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DOYLE, DEMON WATCHER
PART TWO - PART FOUR

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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Cordelia sat in the back office at the computer. Because no one needed help at the moment and they didn't have to research the latest mystical L.A. thing, she'd gone on the Internet and done some surfing. She had found several people with a fashion sense almost as good as hers, and was busy e-mailing them tips. They didn't need to know she couldn't afford anything she advised them to wear.

Angel sat on the couch, reading one of his old musty books. He always seemed to be reading something, like he couldn't get enough when they had to research the latest demon in L. A.

Cordelia saw an ad on the computer. "Ooh! Look at this! This says it can tell you how many times you've taken a breath in your lifetime! Let's see…5…22…1981. There!" Cordelia pressed enter. "Woah. That's a lot. Actually, I bet I've breathed a lot more, 'cause of all those heavy fights I've gotten in the past, not to mention the dry-cleaning bills I've had to pay for because of them. Angel, want to know how many times you've breathed in the last few centuries? How long has it been? Two hundred and forty-three, right? Or am I off?"

Angel glanced at her from his book, finally acknowledging her presence for the first time in the hour and a half she'd been at work. "Cordelia…"

"Oh, yeah. You're a vampire. Vampires don't breathe. Perhaps I could check out how many times you breathed while you were mortal?"

The front door opened, and Cordelia left the computer to see who it was. She missed Angel's relieved expression when he put his book down.

Cordelia hoped Doyle was there. She was disappointed, but only slightly.

Instead of the blue-eyed Irishman, there was a man with graying hair. He held a cane and walked differently, like his knees were as stiff as wood. It wasn't Doyle. But this man may need help, which would make him a client. That was always a good thing, especially if this client paid money.

"Hi," Cordelia greeted him. "Welcome to Angel Investigations, where we help the hopeless. I'm Cordelia."

The man smiled. "Joe Dawson," he greeted. He looked past her. "I'm looking for Francis Doyle. Is he around?"

Suspicious, Cordelia answered, "He's not here, yet. But Angel is. He's the boss and he can help you with whatever problem you have. There is a fee, of course," she said, leading him into the vampire's office. Angel was waiting.

"Hi," Joe greeted. "I take it you're Angel?"

Angel nodded. He motioned to the chair in front of his desk. "Please, sit down." Joe did as he asked. "Would you like some coffee?"

Joe waved the offered beverage away. "No, thanks."

"So, you know Doyle." Angel prodded.

"Yeah, we're old friends. He told me he worked as a Private Investigator now. Guess I just had to see it for myself."

"Did you know him when he was a school teacher?" Cordelia asked, still curious as to Doyle's old life.

Joe shook his head. "I'm afraid not. We met about a year or two ago up in Seacouver."

The front door opened again. A few minutes later, Doyle appeared at the office door. The first one he noticed was Cordelia. "Hey, Cordy."

He looked at Dawson, and the older man looked back. Doyle's face broke out into a smile. "Joe!"

 

 

When Doyle entered the building used as Angel's apartment and their office building, he was surprised to find his old friend sitting in the guest chair. He smiled. "Joe! How are you?"

Joe managed a half-smile in return. "Hey, Doyle. Long time no see," he started getting up.

"No, that's alright," Doyle said, waving him back down. "Man, you coming here is cause for celebration! I'm ready for a drink."

"You always want to celebrate with a drink," Cordelia complained for the thousandth time.

"So," Angel asked. "How do you know each other?"

"Oh, I happened to wander into Joe's Bar up in Washington state one day. It's really the same old story. He was the bartender, I drank a few things, we got to talking."

Joe shook his head, smiling. "You still owe me the money from that tab, you know."

"Yeah right. You won it from me from all those times we played poker together."

Joe smiled, but the light in his eyes was sad.

Doyle saw his friend's change in mood. "Joe? What's wrong? What happened?"

Joe glanced at him, then over at Cordelia and Angel. Doyle got the message. "Cordy, Angel, could you give us some time alone, please?"

Doyle could tell Cordelia and Angel wanted to stay and hear more about his past, but both got up anyway. "Sure," Cordelia said, walking to the outer office.

Angel glanced at Doyle, then went to the elevator shaft and descended to his basement apartment.

