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last01standingTitle- Out of Time (Chapters 1&2/8)
Rating- pg-13 (violence)
Summary- When Connor takes the wrong portal out of Quortoth, the bewildered members of the original Angel Investigations have to figure out how to deal with it.
Feedback- A definite good.
Timeframe- Early season one Angel (the Doyle episodes) and the season three Connor plot
Disclaimer- I am not Joss Whedon.
Characters- Connor, Angel, Doyle, Cordelia, Kate and probably Lindsey
Author’s note- I started posting this fic almost a year ago on fanfiction.net. It's not finished yet. I'm posting it here to give myself some more incentive to get it done. Right now, I'd say this will be around eight chapters, but noting's for sure.
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8
Chapter 1
The Hyperion was cold, dusty and unused save the monster coming out of the enormous blue portal. It growled mindlessly and began to make it’s way towards the door. The portal crackled a second time and out fell a teenage boy, clad in animal skins, his hair was long and unkempt, his face was set. In a single smooth motion he beheaded the monster before surveying the surroundings and scowling.
Behind him, there was a crackle as the portal sealed itself, for at the present time, there was no reason for the place to be a paradimensional hotspot. The dark magics preformed by a grieving father in a desperate attempt to get his son back would not be used for more than two years.
But the boy did not know any of this. His face darkened, calculating. “Interesting.”
The boy roamed the streets in wonder, dodging the occasional metal beasts that hurled at him at top speed. He frowned. His father had told him that his real father, the vampire, would be in the hotel. He had described at length him and his companions, warning the boy about their evil ways. He had said that they would be there to lure him in with false kindness.
Only the hotel had been empty.
He saw a demon on walking into a grungy old building and followed it in. Inside, there were many others of its kind, all drinking some sort of foul liquid and talking in an unfamiliar dialect.
The boy decided to make his presence known. “I am looking for Angel.”
Immediately, the conversations stopped and the entire place turned to look at him. “Look at what we have here,” one of the demons sneered approaching the boy. “Some little piss of a human thinks he can just hit us up for information. I think we should teach him a lesson.”
Grinning ferally the boy raised his hands. “I think you just want to tell me where he is.”
“The kids got spine, I’ll give him that. Tell me,” He eyed the boy’s raggedy clothing with distaste. “Peter Pan, sir. What exactly would you do if I were to tell you nothing?”
“I would kill you,” he answered immediately.
“Is that so?” Without waiting for an answer he lunged and the boy who easily dodged the attack, grabbed him by the arm and slammed him into the wall. The boy held him there without much effort despite the struggle the demon put up. “This proves nothing.”
“Really?” The boy asked, and pulled his left arm up, relishing the pop as the bone dislocated. “I think you’ll tell me what I need to know.”
The demon did not respond.
“Or I could rip your arm off, but somehow I don’t find that violent enough.” The boy said calmly. “Where can I find Angel?”
“He’s set up a detective place, a coupl’a blocks down.” The boy slammed him into the wall again. “Angel Investigations.”
The boy smiled and tossed the demon on the ground.
It scrambled to it’s feet. “As long as you’re goin’ there. Kill the bastard vampire, alright?”
A smile crept across his face. “That was the plan.”
“C’mon man, I keep telling you, you’ve got to get out there.”
“Doyle, for the last time. I’m not interested in getting out. Go with Cordelia.”
“I would you see but, me and Cordelia minus you enters into date territory.” Doyle admitted nervously, “Besides, she’s off enjoying her poltergeist free apartment.”
“She didn’t invite you over,” Angel said knowingly.
“I think the me finding her the poltergeist infested apartment turned her off a bit.”
“So you decide to annoy me instead?”
“What if we just did a sweep of the city. A patrol or somethin’. There’s bound to be someone needin’ helpin’. I’m going crazy jus’ sittin’ here.”
“Fine,” Angel said with a wry grin. “But after can you let me brood.”
“It’s a deal.”
The boy pulled on a dark blue shirt that far to big for him and looked around the foreign room. It was dark, small and cramped, a bed in one corner, dresser in the other. It looked far more forlorn that anything he’d seen in Quortoth. The owner had left the window open. He wondered if they had a death wish. No one in their right mind would leave any advantage to the enemy, especially not something as easily correctable as an open window.
He heard a sudden noise and a figure appeared in the other room, a figure who immediately realized that something was wrong. “Is someone here?”
The boy went to the window an soundlessly jumped out to the street, nearly three feet below. He bend his knees to absorb the impact, took a quick look around and sprinted off into the distance.
“See there?” Doyle said when he’d finally caught his breath. “Told you we’d find something out here.”
“Can’t you get through a fight without getting hurt.” Angel asked, offering his friend a hand.
“Nah.” Doyle pulled himself up. “Never been big with the combat, only being a messenger and all.” He winced. “Usually a bit better at running away though.”
A figure had appeared at the end of the alleyway. Angel stiffened. “Doyle, are you good to fight?”
“Yeah man. Sure. World’s not spinnin’ that fast.”
Angel made a mental note that Doyle was not good to fight, before turning his attention back to the potential threat. “I know you’re there.”
Soft laughter in response.
“Look I’ve done the stalking, it doesn’t end well.”
The figure stepped out of the shadows and raised his arm where he had apparently rigged up a spring loaded stake-shooter. “Hi dad.”
Surprisingly, it was Doyle who saw the stake flying and managed to knock Angel out of the way. The stake hit the back wall and clattered noisily to the ground. Angel was staring at the boy in what appeared to be shock. “Don’ jus’ stand there!” he heard Doyle say frantically, “Do somethin’!”
Angel didn’t know what to do, but when the second stake sailed through the air, he switched into auto pilot, dodging it easily. Doyle was up as well, moving slowly and haltingly to towards the attacker, with what looked like a trash can lid in his hands.
Seeing that his stake had missed the target, the boy moved quickly towards Angel, throwing a series of punches that the vampire only barely had time to dodge. Doyle arrived a second later, swinging the trashcan lid at the attacker’s head. It connected with a satisfying thwap and the boy stumbled forward a step, but quickly regained his balance and smoothly kicked Doyle into the opposite wall.
Angel used the distraction to gain the upper hand in the fight, spinning the assailant around, both hands on his neck, preparing to make the kill.
But he felt a steady pulse and suddenly there was the scent of human blood.
Human. The kid was human.
The boy kneed Angel in the stomach and began to back away, knowing that this was a fight he wouldn’t be able to win.
Doyle moaned softly in the darkness, a sign that he was still alive.
“What are you?” Angel called.
Silence answered him.
“He called you dad?” Cordelia asked. “That means he’s how old? Over two hundred. ‘Cause vampires and kids, I would have heard something about that in Sunnydale.”
