A/N: I have absolutely no excuses! I am an appalling author for leaving this story unfinished for so long and I can only apologise. I just hope people are still reading it!
For the umpteenth time since they had ventured out that evening, Angel was regretting bringing Cordelia along. The girl was nice enough, but she had this wonderful way of causing trouble which he suddenly discovered that he had to clean up. Take this moment for example, as the gigantic demon snorted and charged towards him. Even though Cordelia has been the one to antagonise him, the demon was heading for Angel. Not Cordelia; Angel. But, being the hero on the path to redemption that he was, Angel pushed her aside and stood ready to defend her. And her big mouth!
"Alright ugly, here's where it ends!" Angel yelled in what he hoped was his best Hero voice. The demon didn't even seem to acknowledge him and instead barrelled straight past Angel and crashed ungracefully into a nest of tables.
Stumbling to his feet, the inebriated monster began swinging aimlessly at Angel but the vampire hardly had to dodge out of the way. The demon couldn't see straight enough to hit the broad side of a mammoth.
Seeing his chance, Angel landed a perfectly timed punch to the demon's face, hitting him square on the nose and knocking him flat on his back. He didn't get back up.
Sensing the danger had passed, Cordelia stepped up alongside Angel, her anger renewed, "Yeah! See how you like that? Not so easy to rip people's souls out when you're up against a hero vampire, is it?"
Angel was about to ask her to please halt the tirade for once when a slurred voice emanated from the figure on the floor.
"Wasn't me." The demon's voice was whiny and high, seeming almost alien to the body it belonged to.
Angel frowned, "What do you mean, it 'wasn't you?' You killed those hybrids, we know you did."
The demon cracked open one of his huge red eyes and glazed at Angel with a glassy expression. "Wasn't me. That little monster! She tried to kill me and then she set you after me. Not fair."
The hulking creature began to struggle into a sitting position but Angel felt no need to stop him. Something wasn't right about this.
The demon continued, his voice returning to the deep tremble from before, "I wasn't like this before. I was normal-looking. The Gruagach part came from my grandmother, you couldn't even tell from looking at me. Then she caught me and did her spell and now look at me! I'm a monster!" The demon began wailing again and Angel couldn't help feeling uncomfortable.
Without thinking, he leaned down and patted the demon on the shoulder. "There, there." He tried to sound soothing but the look on Cordelia's face told him he was anything but.
Angel's guts her starting to tighten as the demon's words sunk in. The real monster was a she. And the only other female involved in all of this was along right now, with Doyle. Realising that he needed to coax more out of the demon, he tried his best to sound reassuring and asked, "What's your name?"
The demon sniffed pathetically and wiped his nose on his sleeve before replying, "Scotch. Daniel Scotch."
Angel smiled, "I'm Angel, and this is Cordelia. We're not going to hurt you, but you need to tell us everything."
Her humming was driving him nuts. Most people would think it was the knife in her hand or the blood or the pain that bothered him but no, he had to be different, for him it was the humming. She'd started by sitting on his legs and undoing the first few buttons on his shirt, parting the fabric with a delicate care he didn't expect. The tenderness didn't last long as Yeva picked up a narrow blade with a red handle and placed it on his bare skin.
For a moment they simply stared at one another, his cool green eyes meeting her deep brown ones and in that brief exchange, he felt truly scared. Funnily enough the feeling didn't dissipate when she began moving the knife and the humming began. Like a child drawing a picture Yeva leaned in close, her hair tickling his neck as she traced the edge of the steel across his flesh, carving out symbols in blood which trickled slowly onto the floor.
She'd been at it for the last half hour or so, though to Doyle it seemed more like a year. The wounds were numerous, he could tell because his skin felt like it had been shredded and his mind was fuzzy with pain. Occasionally she'd hit a nerve or a tender spot and force a hiss of pain from him but he refused to cry out, or beg; he may be a lot of things but he wasn't going to add cry baby to the list. Yeva seemed to be taking his defiance as a personal affront to her skills and so was trying especially hard to cause him as much suffering as possible.
"Open your eyes Doyle" Yeva's voice cut through the darkness like the blade in her hand.
He hadn't even realised he'd shut his eyes. The world was beginning to grow fuzzy and he felt so tired. When he didn't respond to her straight away there was a sharp jab to his right arm, causing him to gasp and jerk his head up off the hard floor.
"Look at me when I'm talking to you" Her tone made Doyle wish the humming was back. "We're almost done. Are you ready?"
"Which answer gets me out of this?" He asked. She smiled again, like a hyena. A rabid hyena.
"Neither I'm afraid." She said, "This is it."
