Chapter 3
Author: Cleo
Rating: R (overall story)
Spoilers: Somnambulist
Summary: The events of Somnambulist as they might have happened in the 'Power of Three' universe.
Disclaimer: This story is adapted from an episode of the WB television series Angel, written by Tim Minear. Angel, Doyle, Cordelia and all other characters from the Angel television series belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy and/or 20th Century Fox and other entities who aren't us. We only wish that we owned them and could keep them safe and happy and loved. Some dialogue in this story is drawn directly from the original episode.
Thoughts between Angel, Doyle and Cordelia are marked //like this.//
"I believe in Los Angeles. It's the city of dreams, a mystical oasis, willed from a desert." Cordelia rose from her desk and moved to look out at the city through the slits in the blinds. "But even sunny blonde LA has its trashy dark roots and you've learned that the hard way, haven't you?" She turned again and walked around the desk to lean over the empty chair in front of it.
Doyle stood in the shadows of the inner office trying hard not to laugh. He had decided to try his hand at hiding his thoughts from her, as Angel was hiding his from them both. He had come quietly up the stairs and now was partially gratified and partially hurt that he had succeeded.
"You've taken your problem to the police, they can't help you," she continued, unaware of her audience. "So you've come to us."
Cordelia looked up quickly as the front door opened.
"I think it's about to speak," came a voice with a clipped British accent.
Doyle inwardly groaned. He couldn't see the door from where he was but he recognized the voice. That ex-watcher friend of Cordelia's was a pain. Doyle had only met him once before but he'd taken an instant dislike to the over-educated Englishman.
Cordelia straightened and gave her unexpected visitor one of her loftiest looks as he shut the office door and stood smiling at her. "Nobody likes a smart-ass, rogue demon hunter. What do you want, Wesley?" She was trying hard not to show how embarrassed she was at being caught practicing what she knew to be a rather silly speech.
//I kinda liked it, Princess.// Startled, she turned towards Doyle as he walked into the room.
"Were you watching me too?" she asked angrily, aloud for Wesley's benefit. Then silently, with a trace of nervousness, //Why didn't I know you were there?//
Doyle shrugged, grinning. "I jus' saw the last part." //I jus' wanted t' see if I could shield, or whatever, like Angel's been doin'.//
He felt her hurt and sent how sorry he was and how much he loved her. He glanced over at the other man, who had stiffened when he saw him. "Hello, Wesley."
//We'll talk about this later, Doyle.//
"Uh, yes. Hello, Mr... um. I mean, good morning, Doyle." Wesley's suddenly stiff demeanor said a great deal.
Wesley had arrived in L.A. to find Angel and Cordelia deeply mourning the loss of their friend. He had been sympathetic and had felt deeply for them both. He had offered what support he could but as Cordelia began haunting occult shops and trying every spell she could find to bring Doyle back, he became nervous.
He had tried several times to talk to her, to warn he about the dangers inherent in such magic but she wouldn't listen. He even asked Angel to talk to her, hoping Angel could reach her, where he could not. But Angel's efforts were half-hearted at best and accomplished nothing.
Then a little while later, he had come into the office to find a happy Cordelia, singing away in a very off-key voice. He had been thrilled at first, until he saw the man with her. Her smile had faded slightly when she saw Wesley and the dark-haired man moved to stand close to her, eyeing Wesley as though he were sizing him up. Cordelia had paused guiltily for a moment, as though she was uncertain about what to say to Wesley. Then, taking a deep breath, she had told him mater-of-factly that her latest spell had worked and introduced him to Doyle.
He had felt his heart drop and his body grow cold. He made an effort to be as polite as he could but he was scared for her, even more so when he saw the adoring look in her eyes.
He had asked if Angel was in his apartment and had barely waited for an affirmative answer before heading down. His first sight of Angel should have warned him, he looked too happy. Instead Wesley had launched into a nearly panicked tirade. Angel was understanding about his fears but finally stopped him and informed him in no uncertain terms that this was Doyle.
Wesley was horrified by the peaceful certainty he saw in Angel's eyes, the same as he had seen in Cordelia's. He wanted that peace for them but he seriously doubted that this was their friend.
