Thankyou to everyone who reviewed you are all wonderful! (Throws chocolate and cookies) I'm sorry I couldn't update sooner but I was on holiday in france skiing and I didn't have internet connection. If it makes you feel any better I managed to bury myself headfirst in the snow at least five times and I nearly broke my ankle.

Insane Troll Logic: I have no idea what you're talking about

-J: blush Thanks for reviewing and good luck with your fic. I found it WAY harder than I thought it would be but I somehow managed to get some readers. Here's the next chapter for you. It's kinda depressing but hey.

jewel21: I missed you! Glad you turned up again, makes me want to keep writing. Yeah, I have a thing for lemmings, dunno where that came from. According to my brother I have a knack for building up a situation and then destroying it with a single stupid comment. It's all good.

Beff: blinks Okay then.

Angelscribe: I really didn't mean to hurt him that much! Honestly! Well... maybe a little.

Lady Hawke: You really like the storyline? Cool, thanks. My brother asked me if I'd got it off the back of a cereal box. Thankyou for the positive feedback! I love you! In a friendly way.

empath89: Don't worry, I don't do romance, especially not with OCs. Quite a bit of the romance written on here makes me cringe. It's hard enough to find a decent romance story, let alone write one. Doyle is definately not going to fall for Mishka, trust me on this.

7REVIEWS! That's the most I've got per chapter EVER! I'm so HAPPY!

EAE: Oh great, now she's hyper. You see what you've done?

Don't be horrible to my reviewers! They are nice people who can actually be bothered to talk to a deranged lunatic like me! Leave off!

EAE: Whatever. How are you going to explain this chapter?

Er... yeah. Okay I wrote this chapter when tired and in a great deal of pain so my feelings may show in there somewhere. Be nice! RR!

Chapter 5

"Oh please! Swords are SO last century."

Angel had often visualised Cordelia reacting to something in a completely irrational and perfectly Cordelia-esque way… but it really was something else to see it for real.

The young actress was surveying a crate of weapons with something bordering on disgust.

"Okay, this is just dumb, Angel, I mean come ON. LOOK at this mess. The blades are all rusty and dirty and those crossbows look like they belong in a firewood stack somewhere! These daggers are WAY too heavy to be 'light' so-called and where the freak did you get that club? The cave people? Jeesh, get a CLUE would you?"

Kaeden was watching her root through the trunk of weapons with an expression of almost incredulous fascination on his face as she rummaged through the untidy jumble, pulling weapons aside and throwing them over her shoulder.

Angel was sharpening the blade of a long silver knife, the whetstone making a soft schick schick noise as he ran it in deft practised strokes across the gleaming metal. He kept a careful eye on Oz as he did so. The young werewolf was sitting quietly in a corner, sorting through a stack of mismatched crossbow bolts, searching for the ones that would fit his crossbow.

He looked okay except for the rips in his shirt, bruises and cuts along his head, his eyes were unfocused, he was swaying a little… okay so he looked a mess, but at least he was still alive.

"I must say," Kaeden's voice sounded right next to the vampire's ear, making him start, "I'm really rather impressed with your young werewolf friend. He has survived an encounter with both myself and Sacarven, a truly remarkable feat especially in one so young."

If Oz had been in werewolf form, his ears would have flicked.

Angel growled low in his throat and said nothing but scraped the whetstone more vigorously along the knife blade. He did not like the warlock talking about his friends. Cordelia flopped down beside Angel holding a bundle of assorted weaponry that she had deemed 'suitable' for their venture.

"Okay, I've got three knives, a sword, a weird throwy discy thing… erm… some kinda spear thing," Angel quickly took the 'spear thing' from her, making sure to point it away from himself, "And a load of these funny spiky cubes."

Kaeden reached over and picked up the large circular throwing disc, eyeing it appreciatively. "Where did you get this?"

"Japan," Angel answered shortly, twirling the newly sharpened knife in his fingers, testing the balance.

"Good quality steel. But does it fly I wonder?"

