Things That Go Bump in the Night

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Chapter Thirty
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Angel silently made his way forward, no longer having to worry about following Doyle and the unnamed vampire -- he could hear, as well as smell, the gathering ahead of him. Turning another corner, he stopped abruptly. The man-made sewer tunnel ended, opening into one that was wider, and rough hewn. It looked old to Angel -- incredibly old, and as far as he could tell it seemedouchouched by human hands.

More wary now, Angel inched forward, the sounds from ahead of him growing louder. The tunnel opened into a large cave, and Angel stopped just outside the entrance -- then corrected his own thoughts. It wasn't a cave, it was a cavern, huge enough to hold a thousand demons comfortably. At a quick glance it looked to bedingding at least that number now. Lit by candles and torches, the room had demons of all description packed into its vast expanse -- including vampires. Angel did note, with a cross between amusement and sympathy that most of those stayed well clear of both the torches and the myriad candles.

He could count, right off hand, 30 distinctly different demon types -- some of whom shouldn't have been willing to be in the same town, let alone the same room, with one another -- at least not without gratuitous bloodshed. It made him nervous, wondering just what, exactly, this ceremony was supposed to accomplish that natural enemies were standing around 'chatting each other up', instead of fighting.

What he also couldn't see was either Doyle or Cordelia. He frowned, and worked his way around the edge of the cavern. **There!** Doyle was carefully working his way toward the far end of the room, and Angel turned the direction his seer was headed. There she was. Cordelia was tightly bound to a crude, rectangular alter -- blindfolded. With a quick glance to double check on Doyle's progress, Angel quietly slipped back out into the tunnel, stubbornly refusing to give into the need to sweep Cordelia out without waiting for help from the humans waiting for him. It wouldn't exactly be the smartest move he'd ever made. He knew that; the problem was convincing his demon it was okay to leave her. She was *his*. He should be in there, getting her back, not slinking out to summon 'lowly' humans.

Steadfastly ignoring his demon's growing rage, Angel moved carefully until he could barely hear those gathered for the ceremony. It was then he took off at a dead run, heading back to the sewer entrance to meet the others.

He just hoped they would alle ite it back in time.

**

Doyle clenched his fists at the sight of Cordelia tied to the stone alter. He was close enough now, to see the bindings cutting into her smooth skin each time she struggled to try and free herself. He longed to tell her he was there -- to tell her to quit fighting, that they'd have her out of there soon.

He couldn't.

Doyle tensely scanned the room, searching for any sign of the others. He couldn't see *any* of them, and for one fearful moment wondered if Angel hadn't been able to follow them. Pushing aside the thought as completely ridiculous, however, he returned his attention to Cordelia, and his thoughts to the best way to get her out of here.

Unfortunately he couldn't think of one single way -- not unless the others got here soon. There was no way he could do it alone. There were simply too many other demons present who would as soon kill him as look at him. He wasn't even sure they could pull this off working together.

**It's going to be alright, Princess,** he thought to her. **One way or another, it's going to be alright.** Promising himself that if worse came to worse, he wouldn't let them use her for this ritual, Doyle turned once again toward the audience, praying to see at least one of the others there.

Movement up on the dais caught his immediate, adrenaline-filled attention, and it was with near panic that he realized it was most likely the beginning of the ceremony. **It's only nine!** he thought. **Surely it can't be three hours long? Where *is* everyone?**

A figure dressed in the deepest purple he'd seen in years stepped forward, the loose hood attached to the heavy robe hiding the being's features. Though he sensed the demon hidden with it's folds, he couldn't tell what kind it was. It raised it's hands, and a knot formed in the pit of Doyle's stomach as the entire room filled with normally garrulous, belligerent demons fell absolutely silent. He was certain he could have heard the proverbial pin drop. It was . . . unnatural -- and unnerving as hell!

In that moment of silence, Doyle risked another quick, covert search of the room. At first he saw no-one he recognized and began inching nervously forward. If he had to, he'd try on his own. Nearly falling over in relief when he finally saw Angel sidling up to the other side of the alter, Doyle had to suppress a grin. Scared as he was, he knew they would make it out now -- the gang was there.

It took only a second before his brief relief returned to worry. None of their plans had covered this many demons.

"Fellow demons, the day of reckoning has come," the hooded demon shouted.

**God! It's starting!**

"The time of Corendalzan is upon us, and before you, you see the unquickened one," the demon continued, stepping backward and waving theatrically toward the bound woman.

A growling cheer rose up from the assembled demons, and the figure holding their attention again raised his hands for quiet. The immediacy with which he got it once again startled Doyle. Three quarters of those present were uncivilized, barbaric brutes, and the ease with which they were submitting to the slender demon on stage was sobering -- if not alarming.

Doyle's gaze returned to Angel, now standing directly across from him -- and looking absurdly relaxed. **What are you waiting for, Man?** he thought angrily, only to have his attention jerked back to the stage by Cordelia's muffled screams. Reflexively stepping forward, fists clenching at his sides, Doyle had to force himself not to leap onto the stage. Cordelia was frantically trying to free herself, screaming angrily behind the gag.

