Title: A Hell Of A Time

Author: Calandra & Beth

Feedback: Yes please!

Distribution: Sweet Delusions, any one else ask first

Spoilers: just the Initiative... before Hero

Disclaimer: Doyle and Spike do not belong to us, they belong to Joss, David and Mutant Enemy... but can we get them for Yule if we're really nice? The story is all ours

Rating: PG (some strong language)

Summary: Doyle and Spike are drunk... really drunk *g*

Notes: Cal- thanks to Beth who came up with the idea and without whom I would never have writen it and gotten to see my fav guys roaring drunk. It was fun.*g*

A HELL OF A TIME

By Calandra and Beth

"Scotch, neat."

The bartender looked at the man in front of her doubtfully. She took his glass but didn't refill it. She cleaned it, carefully watching his actions. He sat slouched on the barstool and his bright blue eyes were starting to cloud over.

"I think you've had enough." She said, turning the glass over and covering it with her meaty hand.

"I'll tell you when I've had enough." He mumbled, trying unsuccessfully to free his glass from her grasp.

She smiled slightly. It was a patronising smile but he was in no condition to notice. She glanced in the mirror that reflected the bar to make sure there weren't any other patrons that might warrant some attention. The only other person present, however, was an elderly man passed out in the back. Shrugging, she placed her elbows on the bar and leaned towards the attractive young man. "Tell me about it, honey."

He sighed, a sigh that seemed to come from the depths of his soul. "It's this girl I know..." he started.

They both turned around when a loud laugh came from behind them. A bleached blond man in black leather strode to the front of the room. She frowned slightly at the realisation the she hadn't see him. He didn't notice; he waved a beer bottle at them clumsily. "It's always a bloody woman, mate.."

"So I've come to realise" The man sitting at the bar mumbled under his breath. With a sigh, he buried his head in his crossed arms, apparently finished with this conversation. The second man would have none of it however.

"Oh, come on, it's true! Always a woman... believe me.." The blond slurred, it seemed he had heard the other's nearly silent comment.

"Not one like thi' woman, it isn't. She's...God, she's incredible. Beautiful. Amazing...out on a bloody date wi' someone else. Why d'I even bother?"

"Dunno, Charlie. Why?" The blond asked, leaning casually on the bar... or at least what passed for casually in his intoxicated state.

"'Cos she's incredible. Beautiful.. Amazing....that don't make much sense, does it?" He sighed, picturing his goddess in his mind. He was jerked from his reverie by his uninvited drinking partner.

"That's your bleedin' problem?!" The blond man snorted and downed half of his beer. "At least she's not tying you down and that without any of the perks, might I add. Just bash the bloke behind the head and screw her."

The first man paused for a moment and passed a hand through his dark hair. Thinking about the last comment seemed to hurt his head. He turned around in his chair and squinted at the newcomer. "Excuse me?"

"Shag her. It's not as if you'd be the first, mate. Or aren't you man enough?" He seemed to find this incredibly funny, because he bent over with laughter, slapping his knee, before taking another sip. This got his companion's attention; he looked at him directly for the first time and his eyes narrowed.

"Spike." the first man hissed.

"Yeah, what of it?" The blond looked up, annoyed expression on his face. "Oh, wait...it's you...the do-gooder. Bloody 'ell! Can't I get a break?"

"What are you doing here?" The Irishman growled, rising unsteadily to his feet.

"Drinkin'. Wot it look like?"

"Why are you here and why shouldn't I stake you right here?"

"'Cos that would be a bloody pain in the arse." He answered, smirking.

The bartender's eyes moved from one to the other; her smile had vanished a long time ago. She stepped around the bar and placed herself between the two men. "Ok, that's enough, I'll have none of this in my bar."

The Irishman didn't seem to notice her despite the fact that she towered a head above him. His eyes were focused on Spike.

"Wouldn't that be a shame now." he advanced towards the other man, trying to look threatening despite his wobbly steps.

"Ooo, I'm scared now. What'd you gonna do about it little man?"

The next thing he saw was the Irishman's fist.

"Ugh..what 'it me?" The Brit mumbled, rubbing at his sore jaw. The blow did plenty along the way of sobering him up. Which was a bloody pain; it meant he'd just have to drink several more bottles of beer to get back to the point he had just been at.

"I did." The shorter man answered, having plopped down in one of the empty chairs at a table near the vampire.

"That hurt!" The vampire complained, still rubbing his face. "How'd ya ev'n hit me that 'ard?"

"Jus' mortal on m'mum's side.." Doyle said with a wave of his hand as an answer.

"Oh. Remind me not t'piss ya off again, right mate?"