The warlock stood up, swinging the disc back and forth. Then, without any warning whatsoever, he sent it whistling across the room. Oz ducked just in time, the disc barely clipping his hair. Angel threw the knife a split second afterwards; the blade ricocheting off the pulsing green light shield that sprung up around the warlock. Cordelia shrieked and dived behind the wooden crate as Angel snarled, snatching a sword up from the floor.

He ducked under an energy disc and leapt up with inhuman speed, jumping up and pressing the blade to the warlock's throat, just as Kaeden's fist stopped a millimetre from the vampire's face, glowing with dark energy.

"What. The. HELL."

Kaeden smiled disarmingly at the angry vampire.

"Just keeping you on your toes my friend. I need to know that someone can watch their own back well enough to watch mine."

The dark energy flickered out and Kaeden lowered his fist, turning to smirk across the room at Oz. The werewolf still had an impassive look on his face although his stance was unsteady. He leant against the wall to steady himself, his head spinning.

"Impressive indeed. Good reflexes, even for a werewolf."

"They come in handy where I come from."

Oz shrugged noncommittally, turning back to his crossbow. Angel's dark eyes narrowed fractionally. Slowly, he lowered the blade from Kaeden's throat and took a wary step backwards. The warlock raised a pale hand to his neck, grimacing very slightly.

"So, would you like to know where we're attacking or would you prefer to take the easy way through the spike pits?"

Angel frowned at him.

"How is the way through the spike pits easier?"

Kaeden's grin set his teeth on edge.

"Let me put it this way.it's quicker but you don't always go where you want to."

Doyle lay in the dark, thinking. Thinking, he decided, was not all it was cracked up to be. For one thing it took effort and strained the nervous cells, which was definitely NOT a good thing in his current situation. However, it did have its advantages. He just hadn't quite got to that part yet.

One particular thought drifted to the surface of his consciousness. He decided that he like the look of it and held onto it. Admittedly it wasn't very complicated or meaningful, nor entirely useful and yet… it was oddly satisfying. It was something solid and certain in the midst of the pain, torment and darkness that he had fallen victim to. It was a shred of himself and it reminded him of who he was and what he believed in.

That Prarl bloke walks like a constipated turkey.

The dreaded sound of rusted hinges squealing under the weight of the heavy door wormed its way maliciously into his ears like a cotton bud covered in sandpaper. Doyle allowed himself to go completely limp, feigning unconsciousness. He doubted very much that Prarl would fall for it and yet he really did not want to have to look at him at the moment. He wasn't sure how much more his brain could take before shrivelling up.

The footsteps that crossed the cell towards him however were far too light for Zariel's second-in-command, who seemed to enjoy stamping around like a bloody elephant because he KNEW that Doyle's head had, at the moment, all the resistance of an eggshell in the path of a snowplough.

Not a lot.

Unless of course the eggshell was made from reinforced titanium but, as the typical eggshell is NOT made from said reinforced titanium (unless one tries to crack one into a bowl at which point the shell miraculously morphs into the toughest solid known to human kind) it makes a very good example at this particular point in time.

He cracked open one stinging eyelid. If the other eyelid had not been swollen shut from a particularly nasty bruise that covered the entirety of the left side of his forehead, both of his eyes would have snapped open instantly.

"Mishka! Thank the bloody maker. He finally got something right."

The young red head looked aghast at the Brachen demon's battered frame. A long jagged cut ran from his right shoulder to his left hip, standing out starkly against pale skin, red and inflamed. His left leg was twisted in a way that no normal leg should be twisted and blood had pooled around his ankle, soaking his jeans. His face was a mess of cuts and bruises, making him look not so much like a human as a sculpture done by an international weight lifter using a pickaxe.

A very blunt pickaxe.

"Oh Doyle…"

She began to sob, hurrying over to him. She held a bucket in one hand and a flask in the other. Setting the bucket down, she pulled the top off the flask and held it to the half-demon's parched lips.

Doyle resisted the urge to gulp down the cool, life giving liquid as it touched his throat, taking small sips as Mishka had instructed before. The dark clouds that fogged his mind began to disperse. He wasn't sure that this was a good thing. For one thing it brought his attention to the fact that half of his leg had been torn of and his chest was telling him that he was supposed to be dead. Doyle told it to push off.