Doyle waited until the door had closed behind Cordelia before he asked, "What happened, Joe?"

Joe sighed. "Remember Jake Dearstrom?"

Doyle nodded.

"He's dead."

Doyle stared at Joe. "You're joking."

"No, I'm not."

"But," Doyle began. He sat down behind the desk. "He-he was the best! None of the Immortals he was assigned to ever found out about him-not as a passerby or patron in a bar or anything. Even the watchers of the Immortals his Immortals came in contact with couldn't spot him!"

"I know," Joe said, distressed.

Doyle had met Jake during Joe's poker games. He'd been a nice guy, had even shown Doyle a few tricks to being the best Watcher in town. "How'd it happen?"

"He was attacked from behind," Joe answered, then shrugged. "At least, that's what the police say. He also lost quite a lot of blood. Investigators found two puncture holes in his neck. It happened on the other end of L. A."

Doyle stared at his friend. "Sounds like someone's copying off of a vampire."

Joe nodded. "He's not the only one."

"Joe, who else?"

"At least three more, all in the states. In the L.A. area."

Doyle asked, "All watchers?"

Joe nodded. "All watchers. The police say there's a vampire cult around here. Wackos believe they're actual vampires."

"Sounds like a lot of talk." Inwardly, Doyle was more worried than he let on. He ran through all the vampire gangs he knew of that were currently in the big city. He couldn't think of any reason why any of them would go after a group of people that had nothing to do with them, except of course for food.

He should let Angel know about this. If there was a new gang of vampires out there, he was the one who should know about it.

"Yeah," Joe agreed. "Look, I was wondering if you could help us out? I've heard you help out here, solve cases."

"A few." Doyle said. "I'll help. But my friends have to know at least part of it if this is going to work."

Joe nodded. "Okay."

Doyle got up and went to tje door and opened it. Cordelia looked up at him expectantly from her seat behind her desk. "Could you get Angel and meet us in here?"

"Sure," Cordy said. "But if he's sleeping, don't expect me to wake him up. I will not be his midnight snack, thank you very much." She went to the stairwell and started down it.

Doyle closed the door and turned back to Joe. Joe, puzzled, asked, "His midnight snack?"

Doyle shrugged, trying not to look worried. "It's just an inside joke."

 

 

PART THREE

 

A few minutes later, Angel, Cordelia, Doyle, and Joe were gathered in the office. Joe retold his story, minus the Watcher part. He just said the murdered men were friends of his, which was true.

Angel took the seat Doyle had used earlier and asked most of the questions. Joe watched Angel most of the time. He could understand why some members of the Watcher Society believed this man was Immortal. His eyes spoke of so much emotion and suffering commonly seen in Immortals. But there was also a primitive hunger there kept at the edge of its lease, something he hadn't seen even in the times Joe had looked into Methos' eyes and seen Death. He felt Angel was something else entirely. He seemed like the kind of monster that would kill four watchers and drain them of their blood. But Joe wasn't sure about that. There was something else in those pair of brown eyes, something that said he'd do everything in his power to see Joe's and Doyle's friends brought to justice.

After Angel had finished questioning him, Doyle showed Joe to the door. "We'll find who did this to them, Joe," Doyle promised.

"I hope so, Doyle," was all Joe said.

Joe left the Angel Investigations building and hailed a cab, and directed the driver to his hotel. A few doors down was a fancier hotel. It would have cost too much if Joe wanted the Watchers to pay for the complete expenses of his trip, and he wanted to keep a low profile.

When they arrived, Joe paid the driver and got out. Just as his cab pulled away, another cab pulled up in front of the fancier hotel. Amanda stepped out.

"Hey! Amanda!" Joe called, knowing it was safe. Carl Case, her Watcher, was still in Paris. He started walking toward her.

Amanda looked up at his voice and smiled. She walked up to him. "Hey, Joe," she greeted. "What brings you to L.A.?"

"Watcher business," Joe answered. "What about you?"

"Immortal business," she answered.

"Who is it?"

"An old enemy. Nathan Prescott." Amanda replied.

Joe whistled. "I've heard he's good."

"He is," Amanda agreed, but she wasn't giving Prescott a compliment. "But he won't be good enough." She gestured to the hotel. "Want to join me at the hotel's restaurant? I hear they serve very good pasta."

