Chapter 8
Author: Ellen & Christie
Rating: NC-17 (overall)
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.
Thoughts among Angel, Doyle and Cordelia are set off by double slashes //like this.//
"Hey," Doyle greeted Angel on his return, speaking aloud for Wesley's benefit. "A police scanner! Just what every P.I. office needs to get good an' illegal. Y'don't suppose the Powers would accept this as a substitute for the visions, now, do ya?"
Angel's response was a short laugh. "Not likely. Wesley, get this set up. Kate will find Penn soon and when she does, I want to know."
"Where did you get this?" Wesley asked, handling it as though it was a ticking bomb ready to explode.
"That, you don't want to know."
Grimacing slightly with distaste, Wesley took the scanner into the other room and began fiddling with it.
Glancing at Doyle and noting Cordelia's absence, Angel set out an inquiring thought. //Cordelia?//
//I had to come back to my apartment to get something,// Cordelia returned the thought, from a distance and Doyle grinned, impressed.
//Hey, we're gettin' seriously good at this now. I don't think we've ever sent so far before.//
//Probably because we're not apart much,// Angel responded with a chagrined smile.
//Could it be?// Doyle moved toward Angel, touching his arm lightly. He kept his senses open, very much aware of Wesley's presence nearby. //Just can't keep our hands off each other, it seems. Glad you're not hidin' from us anymore. Welcome back, love.//
Angel smiled. //Thank you for giving me something to come back to... both of you.//
//Hey guys, keep your pants on and wait for me,// Cordelia's thought filtered through.
//Should we?// Angel raised his eyebrows playfully at Doyle and smiled even wider at Cordelia's instant complaint.
//Hey,// Cordelia protested. //You wouldn't want me to be wearing the same clothes today as yesterday, now would you? Or letting Wesley know about the extra change of clothes I keep downstairs...//
//We'd rather you weren't wearin' any clothes a'tall, sweetheart,// Doyle cut in.
Cordelia ignored him. //I'll be back there before you know it, in this leather jacket... just wait till you see it.//
Wesley returned to the front office just then and Angel cleared his throat softly, moving away from Doyle.
"The police scanner appears to be functioning correctly," Wesley reported, placing the device on the desk and looking directly at Angel. "Now all that we can do is wait. I suggest that we arm ourselves as thoroughly as possible."
Angel nodded curtly. "I was thinking the same thing. Wesley, you wait up here and listen to the scanner. It will be dark soon. Doyle, with me, we'll pack a bag."
Doyle rolled his eyes playfully at Angel's bossiness. "Long as you don't make me carry it this time."
Angel's soft laughter carried through the office as the vampire and the demon made their way toward the elevator. Wesley watched the two of them, with quiet but intense attention. He couldn't help but notice the warmth and affection between them. There were moments when it seemed like something more but before the thought could make its way to the front of Wesley's mind, he would see Doyle sneak a look at Cordelia when she didn't seem to be looking his way.
It made Wesley wonder. He didn't want to... he really wanted to mind his own business. But he couldn't help it. It was getting too hard to ignore. If only he could be sure that Angel and Cordelia weren't being deceived...
In any event, he made sure he had his own weapons at the ready, just in case.
Cordelia breezed into the office about an hour later, smiling brightly at Wesley who was still occupying the desk, monitoring the police scanner. "What's up?"
"Waiting for whatever we may hear, I suppose. You look quite..."
Cordelia smiled at his inability to finish the sentence. She turned around, modeling her new leather jacket and laughed gaily as Wesley took off his glasses and shook his head. She knew the jacket would have the same effect on Doyle and Angel.
"Have you had dinner?" she asked, dropping a bag on the desk in front of Wesley.
He eyed the bag curiously, his face lighting up. "No."
"Didn't think so. I brought Chinese."
"Now that you mention it, I am a bit hungry."
"Pick something." Cordelia gestured toward the bag. "I'll go downstairs and get the guys. Better make your claim before Doyle gets to it," she warned. "He'll inhale the whole thing."
Wesley reached for the bag, then stopped, hand pausing in midair. He furrowed his brow. "How did you know they were downstairs?" he asked.
Cordelia shrugged. "Where else would they be?"
