DOYLE, DEMON WATCHER
PROLOGUE - PART TWO
BY DANIELLE DUCREST

Disclaimers: Angel: the Series and Buffy the Vampire Slayer belong to Joss Whedon, David Greenwalt, Mutant Enemy, Greenwolf Corp, Kuzui Enterprises, Sandollar Television, Fox, and the WB. Highlander: the Series belongs to Rysher Entertainment, Davis/Panzer Productions, and Gaumont Television. No copyright infringement was intended. This story was written for entertainment, and no money was exchanged.

Spoilers and Timing: In the Angel Universe, it takes place after "Rm w/a Vu". In the Highlander Universe, it takes place after Highlander: The Series' ending. There are spoilers for "Money no Object".

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PROLOGUE

Everything he saw was foggy. Images flashed before his eyes. He couldn't focus on anything in the Vision for very long. Objects focused only briefly in front of him, then left. Everything else was a blur.

Several things appeared in a sequence. There was a woman with bleached hair. Every other feature wasn't visible. He watched as she entered an alley and looked around. Then she reached into her white trenchcoat, pulled out a broadsword, and held it in a defensive position.

Next, the Vision centered on a man hiding in the shadows of the alley. The man took out a cell phone, revealing an unusual blue tattoo on his left wrist.

The image changed to a bar he recognized called Harry's Bar and Grill. The woman with bleached hair entered and walked over to one of the tables.

The Vision ended, and Doyle found himself staring at his apartment's carpeted floor, where he'd spilled part of his cup of coffee. The rest, unfortunately, was soaking through his pants in the worst place possible.

Doyle ran toward the bathroom, wondering what the Powers That Be wanted with him this time, and why they just loved to give him Visions while he held a very hot beverage.

Amanda opened her eyes. The Buzz of another Immortal echoed in her ears and mind.

She jumped out of bed and pulled out her Broadsword. She couldn't see anyone in the darkened apartment, but didn't expect anyone to be in there. She had a good feeling she knew who the other Immortal was.

She crept to the window, pulled down one of the blinds, flattened herself against the wall and looked out. She could see no one in the alley or in the parking lot across the street, but that didn’t mean a thing.

For three weeks, she'd been followed by another Immortal. The Immortal kept to the shadows, never revealing himself or herself to Amanda. He or she would step into range everywhere; at the movies, at restaurants, at stores, and in her apartment.

The mysterious Immortal was beginning to get on her nerves. She just wished he or she would reveal himself or herself so they could fight and get it over with. She hated having to look over her shoulder, not knowing who she was facing. It was driving her insane with curiosity and fear.

She'd tried running. She'd gone from Paris, to New York, and now L. A. She had tried making it hard to trace her. But he still found her. She was sure it was the same person, too.

The Immortal was still nearby. She still felt the Buzz. That was odd. So far, the Immortal had stayed in range for only a few seconds before stepping out of it again.

The phone rang. With one more glance out the window, Amanda went to answer it.

"Hello?" she asked.

"Harry's Bar and Grill. Now."

He hung up the phone. Amanda hadn't enough time to identify the speaker, but she was sure the voice was familiar.

She put on her coat, slid her sword into its hidden sheath, and took off.

PART ONE

Allen Francis Doyle was a man with blue eyes and dark hair, and had that innocent look to him. If they'd known he was a half-demon, they wouldn't have thought so, but he'd told no one except his mother. Because of his demonic heritage, he could transform at will into this demon with blue spikes all over, and he had visions, like the one earlier.

Doyle stepped into Harry's Bar and Grill and glanced around at the patrons. He couldn't see the bleach-haired woman or the man with the tattoo, so he walked over to the bar and sat down.

The bartender came over to him and smiled. "Hey, Doyle. How's it going?"

Doyle smiled at him. "Just fine, John," he said in his thick Irish accent.

"What'll it be tonight?"

"Just a beer, thanks."

John fixed him the drink. The door opened again, and more customers came in. None of them were the people from his vision, so Doyle didn't pay much attention. John left to wait on them.

Doyle lifted the glass and drained half of it in one gulp. He cradled his drink afterwards, staring at the tv, not really absorbing what was happening in the current program.

He glanced around again. It was around eleven, but the place was filled to the brim. On the other side of the building, he saw friends eating at the grill, while over here, truckers and regulars talked and drank.

He didn’t give it much thought, however. He was really thinking about the vision he'd had less than an hour ago. What could it mean? The woman he saw couldn't have stopped in the alley just to practice, and the reason why she carried a sword around couldn't be because she needed an easier way to carry it to an antiques store. The man he saw couldn't have been calling home to his wife, either.

As for the symbol, he'd never seen it before, but he intended to find out what it meant. If he didn't get his answers soon, he was going to start asking for information from his contacts.

The door opened again. His back was to it, so he didn't know who entered, but all the men in the room started cat calling.

