Chapter 10
Authors: Tammy & Ellen
Rating: NC-17 (overall story)
Spoilers: none
Summary: Angel, Cordelia and Doyle begin to realize some of the further implications of their bond.
Disclaimer: The characters of Angel, Doyle and Cordelia are the property of 20th Century Fox, Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy and others. No ownership is claimed and no copyright infringement is intended.
Thoughts between Angel, Doyle and Cordelia are marked //like this.//
//I'm still not convinced this is a good idea,// Cordelia said to Angel, who was somewhere across town, while she fixed herself a cup of coffee in the kitchen of her apartment. //Even if it was his.//
She received in reply only a flurry of images sent accidentally through the link as Angel, distracted, talked his way into another crappy, falling-down demon-hideout alongside Harry and Wesley.
Cordelia sighed and sipped at her coffee. It was lumpy. She put it down with distaste and gazed through the doorway into the living room – where Doyle was, although she couldn't see him from her current angle. At the moment she was blocking him, to keep her and Angel's conversation private, not that he probably noticed since he'd been all but shutting them out totally the past day or so.
She didn't know how he was feeling. But she could make a pretty good guess. The standard, lately – morbid, grumpy, and frustratingly, confusingly changeable.
She and Angel had both been surprised when he'd come in a few hours after their last meeting with Harry, having locked himself away deep in thought for some time and declared that they were going back to Cordelia's place if that was what it took to find out what had happened to Dolores.
The message they had found on Cordelia's answering machine had been so cryptic that it was almost unintelligible. Over a background of street noise, a muffled voice mumbled something about looking for Doyle and calling back later. The only useful piece of information was provided by the Caller ID service, which identified the call as having been placed from a pay phone located in a particularly slummy neighborhood of Los Angeles, one frequented by the sort of demons who wouldn't be very likely to have their own phones at home.
Of course, it could have absolutely nothing to do with Dolores and her disappearance. It might be just another one of the old bill collectors, one who hadn't written off Doyle as a dead loss. The debt collectors hadn't generally been in the habit of leaving messages though, at least not those of the kind which didn't involve doing bodily harm to Doyle.
So, Angel, Wesley, and Harry had gone off to the neighborhood near the pay phone, to hunt for the caller and look around for any information that might be known to the LA demon population. At least it gave them something to follow up and something to do to work off a little steam.
And meanwhile, Cordelia and Doyle waited in Cordelia's apartment to see if anyone tried to establish contact.
Apparently even in his current state, Doyle couldn't just wait around while his mother might be in danger. He had to do something. Even if the something was, well, waiting around.
Since they'd finally returned to the apartment that morning, he hadn't done anything much other than sit on the couch and brood. And she'd thought Angel could brood...
She received an indignant response to that thought as Angel himself finally found enough spare seconds and dragged-together concentration to reply. //Well, Doyle's pulling himself out of it, slowly. If he's decided to face the situation, we can't do anything but support him.//
//I want to support him,// she said. //But, in case you haven't noticed, he's still shutting me out.//
//Both of us.// Angel was silent a moment, either thinking or distracted by demon-business. //Maybe it's a good thing. Some things need to be handled alone. Some things you need to find the strength for by yourself.//
//I just feel so useless. And we don't seem to be getting anywhere looking for Dolores. How many dark and smelly demon-lairs have you've looked in today?//
Angel's reply was rather broken up as he tried to question the latest demon clan. //Look, I'm going to have to block again for a while,// he said and she knew he'd opened up the link to include Doyle again, briefly. //This clan could turn nasty and I need to concentrate. If anything happens and you need me, I've got the cell phone. Okay?//
//I guess,// Cordelia sent grumpily. //Just don't be away too long, this time. You had me worried, earlier.//
Angel disappeared from her head, leaving only the faint trace of Doyle's mental presence. Doyle was holding the link to its narrowest point short of actual blocking – something he'd been doing all too often.
Evidently he was having a lot of thoughts he didn't want to share.
She couldn't pretend that didn't hurt her, or that it didn't anger her.