"Wha'..ya not gonna fight me?" The half-demon glanced at him dubiously, remembering the last time they'd come face to face. He remembered the glee with which he had tortured Angel.

"Bloody well can't." Spike answered with a pout.

Doyle glanced up at him slowly, all the movement had made him really dizzy. He grabbed the table when a wave of nausea hit him. "I didn' think I 'it you that hard." He moaned and clutched his head feeling as though someone had hit him.

Spike grabbed a half empty glass from the unconscious man's hand. He swallowed the whole thing and straddled the chair across from Doyle. "It's the bloody Slayer's fault." he snorted. "Damn women. She kicks my arse and another bird puts a bleeding v-chip in me head."

The Irish demon shook a finger in front of him though after a second it looked as if he weren't able to stop it. "Don't badmouth a lady. M'mum always said that you have to show them pro.. proper respect."

Spike snorted searching the bottom of his empty glass. "She was probably a bitch too."

Doyle rose, looking just about ready to hit the vampire again. However he tripped on his chair and fell to the ground. He rubbed his hip carefully and used the table as leverage to get back up. He sat down again with a sigh. "They aren't bad, I jus' don't understand them. They're wonderful, beautiful, intelligent creatures... who don't know a good thing when they see it." he grabbed the glass out of Spike's hand and drank the last few drops that the vampire had been about to swallow.

Spike rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say mate."

"Wha'..ya don't believe me? An' why th' hell not?"

Spike snorted again. "Gimmie a good reason why I shoul'. All them been total pains. 'Cept Dru. But she left me for a bloody chaos demon. Have ya ev'r seen them? Ugly buggers. All horns 'n slime 'n jus'..ugly." he waved his hand in front of him for emphasis.

" 'Ey!" Doyle seemed slightly insulted. "I resemble tha' remark..sorta.."

"You're a chaos demon?!" Spike now looked ready to deck the other man, whether he could or not. It was just by principle, no matter if it caused him irritation. Or blinding pain for that matter.

"No' quite." Doyle rubbed at his head absently. "Brachen demon actually... less, uh slime but no more attractive t'the ladies, trust me."

"Hardly a demon," Spike said with a dismissive sound. "They haven't killed a human being in my unlife."

"Ya haven't been big with the killin' yourself Spikey, if I get your meaning."

Without warning, Spike rose and tossed the chair against the wall; it shattered into a thousand pieces. He rose another and looked about to hit Doyle upside the head with it until he collapsed on the floor, clutching his head. He punched the ground, not looking up.

"That's below the belt. It's not from lack of trying, wanker. I came so close to eating the Slayer's best friend... Willow, a lovely bird she is, would have made a nice snack." He shook his head and smiled slightly at the memory.

"Nev'r met 'er. Seen 'er before tho'." Doyle supplied, being sure to keep his distances from the enraged vampire.

Spike nodded, as though this information made perfect sense. "Yup...she was all 'elpful beforetryin' t'get Dru back for me. 'Course she didn't 'ave much choice, I havin' kidnapped both her 'n the whelp. But she was nice enough t' try at least. Tha's wha' counts. Most woulda cowered in fear at th' sight of me."

"Not anymore.."Doyle laughed at his own comment, and motioned for another drink. Spike slowly got to his feet and tried to think of a way around the implant. Being more than a little drunk, this was no easy feat. Instead he clumsily straightened his chair/weapon and sat down.

The bartender frowned but seeing how the drinks seem to make the two self-acclaimed demons more sedate, pulled out two more glasses. She placed them in front of the two and stepped back behind the bar to look for the phone number that the Irishman's friend had left behind when he had picked him up last time.

Spike was grasping his glass tightly, fuming. "I'll have you know that I'm very intimidating. I can frighten that little bugger Xander and..." Doyle nodded with a slight grin... and regretted it instantly as his head started to pound.

Spike ground his teeth in irritation. "As if you have anything to be proud of, mate. Can't even get laid by Cordelia Chase, she'd have any bloke off the street." He snorted "And I'm the pathetic one."

Doyle's head shot up at the words. "Don't ya bloody well bring 'er inta thi'! She has nothin' to do wit' it! I swear I'll --" The Irishman rose to his feet again, not attempting to move from his spot this time. "Oh she doesn't? Seems I remember ya sayin' sumethin' bout it bein' a woman...wha' other one coul' it be then, eh mate?"

"'S not th' fuckin' point..I jus' not standin' for ya insultin' her like tha'!"

Spike leaned back in his chair, it was now only resting on two legs as unsteady as the two men. "Whatcha gonna do 'bout it?"

Doyle tried to move forward to attack or even knock over Spike's chair but after all his drinks, he could barely take two steps without the table's support.

Spike laughed. "I didn't think you could protect that pretentious princess."