“He was definitely human.” Angel said suddenly looking up from a sketch he was drawing. “Not a vampire.”
“I was betting slayer meself?” Doyle put in, clutching an ice pack to his head. “Humans don’t have that kind of strength.” Cordelia glared pointedly at him. “And then I remembered slayers were mostly of the female type so that’s also a no.”
“I don’t get it. Why attack me.”
“You’ve got plenty o’ enemies,” Doyle supplied. “Me and Cordy ‘ere are a but more stuck on him callin’ you dad.”
“I don’t have a son,” Angel replied and propped his sketch book up for them to see. “What do you think Doyle?”
“That’s him alright.”
“Got the wild thing going on,” Cordelia commented, before tilting her head off towards the side. “He does kind of look like you.”
Doyle grinned. “Who knew scowls were hereditary.”
“I do not have a son.” Angel repeated. “Vampires can’t, remember?”
“Look,” said Doyle plainly. “stranger things have happened. Vampires with souls maybe?” But he didn’t really even believe himself.
Even after racking his memory, the boy could not recall the vampire’s companion from his father’s stories. Holtz had told him all about the vampire’s companions, their names, descriptions, weaknesses, but none matched that of the dark haired Irishman from the day before.
He dimly wondered if this one could be trusted. If maybe he could enlist his help, but he quickly dismissed the idea. The man was obviously a friend of Angel’s and that blow to the head really did hurt.
He remembered the address he’d gotten for Angel Investigations. He would go there when the sun went down.
Cordelia had been on edge all night. Doyle had been typing away at the computer frantically searching for anyone who resembled their mystery attacker. Cordelia was filing. Only the problem was they only had about four cases to file so, she she had to endlessly arrange them.
Doyle abruptly pushed his chair back. “I give up. There’s nothing here on our guy.” He looked over at Cordelia who had dropped the papers in her hands onto the floor. “Sorry I scared you Princess.” He smiled. “What d’ya say we take a break, maybe go get coffee or something.”
Cordelia studied him intently. “Are you asking me out?”
He went bright red. “No date. Coffee.”
“OK then.” She watched in amusement as he immediately brightened. “But just coffee. If it was a date I’d have to say no.”
“Just coffee then.” Doyle, to his credit, managed to keep smiling. “I don’t have enough cash to pay fer the both of us.”
She smiled back and him and grabbed her jacket. “Starbucks. Frappachinos here I come.”
But Doyle had stopped moving, staring at the door with a concealed look of terror.
“What?” Cordelia asked, following his gaze to the face she recognized from Angel’s sketch. “Oh.”
“Cordelia, go get Angel,” Doyle muttered, eyes still firmly trained on the intruder.
“But Doyle.”
“Cordelia. Just do it.”
“Alright.”
She went down the stairs to alert Angel that their attacker had followed him home.
And Doyle was left alone. “What exactly d’ya want?”
“I’m looking for Angel. I need to talk to him.”
Doyle discretely began making his way towards a weapons case. “How d’ya know Angel anyways? You just Random kid with a chip on his shoulders or something?”
“My name is Steven.”
“Good to know. Doyle.” He didn’t have time to laugh at the absurdity of the situation. “How’s the head?”
“Alright.”
Doyle stumbled for half a step. “I was hopin’ you’d be at least a little hurt, you know? Would’ve made me feel more secure in my manhood, you know.” And in his head he was pleading that Angel arrived before the kid, Steven, snapped.
Steven simply smiled and stepped forward a step. Doyle who was panicking now felt his knee bump into the weapons chest. He heard Steven’s distinct voice. “Don’t even try.”
Doyle ignored the warning and ripped open the weapon’s chest and grabbed the first thing he could. It turned out to be a rather dull sword, but it didn’t matter, Steven had moved quicker that the eye could see and had grabbed his wrists before he could swing. They crashed into the wall and bounced straight back off, and then Angel appeared behind them, and pressed a wet cloth to Steven’s mouth. He struggled for a second before collapsing.
Doyle looked at Angel, shocked. “What kind of a guy keeps chloroform in his place?”
Cordelia gave an appreciative snicker from behind him, but Angel was all business. “Let’s get him secured in the basement.”
Doyle nodded. “Quick too. He’s not going to be to happy when he wake’s up.” He grabbed Steven’s feet and Angel took his arms.
Steven woke up slowly, prying his eyes open and surveying the unfamiliar room with a calculating glare. He blinked twice to clear his vision and noticed he’d had company in the room, the same man he’d been fighting before. He immediately began to strain his arms, trying to get to him, but he was in chains. The man, who he dimly remembered had called himself Doyle jumped a bit at the sudden noise. “Angel!”
The vampire rushed in, followed closely by a dark haired girl who Steven could only assume was Fred (long dark hair, he remembered Holtz saying, big brown eyes). “Are you going to kill me?”
“Why, would we do that?” asked Angel as he sat down in a chair across from Steven.
“I don’t know.” Steven laughed. “That’s just how it works. I tried to kill you.”
“Well. He’s not insane” the girl commented a bit too loudly quieting as soon as Angel glared at her. “Sorry.”
“We’ll start with the basics. What’s your name?”
He wouldn’t answer, wouldn’t even look at the group. Doyle, who was sitting on top of the table supplied, “Told me his name was
Steven .”
“You ask for people’s names before fighting them?” the girl asked incredulously.
“Cordelia! Doyle!” Angel snapped. “Can I get a second here?”
They both realized that it was not the time to push him and exited quietly. Angel turned back to Steven who was glaring at him… so she was Cordelia, his father had told him all about her… He looked at the vampire “You’ve fooled them too. How long until you kill them?”
“I’m not killing anybody. That seems to be you, and I’d like to know why.” When Steven simply averted his eyes and Angel grabbed him by the chin and jerked his head back forward. “Now you could tell me or I could force it out of you. I haven’t done it for a while, but I don’t like people lying to me. I’m only going to ask you once. Why the hell are you trying to kill me?”
Steven lifted his head defiantly, but was all the same aware that the vampire had bested him in a fight. “Revenge.”
“For what?”
“You killed my father’s family.”
“How old are you?”
“Sixteen.”
“I haven’t killed any families in the past hundred years,” Angel replied.
Steven’s eyes narrowed. “My father took me from you when I was a baby. He saved me.”
“I never had a son. I’ve never even seen you before.” Angel’s curiosity finally got the best of him. “What’s you’re name?”
“Steven Holtz.”
“Angel man? You OK.”
“Yeah! Did you find out anything about stalker boy?” Cordelia asked, “Because I’m not looking forward to another research night.”
“He said his name was Steven Holtz.”
