Things That Go Bump in the Night

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Chapter Twenty-Six
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Cordelia sat, fidgeting restlessly. She'd tried to sleep, but had spent most of the night simply tossing and turning. Each time she'd fallen asleep, she'd started to dream, to dream of men chasing her with long, deadly swords. After the fourth time, she'd simply given up on getting any sleep. It wasn't even dawn yet, so she was the only one up -- at least the only one up *and* at home.

What she really wanted to do was to go for a walk. She was beginning to feel caged here. Glancing out the window again, she sighed. The sky hadn't quite begun to lighten yet. She didn't dare go out until it did. Born and raised in Sunnydale, she knew better than to go out alone without the protection of daylight.

She couldn't get Adam's explanation out of her mind, and she really felt for Xander, well, Richie too, but he was probably used to it by now. She didn't know how long Richie had been an Immortal, but to poor Xander it must be so overwhelming. Never growing old, never getting wrinkles and grey hair -- that she could handle. What she couldn't begin to imagine was what it would be like having to kill just to be allowed to live your own life. Things were bad enough fighting the demons.

Doyle sat down beside her, laying a hand on hers. "You all right, Princess?"

She sighed. "Yes, I'm fine; it's just that I can't quit thinking about it."

"It?"

"Immortality and sword fighting."

Doyle nodded, and pulled her into his arms, letting her lean back against him.

She gratefully sank into the protective circle of his arms, quietly telling him about the dreams that had kept her awake. "It really scares me to think that Xander might be killed before he even learns how to defend himself against these people."

Doyle tightened his arms around her, breathing in deeply. "You still love him," he asked, "don't you?"

"What?" she asked incredulously, stiffening. "Of course not." Then, she snorted indelicately, and settled back into his arms, laughing softly. "I do care about him, though." Laying her hands on the strong arms that held her, Cordelia smiled. "He was my first love, Doyle, and even though things ended badly between us -- and I mean really badly, I can't just see him as the jerk who hurt me anymore. I guess what they say is true. Time *does* dull any pain."

"That it does, Princess, that it does. And, well, you don't have to be a jerk to hurt someone you love. You just have to be human."

"Oh, Doyle! I didn't mean--"

"Shh, Princess," Doyle interrupted placing a single finger on her lips. "I know you didn't, but just like Xander hurt you, I hurt Harry. I didn't really mean to, but I did."

Cordelia nodded, understanding what Doyle was trying to say. It was at times like this that she thought she could see the man who'd chosen to teach third grade -- the man he'd been before discovering his demon heritage had torn his world apart. When he wasn't trying to impress her, or wasn't trying too hard to forget the past, Doyle could be amazingly sensitive. "You know, it's funny, but I think meeting Harry, and learning what happened between the two of you is part of what helped me see past what Xander did. I just didn't realize it until now."

A comfortable silence descended between them, the normal sounds of predawn their only company. It didn't take long, however; before Cordelia's restlessness returned. She jumped up as soon as the first streaks of light appeared in the sky. "I'm going for a walk," she announced, dashing across the room and gathering her light coat and purse.

"I don't think that's such a good idea, Cordelia," Doyle said, following behind. "You know we all agreed to stick together until after midnight tonight."

"I know, Doyle, but I'm going out of my mind. Besides," she pleaded, "it's daylight, what could happen?" Wincing even as she said it, Cordelia resolutely set aside her superstition. "I need to go. I'm going."

"Wait a minute, at least let me go with you," he said, quickly snatching his own jacket. California it might be, but this early in the morning it was still cool.

Impatiently tapping her foot, Cordelia waited until Doyle joined her at the door before opening it. As much as she needed to get out, she didn't really want to be out there alone either, so she was glad Doyle had offered to come with her.

She screamed, jumping backward into Doyle and landing them both on the floor. Grinning down at them were two of the biggest demons she'd ever seen -- well the biggest humanoid shaped demons anyway. She and Doyle quickly untangled themselves, scrambling backward as the demons barged into the mansion.

"Angel!" Doyle shouted as he leaped up, putting himself between the intruders and Cordelia. "We need help out here, man!" The greyish demon nearest him backhanded him across the jaw, and sent him flying several feet back into the room.

