Angel - City of Fear

City of: Book 1. Doyle didn't have much with him, even after death. If he even decided to make something else as a neat reminder of him it probably would have been gone in a night. An Irish, half-bred demon who received visions from The Powers That Be. Angel and Cordelia had made a private investigation agency thanks to him; "Angel Investigations: We help the helpless". But one night, one night is what changes his fate and his path to redemption. It began with a chase. And ended in the way Doyle didn't expect...nor did Angel.

(Second Angel Fanfiction on Wattpad, posted 3.2.2014)

(Completed 6.4.2014)

(Cover by EKShortstories)


5. Demonio

"Los Demonio, dah city of fear," Doyle started explaining to Angel, after Demonic left. "It was going ta  be called Fearengelse back in dah day, but, some demons did a little convincin' and ten it was decided to be named Los Demonio. Demonio is a spanish word for Demon. It still lives up ta it's nickname 'City of fear'."

 "The city of fear?" Angel repeated, unfamiliar to the word.

"It's basically like Los Angeles; except it is dah most dangerous, demon infested dimension of Earth than anywhere." He chuckled. "I've been in Los Demonio. But... Tere are some people out tere who get desperate enough ta take a ride; escape."

 Angel's eyebrows hunched together.

"Escape from what?" Angel moved forward in his chair.

Doyle smiled, taking out a bumpy-ancient textured ball.

“Anythin' ya can name.” Doyle told him.

 Traveling through dimensions could be a roller coaster; the traveler had at least needed to know where they were going. But there were factors that determine where the clueless traveler goes; how awake they are, hurt, thirsty, and hunger.

Even, how they feel about themselves.

 Doyle looks up. "What was I thinking?"

  Angel tapped his chin.

 "And you left," Angel taps a finger on the desk. He didn't need to be told by Doyle what happened there. He could make a good guess. "You made more enemies there?"

  Doyle nodded.

"Oh yes," Doyle combs through his hair. He walks through the dripping sewers in his demon form.  Doyle recalls what he had experienced which better yet explains how he got in the sewers."How I gave visions."

 Angel is not pleased by what he is told.

 "Who is this demon...that you refer to as ’H-Killer' with a movie?" 

Doyle puts the ball on the table.

 "Truth ta be told; he's ugly." Doyle said straight out. "And tere's no horns dat’s part of it."

Angel has a ‘Tell me’ look on him.

“His name in English is Hendrown.” Doyle played with the ball.

Angel could not picture a demon given a silly name.

“Funny name for a demon,” Doyle chuckled. “I heard rumors dat Lucifer mocked him for dah name. And snap,” Doyle snapped his fingers. “Whatever human body Lucifer was possessin' was torn into pieces. Dat's when Lucifer coined the word we know as ‘H-Killer’.”

“Have you ever met him?” Angel asked.

Doyle pressed the top of the ball. The Ball automatically became a rounded shoulder part that has thick skin, rough edges, and a demon quality.

 “I didn’t know who he was before,” Doyle explained. “I beat him at poker.”

Angel gestures to the part on his desk.

 “What part is that?”

“It’s from his shoulder; a reward.” Doyle pressed the middle and it became a ball again. He was visibly disgusted by it too. “I have no idea where to ditch this.”

 “I do.” Angel said, putting a coffee cup over the ball. It bothered him to see it. “How long did it take to realize you speaking with a violent demon?”

Doyle laughed.

 “After I beat him.” Doyle gulped, but then he  uses two fingers to make paranthese. “He said, ‘All those individuals named H-killer are my marks,’ but thankfully Dah Powers Dah Be sent me a vision." Perhaps that was only time he was thankful for them. "And I had a legit reason not ta accept money from him.” 

 Angel sighs.

 “Demonic come in,” Angel said in a low voice.

Demonic came in to the room.

 "Doyle, I wish you told me about this in the beginning." Angel sent Doyle a glare.


 Taking an extra pair of clothes proved to be useful for Doyle. What he wore on this trip got soaked from the sewers. But the weapons that had been taken into this dimension were not harmed. Los Demonio is the darker version of Las Angelese in tone and building designs. Finding Demonic’s father got on a rocky start.