“Seems like normal enough then,” Doyle commented, “but only discounting how he almost took the both of us out last night.”
“Not that taking out you is all that hard,” Cordelia muttered caustically.
Doyle winced at the insult but recovered quickly. “Should I be looking for him on the nets?”
“I knew a Daniel Holtz.” Angel continued, well practiced at ignoring his two co-worker’s banter. “Back in the 18th century.”
“Something tells me this story ends with. ‘and then I ate him and his family.’” Cordelia sighed and leaned back against the wall.
Angel swallowed and went on as though he hadn’t heard. “Holtz was hunting me and Darla. I killed his family, he chased us for a while and then he dropped off the face of the earth.”
“And this kid’s got the same name.” Doyle said, slightly alarmed by Angel’s uneasiness. “Coincidence right?”
“He also said that Holtz took him from me and raised him.”
“Congratulations.” Cordelia clapped him on the back. “You’re the proud father of a teenage kid. Can we go home now?”
“Cordelia, sixteen years ago, I was living in the gutters eating rats. I didn’t have time to knock anyone up.”
“You ate rats?” Doyle made a face. “That’s disgusting, even for a vampire.”
“That’s not the point.” Angel waved a hand. “This kid Steven’s obviously got the wrong guy.”
“If he made a mistake shouldn’t we explain and unchain him,” Cordelia asked, “I mean why give him even more reason to want to kill us.”
Doyle nodded his agreement. “Cordelia’s got her a point.”
Angel remained silent.
“Anything’s better than leaving him chained up down there, ” Cordelia continued. “I mean if he breaks out, things could get messy.”
“I’m not letting him out on the streets if he’s a threat.”
“Yeah,” Cordelia retorted. “Only you won’t kill him ‘cause he’s human. Where exactly does that put us?”
“Uh. This may be last night’s head wound talking,” Doyle stammered, “but this conversation isn’t going anywhere meaningful and we’ve got a possibly homicidal maniac in the next room who’s not getting much saner. Maybe we fix this misunderstandin' before he figures out a way to get out of them chains.”
“You’ve made a mistake,” Angel informed Steven. “I don’t have any kids. Sorry about chaining you up, but you did try to kill us. And we’re going to have to keep you here until we figure this out.”
“That is impossible,” Steven sneered.
“No, it’s way possible.” Cordelia folded her arms. “Mistakes happen all the time. Just look at Doyle.”
“Hey!”
“We would like to let you go.” Angel said, all the while studying the boy in the chains. “Do you have any family?”
“My father,” came the growled response.
“Where do you live?”
“Quortoth.”
Doyle, who had been bickering with Cordelia in the background went silent. “Did you just say Quortoth?”
Steven jerked his head up, mildly surprised that someone besides Angel had addressed him. “Yes.”
“Let him go.” Doyle said shakily, “Unchain him or something.”
“What?” Cordelia exclaimed from behind him. “Are you insane?”
“Unchain him.” Doyle repeated, a haunted look in his eyes.
Angel got stood up and took his friend by the shoulder and lead him out of the room. “What do you mean let him go?”
“You don’t get it man. Quortoth’s a hell dimension.” Doyle looked at him in earnest. “You hear about people who get sent there, but there’s not supposed to be any outgoing traffic. No one is supposed to come out of that place. I haven’t heard of anyone coming out of hell dimensions without some serious scars and not just the physical kind. Places like that can really warp you values.”
“So your saying he’s unstable.”
“No,” Doyle protested, but then paused for a second, “maybe just a little.”
“So what do we do with him?” Angel asked. “If his family’s in a hell dimension, we can’t really just send him back. Dimensional travel tends to be messy.”
“Well, locking him up’s not going to do wonders for that instability of his.” Doyle replied, “We’ve got to keep an eye on him.”
“I could offer him a job,” Angel muttered thoughtfully. “We’ve got an extra room here.”
“What?” Doyle said, surprised, “You can’t do that! He could stake you in your sleep.”
“What’s stopping him from doing that if we let him go. He knows where we are.”
“Thanks man, you’re really reassuring me.”
“Doyle, I need you to be okay with this.” By the tone of his voice, Doyle could tell that Angel had already made up his mind.
He glanced at his friend and back at Cordelia awkwardly staring at Steven, neither talking. He swallowed. “Fine. But you’re explaining it to Cordelia.”
Steven stared blankly at Angel as he undid the chains. “Do you have anyplace to go?”
He wondered if the vampire was playing him, if maybe that was what he and the Doyle character had been conversing. He suspected this was all a trap. “I’ll find somewhere.”
A brief look of indecisiveness flashed in Angel’s eyes, but it was gone so quickly Steven was sure he must have imagined it. “I have an extra bed. Well technically it’s a sofa bed but…”
“You want him to stay here!” Cordelia exploded from behind them. “Are you evil again?”
“Insane and evil are different things Cordy,” Doyle muttered into her ear.
“I can hear you two!” Angel snapped before returning his focus to the incredibly confused boy in front of him. “Look we just want to help.”
“Which is big of us,” Cordelia said from behind them, “all things considered.”
“Cordelia! Is that really necessary.”
This time Steven allowed himself a grin at the sheer ridiculousness of the banter. Angel on the other hand misinterpreted it and allowed a rare smile in return.. “Is this alright by you? You’re not going to try to kill me again?”
Steven wordlessly shook his head, in his head, promising no such thing, and watching with wonder as Doyle tossed Angel the keys to the handcuffs. Angel glanced once more back at his friends. “I’m going to let you go. Now, you’re welcome to stay here if you want. Help out in the office.”
“I want to fight,” he said abruptly.
“I’m sure we can find you something to kill,” Doyle muttered more to himself than anyone else. “Lost of nasty demons in LA.”
“What do you say Steven?” Angel asked.
He studied the group’s faces, annoyance on Cordelia’s, resignation on Doyle’s, and something completely unreadable on Angel’s. And for some odd reason, Steven found that he could almost trust them. “Yeah. OK.”
He held out both wrists and let Angel undo the chains.
“For god’s sake Doyle, hold still.” Cordelia muttered as she poured disinfectant on the squirming Irishman. “Stop being a baby.”
“You’re not the one who almost got skewered.”
“I’ve been skewered before.” Cordelia told him irritably, “and trust me, it hurts a lot more than this little bitty scrap. Where are Steven and Angel?”
“Doing the rounds. Dropped me off when I managed to get myself a bit bloodied. They’re doing just find without me.”
“Which is definitely good,” Cordelia told him as she secured the white bandage around his side, “I’m getting sick of you getting blood all over.”
“I guess,” Doyle muttered, but there was an odd look that lingered around his eyes. “It just makes me feel kind of useless.”