A note of impatience crept into her tone and Wesley noted it, deciding it would not be the best time to voice his concerns. He pulled several cartons out of the bag and set the others aside, smiling tentatively at Cordelia as she watched.
"They getting weapons together?" Cordelia asked finally. She knew full well they were gathering weapons but was slightly thrown at her slip about them being downstairs. She didn't want Wesley to suspect anything and it seemed like he was already beginning to catch on.
She certainly didn't want to be the one to explain when he started questioning. What she, Doyle and Angel had was private and she was just fine with keeping it that way.
Wesley nodded his answer to her inquiry, his mouth already full of lo mein. Cordelia scrunched her nose up in disgust and moved toward the elevator. "I'm going to get them, tell them that food's here. I think sometimes Angel forgets we're not all on a liquid diet."
Wesley didn't answer her and Cordelia merely sighed. //I'm heading down, boys, so make sure you're decent.// She smiled to herself. //Wait, on second thought...//
Angel was busy picking up empty Chinese food cartons and Wesley was back to cradling the police scanner like it held the answers to the world, when Doyle felt a sudden annoying discomfort. Cordelia and Angel turned toward him.
//What's that? It's not a vision coming on or I'd feel it too,// Cordelia sent.
//'Delia, darlin', did you remember to say no MSG?//
//Uh... no?// She looked over at Wesley who was still listening to the scanner.
He looked up and caught her gaze. "Nothing yet," he reported.
Cordelia had to stop herself from telling him it was rude to interrupt.
Doyle's nose twitched. //Did I forget to mention that stuff makes me itch... and sneeze?//
He stood abruptly, hoping to get out of the room before he sneezed. The sudden movement only caught Wesley's attention. He turned away from the police scanner and watched Doyle closely.
//Uh oh, this ain't gonna be pretty.//
Cordelia and Angel both moved toward Doyle, flanking him while keeping their eyes on Wesley. The half-demon sneezed, right under the ex-Watcher's intent gaze.
With surprising swiftness, Wesley jumped to his feet, the blade of a knife glinting just above his curled fist. Cordelia nearly choked. Where the hell did he get that knife?
"No, Wesley." Angel moved at lightning speed, catching Wesley's wrist in a grip tight enough that he cried out in pain, dropping the weapon to the floor. Cordelia moved to the other side of the ex-Watcher, catching his other arm in her small hand.
"Didn't you see?!" Wesley cried out, struggling in vain against Angel and Cordelia. "He's a demon!"
"Jeez man, don't you think they already knew that?" Doyle complained, sneezing again as Angel and Cordelia continued to restrain Wesley.
"Half-demon," Angel corrected, grimacing slightly as Wesley twisted to an odd angle in attempt to free himself. "Stop fighting me," he added softly, a slight warning creeping into his tone.
Wesley stopped.
"He always was," Cordelia put in and Wesley gaped at her, astonished.
"He – always – was? And when were you planning to share this information with me?"
"We weren't," Doyle said bluntly, then sneezed again.
"With you being a demon hunter and all," Cordelia added, dropping Wesley's wrist and moving between him and Doyle.
"Telling you wasn't at the top of our to-do list," Angel muttered, loosening his grip but not letting go.
Wesley blinked, disbelieving, at Angel and Cordelia. "Perhaps he's tampered with your memories, then," he suggested.
Cordelia's laugh was scornful but Angel sent her a mental cue to let him handle it. They didn't need a yelling match breaking out, that was for sure. Somebody had to be the level head here and Angel had a feeling it was going to have to be him.
Doyle looked up at Wesley after his third sneeze, his face smoothing back into its human visage.
"Can't blame ya for the suspicion," he conceded. "It's time we put this to rest though, especially with Penn running around out there. Can't afford to have us lookin' over our shoulders at each other, can we now?"
Cordelia's shocked thought took both Doyle and Angel by surprise. //You're not gonna tell him everything, are you?!//
//Don't worry, sweetheart,// Doyle sent, moving toward the phone. Angel retightened his grip on the ex-Watchers arm and pulled him away from the desk. //But we've gotta do somethin'. 'Specially now that I know he keeps a knife on his person. He's got to trust me if we all expect to be workin' together.//
Doyle began to dial and Angel released Wesley, putting the bulk of his body between the other two men. He asked Doyle, though he knew the answer, "Calling Harry?"