"Hey, little lady, how about you come sit with me?" one of the patrons called.

"Sorry, boys, but I'm here to meet someone," a woman answered.

"Hope it's me you're going to meet."

"No," the woman said. Doyle heard her take several steps toward the patron. "But I may just dump him."

Everyone whistled, and another patron called, "Go, Bill!"

"I'll be right here, baby," the patron said as the woman began to walk away.

She walked up to the bar and sat on one of the stools. John asked her what she wanted, and she answered, "Wine."

Doyle turned and saw her, and recognized her as the woman from his Vision.

John served the drink and walked away. The woman glanced around her cautiously, and Doyle turned away at the last minute.

The door opened again. Both he and the woman turned and looked at it. A man, dressed casually in jeans and a jacket, entered. He glanced around the bar, just as Doyle had done. His eyes rested on Amanda for a few seconds before moving to a just emptied booth. He was the man from Doyle's vision, the one with the tattoo.

Doyle glanced at the woman. Her eyes narrowed at the man, suspicious, but she didn't move. Doyle wondered if she recognized the newcomer.

She turned back to her drink, but glanced back at the man every few seconds. After this had gone on for some time, Doyle decided it was time to introduce himself.

He slid onto the next stool, the only one separating him from the woman. She looked up at him and narrowed her eyes again.

Doyle pretended he didn't notice. "Hi," he greeted. He smiled, tried to seem as friendly as possible. "My name's Doyle." He held out his hand.

The woman gazed at him for a minute longer before taking his hand and shaking it. "Amanda."

"Are you waiting for someone?" Doyle asked. "Or did you lie to that creep to make him buzz off?"

Amanda smiled. "Actually, I am waiting for someone."

"Are you meeting him to have dinner?"

Amanda narrowed her eyes. "I never said it was a he."

Doyle shrugged, trying not to give anything away. "Just, it seems to me that a lady like yourself wouldn't have any trouble finding a boyfriend."

"I have a boyfriend," she answered. "But I'm not meeting him tonight."

"So," Doyle continued. "Does the person you're meeting like seeing you dressed in a coat, even with such a light breeze out tonight?"

Amanda shrugged. "It's our way."

Amanda glanced around. Her eyes seemed to roam everywhere, even to the wall behind the bar. Finally, they rested on a man outside the building, peering at them through the glass.

"Is that him?" Doyle asked as she got up and put a few bills on the counter.

Amanda nodded. "I have to go."

The man outside began walking away. Amanda followed.

The man from his Vision got up and left some cash on the table and followed them out.

Doyle watched them go. When the second man was about to disappear from view, he stood up.

"Sorry, John," he said as he, too, left a few bills on the counter. "But I've got to go."

"Okay, Doyle. See you later." John called after him.

Doyle left the restaurant in time to see the second man turn left down an alley. He followed.

The alley was lit brightly by a streetlight attached to the bar and grill. He could see Amanda pause further into the alley and glance around. The man from the window had disappeared, but the man from his vision was hiding behind a row of trashcans. Doyle chose a dumpster closer to the end of the alley, out of sight of both of them, and waited.

Amanda pulled out a sword and held it defensively in front of her. She looked around at the shadows. Suddenly, the man from the window appeared, also holding a sword. The two circled each other, both watching their opponent carefully, cautiously.

The man crouched behind the trashcans took out a cell phone, pressed a button, and held it to his ear, mimicking what Doyle had seen in his apartment.

A few minutes later, the man put his cell up. Doyle turned his attention back to the fight.

He watched, amazed, as the two fought. These two were pros with swords.

The fight lasted for several minutes. It was too dark to check his watch, but he knew it took a long time. Finally, the woman disarmed her opponent and forced him to his knees.

Then, to Doyle's disgust, she caught his head off.

Well, he thought. At least I know what the swords are for now.

For a long minute, the woman stared down at the body, breathing heavily. Doyle watched it, too, half expecting it to explode into dust. But he didn't get what he'd hoped for. The body stayed the way it was.

Then, something he hadn't expected at all happened. It didn’t shock him as much as it would a few years ago, before he knew about demons and prophecies and witches and vampires. It just surprised and amazed him.

A white mist wandered out of the headless body lying on the ground. It wandered over to Amanda and entered her chest. She gasped, but did or said nothing. Then she was struck repeatedly by blue and white lightening bolts from a cloudless sky. Her arms, one still holding onto her sword, were forced open by a sudden wind. Amanda looked up to the heavens and gasped again. She cried out as one large bolt struck her and made her body jump.

A few minutes later, the light show was over. Amanda picked up her opponent's sword and put both in her coat. Then she took off down the other end of the alley, disappearing down the other street.

The man hiding behind the trashcans got up to follow. He glanced in Doyle's direction. Doyle, still gazing where the Quickening had taken place, was slow to react and knew the man spotted him. Doyle hurried back in his hiding place and hoped the man hadn't gotten a good glimpse at him. His Irish luck, it seemed, wasn't going in his favor that night.