“Hey, you’re the only one who can stop Angel’s constant brooding.” She grinned, “the Scoobies would have killed to have you around.”
Doyle was taken aback by the rare compliment, but before he could crack a smile she cut him down. “Then again…”
“Let’s just leave it at the first part ok Cor?”
“You know you’ve got a major inferiority complex going on.”
“And it’s mostly your fault.” Doyle retorted.
“And the rest of it?”
Doyle didn’t answer her and with a twinge of disappointment, Cordelia realized he wasn’t going to. “So, Steven still trying to kill Angel?”
“If he is, he’s being subtle.”
Cordelia snorted.
“You don’t like him.” Doyle guessed.
“You don’t either.”
“I’m trying to give the kid a chance.” Doyle explained, “he grew up in a hell dimension.”
“If you believe him.” Cordelia snorted. “As far as I’m concerned, he lost the benefit of the doubt the minute he tried to kill my friends.”
Doyle beamed at the fact she called him a friend and was about to respond when the door swung open and Steven tossed a bloodied axe on the table. Angel followed him in, grinning widely.
“Oh great,” Cordelia moaned, reaching for the stake she always kept at her desk. “He’s evil again.”
Angel stared at her. “Cordelia, this is the third time this week you asked that. I’m not evil.”
“That’s exactly what you’d say if you were evil.”
Doyle put a placating hand on Cordelia’s shoulder. “And he wouldn’t be saying he was evil if he was good either.”
When Cordelia refused to relax, he shot a glance at Steven who shrugged. “I already thought he was evil.”
“Why does everyone always think I’ve gone evil?”
“You never smile like that.” Cordelia explained plainly, “Except when you’re evil. The leather pants are probably next.”
Doyle rolled his eyes and took Angel by the arm. “Are you ok man?”
Angel looked at him in muted disbelief. “Look. Me and Steven killed a demon. It was kind of a fun fight. You should have seen him. He’s really good at this. I’m kind of proud of the kid.”
Cordelia put down the stake. “OK. Ew. Male bonding over demon slime and guts. I’m calling it a night. See you tomorrow.”
Doyle pushed back from his chair. “Hard day’s work deserves a bit of fun.”
“I’m not going out to a pub with you,” Angel said before he could even ask.
Steven on the other hand smiled. “I’ll go.”
“You’re underage,” Angel said quickly.
“We don’t have to go to a pub,” Doyle replied, “We’ll just grab some wings or something. I just got to get out. What do you say Steve?”
Steven unconsciously looked at Angel before catching himself and saying, “Sure.”
“You’ve never had wings before have you?” Doyle asked with a hint of a smile.
Steven smiled. “Much better than the food in Quortoth.”
“So,” Doyle began conversationally, “you still looking to kill Angel?”
“My father says that all demons are evil and should be destroyed.”
Doyle paled noticeably. “You know some of them are an okay lot.”
Steven shrugged. “Haven’t met any.”
Doyle tried again. “You know, Angel’s got a soul.”
“Cordelia says he’s lost it before. It’s only a matter of time before he loses it again.”
“She’s always optimistic isn’t she.”
“My father warned me about her as well. She…”
“Hold on man.” Doyle said sharply, “He gave you profiles on us? Has he been watching or something? The last thing I need is a stalker on top of everything else?”
“He never mentioned you.” Steven muttered into his soda and something about his tone made Doyle pause.
“Who did he mention?”
“Angel. Cordelia. Someone named Wesley. A guy named Gunn. A girl called Fred.” He gulped down a soda, “You’re not named Wesley are you?”
“Nah,” Doyle answered shakily, “I used to go by Francis, but now, it’s just Doyle.”
Steven examined the remains of a wing and shook his head. “He never mention you.”
Why? Doyle’s mind echoed, why not me?
Because Cordy’s right and the poor kid’s delusional. He snapped back at the voice.
“Let’s go.” He said out loud as he signaled for a waiter, “It’s getting late.”
Steven stared at the ceiling of Angel’s apartment as he started to drift off to sleep and started to chronicle the lies. Everyone lied, and soon the lies got so abundant that some of them ended up as truths. Holtz, his father, had taught him that.
Beware of the man who believes their own lies. If you let them, their lies can overtake your truths.
Had Holtz lied to him too? There was no man named Wesley, nor Gunn nor a girl named Fred. Cordelia didn’t seem at all the manipulative siren he had been warned of. She seemed rude to the point of being caustic. She didn’t seem likely to share kindness with him, false or otherwise. And this Doyle character was a complete unknown and seemed to only offer him reluctant kindness.
Angel, who he had been told was his real father, did not seem to know him. Holtz had predicted Angel would do anything to gain his trust, but the first thing he had done was put him in chains.
Where were the lies? Steven laid on the uncomfortable sofa bed and tried not to listen to Angel restlessly moving in the office above him.
Slowly he drifted off into the darkness.
He dreamt of Quortoth.
And for the first time in his life, it felt like a nightmare.
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Head to the 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8
Rating- pg-13 (violence)
Summary- When Connor takes the wrong portal out of Quortoth, the bewildered members of the original Angel Investigations have to figure out how to deal with it.
Feedback- A definite good.
Timeframe- Early season one Angel (the Doyle episodes) and the season three Connor plot
Disclaimer- I am not Joss Whedon.
Characters- Connor, Angel, Doyle, Cordelia, Kate and probably Lindsey
Author’s note- I started posting this fic almost a year ago on fanfiction.net. It's not finished yet. I'm posting it here to give myself some more incentive to get it done. Right now, I'd say this will be around eight chapters, but noting's for sure.
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8
Chapter 1
The Hyperion was cold, dusty and unused save the monster coming out of the enormous blue portal. It growled mindlessly and began to make it’s way towards the door. The portal crackled a second time and out fell a teenage boy, clad in animal skins, his hair was long and unkempt, his face was set. In a single smooth motion he beheaded the monster before surveying the surroundings and scowling.
Behind him, there was a crackle as the portal sealed itself, for at the present time, there was no reason for the place to be a paradimensional hotspot. The dark magics preformed by a grieving father in a desperate attempt to get his son back would not be used for more than two years.
But the boy did not know any of this. His face darkened, calculating. “Interesting.”
The boy roamed the streets in wonder, dodging the occasional metal beasts that hurled at him at top speed. He frowned. His father had told him that his real father, the vampire, would be in the hotel. He had described at length him and his companions, warning the boy about their evil ways. He had said that they would be there to lure him in with false kindness.
Only the hotel had been empty.
He saw a demon on walking into a grungy old building and followed it in. Inside, there were many others of its kind, all drinking some sort of foul liquid and talking in an unfamiliar dialect.
The boy decided to make his presence known. “I am looking for Angel.”