Joe shook his head. "Thanks, but I'd better get some sleep. I've got a little bit of jet lag."

"Tomorrow, then," Amanda said. She walked toward the doors of her hotel. "See you later, Joe."

"Watch your head."

"I will."

 

 

Nathan Prescott walked into the vampire leader's lair, quite happy. Everything was going according to plan. "Good morning, Spike," he greeted his vampire ally.

Spike, also know as William the Bloody, glared at him. "You promised me Angel, Prescott," he reminded the Immortal in his Australian accent. "But all I get are scared, puny humans."

Nathan sighed. Spike's anger deepened, and inwardly, Nathan laughed at the sight. "Spike, how many times do I have to tell you? These Watchers that you've been killing are leading us straight to Angel."

"And just how is that? No, wait, I know. We let his sidekick know about the murders so he'd go running and screaming to Angel and beg for help, and brood boy will do everything in his power to see things right."

"Be happy, Spike. You get what you want, I get what I want."

"I'll be happy once you get all of the Watchers out of my hair, mate," Spike said, saying the last word with anything but cheerfulness.

Prescott smiled. Spike had no idea that his vampires had attacked four members of the Society of Watchers and not the Watcher Council. If he did know, he couldn't harm Prescott in any way. "Relax. Doyle and Dawson will be taken care of."

Spike smiled. "Sounds great, mate."

 

 

PART FOUR

 

"How do you and Dawson know each other?" Angel asked.

"We met a few years ago," Doyle said. "He helped me settle in."

"Settle into what?" Cordelia asked.

Doyle hated lying to his friends, but he couldn't tell them he was a Watcher. They may not understand. How could he tell them he watched Immortals kill each other, and he did nothing to stop it? He was just happy he wasn't assigned to a guy who hunts for sport. "L. A."

"Do you have any enemies?" Angel asked.

Doyle started shaking his head but stopped when he remembered something Joe and Carl told him once. "There was a guy, but he's dead."

"What's his name?"

"James Horton. He was crazy and believed anything that wasn't mortal was a fiend." He was also a Watcher who hunted Immortals down, good or bad, and took their heads. Oh, and he's Joe's brother-in-law. "He died three or four years ago, but he had a lot of followers."

"So Joe knows about vampires and stuff?" Cordelia asked.

Doyle shook his head. "He doesn't. Like I said, he was crazy. He believed in a lot of things that weren't true."

Angel nodded slowly, as if all the pieces were coming together in that two hundred year old mind of his. "Cordelia, I want you to look up any newspapers mentioning the murders and anything about this Horton guy."

"Got it," Cordelia said, walking to the computer.

"I'll ask Kate if she knows anything," Angel said.

"Are you sure she'll tell you anything?" Doyle asked. Kate Lockley, an L. A. detective, had met Angel while undercover. She knew he was an investigator, even though he didn't have a license, but she wasn't about to share every police file the police force had.

Angel ignored the question. "After that, I'm going to ask around, see if anyone has been biting people matching your friends' descriptions or has a grudge against either of you. Doyle, why don't you do the same, maybe check on your friend when you're done?"

Doyle nodded. "Okay."

 

 

One of Angel's stops was not to see a vampire, but a human. Like Willy the Snitch in Sunnydale, this man owned a bar. But unlike Willy, he didn't know that his customers were often vampires or other demons.

His name was Jinx, and he was pretty friendly. Ever since he'd seen Angel come in with Kate and she'd introduced herself as a police detective, he'd been very friendly. Jinx probably figured Angel was undercover or something, but every time Angel came to him for information, Jinx gave it to him.

When Angel got there that night, the bar was full, and music blared from the speakers, making it perfect for private conversation. Angel sat on one of the stools and waited while Jinx served two men drinks. Then he wandered over to the vampire and smiled. "Angel, what'll you have?"

"Nothing today, thanks," Angel answered. "I'm hear to ask you about the vampire-like murders happening lately."

Jinx picked up a glass and began to clean it. He nodded. "I've heard about those. Of course, there've been several in the past few years. Do you want to know about a certain person's murder?"

"Perhaps," Angel replied.

"Are they the ones where the victims have the weird tattoos?"

Curios, Angel told him, "Go on."

