THE HUNTERS - PART ONE
BY DANIELLE FRANCES DUCREST

Alex McPhierce looked up at the office building on the dark and dismal L. A. street. It was only a few stories tall. On the floor Angel Investigations was on, there were yellow blinds that had been pulled down halfway. The building was old, much like what one would find in twenties private eye movies, which was the point, he supposed.

"Are you going to get out or what?" the taxi driver asked from the front seat.

"Yeah," Alex answered. He paid the driver and climbed out.

As the taxi pulled away, Alex continued to stare up at the building, hesitant to go in. It had been several years since he last saw Doyle; he wondered if the half-demon had changed. Alex had been a watcher over a year ago, and they'd met when Doyle had been in the field for only a few months. His Immortal had died at the hands of Alex's assignment, so he and Alex had met at a bar so Doyle could wrap up the dead Immortal's chronicle.

After that had been discussed, they'd gotten really drunk. Or, to be precise, Doyle got really drunk. Alex's kind had a very high tolerance for alchohol. Actually, his kind didn't need any kind of beverage or food product to survive. They didn't even need to breathe.

Alex was a shape-shifter. The shape he took now, an Asian-American, was just one of the many form's he'd taken in his five hundred years. His current form was at least six feet tall. He appeared to be nineteen years old with brown-black hair and chestnut eyes. As for his name, Alex McPhierce, it was his original name, and his persona's parents had been a Scottish father and an Asian mother.

Doyle hadn't known Alex was a shape-shifter, and Alex hadn't known that Doyle was a half-demon who worked for the Powers that Be.

But, as he'd been saying, Doyle had gotten really drunk the night they met, and then everything changed.

Alex, then known as John Actis, a forty-something man with blonde hair, entered the bar and looked around. A fairly large crowd was there, too big for everything to get a seat. They were all looking at the stage, where Joe Dawson, Watcher head of Northwest America, was strumming his guitar and singing the blues.

Alex smiled and waved when Joe looked in his direction. Joe nodded to him and kept singing.

He looked around at the patrons and spotted Doyle sitting at a table near the stage. He was paying attention to Joe with everyone else in between sips of beer.

Alex had never met Allen Francis Doyle before. From what he'd heard, the newbie field Watcher was pretty good at the trade. He hoped that Mr. Doyle wouldn't be too bad.

He walked up to the table. "Hi," he greeted him. "Are you Allen Doyle?"

Doyle gazed up at me and nodded. "Yes. Are you John Actis?"

Alex nodded. He sat down and pulled up his sleeve, revealing his Watcher tattoo imprinted on his wrist. More accurately he'd shifted his hand until there was a pattern matching the watcher tattoo, but then again, he was a shape-shifter. The real tattoo wouldn't have worked on his shape-shifted-formed skin.

Doyle glanced down at the tattoo before taking another sip of beer. He motioned to the pitcher and the empty glass beside it. "Please, help yourself," he said. His Irish accent stood out as much as it had before. The accent surprised Alex, especially since he'd heard that Doyle had lived in L. A. before becoming a Watcher, but he didn't show it.

"Thanks," Alex said, pouring himself a glass. He took a sip and then reached into his pocket and pulled out a small notebook, which he handed over to Doyle. "All my notes on the fight are in there," he told Doyle.

Doyle picked up the notebook and stared down at it. He chuckled solemnly. "He was my first assignment, you know? I was still getting used to all this watcher business when your Immortal came along."

"Don't worry about it," Alex said. "Your Immortal was a good man. It wasn't your fault." I held the pitcher out to him. "Here. Have another drink."

Alex stared across the table at his new friend. He and Doyle had gotten along quite well, even though Doyle was drunk at the time.

They'd talked about Immortals and the Watcher Council while Doyle was sober. They talked longer than Alex expected, what with all the alcohol Doyle was downing. It was more beer than he'd seen anyone drink in so little time without choking.

It turned out that they had a lot in common-both had been good students at the Academy, although not always, and the girls were always falling for them.

They talked late into the night, until most of the patrons had left. Finally Joe walked up to them.

"Hey, John, Doyle," he greeted them with a smile.

"Hey, Joe," Doyle said, a big drunken smile on his face. He tried to reach up and pat Joe on the back, but he kept squinting and his arm swung violently through empty air. "Why don't all three of you sit down? We could play poker!"

"Oh no, not this time, Doyle," Joe said. "Alex here is better than me. As for you, I think I'd better wait until you're sober."

"Okay, Joe, but you're missing one h*** of a game."

