AUTHOR'S NOTE: I can't believe it's been a little over a year and a half since I last posted anything on this story. And I send my sincere apologies to those people who sent emails or reviews asking me to continue. It was unfair to leave people hanging; I know I shouldn't post anything until it's done, but I got excited and jumped the gun a little. Whoops. Anyway, this is my valiant attempt to start again, and I'm not quite sure if it's going to work. So much has happened in the past 18 months, and my writing style has changed so radically ... we shall see. I look back at earlier chapters and shudder slightly; apparently I thought verbose equaled talent. Not so much. Alas, I'm far too lazy (and busy, in my own defense) to fix all those mistakes. ANYWAY. the story picks up where I last left it: Doyle, Cordelia, Connor, Harry, Fred and Wesley illin' at the Hyperion, Gunn, Angel and Faith dealing with an unnamed menace at the police station, and Buffy and the Scooby crew (with a slightly worse-for-wear Kate) heading through the streets of L.A. So -- and I say it with a little fear in my heart -- on with the show ...

DISCLAIMER: Not mine. Neither are the lyrics, which are 'Why'd You Want to Live Here', by Death Cab for Cutie, and 'Third Planet' by Modest Mouse (who I saw in concert this summer ... effin' wow).

"the greyhounds keep coming dumping locusts into the street until the gutters overflow and los angeles thinks, "i might explode someday soon."

it's a lovely summer's day and i can almost see a skyline through a thickening shroud of egos.

(is this the city of angeles or demons?)

"The universe is shaped exactly like the earth if you go

Straight long enough you'll end up where you were.

Your heart felt good it was drippin pitch and made of wood.

And your hands and knees felt cold and wet on the grass to me.

Outside naked, shiverin looking blue, from the cold

Sunlight that's reflected off the moon.

Baby cum angels fly around you reminding you we used

To be three and not just two.

And that's how the world began.

And that's how the world will end."

"An' I said I got three men down! I need backup here fuckin' yesterday!"

Doyle threw his walkie-talkie down in disgust, praying that the static gargle meant someone was actually listening to his demands. He hopped up on the pile of crate, his temporary hiding place during the frantic call back to base, and did a quick recon. Eight vamps approaching from the west end, two more in combat with his boys up front and twelve piles of ash littering the warehouse floor. There was at least one body he could see, neck twisted to an unnatural angle -- nice kid, that Jonathan ... a damn shame -- and two more wounded that floundered in the corner, blood pooling around them. If more Whitehats didn't show up soon, they were -- to put it eloquently -- totally fucked.

Doyle scrambled off his perch and raced down to Oz's side, arriving just as he destroyed another vamp. The younger man plunged a shoddy wooden stake into the creature's heart, yanking back viciously as the vampire shrieked and disappeared in a cloud of dust.

"Good work, bud," Doyle complimented, eyeing Natalie as she finished off another. She paused to wipe grimy hands across her jeans, then hustled over to Jer and Rory, scrutinizing their injuries. "Backup's on its way."

"Yeah? Good." Even in the face of danger, Oz was a man of few words. Reaching into a duffel bag, he produced a crossbow and began to quickly load it with arrows. Soon after, the rest of the vampires began to trickle into the warehouse.

Doyle gripped a stake and stared eagerly at the oncoming group. Watching them race towards the humans snarling, snapping; it distantly crossed Doyle's mind that backup still hadn't arrived. As usual, looming death was the least of his worries. There wasn't much left to enjoy in his crappy existence ... this was the only thing that still made him feel alive.

Something was bugging him though, something nearly on the end of his conscience. A niggling hesitation ... a cool feeling deep in his gut. Four vampires approached, fangs bared and ready to fight.

Four.

Four coming from the west entrance --

There'd been eight.

Natalie's scream pierced the air. From behind, a hand gripped his throat and hoisted him high in the air. Out of the corner of his eye, Doyle spotted Oz staggering to his feet, blood oozing down his chin.

There's an eastern entrance too ...

Oh sweet Christ. What have I --

Then it was all just black.

Doyle woke with a start.

Hunter's instincts sliced through sleep's initial groggy haze, moving his limbs by its own accord. His body snapped upwards, hands roving and fingers splayed, exploring the area around him. Soft, plush fabric, the smell of badly-brewed coffee, disjointed murmurings on the edge of his hearing, but slowly getting louder --

Couch. Right.

Through one squinted eye:

Lobby ... musta fell asleep.

Doyle shook the residual sleepiness from his brain and yawned obnoxiously. Cordelia glanced over, rolling her eyes, as he enjoyed a lazy stretch.

"Have a nice nap?" she inquired, teasing but faintly irritated.