A base howl of outrage had Doyle spinning toward the back of the room -- along with most everyone else, a ripple of growled unease spreading through the room.

**What now?**

Between that thought and the next heartbeat, the room surged away from the dais like a living, breathing entity. A second, unearthly howl broke up the uniformity, scattering demons in all directions. It was then that Doyle realized exactly what was happening, and his heart leapt in his chest. **They're creating a distraction! You go!** he thought with vicious exhilaration.

As he turned back toward the stage, Angel jumped forward. Doyle's heart pounded in his chest as the vampire was intercepted, two muscle-bound and scaly demons seeming to materialize from the shadows. Wincing in sympathy as Angel hit the wall of the cavern, Doyle spared the vampire only a minor part of his attention. Bounding toward the stage, himself, he darted nimbly around the two Demons that appeared out of nowhere, grinning that he'd been right.

The grin quickly faded, however, as two low, menacing growls sounded right behind him. A quick glance showed him Angel launching himself at the two standing in the souled vampire's way, and Doyle returned his attention to the one thing still standing between him and Cordelia -- the slender demon officiator.

What he saw *almost* made him freeze in place. It did send a shudder of fear through him. The demon was staring directly at him, a knowing smirk firmly twisting the thing's lips, pus dripping down it's face.

Doyle ignored his instinctive reaction and continued forward, but with a twist of it's gnarled, putrid hand Doyle's world spun. He dropped to his knees, his gut twisting in pain and nausea, his vision blurred and spinning.

**Angel!** he thought helplessly, groaning when he tried to call out. Swallowing against the sickening bile that rose in his throat, Doyle staggered to his feet and made it three more steps toward the still grinning demon -- and landed flat on his face.

Buried under what felt like a ton of demon, Doyle gave up staying in human form. Anger seething through him, spines prominent on his blue face, he arched back, head-butting the demon holding him down. The immediate howl of pain he heard was very satisfying, but he didn't stop there. He twisted beneath the demon and used the only attack he had available with his hands trapped between him and the other demon. He head-butted again.

The burly demon reared back in surprised pain, blood gushing from his punctured eye. Then suddenly the demon was thrown backward and Doyle scrambled away in startled surprise. He grinned as he saw Buffy standing over him, a grudging smile on her face.

"Not bad, effective even."

"What?" he asked as he hurried to his feet.

"The spines; they make one hell of a defense."

Doyle snorted. **Trust Buffy to respect *that* first,** he thought as he turned and headed toward the stone alter. What he saw froze him in place. Cordelia wasn't there. She was gone.

"No!"

"There!" Buffy shouted.

Doyle spun around just in time to catch a flash of purple disappearing around a corner behind the dais. He took off at a dead run.

"Wait!"

"No!" he shouted back at the slayer behind him. Despite his fear he had to grin at the muttered curses he heard as she raced after. Evidently the slayer wasn't used to following.

"Damn it!" Doyle shouted as he skidded to a halt -- three corridors and two doors later -- stumbling as Buffy ran into him from behind.

"What'd you stop for?" Buffy accused. "Oh!"

"Well, well, well, if it isn't *The Slayer*," Purple taunted. "Somehow I expected you to be . . . I don't know . . . bigger."

"Up yours," Buffy retorted, rolling her eyes. "Like that's even close to original."

"My, my, where are your manners little girl? Didn't your mother teach you any?"

"Yeah," Buffy replied, grinning, "she taught me they were wasted on things like you."

"Buffy!" Doyle hissed. He couldn't believe she was taunting the demon that held Cordelia by the throat. "He's got Cordelia."

Buffy just looked at him. **Like Duh,** her eyes said.

"By the way, why don't you let the girl go, and fight me like a grown up demon?"

Doyle almost passed out.

"Why you little witch! How *dare* you?"

"Oh, I dare quite a bit," Buffy replied offhandedly. "I'm not the one hiding behind a hostage."

Doyle couldn't breathe. Cordelia's life hung in the balance, and Buffy was acting like she was taunting the school yard bully.

"Why you little snot!" Purple exploded angrily, beginning to push Cordelia to the side.

Hope rose in Doyle.

"Oh, no," Purple declared, smirk back in place as he pulled Cordelia back in front of him, his hand firmly around her throat. "I know what you're doing, and it's not going to work."

Doyle helplessly met Cordy's eyes. The stark fear he saw there made him cringe with guilt. **I'm sorry,** he told her silently.

"It's not?" Buffy asked innocently. "Damn, and here I thought maybe you actually had some guts. I guess you're just the same as every other demon out there . . . a craven coward at heart."

Doyle groaned.

"Do you have even a clue who you're talking to?" Purple demanded hotly.

Buffy shrugged. "No, should I?"