Jinx glanced around the bar before leaning in closer. "I've heard a few of my customers talk about it. They say they helped kill these members of some cult called Watchers. Their victims all had these blue tattoos on their inner wrists."

The tattoo description matched with Dawson's, but watchers? They were the victims? Angel couldn't remember hearing anything about a tattoo from Giles. Had the council actually changed its decorum? That wasn't very likely. But what did that have to do with Doyle and this Dawson guy? "Anything else you know?" Angel asked. "Like who did it?"

Jinx shook his head. "Never seen them before. But they kept saying they hoped Spike wouldn't kill them. They were afraid of this guy. They also said they wanted to drain the guy Spike's working with, whatever draining means."

Angel digested this. Spike was in L.A., and he was allied with someone. "Who's Spike working with?"

"Don’t know, except he carried a sword. That's all I can tell you."

Angel nodded. "Thanks," he said, and left.

 

 

When he got back to the office, Cordelia was still at the computer. "Hey, Angel," she greeted.

"What have you found?" Angel asked.

"That Horton guy was killed a few years ago and buried in Paris," Cordelia said.

"Who killed him?"

"It doesn't say," Cordelia replied. "But in '97, his brother-in-law dug him up in France so Horton's family could bury him in Chicago."

"Who's his brother-in-law?"

"Joseph Dawson."

Angel walked around the desk and looked at the screen. "The same Joe Dawson that came to see us today?"

Cordelia nodded. "There was a picture of him. It was the same guy."

What else has Doyle been keeping from us? Angel wondered. He asked, "What about the murders?"

"They don't say much," Cordy said. "Just that two puncture wounds were located above one of the viens in the neck of each victim, and their bodies were drained of blood. The four people killed had these blue tattoos, and-"

"Wait, stop," Angel told her.

"What?"

"Do they show the tattoo?"

"Yeah, I think so. Why?"

"Just let me see it."

"Okay," Cordelia replied, and went back to the newspaper reports about the murders. They found a picture of the tattoo and opened it separately in a new window.

Angel studied the tattoo. It was round, with one circle around a smaller circle. In the smaller circle was something that looked like an up side down 'W'. Also, in the space between the two circles were thirteen smaller circles lined up like the numbers on a clock.

"Could you print that out?" Angel asked. Cordelia complied.

"Do you think you could look for the tattoo?"

"Yeah, sure, but I don't think I'll find it. Willow is better at this than me."

Angel looked at Cordelia. "I think I'll call her, then. But first, I'm calling Giles."

"Why?"

"One of my sources told me the tattoo belonged to a group called Watchers."

Cordelia's eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed in confusion. "But, Giles doesn't have a tattoo. Well, not like this one. He only has that tattoo from when he and Ethan were buds, and I think he had that removed."

"I'm going to call him anyway," Angel said.

"Okay. Hey, have you seen Doyle?"

"He's not back yet?" Angel asked.

"No."

"He probably went to check on his friend, Dawson." Angel walked to his office door and opened it. "When he comes in, tell him I went to speak to him."

Angel sat behind his desk and called Giles. During his visit, Oz had given Angel and Cordelia a list of phone numbers they could call, now that everyone was in college and Giles had become an unemployed bachelor.

He rang up Giles. The ex-watcher picked it up on the second ring. "Hello?"

"Hey, Giles."

There was a silence, then Giles said, "Hello, Angel. Why are you calling?"

The conversation was a strained one. Angel knew Giles hadn't forgiven him for what he did two years ago, but he knew Giles wouldn't let that get in the way of helping someone. "I need some information. Do the Watchers wear a blue tattoo on their inner wrists?"

Giles was silent for a moment while he contemplated the question. "Not to my knowledge, no. But because I have been out of the loop concerning watcher activities for a few years, I wouldn't know if the Watchers use a tattoo at present. Why do you want to know?"

Angel told him what was going on. When he was finished, Giles said, "Well, I'll try to find everything I can about this tattoo and another group calling themselves the Watchers. I'll ask Willow to use that dreadful machine."

"Thanks, Giles," Angel said. He paused before he said his next words. "Say 'hi' to Buffy for me."

Giles paused again. "I'll see that she gets the message."

"Bye, Giles."

"Goodbye, Angel."

 

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