Cordelia screamed as she watched him land, hitting his head on the stone floor. Grabbing up the nearest weapon handy, she swung the hefty wooden statue at the demon nearest her. Satisfaction coursed through her as it connected solidly, sending the demon stumbling forward.

"Oh shit!" she muttered fearfully as the demon she'd hit turned to face her, closing on her with it's eyes narrowed in anger. "Doyle!" she called out hopefully. Backing away she held the statue like a baseball bat, fully prepared to swing again should the demon get too close. "Doyle!"

Relief flooded her as Doyle jumped up from the floor and charged the demon stalking her. Friends pouring into the room from every entrance all jumped into the commotion. Buffy and Angel tackled the second demon, while Richie and Spike went to Doyle's aid. A shaking hand raised to her mouth, Cordelia dropped the statue, and backed away from the fight. She had to get out of the way.

Xander ran toward her, his eyes wide with alarm. "Cordelia!" he shouted raising a finger to point behind her.

Her scream was cut off as a large, smelly hand clamped down over her mouth. She kicked and twisted, trying to loosen the demon's hold on her, going as far as biting down onto the hand that kept her quiet. **A third demon?** Cordelia thought frantically. **Where'd he come from?** Blood flooded her mouth, and she desperately tried to spit it out, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't get the demon to release her. She choked on blood and horror, as she realized the demon was pulling her away from the others. **Hurry Xander!** she screamed, though the words were muffled and mostly unintelligible behind the demon's hand.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Adam sneaking up on the one who held her. Not wanting to give him away, she returned her attention to Xander, who she was dismayed to note had been thrown to the ground. He climbed clumsily to his feet, still heading for her.

Beside them, Adam went flying, smashing up against the entryway wall. Cordelia screamed. A fourth demon was at the door, motioning toward the one that held her. **NO!** she thought, kicking and twisting even harder as she was pulled through the door.

Her vision darkened, and she slumped as the door closed in front of her, cutting her off from her friends.

**

Dazed and desperate, Doyle lunged to the side, neatly avoiding the demon's swing. Rolling forward, he left the demon to Richie and Spike. He had to get to Cordelia. Even as Doyle tried, Adam jumped for the demon holding her, only to yank his hand back as it crossed into the stream of sunshine coming in through the door. The door shut with an ominous sound of finality, blocking Cordelia from his view. He darted past Adam, and yanked the door open again, heedless of where Adam stood, and the continuing sounds of the fight behind him.

"Cordelia!" he shouted as raced out into the daylight.

No response.

His chest tightened painfully, but he continued to run forward, searching for some sign of Cordelia. **There!** he thought triumphantly. Scuff marks on the ground led directly away from the mansion. He chased along them as quickly as he could, the sound of a car starting spurring him faster. He drooped in sudden defeat when he realized the track he'd been following led directly to the street. As he reached that traitorously hard surface, the sound of squealing tires jerked his head to the left, and he watched in growing despair as a car sped around the corner and out of sight. He hadn't even had time to catch a portion of the license plate.

At a quiet, barely-heard sound behind him, Doyle spun around, but wasn't quite quick enough to block the blow aimed at his head. The blow snapped his head to the side, tumbling him to the ground. He wasn't completely sure, but as darkness claimed him he thought he heard laughter.


"Doyle!"

Buffy's strident, alarm filled words, pulled him back to awareness. Doyle jerked upright, regretting the move as soon as he'd made it. He moaned, swallowing against the sudden rise of nausea.

"Are you alright?" she asked urgently. "Where's Cordelia?"

"They took her," he spat angrily. "Why would they take her?"

"Hostage?" Buffy suggested, turning when she heard Angel's curse come from around side the mansion. "Or it could be we're not dealing with something entirely new."

The two of them exchanged frustrated looks, and took off in the direction of Angel's voice. Doyle fought against closing his eyes, though the world around him spun queasily with every step he took. They skidded to a halt as they came into view of the opened garage, Angel's car plainly visible, it's hood raised.

"What happened, Angel?" Doyle demanded, once again moving forward.

