Wow! Two updates in one week! I feel proud of myself. Please let me know what you think of the story so far. I'm always happy to receive constructive comments.
For disclaimer, see chapter one. I own nothing.
Doyle had a horrible feeling that he'd just made a really huge mistake. A really massive, catastrophic, possibly apocalyptic mistake.
'I've just left Cordelia and Yeva in a room together…alone'
He'd known as soon as he'd crashed through the door that he was in trouble, he could read Cordelia's pinched expression straight away and a lump had formed in his throat.
'I knew I shouldn't have gone for that coffee.'
Although, he had to admit, it was nice coffee, and nice company. And Cordelia had turned him down countless times before, so technically he hadn't done anything wrong. But if that was the case…why did he feel so crummy?
Another pang of guilt washed over him as he checked his thoughts and remembered that he was supposed to be rushing to help his friend who was currently battling a seven-foot monstrosity.
'In my next life, I just know I'm coming back as a nit comb.'
Thankfully, Doyle was granted a reprieve from his self-pity, as he turned a corner and barrelled straight into a solid black shape, tripping over his own feet in an attempt to step back and instead ending up on his rear.
"Nice to see you too Doyle," Angel's amused tone earned him an irritated glare from the Irishman.
"I take it you dispatched our demon friend?" Doyle mumbled from the ground.
"Not exactly." The vampire reached down and helped the other man to his feet and they began walking back to the offices.
"What do you mean?" Doyle asked, "Either you did or you didn't?"
Angel shrugged, or it might have been just another brooding pose, Doyle couldn't tell anymore. "Well, if you want to get pedantic, I didn't"
"Great!" Doyle huffed, "Do you want to tell the girls or should I?"
"Calm down, I've bought us some time I think. At least long enough to end this permanently." Angel pushed open the door leading into Angel Investigations and shook his hair free of the rain.
Doyle hung back slightly, half expecting Yeva and Cordelia to be engaged in a massive cat-fight, splitting and screaming. Without his say-so, the images in his head suddenly shifted towards hot oil wrestling and pillow fights. Now there was an idea...
His fantasies were cut short but a heavy silence in the office instead. Angel headed straight for the back room to grab a towel and Doyle found himself leaning against the desk, with Cordelia on one side and Yeva on the other, both firing questions at him immediately.
"Whoa! Hold on ladies, Angel's the one that fought the beastie, not me! Ask him!"
Cordelia jabbed a finger into his arm, "Angel can take care of himself, you doofus! What were you thinking, going up against that thing?"
Yeva came up on his left, "Is it coming back? Did Angel kill it? What's happened Doyle?"
Doyle looked despairingly at Angel who had come and stood in the office doorway, a towel draped round his shoulders. The vampire took his cue to intervene on Doyle's behalf.
"It's okay for now. The demon won't be back for a while, trust me."
That seemed to calm to the two girls and Doyle felt a pang of jealousy that he couldn't command that kind of respect.
Yeva flopped down on the battered leather couch and rubbed her face in her hands, "So, what now?"
There was a few moments of silence before Doyle's Irish lilt filled the air, "Anyone fancy a stiff drink?"
The bar was, in Angel's opinion, one of the least detestable he had been in since moving to L.A. It had one of those old-world feels to it, like that place in Cheers. The bar stools had tape on the cushions and the smell of peanuts and beer hung thickly in the air.
So, it wasn't nineteenth century or anything but it was a definite improvement on the places he was usually dragged to. At least it didn't have that awful throbbing music blasting out and drunken kids throwing up on your shoes.
They were sitting together at a table near the window, each lost of a moment in their own thoughts. Understandably, neither of the girls had been too thrilled to learn that the demon had not been killed but Angel had a pretty good feeling that without the scroll. The demon was stopped for now, which would at least give them time to formulate a decent plan B.
Doyle had wondered what could have been so important about the parchment in the first place and Yeva had seemed rather upset that Angel hadn't kept hold of it.
"It might have told us something about it. You shouldn't have let it go" She cried.
"It's okay. By the time our demon finds the train and comes back, we'll be ready, right Angel?" Cordelia added.
"Sure, and when it does, we'll be ready." Angel assured.
They'd come to a small bar near the docklands that Doyle had promised would be virtually empty and suitably quiet for a quick drink. He hadn't lied; the place was pretty much deserted with only a few regulars dotted along the stained bar.
