"I feel like I'm in bloody art class," said Spike, down on his hands and knees sketching out the diagram on the floor. He was not alone; the chalk for the pool cues had been broken into several small pieces and distributed amongst the group. Angel was standing on top of the bar to get the full effect and to shout directions when needed. "And I wish you wouldn't loom like that, Angelus. It's distracting me. Makes me want to rip your lungs out."
"It's Angel."
"Angelus, Angel…whatever!" Spike growled, standing abruptly and tossing his chalk on the ground. "It's finished, so get off the high ground and come mingle with your friends in low places."
"Take your positions," said Angel. He jumped down silently and began adjusting the positioning of various vampires, joining their hands with the vampires next to them, across from them, and behind them in an intricate pattern. Spike was half watching, and half reading over the incantations again. At last, Angel had worked his way through the crowd to the center of the pattern, directly across from Spike. It was the position requiring the greatest strength of will and courage of heart. Doubts rose in Angel's mind as he looked at his old enemy. Then Spike reached his free hand across the space, and Angel took it and felt a vitality and power that he had known he would find, but that he had not expected to find on his side.
"The forces from without endanger the force within," Angel began. "The danger without becomes the danger within. We unite to repulse a common enemy. We have no differences; we are the same. The enemy has made us one." The incantation continued in a language long forgotten, the language of a people long forgotten, and distinctions of all kinds melted as the assembled life-forces poured their collective energy through to the center of the pattern, to the two who had the least reason to join together in any pursuit, and who for this moment chose to forget.
The door gave way. The attention of the participants on the outer edges of the pattern was shattered, but it was too late. From the center came the final words of incantation.
No one could explain the screams. Nor could they explain the sudden influx of mentally and physically exhausted patients to hospitals across the city. The people who made half-hearted attempts to investigate were told not to waste their time. It was best to pretend that nothing had happened. The unwise few who dared to report demon possessions carried the burden of their lapse in judgment for the rest of their lives—except for those who made their way to Angel Investigations, where they found four people who were more than willing to listen.
Wesley was packing up his books when Angel walked out of the inner office the evening after the successful completion of the Rite of Merkoris. He started guiltily when he saw Angel.
"What are you doing?" Angel rarely wasted time getting to the point.
"Well, I…I thought perhaps now that Doyle has returned, I should return to my old profession of, um, rogue demon-hunting. That is, you seem to have all the staff you need, and…."
"You're afraid that four will be a crowd?" asked Angel.
"Not exactly a crowd," said Wesley, passing a book from one hand to the other, "but you all seem to fit together so well, and I…."
"We still need you, Wesley," Angel insisted. "You've become part of the 'fit' of this organization, too."
"I suppose there is strength in numbers," Wesley acquiesced rather hesitantly. He put the book down on the table.
"Besides," said Angel, "Cordelia and Doyle don't make an exceptional research department."
Wesley smiled. "Well I know it."
"So you'll stay?"
"Yes. When you put it that way... Yes, of course I will."
Doyle and Cordelia entered. "Forgot my car keys," Cordelia explained, heading for her desk.
"Stalkin' Cordelia," Doyle offered as his reason for being there. "You're here late, aren't you, Wes?"
"I needed to get some research in."
"Suit yourself," shrugged Doyle. "Personally, I would never…." His face twitched, and he put his hands to his head.
"Doyle?" said Angel.
He screamed. Cordelia winced and bit her lip. He dropped to the ground and closed his eyes, pressing his fists against his forehead. Cordelia ran to him, went down on her knees and put her arms around his shoulders, holding tightly as he rocked back and forth. And then it was over. His shaking hand found hers and squeezed them firmly. She rested her head on his and sighed in relief.
"Are you all right? What was that?" exclaimed Wesley.
"A vision," said Doyle and Cordelia in unison.
"You're getting visions, too?" asked Wesley.
Doyle looked up at Cordelia, who shook her head. "No, I'm getting visions, alone," he said.
"How is that possible?" asked Wesley. "We thought the link had been passed to Cordelia."
"He was," said Angel, looking at Doyle. "You are the link."
"I'm afraid it must be non-transferable," Doyle said. "Which is good in a way, because I wouldn't have wanted Cordelia to have to suffer this forever…but…oh, blast!"
Wesley tossed Cordelia her bottle of pain medication. She handed it to Doyle, who promptly swallowed eight pills without asking for water.
"Oh!" said Wesley, and stopped when Doyle glared at him.
With the help of Cordelia, Doyle pulled himself to his feet. "Diwraq," he said. "East L.A. somewhere. After a pretty blond nightclub singer who performs on Tuesday and Thursday nights. Bit of spiritual blackmailing going on, I think."
Angel nodded. "Thanks."
"That's much clearer than most of Cordelia's visions," Wesley said appreciatively.
"Hey, I was still getting used to it," protested Cordelia. "And the visions weren't coming from me, really, so they were probably all muffled."
"If you need me, I'll be at the pub," said Doyle. "Which is also where I'll be if fortune is kind and you don't need me."
"Can you taste anything?" asked Cordelia. "You're sort of a vampire now, remember. You don't have to do the whole food-ingesting thing."
"Right," said Doyle, frowning. He shook his head. "I've gotta go anyway, princess. I need the comforting feel of a glass in my hand."
"I'll come with you." Doyle looked at her quizzically. "I have sympathy pains," she said defensively.
"Come on, then." He grinned at her and took her hand. "I'll teach you all the words to 'Danny Boy.'"
He still felt his spirit soar when he heard her laugh.