"They disabled the car," Angel muttered angrily, slamming the hood down with more force than was strictly necessary. He strode back into the mansion, anger and fear written in every tense line of his movements.

Hope died inside Doyle. He didn't know how long he'd been out, but without the car, they had no hope of catching up with Cordelia's captors. Before following, he cast one speculative glance at Giles' car, but admitted it didn't have a chance in any kind of race; the car he'd seen had been too fast -- too new.

Once inside, Doyle had to hold himself back from the chained demons. What he *wanted* to do was let loose all his anger and fear, and simply beat the answers out of them. He didn't, however; he wasn't so sure if he did that he would be able to keep his demon half from showing, and right now that particular confusion was one Cordelia didn't need. He was sure they didn't have time to soothe already frayed tempers if the Sunnydale group was to suddenly find out about his demon half.

Looking around at everyone, Doyle nearly sagged in defeat. Earlier, when Cordelia had been confiding in him, he'd felt responsible, mature, and in control. Right now, he felt anything but mature. He felt like a teenager whose world was spinning out of control. It reminded him, uncomfortably, of the first day his demon half had presented -- his 21st birthday -- when his life had irrevocably changed. He'd known for a long time he was interested in Cordelia -- that he *wanted* Cordelia, but it wasn't until now, with her kidnapped and her life in danger that he realized just how much a part of his life she had truly become.

She was brash, frequently rude, and utterly honest -- even when honesty wasn't necessarily the kindest path. She dealt several blows to his ego every day with her nearly nonstop commentary on what she called his 'lack of fashion sense' and his lack of prospects, but he wouldn't change one thing about her. He just wanted her back -- safe and sound.

He closed his eyes, momentarily blocking out reality. They had only been on three, count them, three dates, but she meant more to him than his own life. They had to rescue her. Unfortunately, with nothing more to go on, he didn't see how that was going to happen. His chest tightened and his throat felt closed off. He wasn't certain he could actually breath anymore.

"Angel?" he asked, his voice hoarse and strangled, even to his own ears.

"We'll get her back," Angel instantly assured.

He stared hopelessly at the vampire the powers that be had assigned him to, knowing full well his eyes expressed his despair.

"We will," Angel insisted firmly.

Doyle took a deep breath, calming nerves frayed nearly beyond the breaking point. He had r fer felt this desperate, not even when he'd been locked into that box at that bachelor party, and Harry's fiance had been all set to slice into his skull and eat his brains with a soup spoon. He nodded slowly. **Damn right we will,** he thought firmly. No other outcome was imaginable. Angel had always come through before; there was absolutely no reason to think he wouldn't come through now.

"What *are* those?" Joe asked, looking a little on the green side as he stared at the bound demons.

"Demons," Buffy replied shortly, as she stomped over to them.

"Demons," Joe repeated, sinking onto the nearest available chair.

Xander cast him an odd look. "You have trouble with believing in vampires and slayers, but you have don't seem to have trouble believing in demons?" the new Immortal asked incredulously, but stepped forward when Joe didn't answer him. "Are you all right?"

Giles joined the two of them, his expression concerned, the three of them ignoring the slayer and Angel who were interrogating the prisoners.

Joe nodded numbly as he shuddered, his eyes growing hooded.

"You could say we kinda had a run in with a demon a while back," Richie offered quietly, joining the group.

Doyle was torn between helping Buffy and Angel get answers, and joining the group growing around Joe. Prudence won out over his desire to confront the other demons, and he stepped toward Joe.

"Kinda?" Joe asked, jerking his head up to stare at Richie.

"Really?" Xander asked. "What kind?"

Richie and Joe both blinked at Xander, shocked.

"What do you mean, what kind? It was a demon?" Joe asked, as Richie made his own protest.

"You mean there are *kinds* of demons?"

"There are lots of kinds," Xander replied.

"Indeed," Giles confirmed, casting a worried glance over to Buffy and Angel. "To name just a few, Fyarl, Fungus, Chaos. There are literally thousands of species."

Richie just stared at Giles in suspicion, but Joe seemed to come back to himself. "The one we . . . had a run in with, went by the name Arhiman."