Alex laughed at this exchange. "I think it's time we headed home." He glanced at Doyle. "Do you remember where you live?"

"I'm not sure," Doyle said, pouring another glass of beer. Most of it ended up spilling on the table.

Alex looked at Joe. "Joe?"

Joe handed him a piece of paper with Doyle's address on it. "It's at this address. He's staying at the Wiener Hotel."

Alex nodded. "I'll be seeing you at our next poker game, Joe."

"I'll be waiting. I just know I'll beat you," Joe answered.

"You can dream, Joe," Alex said. He handed a bunch of bills to the bartender, then helped Doyle get out of his chair. "Come on, Doyle. The door's this way." Over his shoulder, he said, "Bye, Joe."

"Bye."

Alex helped Doyle out of the taxi. In front of him was the door to Doyle's hotel room. After the taxi had driven away, Alex leaned Doyle against the wall and felt inside his pockets for the plastic key. Finding it, Alex swept it through the lock and opened the door, then helped Doyle inside.

The place was a mess. Clothes littered the floor or where piled in corners, chairs, the bed, even on top of the television.

Alex cleared a place on the bed and helped Doyle sit down. "Get your shoes and coat off," He told Doyle. He held up the notebook that he'd given Doyle. "I'll put this in the chest of drawers."

Doyle began to take off his shoes. "You know, if we're going to be friends, there's something you should know," he began, still sounding like a drunk. He was having trouble taking off one shoe, so he switched to the other.

"Oh yeah? And what's that?"

Doyle chuckled and hiccuped. "Do you know how I found out about Immortals and Watchers and the like?"

"How?" Alex opened a drawer and placed the notebook inside.

"I learned it from the Powers that Be," Doyle answered. "I'm one of their agents, you know. I got a vision."

"Right," Alex said, playing along.

"No, I am, I-"

All of a sudden, Doyle sneezed. Only that wasn't the only sound Alex heard.

There was a mirror above the wardrobe. Alex looked through it at Doyle. But the reflection of the thing he saw wasn't human.

Alex spun around. The mirror hadn't deceived him.

Instead of Doyle, there was a demon sitting on the bed. He had blue-black skin with spikes protruding from his face and neck. Alex recognized the type as Brachen, who were usually harmless, but there was no harm in being careful.

Alex became tense and cautious. "Who are you?"

The now sober Doyle felt his face. He felt the spikes then looked up at Alex. He stood up quickly. He held out his hands, pleading. "Listen, John, it's not what it looks like."

"It's not?" Alex asked. "Because what I see is a Brachen Demon posing as a human being."

Doyle dropped his arms. "Okay, it's exactly what you think." He sighed. "I guess you know about demons and the like. Well, you see, I'm a half-demon. I'm completely human on my mother's side." He changed back into his human form and didn't move.

"You're a mix-breed," Alex said, not sure if he could trust Doyle or not.

"Yeah," Doyle asked. "Might I ask what you are?"

Slightly taken aback, Alex asked, "What do you mean?"

"You're not completely human," Doyle answered. "I didn't notice it my human form, but in my demon form, my senses are sharper. Your smell wasn't human, but it wasn't demon, either. So what are you?"

"I'm a shape-shifter," Alex answered. "An alien."

"An alien?" Doyle asked. Now it was his turn to stare. "An alien?"

Alex nodded. "Yep. I'm the living ET."

Doyle sat back down on the bed. "Okay. Aliens aren't planning on invading Earth of anything, are they?"

Alex smiled. "Not that I know of. Of course, its' hard to tell. The least that could happen is that the Ferangis would set up their most profitable trading posts here."

"So there are more aliens besides your kind?"

Alex nodded. "There are thousands. Some are more advanced than humans and some aren't. The ones that are more advanced include the Vulcans, the Romulans, and why am I telling you this?"

"I don't know, but it's enough. There are good alien races out there, right?"

Alex nodded. "You can count on that."

Doyle let out a sigh of relief. "So they're, I mean you're, just like us. You've got problems just as much as us, or you wouldn't come here, I reckon."

"The only reason I'm on Earth is because I grew up here. I've only been off Earth a few times. A lot of shape-shifters like Earth, but they like Romulus equally."

Alex kept telling Doyle about all of the alien races out there, and eventually, Doyle told Alex about his life.

"Well, basically, I was raised by my mother in Ireland. I never knew my father or the fact that he was a demon until one night I was discussing having children with my wife, Harry, when I sneezed. That's when my demon side surfaced."

"It was a pretty big shock to me. Harry was just as surprised as I was, but unlike me, she researched it and tried to get me to accept it and meet other Brachen Demons. I couldn't accept it. To suddenly find out you aren't completely human, well, I just couldn't live with it."