Immediately, the conversations stopped and the entire place turned to look at him. “Look at what we have here,” one of the demons sneered approaching the boy. “Some little piss of a human thinks he can just hit us up for information. I think we should teach him a lesson.”
Grinning ferally the boy raised his hands. “I think you just want to tell me where he is.”
“The kids got spine, I’ll give him that. Tell me,” He eyed the boy’s raggedy clothing with distaste. “Peter Pan, sir. What exactly would you do if I were to tell you nothing?”
“I would kill you,” he answered immediately.
“Is that so?” Without waiting for an answer he lunged and the boy who easily dodged the attack, grabbed him by the arm and slammed him into the wall. The boy held him there without much effort despite the struggle the demon put up. “This proves nothing.”
“Really?” The boy asked, and pulled his left arm up, relishing the pop as the bone dislocated. “I think you’ll tell me what I need to know.”
The demon did not respond.
“Or I could rip your arm off, but somehow I don’t find that violent enough.” The boy said calmly. “Where can I find Angel?”
“He’s set up a detective place, a coupl’a blocks down.” The boy slammed him into the wall again. “Angel Investigations.”
The boy smiled and tossed the demon on the ground.
It scrambled to it’s feet. “As long as you’re goin’ there. Kill the bastard vampire, alright?”
A smile crept across his face. “That was the plan.”
“C’mon man, I keep telling you, you’ve got to get out there.”
“Doyle, for the last time. I’m not interested in getting out. Go with Cordelia.”
“I would you see but, me and Cordelia minus you enters into date territory.” Doyle admitted nervously, “Besides, she’s off enjoying her poltergeist free apartment.”
“She didn’t invite you over,” Angel said knowingly.
“I think the me finding her the poltergeist infested apartment turned her off a bit.”
“So you decide to annoy me instead?”
“What if we just did a sweep of the city. A patrol or somethin’. There’s bound to be someone needin’ helpin’. I’m going crazy jus’ sittin’ here.”
“Fine,” Angel said with a wry grin. “But after can you let me brood.”
“It’s a deal.”
The boy pulled on a dark blue shirt that far to big for him and looked around the foreign room. It was dark, small and cramped, a bed in one corner, dresser in the other. It looked far more forlorn that anything he’d seen in Quortoth. The owner had left the window open. He wondered if they had a death wish. No one in their right mind would leave any advantage to the enemy, especially not something as easily correctable as an open window.
He heard a sudden noise and a figure appeared in the other room, a figure who immediately realized that something was wrong. “Is someone here?”
The boy went to the window an soundlessly jumped out to the street, nearly three feet below. He bend his knees to absorb the impact, took a quick look around and sprinted off into the distance.
“See there?” Doyle said when he’d finally caught his breath. “Told you we’d find something out here.”
“Can’t you get through a fight without getting hurt.” Angel asked, offering his friend a hand.
“Nah.” Doyle pulled himself up. “Never been big with the combat, only being a messenger and all.” He winced. “Usually a bit better at running away though.”
A figure had appeared at the end of the alleyway. Angel stiffened. “Doyle, are you good to fight?”
“Yeah man. Sure. World’s not spinnin’ that fast.”
Angel made a mental note that Doyle was not good to fight, before turning his attention back to the potential threat. “I know you’re there.”
Soft laughter in response.
“Look I’ve done the stalking, it doesn’t end well.”
The figure stepped out of the shadows and raised his arm where he had apparently rigged up a spring loaded stake-shooter. “Hi dad.”
Surprisingly, it was Doyle who saw the stake flying and managed to knock Angel out of the way. The stake hit the back wall and clattered noisily to the ground. Angel was staring at the boy in what appeared to be shock. “Don’ jus’ stand there!” he heard Doyle say frantically, “Do somethin’!”
Angel didn’t know what to do, but when the second stake sailed through the air, he switched into auto pilot, dodging it easily. Doyle was up as well, moving slowly and haltingly to towards the attacker, with what looked like a trash can lid in his hands.
Seeing that his stake had missed the target, the boy moved quickly towards Angel, throwing a series of punches that the vampire only barely had time to dodge. Doyle arrived a second later, swinging the trashcan lid at the attacker’s head. It connected with a satisfying thwap and the boy stumbled forward a step, but quickly regained his balance and smoothly kicked Doyle into the opposite wall.
Angel used the distraction to gain the upper hand in the fight, spinning the assailant around, both hands on his neck, preparing to make the kill.
But he felt a steady pulse and suddenly there was the scent of human blood.
Human. The kid was human.
The boy kneed Angel in the stomach and began to back away, knowing that this was a fight he wouldn’t be able to win.
Doyle moaned softly in the darkness, a sign that he was still alive.
“What are you?” Angel called.
Silence answered him.
“He called you dad?” Cordelia asked. “That means he’s how old? Over two hundred. ‘Cause vampires and kids, I would have heard something about that in Sunnydale.”
“He was definitely human.” Angel said suddenly looking up from a sketch he was drawing. “Not a vampire.”
“I was betting slayer meself?” Doyle put in, clutching an ice pack to his head. “Humans don’t have that kind of strength.” Cordelia glared pointedly at him. “And then I remembered slayers were mostly of the female type so that’s also a no.”
“I don’t get it. Why attack me.”
“You’ve got plenty o’ enemies,” Doyle supplied. “Me and Cordy ‘ere are a but more stuck on him callin’ you dad.”
“I don’t have a son,” Angel replied and propped his sketch book up for them to see. “What do you think Doyle?”
“That’s him alright.”
“Got the wild thing going on,” Cordelia commented, before tilting her head off towards the side. “He does kind of look like you.”
Doyle grinned. “Who knew scowls were hereditary.”
“I do not have a son.” Angel repeated. “Vampires can’t, remember?”
“Look,” said Doyle plainly. “stranger things have happened. Vampires with souls maybe?” But he didn’t really even believe himself.
Even after racking his memory, the boy could not recall the vampire’s companion from his father’s stories. Holtz had told him all about the vampire’s companions, their names, descriptions, weaknesses, but none matched that of the dark haired Irishman from the day before.
He dimly wondered if this one could be trusted. If maybe he could enlist his help, but he quickly dismissed the idea. The man was obviously a friend of Angel’s and that blow to the head really did hurt.
He remembered the address he’d gotten for Angel Investigations. He would go there when the sun went down.
Cordelia had been on edge all night. Doyle had been typing away at the computer frantically searching for anyone who resembled their mystery attacker. Cordelia was filing. Only the problem was they only had about four cases to file so, she she had to endlessly arrange them.