"The millennial demon?" Giles exclaimed, his eyes widening.

**Millennial demon?** Doyle thought in confusion, but noticed the phrase had certainly gotten Richie and Joe's attention. Both of them nodded.

"Yeah," Richie whispered hoarsely, his hand absently rubbing along his neck.

Doyle fidgeted restlessly; this was a fascinating conversation, but he needed to be doing something. He watched as Xander cast a similar glance toward the questioning pair, just as Giles had. Evidently he wasn't the only one feeling it. He had begun to wonder.

A muffled oath coming from Angel had all of them staring over at him. A frown on his face, Angel marched toward them, Buffy right behind him.

"What do we need to do?" Doyle asked, staring directly at Angel. To him, no one else mattered right now. Angel was the one who could help. He always came through.

Angel straightened to his full height, blinked twice, his mouth firming into a frown. Turning slightly, he faced Buffy. "Go on patrol," he said, his expression softening, "please. Try and get some new information."

Buffy nodded once, her own face set in stern lines of resolve. She, in turn, faced Xander and Richie, pointing to each of them. "You and you, you're with me," she said, heading for the door. She smiled weakly at Doyle, slowing only long enough to say, "We'll find her." The two young Immortals followed without much more than a glance and a shrug at each at each other.

Doyle watched them pensively, wondering how long it had been, if ever, since she had done a daytime patrol, but quickly shoved the thought aside as Angel turned to face the blonde Adam.

"You, Doyle, and I are going to Willie's," Angel continued without losing a beat, heading immediately toward the basement door.

"Now wait just a bloody minute," Spike protested vehemently, striding after his Sire. "What the bloody hell am *I* supposed to do?" he demanded, grabbing Angel's arm just before the elder vampire reached the basement door, and what Doyle assumed was the mansion's entrance to the sewers.

"Stay here," Angel retorted angrily, jerking his arm from his Childe's vehement grasp.

"Like hell I will!" Spike shouted angrily, shoving Angel against the wall.

Angel bounced back as if the shove hadn't even happened, trapping Spike against the opposite wall. Spike struggled to free himself, but was held firmly. "And just what good will you do in a *human* body?" Angel asked, putting as much insolence and contempt into his voice as was possible.

"You Son of a Bitch!" Spike retorted, shoving against Angel. "You didn't protest when Xander went with Buffy the *infallible*, why object to me? He's just as *human* as I am!"

Angel sighed, letting out an explosive breath, the tension flowing out his body and his stepped back, releasing the ex-vampire. "Because," he said softly, "Xander is used to being human; you're not."

"Damn you, Angel!"

"Spike . . . William, listen to me. If not for the sake of Adam, for *my* sake, don't endanger yourself."

"What the hell do *you* care?" Spike spat out. "The vampire with a soul who hates everything he *ever* did as a true vampire. What do you care if I die? What do you care?"

Angel shuddered, closing his eyes in what Doyle could only call agony. "I care," he whispered hoarsely. "Of course I care. You're my Childe."

"Go to hell!" Spike shouted, spinning on one heel and striding from the room.

Adam started to follow, but Angel held him back. "We can deal with that later," he said, and while his expression was haunted as he stared after his Childe, he turned abruptly, once again heading for the basement. "You coming?" he called out as he disappeared from sight.

Adam and Doyle exchanged glances, Adam turning toward Giles' his expression pleading.

Giles' nodded once. "Don't worry. He won't leave the mansion."

"No, he won't" Willow asserted, stepping forward. "Go, we'll keep him here -- if we have to chain him in the bathtub to do so."

Adam nodded, but Doyle didn't move until after Adam had nodded and followed Angel. He wasn't exactly sure where he'd be more needed, but acceded to Angel's request. The last thing he heard as the basement door shut behind him, was Willow calling out to Spike. If anyone could smooth over Spike's wounded pride, he thought with confidence, it was Willow. She may be young -- and a little too enthusiastic with her magic -- but she had 'the touch', that something indefinable about her that made her one of the gentle timeless souls. He wondered as he stepped out the door how she managed to maintain it living in a place like this, facing the horrors she faced on a daily basis.


TBC