"Hey!" the man called. Doyle heard the man's footsteps getting closer. He got in a defensive position and braced himself for an attack.

The man appeared around the dumpster. Seeing the position Doyle was in, he stopped a few feet away. "Look, I don't want to hurt you," the man said.

Doyle gazed at the man, and knew this may be his ticket to getting the information he wanted.

"Then why were you spying on those two people?" Doyle asked. "And why did she cut his head off? What was the deal with the light show?"

The man sighed. He motioned toward the bar. "Come on. I'll explain it all to you, if you'd like."

Doyle gazed at him, looking for any indication that this was a trick. He didn't see one, but that didn't necessarily mean a thing. But it was unlikely that the guy would pull something in a crowded bar. Doyle nodded. "All right."

They went back to Harry's Bar and Grill, and the man introduced himself as Carl Case. He explained everything involving the Game, the Prize, Immortals, and the Buzz. Then he told Doyle about the Watchers.

Doyle had heard about a Council of Watchers. They had the Slayer, one girl chosen in the entire world to fight the forces of darkness. But this was different. Carl told him about the Society of Watchers, and their sworn oath to observe and record, but never interfere.

Doyle took it all in without comment. It didn't amaze him as much as it would someone without knowledge of the supernatural. Immortals weren't the only immortal race he knew about.

They talked some more, and Carl asked what he was like. What did he do for a living?

"I'm employed," Doyle had answered carefully. If the Powers That Be could be called office managers. "But I work very odd hours."

Carl asked him more about himself. Did he like to travel, did he like doing research, that sort of thing. Doyle answered him every way possible without giving away too much information, such as Visions or what had really happened to him in the past year since he found out about his demonic heritage. "I've been traveling around a lot in the past year," Doyle answered. "Started out in Ireland, then I moved to the states and moved from place to place, getting temporary jobs, that sort of thing. Been thinking about settling down in L.A."

They talked some more.

"Would you like to join?"

Doyle started. "Excuse me?"

"I know this may be all a bit to take in," Carl said, "but I've been watching you today and after all you've told me, I think you'd make an excellent Watcher. Please," he took out his wallet and handed Doyle a card. "Think about it. Call me when you've made a decision, or you can reach me at my bookstore across town."

Doyle looked at the card, then back up at the man. He nodded. "I'll think about it," he said.

Carl smiled. "I'll be waiting for your answer then," he got up. "I hope to see you again soon."

Doyle waited until the man was gone, then got up and headed toward his apartment.

PART TWO

Doyle watched as the battle raged on in the empty train station. The Immortal he was assigned to won the fight, and he watched while the Quickening took place. The Immortal's name was Gary Sparrow, and spent half of his time at a church located in L. A., helping the priest. This was one of the rare times he'd actually fought an Immortal.

In the past two years, Doyle had been Gary's watcher. One good thing about his assignment was that Gary didn't want to leave L.A., and after Doyle had met Angel and Cordelia via mind-numbing visions and started helping them out, he was happy for the inactivity.

A lot had happened in the last few years. Even when he'd gone to the Watcher Academy in Geneva for a year, the Powers hadn't stopped sending the visions. He'd had a hard time explaining what his headaches were to his classmates during that time. The pain he experienced when he got his visions was similar to the pain a new Immortal might feel when he felt the Buzz, even though his reactions to them might seem a little extreme for an Immortal. Doyle wouldn't be surprised if the Watchers were keeping him under surveillance, although they might be a little shocked to discover he spent most of his free time fighting the forces of darkness with a two hundred year old vampire and an ex-May Queen. They would be just as shocked if they ever saw him transform into a blue-spike Brachen Demon, too. Doyle hoped they never found out about his heritage.

He followed Gary in a cab to the church. After Doyle saw the Immortal disappear inside, he told the driver to turn around and head to Angel's place.

When the driver backed up in the church's lot to do just that, Doyle's cell phone rang. He picked it up. "Hello, Doyle."

"Doyle, just what the h*** are you doing?" Carl Case's voice asked.

Doyle was puzzled. "What are you talking about, Carl?"

"There's been rumors," Carl began. "They've been doing research into your friend, Angel. They say he's an Immortal."

"That's impossible, Carl."

"Is that so? Well, you'd better tell that to the Tribunal, cause they're thinking about kicking you out, or doing what they almost did to Dawson a few years back."

Doyle cursed. "It won't come to that."

"I hope not, my friend," Carl said.

Doyle sighed. "Look, I've gotta go, all right? Sparrow just won a fight. I've got to report it before morning, or even more people will be angry with me. I'll call you back later."

There was a pause, and Carl sighed. "All right. Just watch your back, Doyle."

"Always."

He hung up, worried. If the watchers found out what Angel really was…he just hoped it would never come to that.