?" he added, sounding puzzled before he noticed the look on Cordelia's face and hurriedly staggered to his feet. "What is it, princess? Are ya hurt?"
"I think I did something bad …" she said faintly, pointing towards the corner and Doyle followed the line of her finger anxiously.
"Holy mother o' God!" he gasped.
A bundle of black clothes lay tangled by a bookcase, but it seemed that their owner was gone. In his place, however, was a small boy of no more than four years of age. A small boy with dark spiky hair, a confused expression and his thumb firmly lodged in his mouth.