He was hurting and if she could make it better, even only a little bit, he had no place refusing her the permission to do so. She didn't understand it. They'd shared so much else, after all.
She sighed and walked through into the living room.
Doyle was still sitting where she'd left him, absently flicking through the television channels, perched uncomfortably on the edge of the couch. The blank look on his face told her he wasn't really paying attention to the flickering TV screen.
Cordelia watched him. He was so wrapped up in himself it took several seconds for him to notice she was there, even with her presence being shouted through their mental link.
Eventually, he looked up. //Princess?// he asked, with a hint of concern.
He looked wrecked. He didn't have that transparent, death-like, desperate, waif look that he'd had yesterday but he still looked worn down and hopeless. The physical effects of what his binge and Angel's enforced detox had done between them had almost passed but she knew that the root of the problem was hardly physical.
It hurt, seeing him reduced to this sombre shadow, darker even than Angel at the height of his broodiness.
"This was a bad idea," she said aloud. She thought that over and amended it. "Okay, so maybe not but it was definitely bad timing. The worst. Maybe we should just, you know, leave it for the moment. Say to hell with it and you go ahead and drink if it keeps you going through this, because we need to..."
Her voice dried up as she saw his expression, felt it reverberate through their mental link and knew she'd said the wrong thing.
"You think I could stop now?" he asked. "Switch it on and off, just like that?"
//No, I...// she sent her apologies through the link, trying to send her comfort and affection with it but was ungently cut off when he shut her out. "I don't think that," she continued, angry and hurt by the rejection. "I just thought... she's your mother! If drinking is what it takes to be there for her – 'cause you're in no state right now to help – then maybe..."
His expression softened and he opened his mind to her again and his arms too, in apology. She went to him and snuggled down beside him on the couch, snagging an arm around his waist and resting her head on his shoulder. His hands, pale and shaking, still managed to trace delicately down her cheek and pull a stray strand of hair back behind her ear.
//I'm sorry,// he said. //But we can't just stop this. Angel started it, I know, and he didn't give me much say in the matter. But if I give in to it again now... it'll only do more harm. Don't you see? I can't trust myself. I never knew just how much I couldn't until Angel showed me just what I was doing. The drink – I want it so badly right now, more than I ever realised... and now I know that, I think... I think if I ever crawl back into that bottle, I won't be coming out again. Not ever.//
She listened, shocked, searching her mind for words of comfort that she found herself unable to form or deliver.
//And that might be all right, if it was just me. It might be no less than I deserve.//
Cordelia leaped to protest, her arms tightening fiercely around him. //You don't deserve that...//
Doyle continued, ignoring her, her assertions of his worth bouncing off him as uselessly as ever. //But I'm not – alone. And you and Angel, you don't deserve me dragging you down with this thing. So it has to end.//
Wordlessly, she hugged him, breathing into the curve of his neck, breathing in his scent, which was showered and clean and free from the underlying tint of alcohol which had been present always since she'd known him – it was strange and it was going to take some getting used to, that lack. It made her realise as she never had before how very much the drinking was a part of him.
Would he be the same Doyle without it? she thought suddenly. An unexpected degree of fear crept as the thought flashed through her mind. She loved him. She loved who he was. She'd never meant to change him.
"Yeah," he said softly, his breath tickling her ear warmly as he planted a kiss on her hair. "It's gonna be different. It has to be. You know I couldn't go on that way." //Still love you, though, princess.//
She felt her face redden. She'd hadn't meant him to hear that. //I'm sorry...//
//It's nothing I haven't already been thinking, princess.//
"You think you can do this, then?" she said. Heard the doubt in her own voice and knew it to be the wrong approach. "I mean, you can do this then. Boy howdy, absolutely you can. Witness the confidence."