At Doyle's nod, Angel turned to Wesley who still looked like a rattler coiled and ready to strike. "Have you heard of an ethno-demonologist named Harry Doyle?"
"I've been extremely impressed with some of his articles in the journals, yes. What in the world does that have to do with anything?"
"Her articles," Cordelia muttered. "Harry's a she and she's Doyle's ex-wife."
Angel nodded, watching Doyle out of the corner of his eye as he spoke quietly on the phone. Satisfied that Wesley wasn't going to take a running lunge at his lover, the vampire perched on the edge of the desk, reaching for the scanner to turn it up.
"Anyway, Doyle's right," he said. "We need to resolve this now, before anything goes down tonight. I don't want to have to worry about kicking anyone else's ass aside from Penn's."
Cordelia rolled her eyes, making clear without words what she thought of the need to explain Doyle's existence in their lives to Wesley Wyndham-Price. Angel gave her a cautionary look but smiled softly when Wesley turned away.
Doyle hung up, keeping the distance between himself and Wesley significant. "Harry's on her way. We should have this cleared up in no time."
Wesley had been surprised to hear that Harry Doyle was a woman rather than a man and was even more surprised when she walked in the door of Angel Investigations fifteen minutes later.
He hadn't expected her to be so stunning. His hands immediately went clammy and he was forced to wipe them on his khaki dockers before he shook her hand.
"Lovely to meet you, Miss Doyle," Wesley greeted, giving her what he considered his most charming smile. "I must say your research and insight into demon culture is quite exquisite."
Harry's eyes widened and she threw a chagrined smile toward Angel. "Wow. I don't think my work has ever been described as exquisite but thanks." Her face held an expression of amused curiosity as she shook the ex-Watcher's hand.
"Alright, 'nough with the chit chat," Doyle cut in impatiently. "Let's convince Wesley that he doesn't have to make mincemeat of me next time he gets the chance."
"Probably better if you don't contribute, buddy," Angel said softly, rounding Doyle's back and passing a hand gently between his shoulder blades. He felt the tension there ease slightly and smiled.
Cordelia threw them an impatient look. //Let's not get fresh, let's just get this over with,// she snapped in their minds.
Harry sighed and sat, looking up at the others until they sat as well. She smiled then, leaning forward and looking directly at Wesley as she spoke.
"I understand you're confused by what you saw..."
"Beg your pardon," Wesley cut in, clasping his hands in his lap. "I am not confused by what I saw. I am a demon hunter. I am perfectly aware – "
Harry held a hand out. "Okay, wrong choice of words. I'm sure you were surprised, especially since none of them had told you of Francis' demon heritage."
"Francis?" Wesley questioned.
"It's his name. Humans usually do get more than one, Mr. Demon Hunter," Cordelia muttered angrily.
Wesley nodded, his eyes traveling to the obviously unhappy girl slouching in her seat. "I am quite concerned for Cordelia's safety," Wesley admitted. "I've known Angel long enough to know the difference between Angel and Angelus. I know she is quite safe with Angel. But you must understand the chances of two demons that are not evil finding their way into her life is quite small..."
"I can take care of myself, Wesley," Cordelia bit out, ignoring the hand that Angel put on her knee in an effort to calm her. "I'm not so stupid that I can't tell the difference between an evil demon and a not evil demon!"
Harry cleared her throat. She smiled gently at Cordelia who slumped back in her seat, arms crossed over her chest. She continued speaking to Wesley, as though the outburst had never taken place. "Francis' father was a Brachen demon, his mother is human," she explained quietly. "His demon half only surfaced at the age of 21. Since then, I've done a lot of research on that specific demon race and they are a very peaceful culture."
She pulled her purse from the floor next to her and extracted a file folder. "I brought you a file of some of the more extensive articles that have been published on this particular type of demon." She handed the folder to Wesley who took it reluctantly. "It will show you that Brachen demons are not interested in perpetuating evil in this realm."
"And don't forget," Angel put in, "Doyle was chosen by the Powers to be a seer. He was brought to me for a purpose."
Wesley simply nodded, stealing a glance sideways at Doyle. He looked unsure.