"You will, child, you will," he replied, then with a wave of his hand Doyle was once again hit with a pain in his gut that knocked him to his knees. He noticed Buffy also staggered, before forcing his gaze back to Purple. His eyes widened in absolute terror when he saw the portal opening behind the demon. He just *knew* he was going to lose Cordelia forever. If he took her through that portal, they'd never find her. It could lead to any of a thousand dimensions.

"No!" he shouted, staggering forward.

Purple laughed. "Actually, you'd be right," he said, and shoved Cordelia forward, his claws racking across the base of her neck as he did so. Cordelia fell against Doyle just as the demon stepped backward into the waiting portal. "See you around, Slayer," he said as he faded from view.

"Are you insane?" Doyle shouted as soon as he could wrap his mind around the concept of words, never taking his eyes off the woman he held in his arms.

Buffy rolled her eyes. "What's wrong *now*?"

"How dare you risk her life like that?"

"You just don't get it, do you?" Buffy asked, shaking her head. "If I freaked every time someone I cared about was being held hostage, how much more often do you think it would happen?"

Doyle's eyes widened. He hadn't expected her response to make that much sense. She just didn't seem that . . . *there* to him.

" 'Not caring' usually takes the hostage out of the equation."

"You're right. I'm sorry," Doyle replied quietly, most of his attention already focused back on Cordelia. She was unconscious, and that worried him. The scratches on her throat weren't bad enough to seriously worry about -- and that worried him. Why else would she be unconscious? Cordelia wasn't the type to faint. Get her scared enough, she didn't faint, she got angry.

"Let's hope his claws weren't poisoned," Buffy said, stepping over to them.

**Oh, God!** He hadn't thought of that.

"You concentrate on getting her out. I'll deflect demons."

Doyle nodded once and staggered to his feet. The next several minutes were a blur of heart-pounding, fear-filled, dodging, duckinnd snd stumbling. As he made it through the riot, and out into the passage, he wasn't even sure how he'd managed it, let alone how he'd done so without dropping his precious cargo. Holding Cordelia tight against him, he didn't stop moving until he'd reached the relative safety of the street.

It wasn't until he'd put several block's distance between them and the sewer entrance that Doyle could spare any thoughts to worry about the others. Sliding to the ground, needing to rest, he watched for the others, hoping they would be following soon. Seconds stretched into minutes -- how many he lost track of, time slowing to a snail's crawl. Fortunately, before his torn loyalties forced him to make a choice, he saw them appear. He breathed a heart-felt sigh of relief as, bruised and battered -- and generally looking a lot worse for the wear -- he watched as every single person who'd started on this rescue mission raced toward the two of them.

He grinned at them all as he rose quickly to his feet, everything now right with his world. His eyes widened in surprise when Buffy smiled back, however.

"Move it, Doyle, they're not far behind us," she said brusquely. The smile on her lips, however, took the sting out of her words. "We blocked the entrance, but it won't hold them for long."

"I can carry her now, Doyle," Angel offered quietly, as the group bemovimoving again, but Doyle just shook his head. He wasn't ready to let go yet. He had been too near to losing her completely.

Angel nodded once, but stayed close at hand.

**

Joe Dawson sat restlessly in the driver seat -- waiting. He *hated* waiting. He was a Watcher by trade, and a watcher by choice. He enjoyed using his training and his eyes to learn about others -- both as a Watcher of Immortals *and* as a bartender. Of course, that involved a lot of waiting, which wasn't so bad. It was waiting when he couldn't watch, when he couldn't *see* what was happening, that drove him around the bend.

And though he fully understood the reasons he hadn't gone with the others, it didn't make the not knowing any easier. He glanced at his watch for what felt like the millionth time -- and sighed. It was only two minutes since the last time he'd checked.

An hour and a half. They'd been gone for an hour and a half. Fingers drumming on the steering wheel, worry etched in his entire posture, Joe was about to give up waiting and head toward the sewer entrance whe sae saw them. The rag-tag bunch was headed toward him far more quickly than their appearance suggested they should be able to. Relief warring with new worry, Joe started the engine and pulled forward, rolling his window down as he did so.

"I said *I'll* take her from here," Xander hissed.

Joe watched as Doyle simply shook his head, ignoring the young Immortal's out-stretched hands.

"Doyle is stronger," Angel said as the group drew nearer.

Joe could see Xander frown and shake his head. The young Immortal certainly had a chip on his shoulder -- one the size of Colorado, he noted to himself.

Buffy reached out a hand and lay it on his shoulder, just as the group reached the vehicle. "Let it be, Xander," she said softly.

Xander's jaw dropped and he stared at the young girl, surprise clearly written in his expression. By the time he recovered, however; everyone was in the car, including Doyle and Cordelia -- the latter settled on the half-demon's lap.

For a moment Joe thought the boy would insist on making an issue of it, but at the last moment he clenched his teeth and hopped in back, settling for glaring at the half-demon.


TBC

(The remaining 5 chapters will go up by tomorrow evening. : ) I hope you have, and continue to enjoy the ride. )