Doyle abruptly pushed his chair back. “I give up. There’s nothing here on our guy.” He looked over at Cordelia who had dropped the papers in her hands onto the floor. “Sorry I scared you Princess.” He smiled. “What d’ya say we take a break, maybe go get coffee or something.”
Cordelia studied him intently. “Are you asking me out?”
He went bright red. “No date. Coffee.”
“OK then.” She watched in amusement as he immediately brightened. “But just coffee. If it was a date I’d have to say no.”
“Just coffee then.” Doyle, to his credit, managed to keep smiling. “I don’t have enough cash to pay fer the both of us.”
She smiled back and him and grabbed her jacket. “Starbucks. Frappachinos here I come.”
But Doyle had stopped moving, staring at the door with a concealed look of terror.
“What?” Cordelia asked, following his gaze to the face she recognized from Angel’s sketch. “Oh.”
“Cordelia, go get Angel,” Doyle muttered, eyes still firmly trained on the intruder.
“But Doyle.”
“Cordelia. Just do it.”
“Alright.”
She went down the stairs to alert Angel that their attacker had followed him home.
And Doyle was left alone. “What exactly d’ya want?”
“I’m looking for Angel. I need to talk to him.”
Doyle discretely began making his way towards a weapons case. “How d’ya know Angel anyways? You just Random kid with a chip on his shoulders or something?”
“My name is Steven.”
“Good to know. Doyle.” He didn’t have time to laugh at the absurdity of the situation. “How’s the head?”
“Alright.”
Doyle stumbled for half a step. “I was hopin’ you’d be at least a little hurt, you know? Would’ve made me feel more secure in my manhood, you know.” And in his head he was pleading that Angel arrived before the kid, Steven, snapped.
Steven simply smiled and stepped forward a step. Doyle who was panicking now felt his knee bump into the weapons chest. He heard Steven’s distinct voice. “Don’t even try.”
Doyle ignored the warning and ripped open the weapon’s chest and grabbed the first thing he could. It turned out to be a rather dull sword, but it didn’t matter, Steven had moved quicker that the eye could see and had grabbed his wrists before he could swing. They crashed into the wall and bounced straight back off, and then Angel appeared behind them, and pressed a wet cloth to Steven’s mouth. He struggled for a second before collapsing.
Doyle looked at Angel, shocked. “What kind of a guy keeps chloroform in his place?”
Cordelia gave an appreciative snicker from behind him, but Angel was all business. “Let’s get him secured in the basement.”
Doyle nodded. “Quick too. He’s not going to be to happy when he wake’s up.” He grabbed Steven’s feet and Angel took his arms.
Cordelia shook her head as she followed them downstairs. “Why can’t I get a normal job? One that doesn’t involve chaining people to the wall.”
Chapter 2
Steven woke up slowly, prying his eyes open and surveying the unfamiliar room with a calculating glare. He blinked twice to clear his vision and noticed he’d had company in the room, the same man he’d been fighting before. He immediately began to strain his arms, trying to get to him, but he was in chains. The man, who he dimly remembered had called himself Doyle jumped a bit at the sudden noise. “Angel!”
The vampire rushed in, followed closely by a dark haired girl who Steven could only assume was Fred (long dark hair, he remembered Holtz saying, big brown eyes). “Are you going to kill me?”
“Why, would we do that?” asked Angel as he sat down in a chair across from Steven.
“I don’t know.” Steven laughed. “That’s just how it works. I tried to kill you.”
“Well. He’s not insane” the girl commented a bit too loudly quieting as soon as Angel glared at her. “Sorry.”
“We’ll start with the basics. What’s your name?”
He wouldn’t answer, wouldn’t even look at the group. Doyle, who was sitting on top of the table supplied, “Told me his name was
Steven .”
“You ask for people’s names before fighting them?” the girl asked incredulously.
“Cordelia! Doyle!” Angel snapped. “Can I get a second here?”
They both realized that it was not the time to push him and exited quietly. Angel turned back to Steven who was glaring at him… so she was Cordelia, his father had told him all about her… He looked at the vampire “You’ve fooled them too. How long until you kill them?”
“I’m not killing anybody. That seems to be you, and I’d like to know why.” When Steven simply averted his eyes and Angel grabbed him by the chin and jerked his head back forward. “Now you could tell me or I could force it out of you. I haven’t done it for a while, but I don’t like people lying to me. I’m only going to ask you once. Why the hell are you trying to kill me?”
Steven lifted his head defiantly, but was all the same aware that the vampire had bested him in a fight. “Revenge.”
“For what?”
“You killed my father’s family.”
“How old are you?”
“Sixteen.”
“I haven’t killed any families in the past hundred years,” Angel replied.
Steven’s eyes narrowed. “My father took me from you when I was a baby. He saved me.”
“I never had a son. I’ve never even seen you before.” Angel’s curiosity finally got the best of him. “What’s you’re name?”
“Steven Holtz.”
“Angel man? You OK.”
“Yeah! Did you find out anything about stalker boy?” Cordelia asked, “Because I’m not looking forward to another research night.”
“He said his name was Steven Holtz.”
“Seems like normal enough then,” Doyle commented, “but only discounting how he almost took the both of us out last night.”
“Not that taking out you is all that hard,” Cordelia muttered caustically.
Doyle winced at the insult but recovered quickly. “Should I be looking for him on the nets?”
“I knew a Daniel Holtz.” Angel continued, well practiced at ignoring his two co-worker’s banter. “Back in the 18th century.”
“Something tells me this story ends with. ‘and then I ate him and his family.’” Cordelia sighed and leaned back against the wall.
Angel swallowed and went on as though he hadn’t heard. “Holtz was hunting me and Darla. I killed his family, he chased us for a while and then he dropped off the face of the earth.”
“And this kid’s got the same name.” Doyle said, slightly alarmed by Angel’s uneasiness. “Coincidence right?”
“He also said that Holtz took him from me and raised him.”
“Congratulations.” Cordelia clapped him on the back. “You’re the proud father of a teenage kid. Can we go home now?”
“Cordelia, sixteen years ago, I was living in the gutters eating rats. I didn’t have time to knock anyone up.”
“You ate rats?” Doyle made a face. “That’s disgusting, even for a vampire.”
“That’s not the point.” Angel waved a hand. “This kid Steven’s obviously got the wrong guy.”
“If he made a mistake shouldn’t we explain and unchain him,” Cordelia asked, “I mean why give him even more reason to want to kill us.”
Doyle nodded his agreement. “Cordelia’s got her a point.”
Angel remained silent.
“Anything’s better than leaving him chained up down there, ” Cordelia continued. “I mean if he breaks out, things could get messy.”
“I’m not letting him out on the streets if he’s a threat.”