He laughed. She felt her face spread into a grin as the old Doyle suddenly returned to life anew before her eyes. "Cordelia – you're a treasure." He untangled one arm from her to reach over and stab a finger down on the TV remote, shutting off the haze of static which had been its last stop, ten minutes ago. He leaned back more comfortably on the couch, drawing her back with him unexpectedly. She shrieked, half with laughter, as she overbalanced and ended up with a face full of his bad shirt and struggled around until she was looking up at him.
"I'll get you for that one later," she promised.
//How about now?// He leaned down and captured her lips with his.
She felt the vision hit at the same instant as his gentle touch and felt him feel it too. She held onto him tightly, riding it out, whimpering at the pain, feeling his grip tighten around her. He was too weak right now, for the pain of a vision, she thought but by the time she was trying to protect him it was already over.
She laughed shakily, feeling the dampness of tears on her face. "Hey, why couldn't that one come just a few minutes later?"
Doyle didn't laugh; his mood had abruptly darkened again, bleaker even than it had been. She stared up at him, then struggled to stand, falling off the couch in her urgency. She picked herself up off the floor and straightened her dress.
//That woman – your mother, right?//
He nodded.
//Freaks in robes with creepy accessorising – bad, right?//
"Yeah, I think we can say that's a safe bet. But Cordy – that hill with the standing stones..."
"You know where it is? Great! Just let me phone Angel and we're over there. We rescue your mother from weirdo-demonic-cult and hey presto, no more worries, right?"
"It's in England."
"Well, so we get on a plane and we're over there – " Then it hit her. "Oh."
Doyle sighed and groaned, flopping back on the couch and rubbing his forehead tiredly. "Aw, hell. You better ring Angel anyway, assuming he's got the 'cell switched on – an' that'd be a minor miracle to start with – an' we'll see what we can do when he gets here."
"I don't know... maybe we should wait a while? Things sounded a bit dangerous, that last stop. We don't want to start any trouble for him. It 's not like it isn't going to take us hours and hours to get over there anyway, if we even do risk the flight at all."
"Yeah but, princess... vision! Angel can look after himself. Chances are, my mum ain't in a position to do the same."
"I guess..." A soft thump against the door caught Cordelia's attention. //The mail. Maybe there'll be something... We better check before we call Angel, anyway.//
//Ever the optimist,// Doyle thought back at her, a faint glimpse of his old humor surfacing again. //If you call more catalogs to while away the hours shopping at home 'something.'//
Before Cordelia could even reach the door, Dennis had opened it. The pile of junk mail (including, as Doyle had noted, several catalogs) was invisibly whisked away into a convenient corner and a lumpy brown envelope sailed through the air to land in Cordelia's hands.
"Thanks, Dennis," she said aloud. "Yeah, I missed you too." She turned over the envelope. //Doyle, it's for you. The return address looks like... it's from your Aunt Judy.//
//Go ahead and open it.//
//You sure?// Her fingers were already working the metal clasp but she cast him a quick, doubtful look. He caught her glance for only a moment, then turned away.
//You open it,// he repeated.
The envelope was taped shut as well. Cordelia impatiently tore it open and two objects fell out: a small silver chain with an odd-looking pendant at the end and a single folded sheet of perfumed stationery.
//That's Judy's notepaper, all right. I'd know that smell anywhere.//
//Don't you want to read the note?//
//You read it, I'll follow along.//
Cordelia unfolded the note, rolling the necklace idly in her fingers as she did. The chain felt like good quality silver; on the end was a clear ball, which was surrounded by a fine latticework. At the bottom of the ball was a small bar with a stylized depiction of two hands facing one another. After a single, curious look, Cordelia turned her attention to what Judy had written:
"Francis: I don't know if this means anything but I'm sending it along in case it tells you something. A few weeks before she disappeared, your mum started wearing this pendant. She said someone had given it to her as a gift. A day or two before she vanished, someone at work happened to notice she wasn't wearing it any more. I'm told that your mum gave them the oddest look and said, 'I just found out what it was,' then shut herself up tighter than a clam and wouldn't say another word about it. She left it behind anyway, so here it is. It may be nothing but let me know if it gives you any sort of clue."
