Roomies

Disclaimer: The characters of the Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel: the Series Universes (Angel, Cordelia, Spike, Xander, Doyle, etc…) are the creation of Joss Whedon and are, therefore, the property of him, Mutant Enemy (Grr, Arg), and 20th Century Fox (and all other affiliated parties). No money is gained from this work as it is created purely for the enjoyment of others. Please do not sue.

AN: Constructive criticism and friendly fedback are always appreciated. Flames will be used to warm my toes.


~Part 3: Finger Shaped Bruises~


The silence crammed into the room in a way that people never could. There was nothing for either of the room’s inhabitants to say to each other. The underlying agitation that filled the room made the silence almost destructive. Dark blue and green bruises displayed in the shapes of fingers that brought forth questions that weren’t asked nor would they have been answered if articulated.

Time dragged on and tension grew. The hum of the computer as it was turned on, the clicking of the keyboard once the typing began, the crinkling of the newspaper as the strained, broken silence overcame curious wonder, and the sound of footfalls on linoleum. It was the normal morning routine.

Finally Doyle couldn’t take it any longer. “Are yah gunna tell me wha’s goin’ on then?” He kept his accented voice low as not to startle the girl. “I mean, wi’h the shapes of yer bruises… sometin’ ‘ad ta’ve ‘appened.”

Pushing a stray strand of hair behind her ear, Cordelia watched the skinny, dark haired man from where she stood. She was trembling slightly and her face was tightly drawn. Her lack of makeup revealed dark shadows under both eyes caused not by fists but loss of sleep. “It’s… it’s a long story.”

Doyle shrugged. “Don’t got much else ta do wha’ wi’h Angel not bein’ ‘round. An’ us not havin’ tha’ appoin’ment fer a couple’a hours.”

Lost in thought, Cordelia didn’t notice the growing worry on Doyle’s face. He truly despised to seeing her in such a state.

The sound of the telephone ringing slowly drew the attention of the brunet and she picked it up. Her face was lined with what only could be described as dread as she stated, “Angel Investigations, we help the hopeless.”

Her pause only caused the tension in the room to thicken even more. “Can you describe the demon for me?” She type a few words on the key board and a moment later continued, “… Yes, it sounds familiar, could you tell me more about it? …You’re dealing with a Vakh. …Nothing dangerous, we dealt with one not too long ago. …They usually stick to dark and dreary places. Do you have a cellar or basement? … Easily taken care of. If you leave offerings of Telhken grass - …Which we can provide you with if you come by some time tomorrow… And a bowl of sour milk out every night for about a week it should move on… Don’t worry, they don’t make nests, they’re travelers… Yours is most likely hurt or pregnant those are the only two reasons they stop moving for more then a day or two… You’re welcome. I’ll see you when you come by. …Okay …Okay, bye.”

Cordelia sighed and hung up the phone. The click sounded more like bang of a shotgun and, even before she could remove her fingers from the receiver, it rang again. “Angel Inves – …Angel!”

Her body slumped slightly and she limply handed Doyle the phone before leaning back into her chair. Her face was blank but her eyes held a deep sorrow that the half demon didn’t dare speak to her about. “Angel, man, where are yah?”

~~~

Angel fought the urge to run a hand through his gelled locks and tucked his cell phone back into his jacket pocket. He was still surprised that he had had the presence of mind to snatch it before storming out of the apartment.

He wasn’t even sure if he could call the place his anymore. He had gone completely out of his way to make sure that Cordelia would be comfortable while she was there. The problem was that she still spent almost every waking moment looking for a way to get as far away from him as she could.

He couldn’t remember when his feelings for her had turned from friendship to what had inspired the situation that had occurred less then twelve hours ago. Somewhere between the cocoa and tea. Mixed in with the daily rituals that they had regulated the use of the shower around. The accidental brushing of skin and playful teasing had, at some point, become serious.

Leaning against the wall he couldn’t help but contemplate the possibility of Cordelia and him as a couple. The fact that they were two complete opposites didn’t give him much trouble, what really bothered him was the fact that she was afraid of him.

The night before, the only thing he had been able to sense in that room, after he had finally regained control of his demon, had been the fear. It had been rolling throughout the room and the power of it had nearly thrown him off his feet. He knew that her fear would always be present. He was a vampire after all, a dangerous demon, soul or no.

The sound of footsteps drew him away from his thoughts and a smile graced his lips at the sight of the dark haired man walking towards him. Across one shoulder was a broadsword and the other was a small pack. The look on his face spoke volumes as to how uncomfortable this arrangement really was.

The silence that the man greeted him with give Angel an idea of what was going on in the other man’s mind. Either Cordelia had spoken to him or he had come to his own conclusions. No matter how much Angel wanted to ignore the look on Doyle’s face he couldn’t. Mixed in with the happiness of finding him without a scratch was anger and confusion.

“Wha’ ‘appened?” the casual way in which Doyle spoke the words didn’t quite cover up his emotions. The obvious fact that he knew something had happened and that it hadn’t been a good thing. “She’s go’ bruises up n’ down ‘er arms.”

Without answering Angel took the offered items and made to leave the man behind. He could scent the slight fear that hovered around Doyle in a gloomy mist. “Go back to the office. I should be back in a few hours.”

Doyle sensed the finality in the vampire’s words. He only had one more question. “Wha’ do I tell Cordy?”

Angel turned and faced him with eyes full of self-abhorrence and guilt. “Don’t tell her anything. She’s a big girl. She can handle me going out to do my job.”

With s slight incline of his head he acknowledged Angel’s answer. He sighed and made a motion towards the pack. “The ingredients to a spell. It should ward off jus’ ‘bout anythin’ the More-aff is likely ta throw at yah. Since nothin’ you hit it wi’h magically will affect it, me n’ Cordy came up wi’h this one. Cast it a good ways away from it an’ make sure yah don’t over do it – too much an’ it’ll be able ta feel yah comin’ no matter how hard yah try ta cover yer scent.”

A terse nod and a pained face met his words. Eyes locked and held for a moment before Angel finally spoke. “Thank her for me.”

Doyle nodded and began walking back the way he had come from. He didn’t say goodbye; he didn’t say another word.

The disturbing vision that he had been blessed with not too long ago told Doyle that whatever size this thing was it was ruthless. It had most likely been trained at a young age. In fighting it could be as deadly as a starving vampire or as calm and relaxed as an aged and wise vengeance demon.

Given Angel’s “champion” title, he had a good chance of making it through the fight but that didn’t mean he would come out unscathed. Best case scenario: battered and bruised and broken would be his state at the end of the fight. Without being given any time for rest he would then have to deal with a Master vampire that – according to Cordelia’s research – would be reasonably strong and fed enough to last in a fight.

Mouraghs liked to play with their victims. They made vampires look like angels next to them. They kept their prisoners fed and in good shape so that they could fight back and last as long as possible. With the amount of torture that the demon dished out, any strength that the victim had was soon to be gone in a matter of hours if they weren’t well maintained, at least to a certain degree. Since their victims more often then not vampires, their regenerative prowess made them easily cared for. A human once a week and they could last for years.