 “Do ya know where Paul Demonic…” Doyle opens a door, and then he saw two demons were ready to engage into a fight. There were other Demons who seem to bare the same attitude as them. “…Oops.”

 The Demons stare at him.

 “I’m sorry for intrudin',” Doyle apologizes at first. “Do ya know anyone who used ta be named Paul Demonic Quinn around here? It’s an emergency.”

 The demons were not willingly to reply, growl.

“I should try dah Bars.” Doyle mutters, closing the door.

  Four hours back here, Doyle thought, and I have already gone to the wrong place. He combs through his hair, while going down the street passing by some female demons that bore the appearances of women on the wrong side of the law. Nobody bothers to pay attention with demons on the street in this dimension. But with humans it’s another story.

   Little did Doyle know or sensed, Dean Dexter was hot on his trail.

 …One hour and 43 minutes later…


Doyle went into a bar after spending time searching for one that accepted humans and demons alike. The demon who hunted Doyle, Dean Dexter, follows him into the bar.  There is a music box booming its usual tunes and lyrics. Doyle didn’t know about Dean following him in because there were other demons coming in.

Doyle sat the bar, on a rounded stool with a leather pillow.

"Screaming hurts my ears; any kind such as yelling, shouting, and so on. The kind where a microphone is used." Dean goes on, brushing aside a beer. "You get what I mean?"

Doyle is uncomfortable.

 "I am not dah  mean one in here," Doyle sarcastically said, folding his arms on the table. He looks towards Dean. "I am looking for Paul Demonic Quinn--He goes by H-Killer around here. Ya know him?”

 But someone else answered him.

 “I do.” A man beside Doyle said.

Doyle turns his direction towards this man.

 “Demonic’s dad.” Doyle can see the similarities between him and Demonic. “Glad ta finally meet ya.”

 Paul is a bit taller than Doyle; he has brown hair, a strange marking on his cheek, and a squared face.

  “What did Cathrine do now?” He rolls his eyes. “Did she show off her werewolf side to the public?”

Doyle shook his head.

 “No.” Doyle said, with a laugh. “I’m Doyle.”

Doyle holds his hand out, as he took on his human form.

 “Everyone calls me Paul.” Paul shook his hand. “How did you?...”

They ended the handshake.

 “Half-demon, half human with a gift.” Doyle takes a drink then swallows what he drank.  “And Cathrine is dead. Vampires got to her.”

 Paul’s hands are shaking.

 “…How did she go?” He trembles. “I want to know.”

 Doyle puts his hand on Paul’s shoulder.

 “She never knew.” Doyle pats Paul’s shoulder. “She died in her sleep. Honest ta god, her eyes were closed when I opened the door. tree  of of tem were tere. I killed dah tird one. She died when dah ambulance came.”

 Paul slams his hand on the bar.

 A rather slim, attractive female demon brings Dean away from Doyle and Paul then into the big area where demons are having their own little social groups. Some of them are planning to murder people or orchestrate kidnappings. A variety of Demons were here from different backgrounds and motives. The music going on in this room makes it a casual hang out.

 There’s a wide, unusually advanced television set on the wall at the far back.

 “I told her to stay with her family.” Paul spills it out. “But she didn’t want to. Cathrine said in her letters ‘Our son needs to be living in a place the entire world will become. He needs the streetsmarts’ no matter what I told her. It finally got to her.”

Doyle puts his hand down.

 “Don’t blame yerself. “ Doyle told him. “It will eat ya up.”

Paul takes deep breath, and then he sighs.

 “How can you know?” Paul asks, his arms folded on top of another.

Doyle orders another drink.

 “It nearly ate me up.” Doyle puts a dollar on the bar which is taken by the bartender.  “I did somethin'…Dat I should not have done. The Scourge killed…some people I knew.”

 Doyle gets his drink.

 “How did you get over it?”

Doyle holds his drink.

 “Friends,” Doyle said, in his Irish voice.  But then he adds. “And visions.”

 Doyle takes a sip from his drink, as Dean is getting closer to the duo through the crowd.

 “I asked yer son his name and he replied with ‘Christopher Columbus’,” Doyle told him, putting down his drink. 

