Amazing Grace
By: Javawolf
Set after "Sense and Sensitivity".
Season 1. No spoilers.
Rated M: Suitable for mature teenagers
He'd nearly forgotten how great it felt to hunt. To feel each passing heartbeat echoing in his chest, to stalk his prey, toy with them. People were so predictable. They felt safer because of their precious electricity, staying out later, walking alone. So vulnerable. Now that he'd finally stopped fighting, he remembered what it meant to be a Creature of the Night.
"He's not down here." Cordelia whinned. "I'm tired of looking for him. I want to go home and go to bed. For all I know he's actually decided to go out and have a little fun tonight. Can we stop now?"
Doyle studied the small basement apartment, examining the entire room for any clues as to what had become of their leader. "He was 'ere a minute ago. We just missed 'im." He said flatly, pushing handfuls of paper around on the bed.
"How do you know?" Cordelia retorted. Doyle didn't answer. She wondered if he had even heard her.
"Doyle?"
"Look at this." Doyle motioned towards the bed. Cordelia crained her neck around his shoulder to get a better look, noticing for the first time that the entire bedroom was littered with crumpled up papers. She reached and grabbed the closest wad off of the pillow.
"Oh my God..."
Doyle got one for himself, intrigued. "What--what's all this?" He turned the paper right-side-up, or maybe it went the other way around...he couldn't be sure. It was a drawing. What it was supposed to be he didn't know. Bored with his sheet, his eyes flirted over to Cordelia's. Her's was easily recognizable as a girl. Very young, perhaps four years-old, naked, bound and gagged. She bore several bruises, or so much as one can tell from pencil work. But the most noticeable detail were the wounds dotted up and down her arms and legs, where his fangs had broken the skin, careful not to drink so much that the girl lost consciousness. He wanted her awake, so he could hear her scream when he bit into her again...and again...
Doyle looked back at his paper, suddenly realizing what it was. Disgusted, he dropped it onto the floor, a small grunt escaping his lungs as he brushed his hands up and down his plaid T-shirt, feeling as though they would never be clean.
"What the hell is goin' on!"
Cordelia re-crumpled the drawing and ran her hands through her hair.
"I think we need to find Angel..."
"Hey--"
Jesse spun around, nearly knocking the poor guy down. "Oh, I'm sorry! I just-"
"No, it's fine." He straighted himself out. "I—I didn't mean to startle you."
Jesse was at a lost for what to say. She felt herself get warmer, noticing the guy looking her up and down, smiling to himself. Normally she would have considered it incredibly rude, but this guy was really attractive...could it be he was interested? She didn't know how to ask.
"But--um... I just saw you there and--you looked so sad..."
Jesse forced a smile. "Oh, well. Uh--my boyfriend just dumped me for the waitress at the club we went to, and I just--well, you can't get much lower than that."
The guy looked crestfallen. "Oh. Oh, I--I'm sorry, I didn't mean to--I mean I just--umm..." He turned and started to slouch away, but Jesse wasn't about to let him out of her sight.
"No no no, it's okay I--don't go." She grabbed his arm to hold him back, silently wishing to feel the rest of him.
He smiled at her. "Hey, would you--like to go somewhere more...private?"
Jesse couldn't help but laugh.
"What?" The man asked, perplexed.
"No, no...not you, it's just--hot guys ask me out, like, all the time. Not!" She laughed again.
The guy laughed with her. Not a polite laugh, but a genuine laugh, as if he found something truly amusing. "Is that a yes, then?" He asked her, moving in close on her, his hands feeling her out softly. All of a sudden Jesse's legs felt like butter. She let herself slide into his arms, and he leaned in, so that his nose brushed her's. She giggled softly.
"That's a yes." She whispered.
He chuckled to himself. Too easy.
"Doyle? Doyle! What's wrong, what are you--oh!" Cordelia tried her hardest to run to him before he hit the floor, but this is easier said, then done when one is wearing three -inch pumps. She was relieved when Doyle managed to throw his arm out to catch himself. The poor man shook on the floor for a few long seconds before struggling to his feet.