"Harry and I ended up splitting up. We aren't divorced yet, although we haven't seen each other for a few years."

"I quit my job as a schoolteacher and moved to L. A. I got to know quite a few bars and collect quite a lot of debts and i. o. u.'s from both parties. Then one day I got my first vision."

"It was like I was having a stroke, but when it was over, I knew it wasn't a stroke, but I needed proof."

"I went to the place the PTB showed me in the vision and discovered I was too late. The people in my vision were all ready dead by the time I arrived."

"About a year and a half ago, I was used to getting visions, but they still hurt like h***. The one I got then was no better."

"It showed me a woman with bleach hair entering an alley. She held a Broadsword in her hands. It was Amanda, although I didn't know it was her at the time, and a little ways a way, I saw her Watcher, Carl Case. I also got a location: Harry's Bar & Grill. So I went there as soon as possible, met Amanda's Watcher, and the rest is history."

Alex had been listening to this in silence. Now he asked, "Have you met your father?"

Doyle shook his head. "No. I don't really plan to, either. He left my mother. He left me."

There was a silence, then Alex glanced at his watch. It was around two o'clock in the morning. "I'd better go before Stacey thinks I'm unconscious in some bar."

"Stacey?" Doyle asked.

"Stacey Young," Alex answered. "She's my fiancée. We're living together to see if we want to sleep in the same bed when we're married."

Doyle smiled and stood up. So did Alex and both men walked to the door.

Before Alex hailed a cab, he asked Doyle, "Why don't you come over tomorrow night and have dinner with Stacey and me? We've still got a lot to talk about."

"That's true," Doyle said. "I'll be there. You can count on it."

"Good," Alex said. "See ya, Doyle."

Doyle looked up when the door to Angel Investigations opened. He'd been at the computer logged onto the Watcher Database. As quickly as he could, he logged off before anyone could see its contents.

He looked back up at the person standing there. The stranger was a tall, almond-skinned young man dressed in casual clothes.

"May I help you?" Doyle asked.

The young man smiled. "Hey, Doyle. Long time no see."

He knew him? Is he John Actis? Doyle wondered. Uncertain, he asked, "Do I know you?"

"It's me, John."

"Prove it."

Alex looked around and found no one else nearby. Then he turned back to Doyle and shape-shifted into John Actis's form. His height became shorter and his hair changed color and began to gray, and his eyes changed from chestnut brown to bright blue.

"Is this proof enough?" Alex asked in John Actis's voice. "Or do you want me to tell you about that time when we were painting my house and I spilled some paint onto you from above and you thought you wiped it all off but you actually had this bright red nose and we called you Rudolph for two months-"

"That's quite enough, hot shot," Doyle said, smiling. "Unless you want me to remind you of a few embarrassing moments of your own. I seem to recall one in particular, around Friday the Thirteenth when a ladder fell on you and you thought it was a poltergeist or something else but you didn't know it was me who threw it at you-"

Alex laughed and shifted back into the form of Alex McPhierce. He glanced down at Doyle's wrist. "I see you're still a Watcher. Do they know about Angel?"

"They suspect that he's an Immortal, but they haven't charged me for it yet. If they're investigating it, I'd love to see their faces when Angel vamps out." Doyle answered. "I don't think I'll get used to looking up at you," he added.

"Too bad," Alex said. "John Actis died over a year ago. If there are Watchers sent here to see if Angel is an Immortal, I don't want to risk them seeing me as John."

"What should I call you, then?" Doyle asked.

"Alex McPhierce would be nice."

"You're using your original name now?"

Alex nodded. "Even if they do connect me to the one from five hundred years ago, that form and this one don't look at all alike."

"That's true. You certainly don't look very Scottish."

"Here's my story: My father was Scottish, but my mother was Malaysian. I was born and raised in Malaysia where I learned to speak English in school and spoke Chinese everywhere else. I'm here in California to study at UC-Sunnydale for a Ph.D. in the medical field, or was."

"Was? What happened?"

"Ryana happened. She killed my girlfriend, so I killed her."

Doyle could see the pain and anger in Alex's eyes and hear it in his voice. And for this to happen not long after Alex lost Stacy…it must be terrible.

Doyle patted his friend on the back. "It's okay, John. It's okay."

After a minute or two, Alex pulled back and composed himself. "So, why'd you call me out here?"

Doyle answered, "It's the Hunters."

Alex looked at him, surprised.

"They're coming to L. A., and they'll be here very soon."