//She 'just found out what it was'? What does that mean?// Cordelia sent, puzzled and then gave the odd piece of jewelry a closer look. //Wait a minute... Oh, God, is this what I think it is? Because if it is, I think I'm going to throw up right now.//
Cordelia threw the necklace to the floor with an involuntary moan of disgust and Doyle echoed it silently.
//Who in the hell would be sick enough to make jewelry out of that?//
//The Beacon. Yuck, oh, gross, that's supposed to be your hands and the Beacon.//
They stared at each other in horror.
//Angel!// they thought simultaneously, diving for the phone.
Angel had extracted himself from the meeting with the demon clan – which hadn't been going well anyway – and left Harry and Wesley to clear up the evidence and call the fire department. He hurried back to Cordelia's apartment, opening his mind up to Doyle and Cordelia again as he entered the building and took the stairs several steps at a time. Phantom Dennis opened the door for him before he'd even reached it.
"Thanks," Angel said. He looked at the scene within Cordelia's living room; his lovers were hunched together on the couch. Cordelia looked as ragged and freaked out as Doyle, which didn't bode well.
//Sorry I had to block you out so much. Safety first, right?// Noting the absence of their usual reassuring response, Angel went on: //What is this thing you two are so upset about? Something about Dolores? Is there news of her? What did I miss?//
//Well, there was the mind-splittingly painful vision, thanks to which we now have an idea where Dolores is and it just happens to be a sunny air flight away in England,// Doyle supplied. //And then there was the really disturbing thing.//
Cordelia and Doyle both looked at the necklace on the floor and following their attention, Angel bent to pick it up. //This thing? It looks harmless enough, what is it?//
It was the waves of anger and revulsion coming from the two of them, not the object itself, that caught at his mind. Cordelia wrinkled her face in a grimace as Doyle sent: //Someone's gone and made the frickin' Beacon into some sort of holy relic. Next thing they'll be selling off pieces of it.//
//What?// Angel stared at the pendant lying on his palm. At the moment when he recognized the symbol, heat began to build up on his skin where the necklace touched it and he dropped it hastily.
//You're right. This is a holy symbol to someone, somewhere.//
Doyle winced and swore, feeling Angel's flash of pain. //It burned you. That can't be. It's impossible.//
//Anything that a vampire recognizes as being a sacred object can burn, as long as there is someone who believes in its power, as soon as the vampire realizes what it is.// Angel looked at Doyle's pale, shocked face. //I'm sorry, Doyle. I know the last thing you need right now is a reminder of... that.//
Doyle repressed a shudder as he tried to block the memory and didn't quite succeed. Cordelia felt the remembered pain in Doyle's mind and instinctively moved closer, as though she could protect him.
//Sacred? The Beacon? How twisted is that?//
Angel stared at the necklace on the floor and at the small, already healing burn on his palm. //I'd guess that the story of what you did has spread around the world by now,// he sent thoughtfully. //The Scourge is still out there and people... half-demons... are still terrified that someday the Scourge will come for them. You're the only hero they have, Doyle, the only one who has ever done something to defeat the Scourge.//
//And the fact that I...//
//Died. And came back. Yes. That takes you from hero to superhero. Legend. Demigod.//
Doyle made a rude noise in response.
//Well, there's one good thing about that... that...// Cordelia's thoughts indicated the piece of jewelry lying on the floor.
//Abomination?// Doyle put in.
//Yeah, that. At least if whoever's doing up Beacon jewelry has your mother, they're probably not going to hurt her.//
//How do you figure that one?//
//Well, duh. If you're, like, Jesus to this cult, that makes her the Virgin Mary. You wouldn't hurt the Virgin Mary, right?//
//I'm not a religious man, Cordelia but the blasphemy in here is getting just a little too thick for comfort.//
//Well, we have a clue anyway, which is a lot more than we had yesterday. Not this, I mean the usual, visiony kind of clue,// she sent quickly to Angel, opening the memory to him. //I guess now we just have to figure out how to get all three of us safely over to England.//
//Great,// Doyle thought with heavy sarcasm. //I've just started getting over the whole fear of heights thing and now someone has to wave the Beacon right in my face to remind me, just before we get on a plane. Wonderful.//
//Not to mention the whole 'avoiding sunlight' problem.//
Cordelia hesitated for a moment, then bent with obvious reluctance to pick up the pendant.