"Ooooh, for God's sake woman, get me a drink..." He moaned, rubbing his temples. Cordelia handed him a glass of some alcoholic beverage she couldn't pronounce.
"What is it?"
"What, this?" Doyle replied holding his glass up. "Oh, it's SharochLouf. Irish Whiskey."
Cordelia took a moment to comprehend what Doyle obviously wasn't comprehending.
"No! Idiot, the vision!" She waived her hands in the air for emphasis. "What did you see in your vision?"
Doyle stepped back from her, as one would put distance between themselves and a pit bull. After a moment he spoke again, his face grim.
"It's Angel."
Cordelia swatted him lightly across the shoulder. "You waited several minutes to mention that fact!"
She looked at him expectantly. Doyle didn't speak, for fear she would beat him over the head with that whiskey bottle if he said one thing wrong.
"Angel--" Cordelia pressed.
"What? Where?" Doyle glanced around the room, a confused look on his face.
"Dumbass, what's wrong with Angel? Your vision, what's happening to him?"
"Oh--well." He paused, consumed in thought. "There's a girl. Uh--average 'ieght, light brown 'air in a ponytail...Jesse Lodik...23 years-old. She's got 'im."
Cordelia gasped. "Oh my God she's torturing him?" Her face relaxed. "Does he have, like, a sign on his back that says 'Torture Me.'?"
"She's not torturing 'im, Cordelia...she's----she's sticking 'er tongue down 'is throat."
"Oh...and ew."
A moment of silence passed while both Cordelia and Doyle tried very hard to block out the array of mental images that came with those words. Suddenly Cordelia jumped.
"Oh God, Angel's getting some! He's gonna go evil again!"
"Cor, we weren't supposed to save 'im, we were supposed to save the girl."
"What do you mean 'save the girl.'? And you said were...as in, past tense?"
"It's too late...she's dead."
He felt a buzz. She must have been really drunk. He smelled it on her a block over, that's why he chose her. But of course. She had to have been drunk to waltz off with a complete stranger without even asking his name. Stupid.
He couldn't help but laugh to himself. People. L.A. was swarming with them. It was like one big-ass cookie jar. If cookies could walk, talk and fuck. Oh yeah, and that was the best part. Back in the day you had to hog-tie 'em to do it, but nowadays they'll walk up to you and strip right there. It was paradise, there was so much promise. He looked at the dead girl on the floor, his smile fading.
It hadn't been a hunt. It was too easy. At that moment he realized how far he'd slipped. He'd gone this low? Picking up tramps off the street for a Bone&Bite?
No, he decided. That was just a warm-up. Besides, he told himself, he was so hungry, he couldn't wait while he planned the long, slow ruination of a human being. He'd needed to feed, so he did. But now...now the real fun begins. And his next victim, he smiled to himself as he pictured her in his mind. He'll make her his best work yet.
"So what are you saying? Angel boned her, got happy, killed her?" Cordelia tried very hard to understand. But the catch there, was that she would only understand what she wanted to understand. She wasn't sure she could accept the fact the sans-soul-boy was back.
"He's not evil, Cordelia." Doyle didn't look up at her, he found a dark spot on the floor that looked interesting and waited for her to hit him again.
"Oh, he's not? Great! So what, he raped and murdered an innocent girl in the interest of fighting for the side of the righteous? Good, I'm relieved."
Doyle raised his head so that his eyes locked with Cordelia's. He noticed her shaking and sighed. He wasn't sure this news would comfort her any more than the idea Angel had turned.
"He's not Angelus. It's--it's Angel. I felt it in my vision, in a way I couldn't describe to you, but I know. He's still got 'is soul, he's just--"
"Lost it?" Cordelia tried a weak smile, but her lower lip trembled. "I have been so terrified that Angelus would come back. After Sunnydale, after--everything. And now--you...you want me to believe that Angel, our friend, is a killer again...by choice?"