"Cheers love, don't know where I'd be without you."

Six feet under.

He really had to do something about that little voice. He didn't like it when other people were more of a smartass than him.

I am you.

My point exactly.

What point was that?

The one I just made.

But you didn't make a point.

Yes I did and now you're contradicting it, which just proves me right.

Well, I am you so I just technically proved myself right.

What so I just proved myself wrong?

Well it all gets a little complicated at this point, you see, you just proved yourself right and wrong.

Ha! So you admit it! I TOLD you!

Er… what?

Ha ha gotcha.

Riiiiiiiight.

The girl allowed him to finish the rest of the flask in slow sips. She reached down to the bucket and pulled a wet cloth from it, wringing it out thoroughly.

"I'm sorry, there wasn't any hot water. I looked for some but it had all gone. All gone away…"

She reached up timidly and began to wipe the blood from the seer's face, pausing whenever he winced. Doyle tried to stay as still as possible, grateful for the cooling sensation on his numerous injuries, glad to be rid of the sticky feeling of dried blood.

"Was it Prarl?"

The question was asked so softly that Doyle had to wait for a moment to realise that she had actually spoken. He hesitated, not wanting to distress her any further. The foul way that the slimy warlock had talked about her was still fresh in his mind and he felt his insides burn with anger. Suppressing his feelings, he nodded once, struggling to put on his general easygoing attitude.

"Yeah, clumsy bugger, couldn't use a sword to save his life. Don't worry about him."

She dipped the cloth back into the water, red tendrils spreading out into the clear liquid. She kept her eyes lowered as she began to dab gently at the long gash on his chest.

"I heard… I heard what… what he said…"

Doyle's eyes widened and he looked anxiously at her face, finding it hidden by her long russet hair.

"Mishka – "

She interrupted him, her voice growing a little more confident.

"And I saw… when he came out after… he was limping."

She looked up at him with big green eyes, "Did you do that?"

Doyle sighed and nodded again.

"Because of what he said?"

Another nod.

"Oh…" she seemed to consider this for a moment. "That was brave of you. I couldn't do it. He scares me."

Doyle suppressed a pained hiss as she touched the mangled flesh of his leg.

"You shouldn't be scared of him Mishka, you hear me? He's nothing but a bully who picks on people who let him. You're worth a million of him. Always remember that."

She stayed silent as she cleaned the seer's damaged leg as best she could. By the time she had finished both the cloth and the water in the bucket was bright red.

She glanced towards the door.

"Do you have friends Doyle?"

The half demon smiled faintly at her habit for asking questions out of the blue.

"A few."

"What are they like?"

Doyle paused thoughtfully.

"Brave. Weird, very weird… but brave."

"Like me?"

The question didn't hold any type of condemnation, just a mild inquisitiveness. Doyle raised an eyebrow at her.

"You are not weird. Trust me, I know weird. Compared to the people I've seen, you are the epitome of normality."

She giggled, eyes sparkling.

"You're the first person to be nice to me you know. Except for my brother of course. And Mummy…"

Suddenly she got up and held her hand to Doyle's injured leg.

"Keep still."

A pale white aura surrounded her arm and a soft tingling sensation spread through him. The pain in Doyle's leg vanished. He twisted it experimentally and was amazed to see that the gash had vanished.

"How… how?"

She smiled shyly, "I have healing powers. I was scared to use them at first, I thought I could hurt someone… but Mummy taught me. She said that if someone was a good person then I should help them."

Doyle swallowed hard.

"Sounds like your mum was a wonderful person."

The girl nodded.

"She was. I still remember her, you see. So she must have been wonderful."

She sighed and pulled the bucket of bloody water towards her.

"Can you walk?"

He nodded somewhat stiffly.

"I reckon so. Why?"

He had been expecting her to say that Prarl or Zariel wanted to see him again, prepared for a sad face and tear filled eyes. Instead she plunged her hand into the bucket of blood and water.