"Oh, this is so dark and musty, why didn't we just stay in the office?" Cordelia's sarcasm was not lost on any of them seated around the table but thankfully her heart didn't really seem to be in it, everyone was too busy with their own thoughts to say anything.
Doyle, in usual form, was attempting to lighten the mood, "I don't know, it's kinda' homely" He did seem to be thoroughly enjoying himself, a pint of ale resting before him, already half-drained.
Next to him Yeva sat twirling an ice cube lazily in her drink with her index finger, "Reminds me of home. Small towns with small crowds. I used to think it was so dull but there's something warming about places like that, not like this city, with everyone out for something.
"Hey," Cordelia seemed to take personal offence at the comment.
"Sorry, just thinking out loud. Guess that's what happens when you've got a large homicidal demon on your tail." This statement removed the scowl from Cordelia's face.
Yeva continued, unaware, "Feels like the world is out to get you sometimes doesn't it? Most of us can't fit in with the humans and those that do still have to worry about those pure-blood types that can't leave well enough alone."
"Makes you glad to be alive eh?" Doyle quipped.
She gave a half-smile, "Yeah, and I'm lucky to get one of the nastiest pure-bloods around by the looks of it. Hunts us down, rips us to pieces and for no other reason than how we were born. All those half-breeds are dead, all because they didn't fit with someone else's plan of how the world should work."
The bar seemed to quiet at her words, each person lost in their own thoughts about the world and its faults.
Cordelia broke the oppressive mood, "I'm still a little sketchy on the whole 'demons killing demons' thing. You're the same as them, so why have they got such a problem? What's the difference?"
"There's quite a difference Cordelia." Doyle murmured.
Angel looked up at Doyle's comment. There was a note of something dark in the other man's voice but the Cordelia didn't seem to pick up on it. Her friend's demon heritage was at the moment a closely guarded secret and it was becoming apparent to Angel that it couldn't stay that way for much longer.
It was something that the vampire intended on getting to the bottom of at some point, even if it involved consuming vast amounts of whiskey with the Irishman to do it.
Yeva spoke up once more, eyes still fixed on the glass in front of her, "It's not like any of us asked to be like this. Believe me. But I'd rather be proud of who I am than hide it. If I did that, what kind of person would I be then?"
Yeva seemed to sense the tension in Doyle as she spoke, but ignored it. It was clear in her eyes that her statement held more than words.
Another awkward pause and Doyle stood up abruptly, "I need some air."
He was up and out the door before anyone could really take it in. Cordelia made the move to follow but a soft hand stayed her motion.
"Let me," Yeva gave a short nod to Angel before following the path of Doyle outside into the damp, poorly-lit street.
As she left the bar, Yeva noted that Doyle hadn't gone far, only about ten feet before stopping and leaning heavily against a nearby dumpster. Slowly she walked down the few concrete steps that led away from the entrance and stopped at the bottom, unwilling to crowd the man in front of her.
'Not just a man' she thought to herself.
"I'm sorry," She said. It sounded flat and she winced inwardly. "I just find it hard to understand why you hide it from her. I thought she was your friend?"
"She is" Doyle whispered. "I'm not ready to tell her" He looked as if that was all he needed to say.
"Well, I think you should give her more credit." Yeva gestured back to the bar with a flick of her head. "A girl like that could probably handle the end of the world better than any of us."
Doyle laughed, the sudden noise echoing down the quiet street, "Funnily enough, she has. But this…" He looked uncomfortable again.
Yeva smiled softly, "I get it, I do. It took me a while to adjust too. Bit of a shock, isn't it, finding out everything you thought you were is a lie."
He laughed again, "Too bloody right."
She echoed his laugh, "Well, it was the same over here in 'Camp Yeva' too you know. A change like that, it knocks you for six, and you know you'll never be the same again."
There was a second or two of silence, both parties waiting for the other to make a move. Feeling the need to make some room for the both of them, Yeva moved back, leaning against the railings of the stairway.
"So, are we cool?" A lump formed in her throat and she ducked her eyes, staring at the floor.
"Yeah, we're cool." He smiled.
"Good, because I'd hate to face Cordelia if I'd upset you." Yeva looked up, expecting to share a half-hearted laugh but Doyle's gaze was fixed, staring straight ahead, the muscles in his face tense and his body shaking.