There was finality in her voice that alarmed him and despite the blood loss and shock; Doyle began to struggle against his restraints. Yeva rewarded him with a hollow laugh and reached over to a collection of jars on her right. Dipping her forefinger into the first she smeared the dark liquid over his forehead, tracing another of her symbols before picking up another container and doing the same ritual on his right cheek and neck.
When she appeared satisfied with her work she finally removed herself from his body and stood at his feet, scripture in hand. Her face had lost all humour, all emotion and in front of his eyes it changed; rosy skin morphing into a burnt orange colour, the nose elongated and hooked down towards a mouth that filled with pointed teeth. The eyes that stared at him grew to resemble an insect's eyes and shone like the blood that was splattered across the floor. Four small horns sprouted on her forehead to complete the look; the look of the real demon behind the murders of countless half-demons.
"You don't have to do this." The statement was shaky and faint and Doyle knew it wouldn't do a thing to change his predicament. But he said it anyway.
She smiled again – a sight he had begun to loathe. "Yes I do. My emotions have faded. I need more. I need yours." And with that, she began to chant again, only this time, the cuts on his chest began to burn.
The scene that greeted them in Angel's basement was like something out of a nineteen seventies B-movie. Candles adorned every flat surface and smoke hung in the air. They had crashed unceremoniously through the door and down the stairs after hearing the tortured screams emanating from below; screams that they knew belonged to Doyle. Now they were standing near the elevator shaft and taking in everything they could see…and hear.
The furniture had been haphazardly tossed aside, making a large clear space in the middle of the room. Yeva stood to one side, reading aloud from a large book in her hands and in full demon mode.
At her feet lay Doyle, restrained at the wrist by sais and on his legs were a couple of Angel's heavier weights had been tied to prevent his movements. His chest was a mess of scratches, cuts and blood which glowed with a bright intensity and they could see his face contorted with agony, though the screams were ebbing away from exhaustion. In the air above him a fine mist had formed, bright blue in colour with occasional flashes of white lightning erupting from its centre. Tendrils were snaking out towards both Yeva and Doyle, connecting the two with streams of electricity.
'More like dark magic' Angel grimaced. He stepped further into the room, feeling Cordelia take position just behind and to his left. Maybe if he took Yeva by surprise, tackled her whilst she was reading…He got closer and closer, noticing the demons' eyes were fixed at something they couldn't see, beyond the world of here and now.
This was his moment. Flexing his leg muscles he leapt at the still figure…and was promptly caught in mid-air, the shock barely registering before he was thrown headlong into the opposite wall.
"You will not interrupt, vampire!" Yeva remained where she stood, still attached to the mini-storm cloud, "This is something I have to finish."
"I'll finish you, you badly dressed harpy!"
Temporarily stunned, Angel could only watch as Cordelia launched an attack of her own, an ornate table lamp clutched in her hands. In fairness, it wasn't a bad attempt but ultimately she was thrown back. But the brief encounter had given Angel enough time to get to his feet undetected. With one fluid kick, a nearby chair was sent flying in Yeva's direction, knocking her legs out and flooring her.
'That should piss her off' He thought happily as the tendrils left her body and retracted into the cloud. However, the ones twisting around Doyle did not, though he had stopped screaming; instead only strangled moans emerged from his raw throat. Once on her feet, the two squared off against each other and, Angel was right, she was pissed.
"You think you've stopped me? I'll get what I need once I've ripped your filthy head off." Through her demon mouth, thick spit sprayed out, a black tongue standing out starkly against her sunset skin colour.
"Can you say that without soaking me?" His jibe evoking a strangled cry and she ran full tilt at him, catching him in the midsection and driving them both into the wall.
He brought his fists down together onto her back and then planted a knee into her face. The action momentarily pushed them apart and Angel could see black blood dripping from her mouth, anger etched across her features. Behind her Cordelia had gotten shakily to her feet and was making her way towards Doyle but this apparently was not on Yeva's agenda.
Stuck between Angel and her prey, Yeva seemed to surmise that Cordelia needed dispatching first and launched herself at the brunette. The two went down before Angel could react but he quickly entered the fray, dragging the demon off of his co-worker and flinging her against the wall. He had only just gotten Cordelia to her feet when he felt a body slam into him, causing all three of them to go down in a jumble of limbs.
In the struggle Yeva grabbed Cordelia's collar and smacked her head against the floor before turning on Angel. Effectively pinned beneath her weight, which was surprisingly heavy considering her lithe form, he felt her hands grip at his neck, a blind fury in her blood-drenched eyes.