Doyle didn't answer, he went back to examining the brown spot on the floor. He almost didn't want to believe it either, but he knew. He'd felt it. He took another swig from his flask and sighed.
Cordelia stood up tall, squaring her shoulders. "Well, we have to stop him."
He knocked softly on the door, and a moment later she was standing in it, looking beautiful, and more than a little surprised.
"Angel--what are you doing here?"
"I just-I just wanted to see you." He smiled sheepishly and scuffed his toe.
"Oh--uh..."
"Can I come in?"
She studied him for a moment before stepping aside.
"Yeah sure, come on in."
"How are we goin' to find 'im?" Doyle asked as Cordelia started her car. "Do you know where he'll be 'eaded?"
Cordelia pushed the gas to the floor. "I have a pretty good idea." She said through gritted teeth.
Doyle stared at her for a moment, taking note of her great posturing. "Yeah, well...I'm very impressed by the dramatic integrity you gave that statement, but I'm still no better off now than I was a second ago, so something a bit more informative would be appreciated."
The look Cordelia gave him at that moment could have killed any normal man, Doyle was sure. Or a coward...but since he considered himself neither, he lived to tell the tale. Cordelia went back to watching the road.
"We're going to Sunnydale. Last time Angel went psycho, he targeted Buffy. He bent over backwards to make her life as miserable as he possibly could, before even trying to kill her. Since his soul was restored before he could kill her the last time, I bet he'll be wanting to finish it. That's where he'll be headed." Cordelia's serious I-Know-What-I'm-Talking-About-Look faded. "Sucks for Buffy, but we should get there before the serious torturing starts."
Doyle fidgeted in his seat. "Well, that's all fine and dandy there, Princess...but allow me to point out yet again for the record...it's not Angelus. We can't know that 'e'll--"
"You don't know! You never--" Cordelia snapped on him hard, but seemed to regain a certain amount of control in mid-sentence. She sniffled and wiped her eyes. Doyle handed her his hankerchief. She took it, examined it, and handed it back. "Thanks but...I'm okay. I just wanna wake up, you know?"
Doyle nodded. Yeah...he knew...
A few hours later, they pulled into Buffy Summer's driveway, just as the sun was coming up.
They knocked on the door, and a moment later Buffy stood there in her pajamas, a blank look on her face.
"Cordelia?" She eyed Doyle, who seemed to be trying not to lock eyes with her, as she wouldn't exactly qualify as being dressed.
"Who are you?" Buffy asked.
Cordelia waved her hand in Buffy's face. "That's not the issue. Where's Angel?"
Buffy stared at her. "What? I dunno, it's not like he and I talk."
Cordelia moved closer, towering over little Buffy in her heels. "I am not playing games with you Buffy Summers. We're not in High School anymore, and I'm not taking any of your crap. Where is he?"
Buffy narrowed her eyes. "You had better get out of my face, Cordelia."
Cordelia sighed impatiently. "Look, I know you're still pissed at him for taking off, but we really don't have time for your issues. We're not gonna sit down and talk. We need Angel, so tell us where he is."
"He's not here." She said flatly, crossing her arms over her chest. Cordelia and Doyle took a moment to digest that.
"You let 'im leave!" Doyle grilled her.
"What! No. I haven't seen him. He hasn't been by here." Buffy watched the two exchange confused glances, and then turn to leave.
"Cordelia, what's going on?"
Cordelia didn't answer. Buffy stood there with the door open, watching them get into the car and sit there looking utterly stupefied. She sighed. "Ugh...whatever..." And closed the door.
"I don't understand." Cordy whispered to no one in particular. "He would want to kill the person Angel cared the most for. He's screwed up that way. But if it's not Buffy...who is he after?"
She rolled over in bed and wrapped her arms around Angel's midsection.
"Jeez, did I hog all the blankets?"
He opened his eyes sleepily, and smiled up at her. "Mmm...good morning."
"Good morning." Kate replied.