Paul laughs.

 “Funny thing about his name,” Paul taps on the bar. “I wanted her to name our child ‘Brom’, something a bit new.  But no, she wanted to use my middle name.”

 Doyle is amused.

 “I…” Doyle is then hit with a vision. 

 It feels like a migraine to him but for humans it’s a bit worse. His head hit through the glass sending his drink flying everywhere. He saw images; the demon from last night was there behind them, fire spreading out everywhere, Paul running out the building, and a big music box connected to Davis’s phone.

“Doyle, are you okay?”  Paul asks, not accustomed to seeing someone do something like that.

Doyle figured, I see what they are telling me.

"Ya need ta get out of here," Doyle recommends to Paul lifting his head up.  “And…” Doyle looks towards the bartender who is really angry. “If I come here again for a drink; give me a hard, plastic cup.”

Paul raises his eyebrows.

 "How am I going to find you?"

Doyle laughs.

 "Whenever there is trouble brewing with a half-demon and a vampire with a soul lingering around..." Doyle takes a napkin from a flirty couple. "Ya don't have to search for me." He pats the table his eyes search for something to write on. "Ya need to go..."

  Dean is being hold up by some demons, who find his attitude not acceptable, preventing him from getting to his target.

“Buddy, fights go on at night!” A demon that bore shark facial features tells Dean. “It’s morning.”

 Dean breaks the shark demon’s neck.

  Doyle wrote on a napkin (with a pen) then he hands it to Paul.

 "Meet me there." Doyle said, "And I mean it. I don't want your son to grow up without a dad. I have a dad who disapproves of my human side. It's not pretty."

  Paul holds the napkin.

 "How can I raise a half-breed werewolf in a demon infested dimension.."

Doyle pats Paul's shoulder.

"First, ya can send him ta Demon school," Doyle takes his hand off Paul's shoulder. "Second, ya can move in with a demon friend."

Paul has a worried face.

 "But I don't know how long I got." Paul puts a hand on the table. "Until he comes."

 He needs to use the time he has now, Doyle thought, my dad prefers having a pure-breed son not a half-demon.

 "Demonic needs his dad right now." Doyle reassures him. "I am sure ya  know people who can take care of yer son comes."

 Paul's worried face became relaxed.

 "You think so?"

Doyle nods.

 "As I'll ever be, " Doyle looks over his shoulder, seeing Dean throw a demon into ceiling lights dangling freely. “Go!”

 The light fell with the demon and sparks from the electricity started up feeding on the liquid on the floor. Other lights followed like a domino effect while some remained attached to the ceiling just lightly swinging.  Innocent, but not fight-thirsty demons scream at the chaos unfolding. The fight, blood thirsty demons in the room got really ticked at Dean.

    Dean’s fighting with the other demons ended up making destruction in the ar.

 Paul ran out the bar through the fire exit.


A blazing pillar from the ceiling fell, blocking the fire-exit.

“Doyle,” Dean shouts, charging towards Doyle with a dagger in his hand. “I will kill you!”

 A couple body guard demons got in Dean’s way. Doyle used this to his advantage. Oh yeah , Angel trusts me just about right in a bar. The Irish Half-Demon skid through a clear demon free chaos zone and landed under a table. This table has a boom box playing.  He watches the demons get their butt kicked.

 “Better make dat call,” Doyle turns on the small, blue and white phone. He puts in Cordelia’s number. Then Doyle presses the ‘call’ button and puts the phone to his ear. This has to work, Doyle thought, besides he gave me his weakness.  “Answer…answer…”

 Cordelia was currently baking some brownies in her home (with Phantom Dennis’s help) using her family’s special brownie ingredients.  Phantom Dennis picks the phone up from the hook then floats it to Cordelia. The phone kept ringing regardless that Dennis is holding it in his invisible hand.

 “Dennis, the brownies are nearly done,” Cordelia said, leaning a hand on the nearby chair.

 Dennis hands the phone to her.

 “Hello?” Cordelia finally answers.

Doyle sighs, with relief.

  "Hey Cordelia," Doyle greets her on the other end,  covering his other ear ear as Dean searches for him.

Cordelia rubs her forehead.