"I told you I'd rip your head off. Then once you're dust I'll tear out the girl's spine and show it to Doyle before I smash his head in." The venom in her voice echoed the madness in her face, some of the newly acquired emotions running rampant through her system.
Eventually she would calm and return to the sweet girl she appeared to be, but not before she killed them all. The pressure on his neck was increasing and Angel could feel the strength attempting to disconnect his head from his body. He could feel her nails digging into his flesh, knowing that it wouldn't long until her perseverance won out…
The thought was interrupted by a pair of clawed hands appearing on Yeva's shoulders and the weight suddenly disappearing. He watched as she was spun into the air and landed hard a good distance away in a heap. He looked up at his saviour.
"Need a hand Mr. Detective?" Scotch gave the vampire a ghost of a smile before turning back to Yeva, "We have some unfinished business to deal with, you ugly wench!"
"Fine by me," she spat back.
The two demons leapt at each other, claws and teeth meeting flesh and skin. Inhuman noises filled the air and what remained of the furniture was destroyed in their wake. Grateful for the distraction, Angel first turned to Cordelia who was sitting dazed on the floor, but she seemed okay for now and there was still Doyle to save. As if reading his mind she muttered faintly,
"Go" Angel didn't need telling twice and raced over to his friend's twitching body. The cloud remained above him, the tendrils of lightening still attached and now he was closer Angel could see a myriad of muted colours trapped within it and he had a suddenly urge to let whatever it was out.
Remembering Yeva's obsession with the scripture Angel snatched up the book from the floor, a gut feeling telling him that this was the key. Taking a large non-existent breath to steel himself, he tore the page from the tome and held it over one of the many burning candles.
As soon as he did, Yeva emitted a howling shriek, whirling from her battle to take in what Angel was doing. She made an attempt to move towards him but Scotch intervened once more, grabbing her horns and twisting her around like some sort of weird exotic dance. As Angel watched the parchment burn the cloud began to crackle and flash, collapsing in on itself before winking out of existence with an audible pop and a sudden flare of light which filled the room for a second. Thankfully, when it had faded, the tendrils attacking Doyle went with it and the half-demon lay still…very still.
Yeva screamed from where she stood, a twisted smirk on her lips, "You think that changes anything? You think you've stopped me? I'll find another scripture and I will continue as I was meant to, you can't take this away from me! You can't take my humanity back!"
"No, we can't…" Scotch appeared behind her and she half turned to face him. Her back arched and there was a gleam in the other demon's eyes, "But I can stop you from taking it from someone else."
There was a loud ripping noise and he stepped back, a black throbbing heart in his clawed hand. Yeva stumbled, a look of pure shock across her face and a thick trickle of blood poured down her chin as she turned and stared at Angel.
"Don't take my soul" she begged.
"You never had one in the first place" Angel replied.
With a sudden jerk Scotch crushed the organ in his hand and Yeva crumbled soundlessly to the floor.
There was a stretch of perfect silence as Yeva's black blood pooled onto the wooden boards, her eyes fixed and staring into nothingness. Angel recovered himself quickly and strode over to Doyle, a knot of fear winding up in his gut as he took in his friends pale and battered form. The soft sound of rasping breath reaching his ears and he knelt, partly to get close to him and partly out of relief, reaching over to yank the sais from the floor.
A noise alerted him to his left and he glanced over to see Scotch removing the weights from Doyle's legs, a sympathetic frown on his face.
Cordelia had also staggered over and sat cradling the unconscious hybrids' head, stroking back his hair and whispering in a low soothing voice, "Doyle, can you hear me? It's okay now, it's over."
The closed lids flickered but didn't open, the owner being too exhausted to come back to the land of the conscious right now. Being sure not to jolt the limp form, Angel gathered him up into his arms, instructing Cordelia in an calm tone to fetch the first-aid kit and moved over to the bed, lying Doyle down as gently as humanly possible, in fact, inhumanly so.
Scotch followed, placing a hand on Angel shoulder in a comforting gesture, "He'll live Angel. It'll hurt for a while but he'll survive, believe me."
Angel caught the sad look in the demons' eyes and then with a slight squeeze of his hand, Scotch turned and left, not even staying long enough to bandage up his own cuts and wounds. Cordelia didn't seem to notice the demon's exit as she dashed round the corner with the medical box and handed it to Angel. Her gaze fell on Doyle, eyes tracing the knife marks and bloody skin; a profound look of worry marring her striking features.
"He'll be alright Cordy." Angel said gently. "All he needs is rest, so let's clean him up so he can do it in peace, okay?"
She nodded and took up position next to him, neither speaking as they worked.