//What are you touching that thing for?// Doyle asked.
//We might as well start somewhere. I've drawn power from the two of you, so we know we can do it. Now it's Angel's turn to draw humanity from us. Maybe, if he can pull enough from us to hold this stupid thing without it burning him, he can draw on us enough to survive sunlight.//
Angel nodded slowly, a little distracted at the thought of walking in the sun again. Another temporary and dangerous solution, he knew, like the Mohra demon's blood and the Ring of Amara... but unlike them, one that if they could make it work could be kept and drawn upon when needed. //It seems oddly appropriate, in a way.// He gazed for a moment at the necklace in Cordelia's hand and then at Doyle, meeting his eyes. //Your... death... led to the beginning of our lives, as what we are now.//
Cordelia followed his thought. //So, maybe we shouldn't be all 'ick' over this after all. Maybe it's not so bad a thing, except for the horrible-pain-reminder part.//
//If someone's gone and taken my mother because they're confusing her with the Virgin Mary, I'd like to set them straight, one way or another.//
//Even if you have to learn to walk across the water to do it?// Angel teased gently.
//Don't even go there,// Doyle flared for a moment, then eased down. //Well, I suppose,// and he tried to manage a smile. //Even if we three have to learn to fly.//
//Concentrate, Doyle!// Cordelia hissed, flexing her own hand in pain as Angel yelped and juggled the little beacon again. //We had it that time!//
//Why gripe at me?// Doyle sniped back. //Far as I can see, there's only one human among us. And it ain't me.//
Cordelia glared at him. Angel cursed and dropped the pendant. Dennis caught it before it hit the floor and drew it back up, hovering it an inch or so above Angel's burned palm. "Cordelia!"
//See,// Doyle said. //I'm not the major contributor here.//
"Doyle," Angel said, his tone weary and a fraction irritable. Angel's thoughts had been flittering over sunlight since the idea had first been mentioned, Doyle knew and the lure seemed to be making him tetchy with the possibility that they might not now be able to make it happen. "Your demon isn't a vampire. You're as immune to this symbol of belief as Cordelia is. Let's try again and this time why don't you actually try."
"Maybe I should just take Angel's demon for the trip," Cordelia suggested again.
"No. You can't control it. Not on a plane full of people. We do it this way or not at all. Again." Angel determinedly drew his fist closed around the pendant, wincing at the pain.
Doyle flinched from his lover's pain too and closed his eyes. Try... Angel was keeping his fingers clenched tight, despite the burning and he sensed the vampire had no intention, this time, of letting go.
Letting go...
It was a lot harder to let go of the human in him than the demon.
If they couldn't do this – if he couldn't do this – then his mother would be left in danger. Angel might die, nothing left but dust... just like him...
//Yes!// Angel's triumphant thought shouted through his mind and Cordelia's. Doyle realised he couldn't feel the second-hand pain any more and opened his eyes to look at Angel.
Who was casually throwing the little beacon from palm to palm.
//It works!// Cordelia exclaimed with delight. //We can do this! Angel, you can walk in sunlight!// She hugged him enthusiastically, sending the pendant bouncing across the floor. Angel had a smile on his face for the first time in days.
They reached for Doyle, to pull him into their embrace. And stopped short.
//Uh, Doyle,// Cordelia sent after a brief silence. //The green and spiky look – y'know, it might unnerve the other passengers.//
"Aw, crap..." He concentrated and the spikes disappeared. He quickly tried to banish the dismay from their minds, "It's okay, guys. It's just – holding human form's a bit... harder than usual. It's fine. I just gotta control this. We'll manage."
Angel set a hand on his shoulder and Doyle set his own over it. //We will,// said Angel.