"Delightful," Doyle responded as wandered over to the table, stealing a steaming mug that rested next to Cordelia's elbow. He took a long gulp -- forcing back a retch at the awful taste -- and surveyed the scene. Harry, Lorne, Wesley and Fred were still camped out with their books, on to what was probably the third or fourth hour of steady research. The table was littered with dusty tomes, half-rolled maps, an emptied package of potato chips, soggy tea bags, a plethora of chewed-up pens, and pages of scribbled notes, many in his ex-wife's undecipherable scrawl.

Harry was still at it, red curls obscuring her face as she bent over another textbook. Briefly, her eyes flickered upwards at Doyle's arrival. "Oh hi Francis ... ready to do some work?"

Cordelia snatched her coffee back from Doyle's loose grip. "Yeah," she added, slumping back down into her chair. "We figured you could take over for a while one of us passes out ... can I elect myself for that duty?"

Fred and Wesley shrugged, looking non-committal. "Go get your beauty-sleep, honey," Lorne assured. "Sure," Harry agreed, smiling. "I think the rest of us are okay for the next while."

Grinning, Cordelia hopped out of her seat. "Great! Give me half an hour tops, and I'll researching frantically with the best of 'em." She was bounding up the stairs when Harry's cellphone began to ring.

Harry fished through her purse, following the shrill noise. "It's about bloody time Angel learned to use that thing," Wesley muttered, eliciting a wide smile from Fred.

Harry finally produced it with flourish and quickly answered. "Hello, Angel? What's going on?"

Listening several seconds, her cheerful features fell, brows knit in confusion. "You're at the hospital? What -- I thought that ... the prison? Yeah. Is she alright? No, not yet. Okay ... okay, bye."

Cordelia had slowly inched back down the stairs during this exchange, all thoughts of a warm bed or long sleep evapourated from her mind. Images from her earlier vision flowed rapid-fire through her mind: people streaming from the jail, Faith flying backwards over a sergeant's desk, lying motionless on the floor ... She joined the fearful audience surrounding the table, exchanging an anxious look with Doyle as she stepped up next to him. He returned the glance with equal fright, entwining her fingers with his and giving her hand a warm, tight squeeze. In spite of everything, Cordelia couldn't help but smile.

"The Beast attacked the jail," Harry started, holding up her hand for silence when they bombarded her with questions. "No, Angel didn't know how -- apparently, it went right for Faith. Yes, she's alright ... out cold, but Angel thinks she'll be okay. They're taking her to a hospital right now. He wants us to hurry up and find that protection spell. Oh, and check on Connor."

Everyone hesitated, looking expectantly at Cordelia to volunteer. She busied herself with studying the ceiling, her nails, anything except the faces of her friends. Doyle could almost feel her radiating with shame.

Slowly, Fred spoke up. "I guess I'll go see 'im," she drawled, pushing herself up from the table and wandering upstairs. The others reseated themselves and dragged heavy books back into their laps.

"Poor kiddo," Lorne signed. "He must be going nuts with cabin fever."

"Pro'ly just itchin' for a fight," Doyle added, nodding in sympathy. "Lord knows I am."

"Well, it's for his own protection," Wesley countered absently, scanning an encyclopedia of demonic lore. "Can't have 'im running about the city with hellfire raining down and --"

"He's not here!" came Fred's frantic shout from the second storey. The rest looked up at Fred clutching the railing, face etched with panic. "I looked in his room, and three bathrooms and Angel's study and the balcony ... and he's not here!"

"What?!" Harry exploded. "Stupid idiot! Angel told him --"

"Don't matter," Doyle retorted, rising to grab his sword and sheath, which lay still grimy and blood-covered on the front counter. "In one ear an' out the other. Now we gotta find tha lad. Wesley, Cordelia -- you're comin' with me, so get some sharp an' pointy stuff. Lorne, Fred, Harry -- find that damn protection spell."

Cordelia paused for a moment, staring at the suddenly strong, seasoned warrior that stood before her, issuing orders and taking charge like he'd been doing it all his life. He seemed grim, determined ... maybe even ... excited?

Fulfilled?

Bringing herself back to reality, Cordelia hoisted a broadsword from a nearby weapons' chest and tucked a few stakes in the waist of her pants. Wesley had also loaded up on weapons, a nasty-looking axe in one hand and a handgun strapped to his thigh. "Think we'll blend in okay?" Cordelia joked weakly, throwing a knapsack of supplies onto her back and following Doyle out the front entrance.

"Two half-demons wit' a crapload o' medieval weaponry?" Doyle shot back over his shoulder. "L.A's seen stranger."

A/N: Okay, not my best stuff, but there's been worse. I know the story hasn't really been advanced at all, but it'll come together in the end, I swear! Remember ... love them reviews!!!