Doyle buried his face in his drink. He downed the strong alcohol, causing his brows to draw together. "Princess." he mumbled. "That's my nickname for her... she probably doesn't even know how much she means to me."

Spike shook his head and groaned. "Lovely, I was wondering when we'd get to the 'cry on my shoulder' part of this conversation. No, no, don't stop on my account."

Doyle lowered his eyes and didn't say anything. He spun the clear liquid in his glass pensively. He slowly moved back to the chair and let himself drop.

Spike groaned at the sight and rolled his eyes. "Bloody hell, alright already. What's your damn problem?"

Doyle looked up slightly at him, cloudy blue eyes not even focusing on the other's face any longer. "Wha's th' point? Ya don' care anyhow.."

"Humour me. 'S not like I got any place better t'be. An' even listenin' t' this's better'n bein' tied t' Xander's bloody chair. An' wit' duct tape no less!" He paused, realising that the other demon had been nearly ready to talk. "Oh...sorry...your problems now...so what's wrong wi' the darlin' Cordelia?"

"A snotty little rich man. Charles Irving, from Harvard." Doyle mocked and finished his drink. "What does he have that I don't anyway? Besides money, a job, height... oh yeah and he's not a demon. I don't even know why I bother, guys like me never get women like that... she's outta my class."

"Ah, bullshit! She's no better than any of them. Class," he snorted. "It's just another way for them to look down at us blokes."

Doyle shook his head. "No, no, not 'Delia, she's the real thing. Beautiful, intelligent." he sighed. "She's so much more than she'll let people see.... more than she'd ever let me see."

Spike mumbled something as a sign for Doyle to continue. Really, he was hoping to be able to ignore most of the Irishman's ramblings. The whole 'oh look at my problems' thing got to him most of the time.

Doyle didn't notice the lack of interest from his drinking companion. He just kept on going. "She doesn't even think that someone could really, truly care f'r 'er, even if they don't have much..any..money at all. Does tha' really matter at all? Don't seem like it to me." He looked up from his drink and at Spike. He waited for an answer from the blond.

Spike didn't say anything for a moment, he was looking about the room in a disinterested manner. He only turned back when he noticed that Doyle had stopped talking and was waiting for a response. "Money doesn't matter?" he chuckled and leaned back on his chair. "That's a good one mate; money is everything."

Doyle lowered his eyes, swirling his drink. That seemed to have been the conclusion that Doyle had come to himself but didn't want to admit. The vampire watched him retreat further into his melancholy and sighed loudly again. "But I've noticed that people in love don't have the good sense to realise it."

Doyle's head snapped up in surprise at the comforting words. He smiled gratefully but Spike wouldn't even look at him. "The next round's on me." "I thought you were broke, you..."

He was interrupted by someone clearing their throat. Both men turned to see who had appeared before their table in what seemed, in their drunken haze, to be a magical fashion. Doyle's eyes widened.

"C-Cordy!" He slurred in surprise, staring at her. She was absolutely gorgeous, clad in a long black dress that showed off her figure. Her hair was pulled up in a twist, strands falling into her face. "Wha're you doin' here?"

"I heard you were having a little.." She cleared her throat. "Drinking party. I waswellworried." She looked away from her friend's face, and noticed the other occupant of the table "Spike!" She gasped.

She jumped back in surprise, trying to pull Doyle with her. All she accomplished however was to push the unsteady Irishman to the ground. He moaned and rubbed his already sore head as she struggled with her purse.

Spike finished off his drink, watching her warily.

She finally managed to open it and pulled out a stake. She held it before her threateningly. "I warn you, if you don't leave us alone, I'll dust you! You thought Buffy was tough but I..." She paused when she noticed how unimpressed Spike looked, he was just staring at the stake.

After a moment, she glanced at what interested him so and winced slightly. She was holding it backwards. She turned the point towards him quickly. "Ok, but now I mean busi..." Before she could finish, Spike fell off his chair and hit the ground loudly.

Doyle couldn't help but snicker at this. "Good job there, 'Delia. Worked real well."

"Oh quit it, little manHe's not a problem. What were you doing talking to him anyhow! He's all 'grr' and remember what he did to Angel last time he was here?"

"Can't anymore"Doyle responded as Cordelia helped him to his feet. He groaned when he was standing, the room having decided to spin around him.

She put an arm around his shoulders, supporting him as he swayed from side to side. "I can't believe I'm actually spending a Saturday night dragging you home because you're too drunk to walk... again. It's not I'm some tall and dark broody guy who doesn't have a social life." He winced and put a hand to his head. This caused her expression to soften; she placed her other hand gently on his arm.

"Are you ok?"

"I will be as soon as we stop moving."