He had kept his concerns to himself after that but had watched "Doyle" carefully. He knew of various demons who took control of their victims by appearing in the guise of a departed loved one. And there were other, even darker forces that would find having a spy in Angel Investigations useful. He would not allow this thing to harm Cordelia or Angel. It terrified him that they couldn't see what to him was obvious, that this was not possible. The dead do not come back. But this being had a strong hold over them. So, he kept quiet. He couldn't jeopardize their friendship just when they might need him the most.
Cordelia had sat down behind her desk again and Doyle moved to sit on the edge of it.
"You wanted something, Wesley?" she prompted.
"Oh yes, of course," he said as he strolled over to her desk, trying hard to appear in command of himself and the situation. "Just thought I'd pop 'round so we might compare battle plans from our respective fronts."
"Oh, I thought you worked alone?" She raised an eyebrow at Wesley and heard Doyle snicker in her mind.
"Well, even a solitary soldier, such as myself, recognizes that a free exchange of intelligence benefits the common struggle." This time Doyle had a hard time not laughing out loud and Cordelia shushed him silently. "Also, I brought in your mail and newspaper."
Doyle's face was getting red from the effort not to embarrass Cordelia's friend. //Not that he needs my help. He does a fine job o' makin' a fool of 'imself.//
//Will you be quiet.// "Oh, thanks." Cordelia took the mail and barely glancing at it she handed it to Doyle. //Here, this ought to keep you occupied. Look at the bills or something. That's depressing.//
//Gee, thanks.//
"So what have you got?" she asked Wesley.
He was startled out of his musings over why she had handed the mail to Doyle without even looking at it. He leaned casually against her desk, wanting to appear relaxed. "Got?"
//What is with everyone and my desk today?// Cordelia wondered.
"You wanted to compare skinnies on the current 'evil happenings'."
//Everyone just wants t' be close to ya, love.// Doyle thought at her as he flipped through the mail, only half looking at it.
Wesley stood straighter and tried to look important. "Yes. Skinnies. Precisely. – Uh, right, well... Everything seems quiet."
"Okay. Well – thanks for stopping by." Cordelia said cheerfully.
Wesley sat down in the chair she had been talking to a few minutes ago. Why did she want to get rid of him so quickly? "And you? – How go things on your end of the good fight?"
Cordelia gave him a dry look. "I've been giving the hard sell to an empty chair. What do you think?"
"Quiet all around then. Well, I'll keep myself available. The situation can only escalate. We made a most effective team, I felt. Yes, most effective. Your cryptic visions, Angel's brawn, my highly developed powers of deduction rounding out..."
Doyle decided he'd better end this before the idiot hurt himself. "This ain't our mail."
Wesley looked startled. "What?"
Cordelia leaned forward and glanced at the address on one of the letters. "What do you know, Doyle's right for once." He glared at her and she gave him a sweet smile in return.
Doyle turned away and handed the mail back to Wesley. "The dentist's office – next door." He glanced back at Cordelia. //You actually had a crush on this guy?//
//Don't start with me. Everyone makes mistakes. I mean, just look at the shirt you're wearing.//
//Ah, ya know ya love me, bad shirts an' all.//
She sighed dramatically in her mind. //Alas, I'm doomed to fall for guys with no fashion sense.//
She suddenly turned to Wesley realizing that something was off. He was staring fixedly at the newspaper Doyle had handed him.
"Something wrong? You stopped yammering."
He stood and began backing towards the door. "I. ah. I suppose I should return these items to their proper owner." He turned around and quickly left, as they heard the elevator rise, never having looked up from the paper.
//What's with him?// Cordelia wondered.
Doyle shrugged. //Beats me. The Lakers had a bad game last night but I don' think he was lookin' at the sports page.//
Cordelia made a face at him. //Not everyone loses money every time the Lakers lose.//
Doyle threw up his hands in defense. //I didn' have any money on this game, Princess. I promise.//
At her raised eyebrow he shrugged sheepishly. //Though I've got a few bucks on the next one.//
She rolled her eyes.
Meanwhile, outside their office door, a horrified ex-Watcher was staring at the newspaper. My God, he thought, it's even worse than I thought.
Not only were Angel and Cordelia under this demon's control but Angel might be killing again. Perhaps the demon was making him do it, he thought desperately. Please God, let it be the demon's influence and not by Angel's choice.
Wesley looked in through the window, watching Cordelia's face light up as Angel arrived upstairs, watching the way her hand lingered affectionately on the arm of the creature who claimed to be Doyle.
I've never seen her look so happy, he thought. If I'm forced to kill them both, it will break her heart.