"But, Miss Doyle, as I recall, in your most recent article, concerning the Anomovics, you pointed out that even the most peaceful and civilized demons – "
Harry quoted, "'Sometimes revert to the barbaric customs of years past.' Yes, I know what I said. So does Francis, who almost became the victim of one such custom. I couldn't tell you that no Brachen could ever be violent any more than I could say that of humans. I can tell you all you need to know about Francis, though. The only one he's ever hurt is himself."
Wesley still looked skeptical and Harry sighed. "What will it take, Wesley? I don't know how else to convince you – "
Cordelia stood suddenly, pacing around behind the group. "We shouldn't need to convince him! God! This is so unfair! Doyle is a wonderful man and a genuinely good person. He didn't have to come to Angel, he didn't have to stick around and help, he coulda just gone on with his life and ignored the stupid visions! But he didn't! That should be enough but no! Not for Wesley the rogue demon hunter ex-Watcher from England! He goes around watching Doyle like he's gonna take an ax to all of our heads at any minute. He ignores the fact that if Angel and I can fight horrible minions from hell every night we can probably tell if Doyle has noble intentions or not."
She stopped, looking as surprised at her own outburst as the four others looked at hearing it. Rounding the couch again, she took her seat, exhaling a sharp breath. "It just pisses me off, is all," she muttered.
"Cordelia," Wesley remonstrated, "Even if all that you say was true at one time, how can you be so sure that this is indeed the friend you knew?"
Angel sighed, leaning forward and gazing at everyone in the group. "Okay, look. If we can't resolve this, I can't do this. I have a job to do, it's the only reason I got to keep my soul in the first place. And I can't have the people that help me being suspicious of each other and wielding knives. Wesley, why don't you look through that stuff that Harry gave you – "
"And if you have questions, ask, man," Doyle cut in. "I'll give ya a straight answer every time, you c'n count on that."
"He will tell you the truth, you know," Harry put in. "As long as there isn't a bet involved," she added with a sly grin.
"Hey!" Doyle protested.
"Francis, I'm not going to try to tell the man you're perfect. Then he'd have no reason to listen to a word I say."
"Ah, Miss Doyle...." Wesley hesitated, unsure how to ask the next question.
"Harry, please." She smiled, turning the full force of her charm on him. "Call me Harry."
"Ah, Harry, then. If Doyle is the fine upstanding citizen that Cordelia and Angel would wish me to believe...."
"Then why are we divorced now? Is that your question? Nothing to do with evil, only normal human weakness, I'm afraid. We were far too young when we married and we both changed with the years, more than either one of us could cope with easily."
Harry sighed slightly, looking at Doyle with a combination of sadness and affection and he looked down, unable to meet her gaze. "I didn't agree with some of the choices that Francis has made in his life. Although he was a fine teacher and a great role model at one time, I won't tell you that he's always been a 'fine upstanding citizen' ever since then, because he hasn't. He went through some major changes and I was too young and inexperienced to be as much help to him as I would have liked when things got tough. I just couldn't handle it, I guess... but I always knew that his heart and his soul are very much human. I still do."
Doyle looked up then, forcing himself to meet her eyes, as Cordelia and Angel silently lent him the strength and support of their love. "I thank you for that, Harry," he whispered.
"I thank you for coming back to us," she answered softly.
Then she turned to Wesley. "Now, just to set your mind at rest... Francis, what was the name of the boy who kept throwing erasers during math period? You never stopped complaining about how hard it was to get him to sit down."
"Scott," Doyle answered immediately, with a laugh.
"And the little girl whose bottom he pinched that one time?"
"Melanie."
Harry looked back at Wesley. "There are some things that you just can't get out of somebody's file, or from a videotape. I know Francis and I'd know if anyone were just pretending to be him, believe me."
"I... think I do," Wesley answered, although he spoke as though the words were being dragged out of him. "I'd appreciate an opportunity to learn more about your work, Miss Doyle..."
"Harry."
"Perhaps at some point, we might meet for coffee...?"
They were interrupted by a high-pitched squeal from the police scanner.
"All units. Backup requested at 3336 Channel Avenue. Use caution. Multiple homicide suspect believed to be on the location."
"We're on, people," Angel snapped out. "Excuse us, Harry but business calls. Let's roll."