“Yeah,” Cordelia retorted. “Only you won’t kill him ‘cause he’s human. Where exactly does that put us?”
“Uh. This may be last night’s head wound talking,” Doyle stammered, “but this conversation isn’t going anywhere meaningful and we’ve got a possibly homicidal maniac in the next room who’s not getting much saner. Maybe we fix this misunderstandin' before he figures out a way to get out of them chains.”
“You’ve made a mistake,” Angel informed Steven. “I don’t have any kids. Sorry about chaining you up, but you did try to kill us. And we’re going to have to keep you here until we figure this out.”
“That is impossible,” Steven sneered.
“No, it’s way possible.” Cordelia folded her arms. “Mistakes happen all the time. Just look at Doyle.”
“Hey!”
“We would like to let you go.” Angel said, all the while studying the boy in the chains. “Do you have any family?”
“My father,” came the growled response.
“Where do you live?”
“Quortoth.”
Doyle, who had been bickering with Cordelia in the background went silent. “Did you just say Quortoth?”
Steven jerked his head up, mildly surprised that someone besides Angel had addressed him. “Yes.”
“Let him go.” Doyle said shakily, “Unchain him or something.”
“What?” Cordelia exclaimed from behind him. “Are you insane?”
“Unchain him.” Doyle repeated, a haunted look in his eyes.
Angel got stood up and took his friend by the shoulder and lead him out of the room. “What do you mean let him go?”
“You don’t get it man. Quortoth’s a hell dimension.” Doyle looked at him in earnest. “You hear about people who get sent there, but there’s not supposed to be any outgoing traffic. No one is supposed to come out of that place. I haven’t heard of anyone coming out of hell dimensions without some serious scars and not just the physical kind. Places like that can really warp you values.”
“So your saying he’s unstable.”
“No,” Doyle protested, but then paused for a second, “maybe just a little.”
“So what do we do with him?” Angel asked. “If his family’s in a hell dimension, we can’t really just send him back. Dimensional travel tends to be messy.”
“Well, locking him up’s not going to do wonders for that instability of his.” Doyle replied, “We’ve got to keep an eye on him.”
“I could offer him a job,” Angel muttered thoughtfully. “We’ve got an extra room here.”
“What?” Doyle said, surprised, “You can’t do that! He could stake you in your sleep.”
“What’s stopping him from doing that if we let him go. He knows where we are.”
“Thanks man, you’re really reassuring me.”
“Doyle, I need you to be okay with this.” By the tone of his voice, Doyle could tell that Angel had already made up his mind.
He glanced at his friend and back at Cordelia awkwardly staring at Steven, neither talking. He swallowed. “Fine. But you’re explaining it to Cordelia.”
Steven stared blankly at Angel as he undid the chains. “Do you have anyplace to go?”
He wondered if the vampire was playing him, if maybe that was what he and the Doyle character had been conversing. He suspected this was all a trap. “I’ll find somewhere.”
A brief look of indecisiveness flashed in Angel’s eyes, but it was gone so quickly Steven was sure he must have imagined it. “I have an extra bed. Well technically it’s a sofa bed but…”
“You want him to stay here!” Cordelia exploded from behind them. “Are you evil again?”
“Insane and evil are different things Cordy,” Doyle muttered into her ear.
“I can hear you two!” Angel snapped before returning his focus to the incredibly confused boy in front of him. “Look we just want to help.”
“Which is big of us,” Cordelia said from behind them, “all things considered.”
“Cordelia! Is that really necessary.”
This time Steven allowed himself a grin at the sheer ridiculousness of the banter. Angel on the other hand misinterpreted it and allowed a rare smile in return.. “Is this alright by you? You’re not going to try to kill me again?”
Steven wordlessly shook his head, in his head, promising no such thing, and watching with wonder as Doyle tossed Angel the keys to the handcuffs. Angel glanced once more back at his friends. “I’m going to let you go. Now, you’re welcome to stay here if you want. Help out in the office.”
“I want to fight,” he said abruptly.
“I’m sure we can find you something to kill,” Doyle muttered more to himself than anyone else. “Lost of nasty demons in LA.”
“What do you say Steven?” Angel asked.
He studied the group’s faces, annoyance on Cordelia’s, resignation on Doyle’s, and something completely unreadable on Angel’s. And for some odd reason, Steven found that he could almost trust them. “Yeah. OK.”
He held out both wrists and let Angel undo the chains.
“For god’s sake Doyle, hold still.” Cordelia muttered as she poured disinfectant on the squirming Irishman. “Stop being a baby.”
“You’re not the one who almost got skewered.”
“I’ve been skewered before.” Cordelia told him irritably, “and trust me, it hurts a lot more than this little bitty scrap. Where are Steven and Angel?”
“Doing the rounds. Dropped me off when I managed to get myself a bit bloodied. They’re doing just find without me.”
“Which is definitely good,” Cordelia told him as she secured the white bandage around his side, “I’m getting sick of you getting blood all over.”
“I guess,” Doyle muttered, but there was an odd look that lingered around his eyes. “It just makes me feel kind of useless.”
“Hey, you’re the only one who can stop Angel’s constant brooding.” She grinned, “the Scoobies would have killed to have you around.”
Doyle was taken aback by the rare compliment, but before he could crack a smile she cut him down. “Then again…”
“Let’s just leave it at the first part ok Cor?”
“You know you’ve got a major inferiority complex going on.”
“And it’s mostly your fault.” Doyle retorted.
“And the rest of it?”
Doyle didn’t answer her and with a twinge of disappointment, Cordelia realized he wasn’t going to. “So, Steven still trying to kill Angel?”
“If he is, he’s being subtle.”
Cordelia snorted.
“You don’t like him.” Doyle guessed.
“You don’t either.”
“I’m trying to give the kid a chance.” Doyle explained, “he grew up in a hell dimension.”
“If you believe him.” Cordelia snorted. “As far as I’m concerned, he lost the benefit of the doubt the minute he tried to kill my friends.”
Doyle beamed at the fact she called him a friend and was about to respond when the door swung open and Steven tossed a bloodied axe on the table. Angel followed him in, grinning widely.
“Oh great,” Cordelia moaned, reaching for the stake she always kept at her desk. “He’s evil again.”
Angel stared at her. “Cordelia, this is the third time this week you asked that. I’m not evil.”
“That’s exactly what you’d say if you were evil.”
Doyle put a placating hand on Cordelia’s shoulder. “And he wouldn’t be saying he was evil if he was good either.”
When Cordelia refused to relax, he shot a glance at Steven who shrugged. “I already thought he was evil.”
“Why does everyone always think I’ve gone evil?”
“You never smile like that.” Cordelia explained plainly, “Except when you’re evil. The leather pants are probably next.”