 "Doyle, I was just baking brownies!" Cordelia lashes out, pacing in front   of the baking brownies. “I have to be watching the brownies right now.”

 Doyle looks above the table.

 "Remember dat demon ya hit with a pan?"  Doyle asks her, seeing dead demons around Dean.

Dean caught sight of Doyle, so Doyle ducks his head under the table.

 "Losing patience!" Cordelia said on her other line. "Of course I do. He has those really red eyes like he had been crying for days with green skin as though he was getting ready to puke. A bit better than the other demons I've seen so far."

 Doyle sighs, actually glad to hear his Cordelia say that.

 "Dat was me." Doyle finally let it out, the next seconds matter  the most to him.

  Doyle unplugs the lower half of the phone then connects it to the boombox’s wide computer cable opening.

"Superman does not keep secrets!" Cordelia’s voice is magnified, being louder than it was supposed to be. "Good guys aren't supposed to tell lies, Doyle! Oh, no wonder you found the ring first!"

 Dean screams, covering his earas he is backing away from the speaker.

"you u--wait how did you get into demon form and become human? Is there a fashion style for transforming?” Cordelia switched from her furious reaction to a more questionable, young woman. “Are there any auditions for playing demon to human transforming out there? DOYLE ANSWER Me!"

  Doyle takes the phone out the boombox.

 "Two years ago I turned," Doyle explains to her, taking the nearest unblocked exit "Most ladies’ I met didn't take it well. A few dat I can recall."

 "If I could slap you right now... then I would,  for not telling me in the first place!" A ding is heard from Cordelia's end. “Brownies are done! Seriously Doyle, I don't need to be swayed away by a porcupine-greeny face. I would like to know…does green come in handy to hiding in a bush?"

  Doyle brushes past other Demons, not bothering to look back.

 Dean shakes his head.

 “That little no-good half breed!” Dean sneers. His eyes show no mercy. “It isn’t over.”

Bottles and bottles of beer had been crushed, enough for fire to be growing up the wooden sides.

“…Sometimes.” Doyle replied to her awkward question, taking a hand off his ear.

By this point Doyle was outside the bar.


The entire building explodes. Everything that had been part of the building was sent flying to any direction. Doyle happened to be far from the area that he would have been probably killed in. Cordelia heard the explosion from Doyle’s side of the phone call. Whatever she was holding in the other hand was dropped.

 “Doyle, what was that?” Cordelia asks, as Phantom Dennis takes out the brownies for her.

Doyle looks to the site blowing dark smoke.

 “A bar exploded.” Doyle said, casually. “I’m being chased by a Demon. Heck, I need a demon hunter to get him off—“

 “Are you okay?” Cordelia interrupts him.

 Doyle is startled; she worried about him.

“Just have a scratch on my forehead, “ Doyle feels his forehead, he looks down to see his fingers have blood on them. “From dah glass I broke, by a vision." He hears her laugh a little. "Just don’t tell Angel about dis.  I will get back in one piece.”

 “Doyle,” Cordelia said. “What if you don’t come back?”

 “We face death every day, Cordelia.” Doyle goes to the side of the street where Demon bystanders were not at. I must live through this case, Doyle thought; I can’t leave my friends a burden that will hurt them.  “I am not dyin' anytime soon.”

"How about you ask the question,”  Cordelia suggests, as Phantom Dennis  is holding tea for her. She taps her fingers on the table.

 There were demons putting the fire out.  

 "Dah--what question?" Doyle is confused what she is talking about.

Cordelia turns around taking the tea from Phantom Dennis.

 "The Dating question." Cordelia takes a sip from the tea. She blows steam off the tea then puts the phone away from her ear. “Dennis, you made it too hot.”  Phantom Dennis has on a cape, easily showing he shrugs.

  Doyle is aware Cordelia has a ghost living in her house.

  “And Doyle. I am not going to say it.”  Cordelia adds. “You will say it. Say it right now; so I know you are coming back.”

Doyle chuckles.

 “Oh Cordelia, I could just kiss ya right now.” Doyle said, with a laugh. “Alright I’ll ask: Cordelia, will ya go out with me?”

He heard a long, drawn out squeal.


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