Apologises for the delay. Just started a new job and had to move, but anyway enough with excuses...on with the story!
The demon was drunk! And not only drunk, but doing a good impression of weeping as well. Angel found himself shaking his head in disbelief, unable to actually move from the doorway of the basement. However, a hard shove soon helped him get his legs moving and Cordelia barged into the room, her ponytail swishing in impatience.
"You have got to be kidding me!" She cried, taking in the scene of a hulking red demon huddled over an empty wine bottle, sobbing. For a moment fear clutched Angel's motionless heart as the beast turned and stared through watery eyes at Cordelia's outburst, but as it turned out, he needn't have worried.
"Go 'way!" The deep gravelly voice remained but in place of the usual thundering tone, there was only a slurred whine instead, "Don't wana fight no more."
"Well, you better get over it mister!" At this point Cordelia seemed to take check of herself and moved back behind Angel before continuing her rant, "Cause Angel's going to kick your murderous butt!"
As the demon started to stand up, Angel again felt himself wishing that Cordelia wasn't quite so bold...
The whiskey bottle was nearly empty, something which saddened Doyle immensely. The other one was upstairs under Cordelia's desk and he really couldn't be bothered getting up to get it. Besides, he had a sneaking suspicion that he'd had enough already. Looking over at his companion, he smiled when he saw she was in a similar state. Yeva was attempting to make a spoon stick to her nose, making herself cross-eyed in the process.
"I'd quit while you're ahead." He chuckled.
She stuck her tongue out in response, "I've done this before; it's this spoon, it's all wrong!"
"Hey, don't go blaming our spoons my dear, I like those spoons." He retorted. The topic of the conversation sunk in and they both erupted in laughter.
Taking a deep breath to calm herself, Yeva leaned over and whispered in a conspiring tone, "Is Angel going to be mad we got drunk?
Doyle snorted out a laugh, "No way. We have very good excuses. I'm injured and you're the client. Problem solved!"
She grinned in response, "We hybrids have got to stick together, right?" She gestured a salute with her glass but stopped when he didn't reciprocate, "What?"
He dropped his eyes to the near-empty glass in his hands. "How do you do that?"
She frowned but didn't look away, "Do what?"
He gave a shrug, still refusing to meet her gaze, "That, acting like we're normal, just like everyone else."
Her frown softened to a smile and she inched her chair closer to his, "Because we are. We breathe, we eat, we cry and we die. Everyone does it; we just do it with two different faces."
He rolled his eyes at her comment, "So, we carry on as if there was nothing unusual about spikes popping out of our faces?" He could feel his face getting hot under her gaze, uncomfortable about talking so openly about something he had kept hidden for so long. In the brief silence while he thought, Doyle hadn't even realised she had placed her hand on his knee and was smiling gently at him.
"I don't have spikes. We live, we deal. In the end it's not going away and I wouldn't want it to either. Not after all I've seen because of it." She tipped the contents of the dark liquid down her throat and hastily poured the last of the whiskey into both of their glasses.
He smirked at her positivity, not cruelly but instead in awe of such a sunny outlook, "It's definitely an eye-opener. I wouldn't say I relished any of it, not then or now. I've learned from it sure, but not enjoyed it."
When Yeva spoke nest her voice was soft, barely a whisper but it echoed around the empty room. "All those moments, all those feelings and emotions that I experience. I never would have had any of it without my other side."
Her words sunk in but the whiskey had dulled Doyle's brain and it took a moment for him to respond, "Emotions? I'm pretty sure you had those before you found out you were half-demon, love."
"Who says I'm talking about the demon side?" The laugh in her voice that had been there previously suddenly dropped. She was being serious.
Without even realising what was happening in front of him, Doyle opened his mouth, "Well, because otherwise that means you were a demon that found out they were…"
His voice died in his throat and, for a second, Doyle thought he was having another vision. Images suddenly flashed up in front of his eyes but the tell-tale migraine was absent, allowing him to see what had happened before…
The vision hit as he and Yeva stood in the alleyway, his hand gripping the railing with white knuckles. The pain was intense and he felt his back seize up in spasms; the demon was there in his head, screaming. There were flames around him and a strange chant echoed in the background. He was standing over the beast, who was thrashing about in agony. There was blood on the walls and floor and then he saw…he saw what they had missed. He saw who stood over the demon.
When the vision subsided, his eyes met Yeva's and he knew. "You killed them." The words barely left his mouth before the blow came and his head connected with the metal handrail. The last thing he saw were Yeva's eyes staring down at him, entirely devoid of emotion.
Back in the now, the realisation was like a thump to the stomach. He swallowed and reigned in his emotions, sparing a glance at the other person in the room, hoping she hadn't noticed the sudden change. Yeva was still staring at him and for a fraction of a second, something got loose.
"Are you okay?" Her tone was mellow, relaxed, no hint of threat…yet.
Doyle put on his best 'I'm-at-ease-and-all-is-right-in-the-world' smile and tried to appear casual whilst quickly making a note of the nearest exit.
"Sure, just tired. I'm not your typical bookworm." The humour in his voice fell flat, the stare of the girl sitting opposite him never breaking for a second.
"No, you're not." There it was. An almost undetectable note of something sinister was hidden in that innocent statement, heightened only by the wide smile plastered across Yeva's face.
He brain kicked into overdrive, words pouring out of his dry mouth unchecked, "I'm thinking of popping out to the store; get myself some…um…more drink. Need something to get the blood flowing." He grimaced inwardly at his own statement, Bad, bad choice of words!
"Do you want anything?" He hoped she hadn't noticed the slight tremble in his voice or his attempted shuffle towards the back door. No such luck as it turned out.
"I think we have everything we need Doyle." Yeva mirrored his movement, straying towards his exit and taking on a stance that definitely didn't suggest cosy chatting.
"Are you sure? Well, maybe just some fresh air then…" There wasn't chance to finish his excuse, he saw the hardened look come into Yeva's eyes and realised it was a now-or-never situation.
Hoping that his ramblings had distracted her enough he turned away from the door and bolted for the stairs. A crazed, happy part of his brain was confident that he could reach the door to the offices before Yeva could catch up. However, that part of his brain was quite often very wrong, and the whiskey wasn't helping. A sudden yank at his fleeing legs swept the world out from under him and with a resounding crack, his head bounced off the stone and into darkness.
Please review. It makes me smile...