Doyle rolled his eyes and took Angel by the arm. “Are you ok man?”
Angel looked at him in muted disbelief. “Look. Me and Steven killed a demon. It was kind of a fun fight. You should have seen him. He’s really good at this. I’m kind of proud of the kid.”
Cordelia put down the stake. “OK. Ew. Male bonding over demon slime and guts. I’m calling it a night. See you tomorrow.”
Doyle pushed back from his chair. “Hard day’s work deserves a bit of fun.”
“I’m not going out to a pub with you,” Angel said before he could even ask.
Steven on the other hand smiled. “I’ll go.”
“You’re underage,” Angel said quickly.
“We don’t have to go to a pub,” Doyle replied, “We’ll just grab some wings or something. I just got to get out. What do you say Steve?”
Steven unconsciously looked at Angel before catching himself and saying, “Sure.”
“You’ve never had wings before have you?” Doyle asked with a hint of a smile.
Steven smiled. “Much better than the food in Quortoth.”
“So,” Doyle began conversationally, “you still looking to kill Angel?”
“My father says that all demons are evil and should be destroyed.”
Doyle paled noticeably. “You know some of them are an okay lot.”
Steven shrugged. “Haven’t met any.”
Doyle tried again. “You know, Angel’s got a soul.”
“Cordelia says he’s lost it before. It’s only a matter of time before he loses it again.”
“She’s always optimistic isn’t she.”
“My father warned me about her as well. She…”
“Hold on man.” Doyle said sharply, “He gave you profiles on us? Has he been watching or something? The last thing I need is a stalker on top of everything else?”
“He never mentioned you.” Steven muttered into his soda and something about his tone made Doyle pause.
“Who did he mention?”
“Angel. Cordelia. Someone named Wesley. A guy named Gunn. A girl called Fred.” He gulped down a soda, “You’re not named Wesley are you?”
“Nah,” Doyle answered shakily, “I used to go by Francis, but now, it’s just Doyle.”
Steven examined the remains of a wing and shook his head. “He never mention you.”
Why? Doyle’s mind echoed, why not me?
Because Cordy’s right and the poor kid’s delusional. He snapped back at the voice.
“Let’s go.” He said out loud as he signaled for a waiter, “It’s getting late.”
Steven stared at the ceiling of Angel’s apartment as he started to drift off to sleep and started to chronicle the lies. Everyone lied, and soon the lies got so abundant that some of them ended up as truths. Holtz, his father, had taught him that.
Beware of the man who believes their own lies. If you let them, their lies can overtake your truths.
Had Holtz lied to him too? There was no man named Wesley, nor Gunn nor a girl named Fred. Cordelia didn’t seem at all the manipulative siren he had been warned of. She seemed rude to the point of being caustic. She didn’t seem likely to share kindness with him, false or otherwise. And this Doyle character was a complete unknown and seemed to only offer him reluctant kindness.
Angel, who he had been told was his real father, did not seem to know him. Holtz had predicted Angel would do anything to gain his trust, but the first thing he had done was put him in chains.
Where were the lies? Steven laid on the uncomfortable sofa bed and tried not to listen to Angel restlessly moving in the office above him.
Slowly he drifted off into the darkness.
He dreamt of Quortoth.
And for the first time in his life, it felt like a nightmare.
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(no subject)
18/2/09 05:45 (UTC)Still, always great to get feedback on stuff like this. =)
(no subject)
18/2/09 13:58 (UTC)Or did you actually mean "find this stuff" as in "do you like it?"... ? Because I already commented it.
//
I'm impressed you could stomach my high school grammer.
//
What's high school grammar compared to good fic and happy ending? n___n Besides, I'm in high school and I speak -French-, so not with the perfect English here. XD
(The only story I started reading from you and didn't manage to finish would be The Fallen. Somehow, it just turned me off at some point. But I liked the Cordy and Doyle hand holding, and the end was really nice-- what with all good stories finishing at the beginning, because we all know how true that is)
(no subject)
19/2/09 05:30 (UTC)I'm a little shocked this story still gets traffic truth be told. But it warms my heart to see people still go looking for Cordy/Doyle stuff. If you're looking for recs there, Impact remains the best Doyle story in the history of forever. For some more recent stuff, badgirl2bad4u has a few new Doyle fics that are quite enjoyable and range from moderately to mildly epic.
(Oh God, The Fallen. I don't want to even think about that story. At least this one had 11th grade grammer. 10th grade grammer *shudder*. I don't blame you for stopping.)
(no subject)
19/2/09 13:00 (UTC)Honest truth is, duh I'm looking for Doyle ficcies -now-. I only recently watched the first nine episodes of Angel (my history of TV show watching is always very weird and messed up) and how can a normal being not fall head over heels for the cute man with a funny accent? Plus, love Cordy.
Then again, the first season of Angel I watched was season 5-- I fell in love with C/A when watching You're Welcome, decided I had to see where that couple came from -- you don't expect THAT when watching Buffy -- and watched the season 3 DVDs. Then Season 2. And then Season 1. But not all episodes in perfect order, so yeah, I won't even start on the messed-up.
So I'm a big fan of C/A, but I really am stuck on the idea that if they had a chance, Cordy would have gone with Doyle. And Angel wouldn't have said a word against it, ever. Because -Doyle-.
I'm sure now that Cordy's dead, she's with Doyle. *nods to herself* Like, wayyy sure.
I have lots of Cordy-Doyle plot bunnies in my head, too. It's just... I don't want to mess 'em up, y'know? Write something very crappy and cry because... it'll be crappy?
Anyways.
I'm always amazed at how I can babble like that for so long. XD
I think I'll go reread Impact, if only for the scene where Doyle mutters on the couch, or the one where Cordy jumps for him. *heart melts at the thought*
Here ends this crazily long reply full of random nothing.
(no subject)
20/2/09 03:24 (UTC)I think you should write the C/D stuff because at very least it's better then no story at all. =)
(no subject)
20/2/09 14:08 (UTC)I mean, Cordy in Tomorrow?? Or just, blonde Cordy? That's just wrong. Plus, the dress she's wearing? URGH. I hate it. XDD It looks like something out of my grandma's closet. I'm boycotting season 4 evil-Cordy arch (but I'll still try and watch Spin the Bottle, because I heard it's hilarious)
Cordy in You're Welcome was great Cordelia. She was still who she used to be. Young woman at the center of her family, love for clothes, saying whatever's on her mind... Kicking asses. Bonus mentions of Doyle~
Writing. -sigh- Writing. XD I'll get around to that. Tackle plot bunnies and all.
(By the way, nice knowing you.)
(no subject)
21/2/09 02:23 (UTC)(It has been quite nice meeting you as well!)