"Er… Mishka? What are you doing?"

He was shocked speechless when her hand emerged, a heavy silver key clasped tightly in her spindly fingers. The young woman glanced towards the door again before turning back to him, a resolute expression on her childlike face.

"Mummy always said that it was wrong to hurt people and… and that you should help your friends."

Doyle stared at her.

"But… you'll get in trouble!"

"Not if they don't catch us."

"Don't risk yourself for me Mishka, please – "

"I'll just feel horrible if don't though. I'm helping you out of here… so there."

She reached up and unlocked the shackles from the Brachen demon's wrists. Doyle just managed to catch himself before he fell over. He felt a thin hand grip his wrist with surprising strength.

"Hurry! They'll know I've used my powers! Zariel is scary when he's angry."

Doyle pulled himself together, clearing his head impatiently. Adrenaline was starting to course through him and he followed the young girl, slipping through the heavy door into a rough stone passageway, lit by pale flame torches fixed into the walls. Mishka clasped his wrist tighter, looking this way and that.

"We have to go on tiptoe otherwise the nasty men will hear us."

He felt her trembling and reached out his other hand to clasp hers, a silent reassurance. She stopped trembling and smiled at him, the determination back in her eyes.

"This way."

"This is it."

Kaeden's quiet voice cut through the uneasy silence that filled the black convertible. Angel pulled into a shadowy corner and looked up at the large building. It looked like some sort of disused factory, a single tall chimney reaching above the entire structure, blackened and smoky.

"What is it?" asked Angel, dark eyes running suspiciously over the dark construction.

"An old stone quarry," replied the warlock, squinting towards the looming building, "They built the factory beside the mine itself for making various bits of stone rubbish, statues and tables and suchlike. Been abandoned for almost twenty years. It's a perfect rat hole for Zariel and his cronies. They built a maze of rooms in the old mining tunnels. It's the reason they haven't been found."

"Hey guys, as fascinating as this is, can we go now?"

Angel closed his eyes. "Cordy I am not just sitting around because I feel like it."

"Then why are you sitting around?"

"To make sure that we won't get our heads blown off as soon as we get out of the car."

"Hey, you know what? This car has really comfy seats."

Kaeden chuckled quietly, "I wouldn't worry about being ambushed Angel, the ritual is tonight. You have much more pressing issues to deal with. Sadly, this does require you to actually get out of the car."

Angel glared at him, "Yeah, and I would trust you because…?"

"I'm hurt Angel," Kaeden grinned at him, I thought we had reached a mutual understanding."

"Yeah we had: you don't hurt my friends or try to trick us and I won't be forced to tie your spine into a knot and rip your eyeballs out."

"Well, that seems fairly simple to me. Shall we?"

Angel snorted and turned to the back.

"You two okay?"

"Can we GO already!"

"How about you Oz?"

The werewolf shrugged noncommittally, tilting his head to one side and blinking.

"Cool. Hey, just out of interest, how many eyes do you have normally?"

Angel looked at him in concern.

"Two."

"Ah… not too far off then."

"There it is!"

Doyle sighed with relief. The journey through the dark tunnels had been far from pleasant, even by current standards. For one thing he was freezing cold and the draughty tunnels had torn viciously at his exposed skin. The only good thing about it was that the cold numbed the pain in the cuts he had accumulated during his stay, making walking a little more bearable.

He was fairly sure he had concussion and the tunnels had seemed to sway erratically as they ran through them. Mishka had had to prevent him from falling several times and that had not exactly helped their journey. The cut on his chest had begun to bleed again and every one of his limbs ached with fatigue. To see the small metal door ahead of them was like seeing the light at the end of the tunnel.

A very long tunnel with spiky bits around the edges.

Mishka smiled happily, her emerald eyes shining in the darkness.

"Now you can go and find your friends and I can find my brother!"

"Well now, isn't that nice for you?"

Doyle felt the blood freeze in his veins at the cruel, amused voice that drifted out of the shadows behind them. He turned too quickly and the world became one large mushy blob. He did not see the ball of dark energy until it was too late. It slammed into his chest, throwing him back against the rough stone wall. His back exploded into a blaze of agony and he felt the raw cuts trickling blood.