She looked around her and suppressed a grin. "We aren't moving."

"Oh," he thought for a moment. "That's good." Once he had steadied himself somewhat she took a few tentative steps forward. She was so concentrated on moving him slowly towards the exit that he caught her completely off guard with his question.

"So why are you pickin' me up on a Saturday night? Didn' you have a... date?"

She made a dismissive sound. "I so dumped him; you can now find him in the dictionary under 'dull'. Given the choice, I'd even spend a night with you... I mean." She lowered her eyes and he thought he saw her blush.

Doyle grinned. "Oh nothin' wrong wi' that, PrincessI promise I'll be much more entertainin' then Mr. Rich an' Incredibly dull." She swatted him on the arm, it knocking the demon even more off balance. "Cute. Really Cute."

"I try." Came her answer as he struggled to keep on his feet.

She shivered as they stepped into the cool night and unconsciously took a step closer to Doyle. He smiled as he felt her grip on him tighten. "I suppose that there are some advantages to being drunk."

She punched him on the shoulder again, causing his head to spin. He winced and closed his eyes. "That's not one of them."

She snorted and took his arm to guide him again, this time keeping her distances somewhat. "Serves you right. Your lines might work on the girls in the strip joints you like so much Alan Francis Doyle but I'm not that easy."

"I know, you're a lot more than them." They were silent for a moment, unsure what to say. Cordelia cleared her throat.

"Look, there's my car." She hurried over to the driver's side, leaving him hanging on the passenger side door. He closed his eyes and leaned his head on the roof.

"Nice going." he muttered to himself. "Now she thinks your a drunk AND corny."

Cordy's voice interrupted his thoughts. "Doyle, are you going to stay out there all night?"

"No...unless it involves much movin'...if tha's the casestanding here's good." Cordelia smiled gently at him.

"Can't be that bad now, can it?"

"Oh noo..it's jus' lovely, Cordy. Just lovely." He stood up straight and gently got inside the car.

They didn't say much during the drive; all the movement was doing a number on Doyle's stomach. The last thing he needed was to lose his lunch on Cordy's shoes. Now THAT would impress her. When he opened his eyes again he recognised the outside of Cordelia's building.

"Uh, 'Delia, not to insult your sense of direction which in some circles would be considered... formidable but I think you took a wrong turn somewhere; this isn't my apartment."

She rolled her eyes. "As if I'd go to that rat infested hole. Please. You can spend the night on the couch.."

"No, really, it's okay Princess. I don--"

"I insist, Doyle. You're staying here. No buts at all."

"'Delia.." He tried again.

"No! I told you. Staying here tonight." Doyle opened his mouth to protest once more but Cordelia just ignored him and turned off the car. "Don't move, I'll help you out of the car."

"I'll have ya know I'm no' totally hep--helpless." Doyle reached for the door handle and struggled to get it open.

She rolled her eyes and opened it for him, catching his arm before he tumbled to the ground. She wrapped his arm around her shoulder and supported him as the climbed the steps to his apartment. She struggled with her door for a moment before leading him inside. She kicked off her shoes and looked about her. "Dennis, get Doyle a blanket."

She helped him settle on the couch and watched as he sighed and leaned back into the soft pillows. She didn't realise that she had been staring until he opened his eyes warily, his brows furrowing. She couldn't help but notice how cute it looked. His deep blue eyes met hers and she quickly glanced away. "I'll, um, go make some coffee. Dennis tries but he can never get it right."

"Sure thing." Doyle sunk even further into the couch, watching as Cordelia walked out of the room. Seemed that the night was looking up. Sure, he was totally and completely smashed, but he was a Cordelia's apartment...That couldn't be too bad at all. He listened carefully, hearing the sounds of her battling with the coffee pot. " 'ow's it goin', Princess?"

"Just fine, really. Sit there, don't worry about it."

"Don' think I'd be able to help?"

"In your condition...please! Besides.." She said quickly a second later. "I've got it now."

"Okay...good." He wasn't really wanting to get up and help her, but it was right of him to at least ask. He yawned, sleep starting to sound very good right about now.

Cordelia interrupted her search for coffee to check on the boiling water one more time. The last thing she need was for it to fall over like last time. As she closed her hand on the can she called over her shoulder. "My coffee's not really the best... I know some places downtown, they, um, have some great selections. Maybe someday, when you're not so drunk, we could, you know.... Doyle?"

She turned around when he didn't answer. "Doyle?" She stepped into the living room and found Doyle sleeping peacefully on the couch. She clenched her fist and maybe an exasperated sound. She punched his shoulder, jolting him awake. "Men." she exclaimed before storming out of the room.

Doyle looked about him, completely lost. "What did I do?"

FIN