He slid into a sitting position at the base of the wall. Through the black haze of ravening unconsciousness he saw a small red headed figure standing protectively in front of him. He tried to fight the darkness but his brain was shutting down around him. He slipped reluctantly into senselessness.

Prarl smirked.

"Hello my dear. It's just you and me now. I've always wanted to hear you sing."

They were halfway across the darkened grounds when Kaeden stiffened, stopping dead in his tracks. Angel turned back, frowning. The warlock actually looked frightened, as though he could see something the others couldn't.

"What? What's the matter?"

"Mishka."

Without another word, the warlock sprinted away into the darkness. Angel and Oz exchanged a look.

"Okay," began Cordelia, pointing her sword threateningly at the vampire, "Don't you dare run off into some weirdo dark place after some random evil guy who we don't even know."

"That's okay Cordy. You can stay here."

Angel took off after Kaeden, his black leather duster flapping behind him. Oz looked back at Cordy and shrugged.

"Coming?"

Cordelia scoffed, "Not a chance! I'm not about to run into something which is so completely obviously a trap."

"Okay then, see you later."

He jogged away.

"Fine! Fine then just leave me here." She folded her arms mulishly, turning her nose up at the world in general. "I don't care… even if it is dark… and cold… and I don't have the keys to the car… and this place is seriously creepy… that stupid Doyle had better be in a whole lot of trouble! Hey, wait for me!"

Prarl leered at the frail russet-haired woman standing protectively in front of the seer. He had thought that something like this might happen and he grinned. If Kaeden wanted to betray them, then he would have to face the consequences.

"What's the point in helping him my dear? You'll just endanger yourself and your brother." He smirked, "And you don't want that do you?"

"You leave him alone."

He had to admire her. In the torchlight her eyes sparkled defiantly, her soft russet hair glimmering around her almost ethereal features.

"Mishka, you must understand," he put on a quiet, sympathetic voice, "that sometimes sacrifices must be made, for the greater good."

A flicker of doubt crossed her eyes but she stood firm.

"Doyle's a nice person. He doesn't deserve to be hurt like this. You… you're just a bully!"

The warlock's temper flared at the caring way she talked about the seer, that… that SCUM lying at her feet. So HE merited her affections did he?

"Mishka, you are confused. He was only pretending to be nice to you. All he was doing was using you to escape."

She had always been so gullible, it was almost amusing. But to his consternation she merely smiled at him.

"I know you're lying. He told me not to help him, that I'd only be putting myself in danger. He's much nicer to me than you ever were."

Prarl gritted his teeth, did the damn Powers have to take everything from him?

"Mishka, I really don't want to have to hurt you but I will if I have to."

"You can't hurt me. Not anymore."

He smirked. "Oh I think you'll find I can my dear."

He launched a small disc of black light, intending to cut off a few strands of her hair, just as a warning. He was not prepared for the white barrier that appeared around the girl, deflecting the disc into the wall. The rock shattered and a sliver cut across his cheek, barely missing his eye. He straightened up, spitting dust.

"You little witch! What the hell did you do!"

"What I had to."

She stood calmly in front of her friend, eyes boring into the warlock. To his utter fury, he found himself unable to meet her gaze. This was stupid! She was just an insane little girl! He pulled himself together.

"I'm truly sorry that it's come to this Mishka."

He flung an arm out and sent a bolt of dark energy ricocheting off the metal door, straight towards Doyle's inert form. She spun swiftly and deflected the attack but in her urgency to protect the seer, she had made a fatal mistake.

Prarl leapt at her, grinning as he caught her around the neck, pulling her back against him.

"Gotcha."

He spun her around roughly, a foul look of twisted glee on his face.

"It could have been fun my dear. It's such a shame."

She did not make a sound as he slid the sharp steel into her ribcage.

He dropped her limp body carelessly to the cold stone floor, turning his attention to the senseless seer.

"Couldn't let you miss the show now could I?"

Yes it's crap, I know! Please review!